#and realize you can no longer speak the language you grew up with

[shitpostingkats]

Been chewing on the idea that some citizens of Satellite have a localized sign language. Like, think about it. Majority of the population's criminals, most everyone knows basic thief signs. Add on top of that the gestures a bunch of disparate gangs come up with, plus a way for people to subtly communicate even if enforcers are watching them. All Martha's kids have a pretty expansive sign vocabulary, both for when she needs to sign behind her back "There's an officer at the door" and just general home sign for talking quietly/to kids who don't verbalize well.

The POTENTIAL.

Yusei blaring loud music in the garage or having a nonverbal episode, able to communicate that's he's perfectly fine, just super focused on what he's working on. Crow fidgeting old thiefspell when he's nervous. Jack going a few years without practice and picking it up again secondhand as they start to teach Leo and Luna because he can't just admit he's forgotten a lot, that would be embarrassing, so he just huffily watches the twins practice and tries to commit it memory.

Satellite's got a lot of little codes and signals, a culture of saying "I'm here. We're different. We have each other." From the clothes to the culture to the language, and Yusei and Crow unapologetically refuse to give any of that up.

[howcouldmuffin]

Beneath the Betrothal.

After the engagement was announced, and you realized that waiting was no longer the right path, you decided to start anew.

PAIRING : Jacearys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : NSFW, Targaryen incest, Non-canon, SMUT, Sex Content

AN : This is the first fanfic l've written. I apologize if there are any mistakes. Please feel free to give me any feedback. Love.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

Many years have passed since your father Viserys announced the betrothal to Jacaerys, who although your nephew, is older than you. No one in House Hightower was pleased with this news, except for you.

You were raised differently from your siblings—the youngest daughter born with your father’s expectations. He had you share the same wet nurse as Jacaerys and your older brother Daeron. You grew up with the Velaryon family, witnessing the differences between your eldest sister Rhaenyra and your mother Alicent.

Although you had been friends with Jacaerys since childhood, the words that everyone kept telling you “that you would marry him” filled your mind with dreams. You fell in love with him, but you knew that he didn’t love you the same way. He was a charming young man, a gentleman with honor, admired by all. Many were fond of him. The prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

When Rhaenyra ascended to the throne, everyone swore oaths of loyalty and service to her without question. Many lords came to pay their respects to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jacaerys was appointed as the heir to the Iron Throne, and your betrothal was announced once again, but it was never mentioned again after that.

At first, you thought it was just a matter of waiting for things to settle down before the important ceremony would take place. But as time went on, you began to question it, and eventually, you found the answer. It was Jacaerys who requested that the wedding be postponed. You were shattered by this news—it hurt as though your heart had been broken into pieces.

There have been months of silence and unspoken words between you and Jacaerys. Even the gatekeepers of the Red Keep are aware of the situation. The whispers and rumors have started to grow louder—some say the prince already has someone he wishes to marry, or perhaps he dislikes his betrothed because she is a Hightower. None of the answers bring you any truth.

But it has made you realize that waiting is no longer the right course of action. It’s time to start looking for potential suitors from great houses. Soon, there will be a grand event at the Red Keep once again—the second-year anniversary of Queen Rhaenyra’s reign. Nobles and knights from all over the realm will gather here. It could be a good opportunity to find a new way forward.

“I wish to see my queen.” you said to the knight guarding your sister’s chamber door. They nodded slightly and stepped aside to let you enter.

“Your Grace.” you said as you entered the room, immediately curtseying to the queen. “If it pleases you, I have something I wish to discuss.” Rhaenyra paused her writing and looked up.

“Sister.” she said, rising and walking towards you. “What is it you wish to speak with me about?” The queen gently led you to a nearby sofa and lightly took your hand.

“I’ve come to talk about my betrothal to the prince.”

“If you’d like to discuss how you’d like the ceremony to be arranged, or if there’s anything additional you’d like to request, you can speak to me directly.”

“No, Your Grace. I… I wish to call off the engagement.”

“Oh, dear, why would you want to cancel the betrothal? Have you found someone you prefer?”

“No, Your Grace. I just think it might be better if the prince and I were free to choose someone we truly like and love.” Rhaenyra laughed softly at your words. She raised her hand to cup your face, gently turning you to look into her eyes. You lifted your hand to hold hers in return.

“Listen to me, dear. There’s no one more suited to be the next queen than you. Don’t let others’ words sway you.”

“I��m sorry, Your Grace, but I truly wish to call off the engagement. Please, I ask you to consider it.” You gently moved her hand away from your face, holding it firmly in yours.

“If that is what you desire, I will take it under consideration. But I ask that you think it over once more, my dear.” After expressing your wishes, you moved to embrace your sister, always understanding her no matter what.

Before long, the grand celebration was in full swing, with people gathering to offer their congratulations to their queen. Today, you woke up much earlier than usual. You were an integral part of organizing the feast—the floral decorations, the guest list of important attendees. You were determined to ensure that your sister’s special day would go smoothly.

The dress you wore today was long and red, with an off-the-shoulder design that revealed your neckline. It was beautifully embroidered with golden patterns around the dress. Your hair was partially braided and pinned up, with natural curls left to fall gracefully. You glanced at the necklace on your vanity table—the one Jacaerys had given you for your birthday many years ago. In the end, you chose not to wear it, opting instead for another necklace that matched your dress just as well.

“You look stunning, Princess.” your handmaiden remarked as she finished styling your hair.

“Thank you. You can leave now, I’ll take care of the rest myself.” She curtseied and left the room as instructed.

You slowly turned to the mirror, gazing at your reflection for a moment before preparing to head to the feast. By now, your mother was likely waiting for you. But as the door closed behind your handmaiden, you sensed someone else was in the room.

“What were you thinking, trying to call off the engagement?” Jacaerys spoke, his voice sharp. He was the last person you wanted to see right now. It was the first conversation in months that left a lasting impression.

“Prince.” you greeted him with a curtsey. “I just thought—” He stepped closer to you, so close that it nearly took your breath away. He looked angrier than you could ever remember seeing him.

“Is there someone else you’re in love with?”

“No, Your Highness.” you replied.

“Let’s go. The others must be waiting for us.” he said, lifting one arm. At first, you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you placed your hand on his arm.

Walking into the feast together might be normal for a married couple or an engaged pair, but it felt strange for the two of you, who hadn’t exchanged a meaningful word in so long. As you entered the great hall, you could feel the eyes of many upon you and your betrothed.

Everyone stood to pay their respects to you and their prince, creating an odd pressure on you. Jacaerys looked every bit the heir to the Iron Throne today. His attire included a cloak with a pattern matching your dress, likely arranged by Rhaenyra.

When you reached the queen’s table, you both bowed to the highest authority in the realm before going your separate ways. He sat beside his brother Lucerys, while you took a seat next to your brother Aemond.

“Beautiful dress, sister.” Aemond’s comment was more likely a tease than a compliment.

“Thank you, brother. I think it’s lovely as well.”

The feast began after Rhaenyra’s announcement, and the music started to play. People began to dance in the center of the hall. Conversations with your siblings took place, and although they didn’t think highly of your betrothed, they chose not to voice any further objections.

“Would you like to dance, sister?” Daeron, your youngest brother, asked. Why not? He was as renowned for his looks in the family as you were. Although you hadn’t grown up together much, he was the second person you consulted about your betrothed, after Helena.

With the music playing, you and your brother enjoyed the dance. As the Westerosi-style dance continued, many people joined in with you. Dancing gave you the opportunity to talk with a variety of men. Some were genuine friends, but most had other intentions beyond mere friendship.

“I think it would be the greatest mistake on your part to let her go.” Rhaenyra said to her son, who had been staring at you intently, prompting her to speak up.

“What are you talking about?” Jacaerys turned his attention to his mother, confusion evident on his face.

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” she said, meeting his gaze. “If you don’t truly care for her, then let her go. She deserves to find someone who truly loves her.” He remained silent, not responding, and merely finished his drink.

He stood up from the table and left the feast abruptly. With so many people in the hall, no one seemed to notice the prince’s departure. Now, Jacaerys was at a loss, angry with you for reasons he was struggling to address. He was searching for a way to make you pay for what you had done to him.

Once the door to your room closed behind you, you had just returned from the feast. Separating yourself from the men had left you quite exhausted, and you were eager to take a relaxing bath.

“Did you enjoy getting close to other men who aren’t your betrothed?” A familiar voice spoke up. You were startled to hear him, Jacaerys was sitting on your bed, glaring at you with a reprimanding look.

“How did you get into my room?” you asked, and moving closer to him. “When did you ever care that I’m your betrothed?”

“I’ve always cared about you, but what I know is that you haven’t shown any interest in me.”

“No interest, you say?” You stepped closer to him and leaned in. “I wouldn’t be asking to postpone the wedding if I didn’t care.”

“I care about you!” he shouted, making you jump. He had never acted this way towards you before. He stood up and approached you.

“And wanting to postpone the wedding means you don’t want to marry me, doesn’t it? What are you trying to say? If you hate me, just say it, Jacaerys Velaryon. I will not tolerate your mind games any longer.”

“You don’t understand me.” he said, stepping closer. You backed away in response. “I want you to be ready, ready to bear my children. If we marry, producing an heir will come first, and I know if you were to become pregnant too soon, it would be you who would leave me.”

With no space left to retreat, you and he were face to face. He placed one hand on the back of your neck, holding your gaze, while his other hand gently caressed your face.

“Listen to me. I have always loved you, and I will continue to love you until the day I die. You are the only one who makes me feel like myself, who I constantly long for. You will be the only one by my side.” His eyes, looking at you, were so beautiful.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

You didn’t respond but immediately leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back without hesitation as well. Both of you embraced each other as if you were missing warmth from one another. The taste he gave you was sweet and surprisingly addictive. He treated you with reverence and gentleness.

The physical connection between the two of you came together quickly as if drawn by opposing magnetic forces. You and he slowly walked towards the bed. Jacearys gently lifted you onto the bed and stood beside it. Both of you looked at each other for a moment before he slowly began to remove his outer shirt.

“Don’t tear my clothes.” you said, seeming to have less patience than him. You slowly removed your dress, leaving only the sheer undergarments. He chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss your neck, moving from your collarbone to your chest, your stomach, and the center of your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked. “If we stop now, you might not regret it.” He ran his finger along the waistband of your underwear, the small piece that was covering you at the moment. He kissed your stomach again, followed by your collarbone and neck.

“We’ve come too far to stop now.” you said. “Please, my prince.” You placed your hand on his hair, marveling at its natural waves. The prince slowly removed the sheer garment that covered you

“You are so beautiful, perfectly suited for me.” he said, kissing your chest. His other hand gently squeezed it, leaving the imprint of his fingers. He nipped at your nipple and licked it slowly. Your desire surged, and you craved even more.

He slowly used his hands to remove your small panties. Soon, heaven was revealed before him. His hands parted your legs, and he leaned down to taste the sweetness between your thighs. His nose brushed against your clit, driving you nearly insane.

You moaned, "Please, my prince, I need more." You were now very wet. Jacearys, undoubtedly aware, playfully teased your little cunt with his tongue, and the lewd sounds echoed throughout your bedroom.

“What do you want, beautiful?” he asked, using his other hand to play with your erect nipple.

“I want you, Jacearys.” you moaned again. He fuck you with his fingers in your sweet cunt. His fingers pushed deeper inside you while his mouth licked at your clit.

“Who do you belong to?” he murmured, then turned to mark your thigh instead.

"I am yours." you breathed heavily. "Yours, Jacearys." Soon, your moans rose again, your body convulsing slightly as it tightened around his fingers.

"Look at what you've done to me, how hard it is." He slowly took off his pants, showcasing his erect state. He stroked it once or twice and then slowly entered.

"Oh, fuck." he moaned. "It's so tight." He stayed inside for a while and then gradually moved his body so that you wouldn't feel pain.

“Such a sweet cunt” He kept accelerating his hip rhythm, the impact sounded all over the room, wondering how someone was guarding the door of the room today, he knew what you and our prince was doing.

The time that passes each minute is precious to you now. You feel that you are very sensitive even if it is just a little touch. But you can't deny how much you like it every time you feel him in your own body.

“I'm very close.”

“At the same time”

White drops also dripped out of him. He pushed himself deeper into you. The moans of the couple said very well. He cum inside of you, your irregular breathing and he touched each other's skin.

He leaned down to kiss you again, sweeter than ever before. His hair fell down around you, creating an incredibly seductive scene. One of your hands gently caressed his cheek. You needed nothing more when he was by your side.

“I am yours, and you are mine, Whatever may come.” He whispered

“I am yours, and you are mine, Whatever may come.”

[inuiiwonderland]

Twisted Captivity

Chapter 3

Twst third years x fem reader

A/n: Sorry for the long wait! This chapter is a bit longer than the first and second one so I hope you guys enjoy! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes and grammar it’s like really late rn and I’m sleep deprived😵‍💫

Words:1.3k

-

You spent half an hour talking to both ace and deuce in the heartslabyul enclosure. The two were absolutely curious creatures. They asked all sorts of questions about humans and what they eat. (With the best of their ability since they couldn’t speak the human language all to well)

You of course answered their questions with the best of your ability. While the three of you chatted you also decided to ask your fair share of questions about merpeople.

The two of them were rather thrilled when you asked. With the little bit of human language that they know, they started telling you about all sorts of traditions, stories, and cultures about them and their people. You were amazed as you wrote everything- well rather try since they said so much you couldn’t keep up.

You were all so caught up in the conversation that you didn’t realize that you still had to go visit the savanaclaw enclosure!

“Shit! I’m so sorry you two but I have to go!”

“Go?”

“Why?”

“I forgot that Crowley also asked for me to go visit the savanaclaw enclosure! Shoot I’m late! Bye guys I’ll see you two later!” You quickly grabbed your things and bolted right out of there. The two mermen sadly watched as you left.

-

You ran as fast as you could to get to the next enclosure that you were supposed to be at 20 minutes ago.

Your lungs burned and your legs felt wobbly but you decided to ignore it all and push yourself to run even faster. The relief that ran through your body when the doors to the enclosure came into view as you slowed down and started catching your breath.

“Shit! Ah I can’t breathe-“

“You’re late!” You quickly looked up to see a man who seemed to be in his late 50s look down at you with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry!” You bowed while also trying to steady your breathing.

The man just shook his head before sighing.

“Since you’re still new, I suppose I can let this slide for today. But next time I won’t, so please make sure you make it here on time”

You could only nod as you still tried to catch your breath. The man then handed you a silver bucket. You curiously looked in only to see a pile of dead fish. You grimace at the sight before looking back at the man.

“It’s their feeding time. I suppose Crowley also mentioned that you’ll be in charge of feeding the mers, no?”

“Ah yes he did say that” you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck as you gave him a sheepish smile.

“Well I suggest you go in and feed them. One of them is very upset right now. He doesn’t like waiting when it comes to feeding time”

“Right. And thank you”

“Mhm”

He moved out the way as you opened the door. You were once again met with a beautiful sight but too bad you didn’t have the time to gawk and admire it this time since you have hungry mers to feed.

You walked in and looked around before you saw them. There were multiple mers surrounding a giant rock and you can tell some looked very upset.

You gulp before quickly making your way over to them. One of the mers seemed to have noticed you as they chirped and whistled which caused everyone to turn and look at you.

“Sorry for the wait” The moment they saw the bucket. They grew Wild.

You gasp as some tried yanking the thing out of your hands but you quickly backed up before they could.

The hell?! They’re acting like they haven’t seen food before or something!

You quickly grabbed a fish before throwing it in the water. They all went wild so you quickly threw more in until there were only three left.

You looked around to see if everyone got one and once you saw how everyone had their own fish you let out a sigh of relief.

You looked down at the bucket and wondered if you should take it back or just give them extra.

You were in deep thought until you heard a whistle

You look down to see a mer. He pointed at the bucket and then his stomach.

“Oh! I’m sorry here” You grabbed one of the fish from the bucket before throwing it to him. The boy quickly grabs it before scarfing it down.

Poor guy….does Crowley feed any of them at all?

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when you felt webbed hands wrap around your ankles. You gasp as you look down to see the mer pointing at the bucket again.

“I’m sorry but I already gave you some already. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone if I gave you another”

The mer tilts his head in confusion before pointing at himself and shaking his head. Now you were the one confused. You watch as the mer points at the bucket again but then he turns around and points at something.

You look to see a cave. He was pointing at the cave.

“Do you have some friends in there that haven’t gotten any?” The mer only nods as you sigh.

“Alright, take me to em” The mer then motions you to follow him as he starts swimming towards the cave.

Once you two got there, you looked at him and he motions you inside. He swims right in and you follow suit. You were thankful that there was a small path for you to be able to walk right in. You were careful, making sure you didn't slip and fall right into the water.

The mer stops and calls out who you assume to be his friends.

You felt a shiver go down your spine as you swear you heard something similar to a growl. You gulp as two mermen make their presence known as the other one just swims away.

“I-I have your food” You say as you raise the bucket. One of them, the one with white hair swims up to you as you try to stay still.

Jeez….I sometimes forget how scary some look.

He eyes the bucket curiously before sniffing it. Once he is satisfied, he nods before patiently waiting for you to give him one.

“Oh! Here” You gave him the fish and he thanks you with a nod. You watch as he also scarfs it down and your heart couldn’t help but break.

Does anyone even feed them? They eat like they haven’t eaten in ages!

He senses your stare and quickly swims away. Like he was shy.

You watch as he swims deeper into the cave. You then turn to the other one who was already staring intensely at you. You gulp as you grab the last fish from the bucket and show it to him.

“Here” The mer just stares at you. You didn’t know what to say or do so you just stood there uncomfortably with a dead fish in your hand.

Damn it. Did I say or do something weird? Feels like I’m being judged.

You just carefully placed it down on one of the rocks that you saw near you before getting up.

“Well I guess it’s time for me to go. Enjoy your um…meal!” And you bolted right up out of there.

The man just watched as you ran away.

Yes he was mad that you were late with his meal but he was more surprised that you dared step foot into this cave. Some keepers either don’t feed him at all for this reason or just hand the fish to one of the two mers with him so that they can give him his food.

You were sure a interesting one that’s for sure

He grabs the fish before swimming deeper into the darkness of the cave.

What an interesting human

-

Taglist: @ruisann @roseapov @anunholyabomination @owodi @mochi-lover26 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @floevi @thatpersonuouknow @h0rr0r-10ver-69

[narcjsistx]

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night! I hope you're doing well<3 sorry for bothering you but can you do big brother Izana headcanons? Like what if Reader was getting bullied, what would Izana do?

HI! thanks for the request, hope you have a good day 🤎 and thx for the support!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— Izana Kurokawa as a big brother HCS ᡣ𐭩

To say he is possessive of you is an understatement. You are literally his last piece of biological family, he would never let you go anywhere without him or at most Kakucho

You are literally one of the most protected people in the world. I don't think anyone wants to mess with Izana Kurokawa and his younger sister, so bullying doesn't even remotely exist for you. In case there was someone who even dared to say something against you, well, this someone no longer exists. Murdered or suicide? Only Izana knows...

During the time in the orphanage with Kakucho and you, Izana often joked that sooner or later you would fall in love with Kakucho and abandon him. Paradoxically, for him Kakucho would be the only one who would leave you having half the problems he would have with someone he doesn't know. He knows how loyal you are to him and so you would still be protected

You are the vice captain of the Tenjiku. No matter your skills, whether you're great or terrible at fighting, the role is yours regardless. You are also called "the queen of Tenjiku" since you are the last girl, but since Izana is now known as "the king" you don't really like this nickname they gave you

Kind of brother who shows his love with pats on the head: it's a gesture that you've been doing since you were a child, and it remained until you grew up. We know that him is not the exact representation of contact for love, but this gesture moves him a lot

As a child he did everything, AND I MEAN EVERYTHING, to get you adopted. He wanted you to end up better than him since he already knew where he would end up, so he often intruded on visiting parents by pointing out that you were a lovely little girl. He even sent a letter to the director of the orphanage threatening him that if he didn't find you a family he would scratch his car

At first, he was afraid to let you meet Shinichiro. He thought you would become as fond of him as he did and that Shinichiro would become your favorite brother and not him. He only realized it was bullshit some time later, realizing that you too needed to have someone else in your family besides him. So yes, as children it often happened that all 3 of us went out together

He talks about you by the nickname "Bunso", which means "sister" in Tagalog. Since you were a child you have tried to learn your native language, and in the end, despite not living in the Philippines, you managed to have a good level of the language. It often happens that to communicate things in code with each other you speak in front of others using this language. Often at Tenjiku meetings Shion says something annoying, you turn to Izana and say "Ang tanga-tanga naman nito. Hindi ko nga alam bakit nandito pa siya" —> "This guy is infinitely stupid. I wonder why he's still among us". Shion laughed more than a few times thinking you were paying him a compliment

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter 4/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 3.2k

“Is Olivia still sleeping?” You ask as you look to the open doorway.

“She is,” Natasha answers simply. She stands with her arms folded and her legs shoulder-width apart. Nothing about her body language is welcoming or loving. She’s uncomfortable with you. You know Natasha so well and she’s prepared herself for a fight. As if you’d take it that far. Not after all this time.

“Do you want to sit?” You know you’re stalling. It’s stupid. You’re nervous to tell your wife about how you met. You’ve both gone over that day plenty of times. It’s nothing new. Natasha doesn’t respond. “We, um, our meeting wasn’t exactly the best. I guess you can gather that. Who told you? Tony? Steve?”

“Bruce,” Natasha supplies simply and she can see the slight confusion on your face. “I called him earlier. I figured he wouldn’t lie to me. Would get straight to the truth.”

“And he told you to ask me, right?” You conclude and she tilts her chin slightly. “I was raised by Hydra.” You begin slowly. You don’t even look to see Natasha’s face. Reliving all of the painful memories of your childhood is never easy. “I wasn’t. I don’t know much about the entire process. My father was a scientist working for Strucker. They had been planning and doing experiments for years. I grew up in the lab. My mother, god knows where she is, but I didn’t really mind. I was always excited to go to work with my dad. The experiments were innocent at first. Started with me standing in the same room as the scepter. Then things progressed.” You shake your head. “My father died and by then I was old enough to make my own decisions. Wanda and Pietro, the twins, were fifteen when they decided to join. I stayed to keep them safe.” You look over to Natasha to make sure she’s still listening. “I’m not telling you this to pity me but I just think you need to understand the magnitude of what we were dealing with. What we all went through at the hands of that man. Things should have been different.” You whisper to yourself.

“Anyway, I was loyal to my brother and sister,” You speak with a bit of defiance. “I couldn’t just leave them. After so many years of brainwashing and…” You don’t finish. You think she of all people would understand. “We were doing what we thought was right. I remained in the shadows. Up until a few years ago, I didn’t exist in the world. I was just another lost kid. So, we had the twins approach the Avengers first. Anything to get to Tony Stark. Wanda can slip into people’s minds and make them see their worst fear. We just needed to figure out what those were. Now she doesn’t need to do that but then,” You realize you may be rambling and that none of this may make sense to her. You lick your lips, finding your mouth to be dry, as you continue telling the story. Your story. “Do you, um, do you remember Morocco? Just a year before Ultron.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in horror. She remembers that night like the back of her hand. She’s always remembered it and played it over and over again in her head. The night she fell in love with a stranger. A woman she danced with well into the night. A woman that she stupidly let her guard down with only to wake up in the morning to an empty bed. The only thing she kept was the memory of that woman and how she made her feel. That and a tiny scar just below her…

Natasha doesn’t even give you time to react before she grabs your chin to turn your head. Sure enough there it is. The scar she remembers oh so well. It’s placed low on your right cheek. Something she thought was a birthmark up until now.

“That was you?” Natasha’s grip tightens for only a second. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. After all this time. All these years making up different reasons you left in her head. Sometimes she thought she imagined it. Other times she couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. About you. Now you’re standing here before her telling her it was all a scheme to get close to her. You can’t read the expression on her face and that terrifies you. She drops her hand, searching your eyes for something you’re not sure of before she backs away. “H-how does any of that make sense? I don’t understand. Was that in your plan? To fuck me and get information out of me? Are you really that deluded?” Natasha can’t wrap her head around what she’s being told.

“It worked. It was the only way to learn your fears,” You respond with a shaky voice. “I, we, I didn’t plan to sleep with you. I was supposed to befriend you and that was it. You were the one to invite me back to your hotel.”

“That makes it so much better,” She says sarcastically.

“I was supposed to dance with you and drug you and Wanda was supposed to come in and slip into your mind,” You confess. “When I met you it was different. You were different. It was nothing like I imagined. For that one night, I felt something and I went against my orders to be with you, and I- just…”

The stakes were high. You had Natasha, the infamous Black Widow right where you wanted her. You had to think quickly on your feet. You had to do something. Anything to get her to trust you.

“You what? Fell in love?”

“It was the first time I’d ever been with anyone. It was completely my choice,” You confirm. “I had you right where I wanted you and I took what I could. I used that information so Wanda could get into your head. Same with Thor and same with Tony, and Bruce, and Steve.”

“And you slept with them too?” Natasha’s hand twitches.

“No,” You shake your head. “Only you. It’s always been only you.”

“And after Ultron? You saw me and thought what? That it would be a happy reunion. Did you not feel anything?” Natasha doesn’t know whether she wants to puke or cry or fight. Everything she’s known has been a lie and she allowed it. She let herself slip for one night only to realize it all was a farce. She was a pawn in some game she wasn’t even playing. How could she trust you after this?

“Did you feel anything when you were a Widow?” You ask rhetorically. You already know the answer to that. Natasha’s been on missions much like the one you did plenty of times.

“Don’t spin this on me,” Natasha raises a finger, poking you in your chest, her eyes showing no sign of recognition. “I was…” She can’t find the words she wants to use. She doesn’t have any excuses for her life either. Not that she owes one to you.

“When we met for a second time, during Ultron, we almost killed each other.” You keep going. “You recognized me immediately. I didn’t want to fight but it’s what I had to do. We almost killed each other.”

“What stopped me?” Natasha questions.

“Love,” You answer quietly. “I know it sounds horrible but I couldn’t hurt you. When we realized what Ultron was doing we changed our minds and we fought with you. We lost Pietro and it all seemed like the world was ending at once. We became Avengers and moved into the compound.”

“Unbelievable,” Natasha scoffs. “So, you’ve been painting our marriage as this perfect thing this entire time when it’s been based on nothing but lies? I married a liar. How do you live with yourself? Are you lying about the girls too? Did you take them from their mother? How do I know you’re not lying to them? How can I trust you with them.”

“Natasha, that’s not fair,” You become emotional. You would never do anything to hurt any of your family. As messy as your past is you have always worked towards righting your wrongs.

“What’s not fair is I have no memories after an accident that could have been caused by my lying, manipulative wife,” Natasha snaps. “And I’m here with you. Not understanding any of this and you tell me we’re happy and I don’t know how to believe you.”

“Natasha,” You take a step towards her but she’s fast and before you even know what she’s doing she has a knife pointed towards your throat. Your shield, a light purple, is the only thing keeping it from touching you. You don’t care when she’s looking at you that way. As if you killed her puppy. Natasha backs away, not giving you another glance, as she leaves to lock herself in the guest bedroom. Truth be told, you assumed she would have left the house entirely. You think the only reason she’s staying is for the girls and even then you feel that’s a bit shaky.

You don’t give yourself room to breathe, letting your shield down, as you reach for the bed blindly. The tears in your eyes blur your vision as you plop onto the mattress.

That went well.

**********************

Inside the guest room, Natasha is going through a myriad of emotions. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of this situation. Out of the scenarios she played in her head she didn’t think this would be one of them. With the pocket knife still in her hand, she flips it over many times. Realizing the severity of what she almost did, she drops it onto the mattress beside her. How could any of this be true?

You’ve been in her life for even longer than she thought and she’s not sure she likes the idea of that. This is all too much for her to handle. She wants to run. She could do it. You probably wouldn’t stop her she thinks. Another part of her is curiosity. If the old her could get past it and forgive you what makes this different? In all of your interactions for the past few days, you’ve been nothing but genuine and gentle with her. How was she supposed to compartmentalize all of that? Your love was built on lies, pain, and everything Natasha told herself she wouldn’t do. When she was younger and allowed herself to think about having a family, which wasn’t often, she imagined healthy love. Someone who understands her and doesn’t care about her past. A person she could be completely herself with.

Was that you?

For now, she doesn’t know the answer to that question and she’s not ready to question anymore. She’s had enough of her past today. She lies on the bed, parallel to your position in the other room, as she replays what just happened in her head.

Natasha doesn’t come out of the bedroom for the rest of the night. When you find Olivia curled into her you don’t disturb them. You close the door behind them and go back down into your bedroom to make a call.

You hold the phone to your ear, breathing harshly, as you wait for an answer. Wanda picks up after the second ring. She speaks a bright Sokovian greeting but quickly changes her tune when she realizes it’s you.

“Y/n, is everything okay?” Wanda asks. She’s patient as she waits for you to gather yourself. You feel like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and haphazardly thrown back into your body.

“No,” You finally speak. “I told Natasha.”

Wanda asks knowingly. “I take it she didn’t receive things too well.”

“Not at all,” You wipe your face free of the tears running down your face. “Wanda, how am I supposed to do this? Maybe I’m way in over my head. It’s only been a few days but I’ve already managed to make her hate me.”

“I don’t think Natasha has it in her to hate you,” Wanda replies.

“This isn’t our Natasha, Wands.” You sigh. “She’s different. Combative.”

“I remember a time when you were the same way.” Wanda reminds you. “When we first joined Hydra you weren’t exactly the nicest to us.”

“I had to make sure you weren’t trying to kill me in my sleep,” You say. “You were strangers.”

“My point,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’m not saying it will be easy but stick around for her a little longer. She’s going through a rough time too. Would you take it well if everything you’ve known is different or changed?”

“No,” You grumble.

“Then have patience,” Wanda encourages. “Don’t let her walk all over you. You’re supposed to be the top.”

“Not funny,” You roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry, sestra.” Wanda giggles to herself. “I do think you should give her a chance.”

“Who made you the big sister?” You ask in annoyance.

“Sometimes it’s okay for the little sister to take over,” Wanda reminds you. “Come here tomorrow. Have lunch with us. I will make you something special. The girls can come to play and I can see you.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” You agree. “I can’t promise there won’t be tears.”

“From you or the girls?” Wanda jokes.

“Both,” You shoot back. “Do you have to hang up?” You ask as you look at the time. It’s getting pretty late.

“I can stay on the phone,” Wanda promises. “I was going to play a little guitar out on the balcony. Will that bother you?” She’s such a good sister. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

“No, go ahead.” You climb under the covers, propping the phone up next to you, as you drift off to sleep. Wanda’s soft playing and your exhaustion from the day allow you to fall asleep fairly quickly. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.

***************************

It’s the next morning and Natasha is awakened by the sound of crying. She sits up, resting on her elbows, to see Olivia is still sound asleep beside her. There’s a sliver of light peeking from her curtains so she can deduce that it’s early morning. How long was she asleep? She pushes the covers back to go and investigate. She follows the sound of noise down to the girl’s bedroom. She finds Lily standing up in her crib, rubbing her eyes, as she calls out for both of you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Natasha coos, signing hello, as she comes to stand closer to the crib. She looks over the bonnet on Lily’s head, finding it to be interesting before she looks down at Lily’s wide eyes.

“Up,” Lily begs and Natasha obliges. She scoops the little girl into her arms, feeling her bottom for a wet diaper before she walks over to the changing table.

“I know that was pretty uncomfortable huh,” Natasha speaks to her as she changes her diaper quickly. She has a bit of difficulty changing out of her onesie though this doesn’t deter her. She changes Lily’s diaper, deciding to dress her in a different outfit before she looks around the nursery. She hasn’t been in this room yet. It’s well done. The walls are muted pink with a rose gold decal. The dresser in the far corner of the room is white with rose-gold handles. There’s a rocking chair in another corner. Olivia’s bed, shaped like a proper princess’s bed is on the other side while Lily’s crib takes over the other side of the room. There’s a bookshelf full of children’s books. A baby monitor with a camera attached to Lily’s crib. Everything looked so well done and normal. Did you choose the decorations together?

“Ears?” Lily questions and Natasha is reminded of her cochlear implants.

“You don’t wear these at night? I guess that makes sense,” Natasha says as she attempts to put them on. It takes a few tries but eventually, she gets it right. Lily signs “on” giving Natasha a proud smile as they stand together in her bedroom. “Would you like breakfast?” Natasha asks.

“Food?” Lily tilts her head while rubbing her tummy. She sure could eat right now. “Mommy?” Lily asks. She’s looking for you.

“She’s probably still asleep. For now, you have me kid,” Natasha carries Lily down to the first floor. Despite the slight pain in her ribs, she feels a bit better. She’s not supposed to be carrying Lily but she’d be damned if she misses out on this very important thing. She would carry her baby forever if need be. She places Lily in her high chair, before walking over to the fridge to get breakfast.

“Go!Go!” Lily points excitedly. Natasha follows her line of sight to see a box of Yoplait Gogurt sitting on one of the shelves. She takes her time opening it before giving it to Lily. The toddler gulps it down as she watches Natasha. Natasha makes quick work of fixing a bowl of oatmeal. She helps to feed the toddler, finding that Lily is truly a happy baby, as she smiles through the entire meal.

Natasha is enjoying her morning breakfast when she hears footsteps coming down onto the first floor. She spots curls first before Olivia catapults herself into her lap.

“Olivia Jane, be careful,” You warn her as she jumps into Natasha’s arms.

“She’s fine,” Natasha rolls her eyes and you’re not sure exactly how to respond to that. So you ignore it. You walk over to the Keurig, finding your desired flavor, before turning the machine on. You greet Lily with a bunch of kisses to her face, almost turning to kiss Natasha too before you stop yourself. For a second you forgot.

“Mama, I slept in the bed with you,” Olivia reminds Natasha. “I didn’t kick you this time right?” Olivia questions as a bowl of warm oatmeal are placed in front of her. For her bowl, you cut up fruit to place inside.

“No you were a perfect angel,” Natasha assures her.

‘Why you didn’t sleep with Mommy again?” Olivia asks and neither of you knows how to answer that.

“Since Mama is still hurt we decided she needed a bed to herself,” You answer. Hopefully, that would make sense to a three-year-old.

“Oh,” Oliva nods in understanding.

“It’s too easy for you,” Natasha mumbles and you don’t bother to ask her what she means.

“What do you guys think about going to see Aunt Wanda today?” You ask instead.

“I go!” Lily grins. She loves Aunt Wanda and so does Olivia.

“Me too,” Olivia eats from her spoon. She manages to keep all of the oatmeal in her mouth and off the table this time around.

“Your sister?” Natasha questions. “Do you think that’s best?”

“Natasha, the girls have been around my sister from the day we brought them home,” You sigh. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, fixing it to your liking, before taking a small sip. Despite you feeling slightly threatened by her yesterday, you’re a tiny bit more optimistic today. She stepped foot outside of her room so you’re choosing to take that as a good sign. “If you don’t think it’s safe you’re more than welcome to come. Everyone lives about an hour away at the compound.”

“I think I will,” Natasha nods.

This should be fun.

----> next part

[i-magines]

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 3

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6  | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.  

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.  

word count: 1,509

Over the first month, your friendship with Pedro only grew stronger. You were afraid once the production set was moved to the country, he was going to just disappear, as you were no longer roommates. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he didn’t make you feel anything, especially with how charming and flirting he was. You both had shared a lot of personal stuff over smoking joints and you were already used to hanging out together after a day of filming. But today things were going to be different, because the producers had organized a little happy hour for the crew.

Speaking of them, you had asked Pedro to keep your friendship on the low, at least during the job. You knew what everyone would say and think, mostly about you alone, so you were looking after yourself. He understood that and apparently didn’t care to be sneaking out like a teenager to spend some time with you.

“There you are”, Pedro happily greeted you on the corner of the happy hour room, about two hours into the event. “I almost didn’t get the chance to see you today. How’s everything going?”

At this point, you were certain the director hated you, but thank God he was the only one. Everyone else seemed to really like you and your work, which helped a lot with your anxiety.

“He spent the day trying to drive me crazy… Again”, you told Pedro. “You?”

“I would definitely rather be directed by you, if I’m being honest” he said in sympathy. “But yeah, it won’t take long for me to tell him to fuck off. Super nicely, of course.”

You both laughed. You could see he had been drinking and so did everybody in the room. Somebody turned up the music and Pedro dragged you to the improvised dance floor. You danced for about half an hour, until you saw him going to talk to Donna, one of the producers. They seemed friendly— too friendly, if somebody asked your opinion. You noticed it before, how close they acted sometimes, but at the end of the day, it was none of your business. Flo, the make-up artist that got you the job, got your attention and you walked to her.

“What’s up with that face?” She shot you the question. Flo was in her mid 40s and you got to know her in your first gig, since then she was always trying to connect you with people. You really liked her and, most importantly, trusted her. “You looked like you were about to commit murder on the dance floor. I know Dave is giving you a hard time, but honestly he is doing this to every single soul.”

“I was just wondering, is Donna taken?”, you asked as if you had no intention behind it.

“Yeah, I think so”, she told you. “Why? You gay too?”

“Someti— wait, what?” You stared at each other for a few seconds. “Is she?”

“As far as I know”, she said simply. “And by that I mean I’ve known her for about 10 years now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, you didn’t. I mean, good for her, right.”

You decided you need to put your shit together now on. You excused yourself and went to get another drink — you can be a new woman tomorrow. You took some shots and got a drink to hold while you watched everyone dancing and having a good time. You tried to force yourself to stop thinking about your crush on Pedro.

“I need professional help”, you whispered to yourself.

“And why is that?”

“Shit, Pedro!” You jumped, realizing he was right by your side. “You scared the shit out of me, you shithead.”

“Wow, language, sweetheart”, he laughed at your reaction, putting his arm over your shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Not much, just enjoying the free drinks”, you replied, also enjoying the proximity of his body. “I can see you’re enjoying them yourself.”

“Nah, I’m thinking about getting out of here, people are starting to get too drunk and God forbid I witness anything I can’t unsee”, he was being playful and seemed happy when he got a smile out of you. “Care to join me? Or you already have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, you know me, Miss Popularity herself”, you both laughed. “Seriously, though. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Is it okay if we leave together? Considering your privacy policy”, he whispered in your ear. Only if he knew how weak that makes you. You just nodded. “After you, mi princesa.”

Fuck you, Pedro Pascal, you thought as you made the effort to move your shaking legs. Two options: first, he had no idea of his effects on you, or second, he did know that and he just liked to torture you. However it is, you were not willing to make a move to figure it out. 

The location of the shooting was a huge farm, so you walked together through the open field, towards his cabin. You got inside and took your shoes off.

“Hey, mister ‘I’m just a common worker as everybody else’, tell me again why exactly you are the only one with a private hot tube”, you teased him. He laughed. “Is it because you’re such good friends with Donna?”.

“So that’s what it was about back in the happy hour?” Pedro looked deeply into your eyes. “Such a jealous little girl, uh?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You can’t deny your brain formulated that sentence, but the alcohol spilled it out your mouth.

“Answering your question, I’m not really friends with Donna, but her partner is one of my closest colleagues in the industry”, he said in a patient tone. “And you’re welcome to use the hot tube whenever you feel like it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to— to be honest, I don’t even know what I meant, so don’t mind drunk Y/N”, you breathed out strongly.

“Why don’t we forget about it and instead go chill in the hot tube?” He offered you a smile. Pedro was so easy to deal with, always trying to make you comfortable. “I have more of that nice whisky you like.”

You quickly put on your bikini in your room and head back to Pedro’s cabin. You could hear the happy hour turning into a party on the back, as you joined him inside the tub. You did your best to not stare at his toned, tanned body. He was smoking a cigar and handed you a glass.

“You know what’s funny”, he started, you already knew you wouldn’t find it funny at all. “This is the second time I see you in a tub.”

“Well, fuck you very much sir”, you held a serious face before letting a smile scape. “That was traumatic.”

“Why is that? I would say you made quite an impression”, he laughed, something different sparkling in his eyes. “Would it bother you if I said I still think about it?”

You felt your body hot, as if the water was on boiling point.

“God”, you whispered. He never took his eyes off yours. “I don’t know what to say, Pedro.”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart”, he replied, coming a little closer. You got chills all over your body. “Honestly, I don’t know if you only see me as this friendly, older, disgusting man—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you cut him before he could finish. “Feel free to think about whatever you like.”

“Good”, he said quietly, his body even closer, but still not touching yours. “Tell me what you were doing on the tub that day, sweetheart.”

“I-I was, uh,” you felt like you were about to explode, your brain trying to process if this was really happening. “I was touching myself.”

“Finally, princesa”, he let out a deep breath against your neck. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to hear you say this, to be sure my memory wasn’t fucking with me.”

He touched your waist with his hand, putting the cigar away with the other one. You felt delirious.

“What are you going to do now that you know?” The question popped out of your mouth.

He grabbed your arm to move your body, making you sit on his lap. Face to face. He was hard as fuck.

“I will take you back to your cabin, give you a goodnight kiss…” He made a pause. His stare was deep down your soul. “Come back to mine and think ‘bout you while I mind my own business.”

He was dead serious.

“I’m too horny to go to sleep”, you cried to him, all your blood concentrated between your legs. You moved on his lap, rubbing against his cook.

“Trust me”, he said as his hands firmly held your hips down, making you stop and yet feel him ever harder. “I feel the same way.”

He gave you a little forehead kiss.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

CHAPTER 4 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86​ (edit: i’m not sure why i wasn’t able to tag everybody i’m trying my best here)

[tightjeansjavi]

Jeany! Congrats on one year, baby!

What can I bring to the sleepover? I have punch and pie at the ready.

You know I’m a Frankie girl thru and thru… but what if he was… drunk and handsy (in the best way possible) and maybe we’re not an item yet… but he’s hella interested and the alcohol makes him brave…

Love a little friends to lovers…

Beefro👌🥩💜

BEEFRO!! my darling, mi vida, thank you for sending this in! I hope it’s okay that we didn’t get smutty with it, and the reader was the one who was a lil drunk 🥺

-

mi vida

~word count: 2.0k~

Summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend and the love of your life.

Pairing | best friend!frankie morales x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, no age gap, language, mentions of drinking and smoking, right person wrong time, best friend!frankie, assumed unrequited love, frankie and the reader are bi, Santi, Will, and Benny exist in this universe but fuck Tom. Me and my homies hate a motherfucker named Tom, happy ending, reader can understand and speak Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Translations:

mi vida- my life

querida- darling

hermano- brother

nada de eso- none of that

estoy en camino- I’m on my way

no te vayas de ahí- don’t move

voy a intentarlo- I’m going to try

vamos a salir de aquí- let’s get out of here

The bass in the nightclub is booming, pulsing in your ears and rattling your brain in your skull. Your vodka lemonade has practically watered down to nothing—great. To make matters even worse, your favorite pair of metallic heels keep sticking to the floor—gross. There’s too many people packed in this club, too many bodies, and you realize then that this was a terrible idea.

It all started with your stupid boyfriend—ex-boyfriend. He broke up with you over the phone, babbling pathetically about how he met someone else and how sorry he was. Bullshit. You sucked in your tears, and the remaining threads of your dignity and packed his shit up into a cardboard box and tossed it right down the garbage shoot.

Fuck him.

You weren’t even the least bit sad, no—you were furious. You should have known that he was a tool, just another asshole hiding under a ‘nice guy’ persona.

Did I even really love him? You questioned yourself in the mirror while applying a glitter shadow to your eyelids.

You did, but he’s not— You gripped the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection and the smudge mascara streaks under your eyes.

Frankie is too good for me. He deserves better.

Francisco—Catfish, Morales had been your best friend, your ride or die—your Clyde to your Bonnie, since you were kids.

You grew up on the same block and you remember the first day you met Frankie like it was just yesterday.

His mom sent him over to your house, with fresh tamales in a well loved container held between two clammy palms.

“Hey, I’m Frankie. Welcome to the neighborhood.” He said with a small, boyish grin.

He had the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen, and soon enough your diary was no longer doodles of unicorns, butterflies, princesses and dragons, it was Frankie Morales, and those brown eyes of his.

You walked to school together everyday and soon your duo turned into a little group consisting of three other kids that had become like brothers to Frankie and you.

There was Benny, Will, and Santi; the five of you shared your own stomping ground: the neighborhood playground. And as you grew older…your feelings towards your friends shifted.

You had a minor crush on Santi who found out through Benny and that’s how you ended up going to the movies together one weekend. Santi was a total gentleman, and while you were attracted to him, the butterflies weren’t there. The spark that you dreamed about feeling—was nonexistent. And when he kissed you, your foot didn’t pop up like it did in the Princess Diaries!

Get a room! You’d recognize that voice from anywhere—Frankie.

And low and behold, Frankie, Benny, and Will were all sitting a few seats behind you and Santi who wasted no time to grab a handful of popcorn and toss it at the three of them.

You and Santi decided afterwards that you were better off as friends. Will took you out to dinner once, and the two of you also quickly realized that you were better off as friends.

Benny ended up being your date to the junior prom. It was hard to not be attracted to a guy like Benny. He was smart, funny, and a total goober. He couldn’t dance for shit, but you had fun, and it was definitely going to be a night for the books.

Maybe you and Benny would have ended up together if you hadn’t slow-danced under a shimmering disco ball with Frankie after Benny took a break from dancing. Maybe your heart strings wouldn’t have tugged you in the direction of your best friend, and those big brown eyes of his.

“Are you going home with him, mi vida?” His words whispered against the shell of your ear while one hand rested along your lower back, and the other around your waist.

“Probably” You whispered softly.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t see the way his face fell, and his lips curve into a set frown.

“Good. He’ll take care of you. You deserve to have fun, querida.”

And when the song ended, and Benny returned, you watched your best friend walk away, his arm wrapped around Santi’s shoulders.

It was half-past 5 in the morning when you told Benny about your feelings for Frankie. You were tangled up in his sheets, passing a cigarette back and forth. Benny wasn’t even surprised, he just had this knowing grin on his face.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We all know how you feel about catfish. It ain’t a secret.” He winked at you reassuringly.

-

On graduation night you had built up enough courage to finally tell Frankie how you felt, and after downing a few glasses of champagne for some extra liquid courage, you were ready—until you saw Frankie leaned in close to another girl in your grade, and your heart sank to the very pits of your stomach.

You told Santi how you felt about Frankie later that night while sharing a bottle of champagne on the old rusted swings of the neighborhood playground.

He confessed to you that he felt the same way about Frankie, but he was afraid of ruining their friendship and how Frankie would react.

You reached over, gently grabbing his hand in yours and told him, you should tell him how you feel, Santi.

-

When you went off to college, your four friends enlisted in the military and you weren’t sure if you would ever see them again. Life continued on for you, until you found yourself right back to your roots, and feeling the same way for your best friend as you did years ago. You just did a real damn good job of hiding it from your boyfriend.

So, that’s how you found yourself outside of the women’s bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, the bottom of your favorite heels sticking to the floor, and your thumbnail bleeding because you had ripped out a nasty hangnail with your teeth.

The dial tone rang, and rang and you thought that maybe this was a sign that you and Frankie were never meant to be. That it was all made up in your head, and scribbled in your diary. Maybe Frankie never felt the same way about you as you did for him.

“Mi vida?” his voice crackled on the other line and you imagined he had his hand cupped over his phone so that he could hear you better.

“Francisco,” you breathed, taking a pause as you gathered your thoughts. “I—I need you, Frankie.”

He nearly dropped his phone, lurching forward in his chair from your words. His erratic movements caught the attention of Santi who was sitting across from him in the booth and he raised his brows, mouthing, you okay, hermano?

Frankie was too caught up in the pounding of his heart in his chest, and his pulse racing in his eardrums to even notice Santi or Benny and Will now looking at him.

“Where are you, querida? Are you—safe? I can barely hear you.” Frankie uttered, bringing his thumb to his lips and gnawed on the side of the nail nervously with his teeth.

“I’m at some shitty club. Boyfriend broke up with me—and I ended up here. You don’t have to come, I just—I thought maybe…” you trailed off.

“Nada de eso, mi vida. Is it that same club we tried sneaking into back in highschool? The seedy one?”

“Yeah. The one where the floor is always sticky, and you can still smoke cigarettes.” You stifled a giggle.

“Estoy en camino, querida. Hang tight, okay? No te vayas de ahí.” He said in an urgent tone, gathering up his wallet and keys before he downed the last sip of his beer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Frankie.” You reassured him.

“I know, mi vida. I’ll stay on the line with you, ‘Kay?” He slipped out of the booth just as Santi stood up.

Frankie pulled his phone away from his ear momentarily, holding it against his shoulder as their eyes met.

Santi gave him a knowing a grin, slapping him on the shoulder gently in a half hug, “go get your girl, hermano.”

Frankie hugged him back, wrapping both arms around him before pulling back slightly with a grin slowly tugging over his lips, “Voy a intentarlo, hermano.”

And then there was Benny in the background yelling, “HELL YEAH, CATFISH! GO GET YOUR LADY!”

-

Frankie stayed on the phone with you the entire walk to the club which evidently was only a few blocks away. You were babbling on about how watered down your vodka lemonade was when Frankie had pushed himself through the mass of bodies all sweaty and sticking together. His eyes locked on your familiar face, right where you said you would be.

“I’m here, mi vida.” He whispered into the receiver before ending the call. He didn’t even have a chance to slip his phone into his back pocket when he felt your arms wound around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You smelled like cheap vodka, and flowery perfume that burned the sensitive hairs in his nostrils but he didn’t care.

“I missed you, Francisco.” You breathed into the bare patch of exposed skin on his neck, hugging yourself to him tightly. “I—there’s so much I want to say—and tell you, Frankie.”

“I missed you more than you can imagine, querida. I never—I’m so sorry…about your boyfriend.” He pulled back slowly so that he could get a good look at your face. He expected you to be a heartbroken wreck, but he was met with the complete opposite.

“Don’t be. He was a jackass, and I don’t think he and I were ever compatible.” You shrugged, eyes never leaving his. “I don’t give a fuck about him. I came out here to clear my head, but then I thought about you, Frankie. “Fuck it!” You laughed, choking back an on-coming sob that you weren’t expecting, “I should have just grown a pair all those years ago and told you how I felt! Fuck—do you have any idea just how in love with you I am, Francisco?”

“Mi vida, you’re drunk—you—just went through a break up, and you’ve had a lot to drink—”

She’s in love with me?

“I should have broken up with him a long time ago, Frankie. There’s a lot of things I wish I could have done differently, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it’s always been you, Francisco, mi vida.”

She is in love with me.

Frankie brought his hands up to your face then, gently cradling your cheekbones in his palms. “Hey, hey, querida. It’s okay. Shit, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for any of that. You and I—we’ve always danced around the subject, haven’t we?”

You nodded and brought your hands up to rest along his.

“Santi told me after we enlisted that you were going to tell me how you felt on graduation night and then never did because—the timing wasn’t right then, mi vida. I thought about writing you a letter at some point, but I never did because the last thing I ever wanted to do was hold you back from the life you deserved, querida. All these years I’ve wanted to tell you—”

You cut him off, pulling his face close to yours, “I love you, Frankie” you brushed your thumb across the heart shaped patch in his beard.

“Fuck—I love you so much, mi vida.”

And then you were both surging forward, accidentally smacking one another in the forehead, letting out a synchronized groan of pain before your lips finally met in a bruising kiss. Your foot popped up behind you as drunk club-goers stumbled past yours and Frankie’s passionate embrace.

You came up for air a few minutes later, giggling as you threw your arms around his neck once more and he held you close, swaying with you as if there was a slow song playing.

“Vamos a salir de aquí, Frankie.” You said breathlessly, carding your fingers through the back of his hair having half the temptation to rip off his baseball cap just so you could mess his hair up even more.

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it down to his face and pressed his lips to the outside of your hand, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I’ll go anywhere with you, mi vida.”

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[undiscovered-horizon]

Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - Part 3 A/N: I've got other WIPs and requests but Emo Brooding Morpheus and Gentle Warm Reader is a brainrot I welcomed a little too warmly

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [ENDING] [ALT. ENDING] || Sandman-inspired playlist

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

"Have you found them?"

Your voice was hardly audible over the sound of crashing waves and screaming seagulls. The wind kept tugging at your clothes, gnawing at your skin and soon you found yourself feeling cold. The warm sunrays, sporadically emerging from behind the grey clouds, were a pleasant relief as they gently brushed against your face. Spring never comes soon enough...

"What exactly do you mean?" Morpheus asked.

The reason why he accompanied you on your walk back home was a lovely secret - one that might be ruined the moment someone tries to learn it. To your satisfaction, he never questioned why you were walking on the sand and not the bricked boulevard, which would have been a lot more comfortable. Despite the sheer pleasure that it brought you, your choice of route was motivated by something more profane: the loneliness that you shared. Morpheus would never admit that himself, you could already tell but he needed to talk to someone as much as you did. In that moment he was about as human as an entity can get and yet he was never going to realize that; when people recognize each other's loneliness as their own they form a connection a little too deep to be captured by a language and far too strange for the mundane world.

"Your belongings, naturally. The jewel, the pouch..." you counted as you recalled the wonderful and strange trinkets he had with him that day, "the creepy mask," you added as your face involuntarily turned into a grimace thinking about the unnerving bone contraption he wore. "Father seemed very content with his, well, theft."

Morpheus suddenly stopped. His eyebrows furrowed slightly and those cold, blue eyes stared into yours with astonishing intensity. The cold wind pulled at his hair as it brushed against his forehead. Looking at his face, you could see the small moves of his jaw as he clenched its muscles.

"Do you know anything of them?"

His voice didn't waver and considering his alarmed appearance, it was an impressive feat. The longer you admired his otherworldly composure the more you grew convinced that you had misinterpreted it the first time you had seen him: what painted his expression blank was not the lack of emotions behind it but rather a certain reluctance in feeling sensations that were already there. Such a disconnect was strangely human for a king of dreams, not to mention horribly forlorn. If one desires no relation to their feelings, how could one ever relate to another being?

"I'm afraid I don't," you answered in a mild tone. "I've only heard rumours among the manor staff as though your gem had been stolen by my father's mistress. But, unfortunately, I cannot speak for the reliability of that hearsay. Even if that were true, I haven't the foggiest where she's gone."

"What of the pouch and the helmet?" he coexed. It seemed as if the remnants of his hope long gone were being washed away with each wave that crashed against the white sand of Southend-on-sea.

"Hard to say," you said with a shrug. Digging your hands further into the pockets of your coat, you began walking again. "Perhaps they're locked away in the deepest dungeon underneath the mansion or maybe they were sold on the black market. In any case, I'm afraid I can't even try to inquire about that. My letters were never answered."

"You have written letters to your father?"

"No, not to Rodrick," you said quietly as you absentmindedly shook your head. There was another for whom your heart broke - someone who might never know the amount of love you once had for them. "I wrote to Alex. I know he hasn't been exactly kind to you but he's an exceptional boy. He will grow up to be a great man, I'm sure of that. Although, I'm afraid I shan't get to see that..."

Morpheus silently studied your somber expression as you looked at the faraway horizon. Somewhere there, where sky dipped his toes in the endless waters, you saw all the magnificent possibilities of Alex's future. A sad smile appeared on your face as if those fantasies made you both proud and completely heartbroken. For the second time, Morpheus began wondering why humans were capable of feeling such contradicting emotions at the same time.

A tear fell from your eye. It glistened in the afternoon sun with a myriad of colours as if misery could once be breathtaking. As the teardrop run down the curve of your cheek, Morpheus instinctively raised his hand but only slightly like some anxious thought at the back of his head prohibited him from moving his arm further. It was the very same hesitation that had decided about the fate of the world more than once.

He thought something you had told him all those years ago when you said you wished your brother never had died. Back then he didn't quite understand the difference - the small difference, a change of perspective - that made your choice different from your father's. But now, watching the glistening tear on your cheek, Morpheus felt a fraction of understanding due to nothing more but his selfishness: instead of wishing to brush away your tear, he wished you never had cried.

"I'm so sorry, I just miss him a lot," you whispered. A sniffle and a deep sigh left your lips. "Oh, only now do I realize my utter lack of manners," you resumed the conversation. With a frantic move of your hand, you brushed away the stray tear. You forced a gentle smile on your face and Morpheus grew angry, although he couldn't quite explain why. "You're a king, are you not? Should I not call you 'your majesty'?"

"There is no need for that." The cold tone of his voice never once revealed the silent affections he had pondered just before. "You are not one of my subjects."

"As you wish, Dream of the Endless. I may not know where to look for your belongings but I do have a burning suspicion that we will not find them among those cold sands and murky waters. As much as it pains me to say so, we should leave this lovely town as soon as we can."

"My affairs are not of your concern."

You stopped walking only to look at him. For a moment, your kind face stared into his eyes - they were such an exceptional shade of blue. Their cool hue was both haunting and dazzling, perhaps serving as an adequate showcase of their owner's nature. It was a wonderful thought that no other but Morpheus inspired the saying that 'eyes are the window to the soul'.

"I want them to be," you confessed before continuing to walk towards your house.

Morpheus couldn't follow your step. He wasn't sure what to make of your words or most of all - whether you actually meant them, at least in the same way he understood them. The longer he listened to the echo of your confession inside his head, the more the realized that only the reasonable part of him desired to dismiss your decision. Yes, deep inside Morpheus wanted you to be concerned with his affairs. Maybe one day, when he lets that intimate thought resound in his mind, he'll realize he wanted to be your concern.

Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that Dream hadn't moved from his spot. His dark attire was a startling contrast to the white sand under his feet and the greyish-blue water behind him. The cold wind kept nipping at his hair and clothes and yet his skin was just as pale, not a shade of red or purple revealed that he could be cold in that weather.

"The world is spinning, your majesty," you yelled over the crashing of waves and seagulls' calls. "We can't just stand on it."

___ Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose

[whaleofatjme1920]

My Version of Eyeless Jack

So, there's no cohesive narrative here I just wanted to infodump a bunch of stuff about how I write my EJ. I'll put it in headcanon form but know whenever you read my newer EJ fics (or whenever I get an inkling to talk about him), this is exactly how I envision him and want him to be seen as.

EJ grew up in a Polish somewhat American household. He's a second generation, with his parents both being from Poland and most of their extended family in the old country. His mother is from a smaller city in the southwest, and his father from Krakow. His mother instilled in him a deep love of the natural world, and a hunger for learning.

Jack's obsession for medicine and whatnot came up because his father was just a bit insane about keeping him healthy. Any cough or sneeze was instantly investigated. He was a bit sheltered in that sense, and was prone to sneaking out to experience a normal adolescence and whatnot as he grew up.

While Jack is not averse to getting his hands dirty and doing jobs no one else would even THINK of, he's still gotta go through a full cleansing and decontamination when he's done.

I like to think that, as a kid, he was deeply in love with Slavic mythology and he was, surprise surprise, really into Chernobog. That wasn't Chernobog whispering in his ear he was just always interested whether he realized it or not. This kinda faded out around 12 years old but as a guy that's literally possessed by him now, fused to make an entirely new being, he finds it just a hair ironic.

Yeah, he did have to go to Polish school on the weekends. Sometimes he loved it, other times not at all.

He was his parents only child so he was kind of under a magnifying glass from them both.

He was actually quite close with his grandmothers!

Jack has always had a biting, sarcastic wit. He can balance professionalism with clinical sarcasm fantastically. His humor is very deadpan and he'll dupe you multiple times if you're not careful.

Jack doesn't always understand why people insist on social politeness. He actually favors bluntness, but will be polite if the situation calls for it.

He has three tongues. Yes, he's choked on them before. This mostly happened in the beginning when he was first getting used to his new body.

He doesn't like sweet foods, but certain organs are sweeter to him than others. He can't quite explain that, but he favors certain parts of people over others.

He can eat human food, but it's like junk food for him. He will always need to feast on humans from time to time to keep himself well. Also this is NOT a constant thing with him. He has like a major feeding once or twice a month, and smaller feedings ever 7-10 days. He can get by just fine, he's not always starving.

Most of his work is him just preparing in case he's in a situation he can't hunt.

His body can heal at an accelerated rate!

Because he's possessed by/permanently fused with Chernobog, he has 'starfish' tendencies. Meaning, if he loses a finger, in about 6 months he'll have a new one. Anything bigger might take years but he's never been in a situation where that's needed to happen. This does not mean he's invincible.

Slender Man, who has been around for way longer than any of us can conceive, finds it funny that Chernobog is fused with a socially awkward young man who couldn't even ask a girl out normally and forewent his survival instinct just to hang out with her.

Slender Man, when just with Jack, will speak with him in Polish or older forms of Slavic languages when more directly addressing Chernobog.

Jack is physically HUGE. He's like 6'8, because his merging made him bigger. He was already tall at 5'10, but Chernobog required a bigger vessel. So, he painfully grew bigger. He's quite muscular, not overtly so but you know he has physical strength.

He's,,,,, human-like in appearance. Gives off uncanny valley at times.

He's actually quite funny and does take some joy in making people laugh.

He's not besties with Jeff but they are, more often than not, together doing things.

He actually prefers Jane's company!

It takes so, so long to gain his actual trust. He has varying levels of it, like anyone else, but it's difficult to even breach his first layer.

Has a deep fondness for birds, specifically vultures.

Doesn't like dogs. He has never liked dogs. Smile is his one and only exception. Does like cats.

His body has a stupid tattoo on his thigh he got when drunk one night at uni. He's still mildly embarrassed by it.

He occasionally smokes weed.

He won't admit it, but anyone that looks like Jenny brings back terrible, terrible memories. When he was younger, those types of women used to trigger panic attacks. He's much better now, but seeing women that look like her make him very uncomfortable.

He doesn't enjoy strong smelling perfumes or colognes. He thinks the scents themselves are nice, but they give him migraines. His sense of smell is very strong and well.

He can actually function quite well in normal society, he just doesn't physically fit the image. And even using his glamour-he sticks out from his height alone.

Jack wouldn't say this to anyone, but he sometimes hangs around in his glamour just to remember what he used to look like before. It's not a 100% match, but he sees himself as older. A bit more jaded and weathered. He wonders what would have happened if he listened to his roommate and didn't go.

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 01

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language, I guess?  Word Count: ~4.253

— Just hold my hand. If you are afraid, you can hold my hand.

And it was so cold, my hand froze when I pulled it out from under the covers to extend it towards him. Carlos was on the bed across from mine, his hand stretched out toward me. The beds were far enough apart that I could barely reach him with my fingers. We both got as close as possible to the edge of the bed, the whisper of sheets spreading through the room. I grabbed two of his fingers. He smiled at me. And we fell asleep like that, with our fingers intertwined, hovering over the face of my brother, lying on a mattress between the beds. Eventually, after I had fallen asleep, I let go of his hand and hid it under the blankets. When I woke up, I had both hands on the pillow, but his was down on the side of the bed, his fingers still outstretched—not towards me, but pointed at the floor. And there was no longer a storm and I was no longer afraid.

Chapter 01

Looking back, it warms my heart to remember moments like those.

We are so much older now; Our lives took a major turn and we barely speak anymore. I don’t even know if he remembers that episode, but I think about it a lot.

The idea of him appears in my mind in moments I don’t expect, like when it’s raining, and, in the search for comfort and warmth in my pockets, I remember how warm his hands always were and that’s when I realize how much I’ve missed him.

How much I’ve missed having him around.

And the fact that I couldn’t just text him and ask him to hang out made everything worse. I knew I shouldn’t dwell on the past, but sometimes it was hard not to.

Especially when the present was so lonely.

We gradually stopped talking when he signed for McLaren. He had a lot of responsibility on his shoulder and he would spend a lot of time in the factory, or London with his teammate. He had to train more, learn more, read more, help more. He was a mentor, now. At least, that was what he told me — always the same excuse, no matter the occasion.

“I’ve been so busy”, he would say. “I’m sorry, but I know you understand.”

And I would nod.

I went to the Spanish GP in 2019. We didn’t get to talk. He was busy, it was a busy weekend. A lot to do and a lot of people to meet.  I know you understand. The same happened in Monaco and Silverstone. He promised me then he would show up for my birthday party, happening some days after the Grand Prix. And just hours before the dinner, a text.

“I can’t make it. I’ll send you something over the mail.”

I stopped caring. Or, at least, I pretended I did.

That’s just how it is with some people.

You grow apart and move on. That’s fine. That’s life.

But I couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought about that stormy night and how we fell asleep holding hands. Or if that also disappeared in time.

I resented him for a lot of reasons and, to be honest, looking back I was quite happy about the separation the universe forced upon us. I resented him more than Rio, my brother, ever did. Their friendship only grew stronger. But Rio was a better person than me. He welcomed the uncertainties and he was grateful for them. He found wonder where I just found pain. I was more melancholic, driven by nostalgia and memories.

Thinking about what would have happened if we had gotten a place for Rio in GP3 consumed my days. Not enough money and not good enough sponsors shortened his chase for the dream.

Carlos, on the other end? We all know how it went for him.

He used to call Rio and tell him about what he was doing, the simulators he got to try and the drivers he worked with. My brother was so happy for his friend that I think he forgot to be sad for himself.

So I was sad for both; Each year sadder, because distance grew with time until Carlos stretched it to a point that nothing seemed capable to make us fall back into place.

There came a point in my life where I accepted that things were going to stay like that.

I would see him once or twice a year if he bothered to show up to the occasions, and we would be civil. And we were. Always civil. Polite. He would talk to me as one would talk to a stranger. I would do the same.

Didn’t take long for us to become strangers. And suddenly, I became the one that didn’t bother to show up to family dinners when he was in the city. He stopped going on our annual ski trip to the Alps.

That being said, I absolutely didn’t expect to meet him that way, around midnight, in the dark cold garage, with his hand outstretched towards me, frozen in the air, to assist me in getting out of the car.

It felt like an eternity before I could come back to myself again after seeing him. I was still seated in the driver's seat, my helmet covering my head and the visor blurring the lines of his face. My eyes were desperately attempting to draw new lines across his features, but it was a tough task to make sense of the chaos. I kept looking at him, trying to find something that I could recognise, something that would make me feel at ease. But nothing seemed to be familiar.

It was like looking at a stranger, a stranger with a face that I once knew.

Rejecting his assistance, I got out of the car and, from the corner of my eye I saw him sliding his hand back into his pocket. I couldn’t find myself saying or doing anything. I stood there, taking him in, rejecting the idea of taking out my helmet and seeing him clearly.

A year had passed. Of course, I had seen him on television, on social media, on posters and photographs around the circuits and streets, but—

“It’s been a while,” he broke the silence.

“Yeah,” I wanked off my helmet and balaclava. “It has.”

Arms slightly apart, a silent invitation for a hug I knew I didn’t want to give him. I turned my back on him, closed the door of the car and left my belongings on one of the counters of the garage. On the chrome of one of the cabinets, the reflection of his face.

Different, but the same. Older, but his eyes had the light he had as a boy. But he was a man, now, not the boy I once really liked, the boy I thought I was not capable of living without.

Anyways, he was still Carlos.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my body tensing up, twisting around itself, turning back to him.

“I came to see you,” he replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. His hands were still in his pockets, his eyes drifting from me to the car. “I heard you’re doing well in the championship, so I wanted to see how you’re really doing.”

I nodded my head in a polite gesture, though my mind was still reeling from the surprise of seeing him again. I muttered a simple “I’m fine, as you might have heard, too.”

“Glad to hear that.”

The bright red of his team polo shone through his black puffer jacket. He was probably there on behalf of his team, for some PR duties, most likely. I reached up to my neck to undo the velcro of my suit and unzip it slightly.

Despite being the middle of July, when summer is normally at its hottest, the evening air was chilly. I could feel the cold breeze of the night, making my skin feel clammy and sticky with sweat. My hair was plastered to my face and neck, and I shivered as the chill settled in my bones.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked, my fingers undoing the band that hold my braid together. After that, I passed my fingers between the strands of hair.

“Well… I saw the schedule online,” he finally moved. Walking towards the car, a black, red and yellow Ferrari 488 EVO. “Rio just confirmed you were here.”

My mechanics were still inside, packing up tools in the carts and cleaning the oil-stained floor, that the too-bright lights did nothing to hide. The smell of rubber and oil lingered inside the garage, perhaps even in my hair.

“Why didn’t you come to see me before?”

“I don’t know,” he said. His voice carried some kind of serenity and tranquillity that was making me as mad as nauseous. He turned back to me. “I was waiting for the right moment, I guess.”

"And what made tonight the right moment?" My eyes didn’t leave the red of his polo, peaking through the jacket.

Convenience made it the right moment.

"I don't know," was his response. The cadence of it rang hollow, underwhelming some expectations I didn’t know I still harboured.

Suddenly, I felt the attention of some mechanics fall on us, curious eyes discreetly lurking at us, or better, at Carlos. The Ferrari driver standing in my small team’s garage. The newest Formula One race winner. Carlos Sainz.

I started walking out, to the pit lane, and he, circling around the car, but not lifting his eyes from it, followed me closely.

“Just felt like it was time.”

“Time for what, exactly?”

He caught my arm and I stepped outside, turning me around and making me look at him. I don’t know if it was the breeze or the piercing gaze he held, but something shifted inside the second my eyes met his.

“To talk to you,” he answered to the question I had honestly forgotten I’d asked. “Can we do that without you running away?”

His hair was longer and slicked back. The beard was not too long, but not clean shaved either. At this hour, with only the garage lights brightening half of his face and the heavy shadows of the night weighing down the other, he looked even more handsome than I remembered.

I felt my heart skip a beat. That feeling I recognized too well. His effect. His aura, his gaze, his perfectly drawn face and his fucking voice—so deep, so earthy. Something about him, only him.

“We’ve nothing to talk about,” I finally said, looking down at his hand; long fingers wrapped around the black sleeve of my suit. He let go. “We’ve moved on, we’re both doing great. Congrats on that win, by the way.”

“Eva.” I always loved the way my name sounded when he was the one who voiced it. “Come one. I just want to talk to you.”

“Why?”´

“I don’t know,” again. A pause. “I just missed you, I guess.”

You guess.

Almost three years apart, one year without being in the same room. I don’t know why it didn’t make me happy to hear that. After all, I had spent the last few years waiting for him to say it. At the same time, the realisation that if he missed me, it was only his fault and he could survive another day away from me, from us.

But, surprised by my own words, I let out an "I missed you too.”

And he smiled.

God, that smile. That same smile he had as a teen. That same smile I kept seeing on every video, in every interview. That same smile that once made me fall for him. I liked him. I really did. I used to confess, only to myself, that I loved him.

I loved him in the way children do, in a way so genuine and pure that it actually seems and feels like a fairytale. I loved him in the way little girls do, in the blushed cheeks, weird sentences, poor jokes and a lot of giggles way.

My heart would explode each time I laid my eyes on him, which happened a lot because we basically grew up together.

And that hasn’t changed.

My heart was racing. Its sound muffled any thoughts in my head and soothed the rage boiling inside. He had grown up and become a man and, at that moment, looking at him and his smile, being hypnotised by his gaze, I went back to being that little girl.

I had never stopped caring. I’d never stopped loving him.

One thing had changed, though. I had grown past that middle-school crush and I knew that no matter how much I’d missed him we would never come back to that pure, simple, naive version of ourselves. The memories I had were nothing more than fragments of the past and I could not let myself fall into the traps of my hopelessly romantic patterns in an attempt to find them.

I took a deep breath.

The smell of burnt tires and the noise of the rattle guns woke me up from my trance.

Over Carlos’ shoulder, Rio’s silhouette grew bigger as he sprinted down the pit lane. Fast-paced with a big smile on his face and holding his iPad in his hands, he positioned himself beside Carlos, not before patting him on the back.

“So, you found her,” Carlos nodded at my brother’s words, his hands back in his pockets. “Is everything okay?”

Carlos and I exchanged looks. He was still smiling and, for some reason, I felt defeated. Through the silence, Rio could probably hear my thoughts. He fixed his gaze on me, those deep green eyes, forcing an answer out of me.

“Yeah,” I finally burst. “Everything’s fine.”

“Nice,” he took my side and extended the iPad out to me.

Tiny notes in red and blue were written across the outline of the circuit, with numbers and words coupled around the corners. Graphics and reports on the following pages, just the distraction I needed.

“It’s looking good, Evita,” my brother said, excited. “Seems like winning tomorrow won’t be too difficult.”

My pace in the race simulations during the morning testing was great and we had gathered enough data to not be too worried about the next day's race. Besides, the small issues I’d found with the wheel were quickly fixed by the team. Nothing to worry about.

“I’ll be going now,” my eyes moved up from the screen, finding Carlos’. His gaze seemed to be waiting for something, and after a beat, he said, “Unless you need any help.” His words held an almost pleading quality.

I looked back down at the screen, trying to kill the tug of sympathy he’d awoken just then. “We don’t,” I said; from the corner of my eye, I saw Rio looking at his friend, an apologetic look on his face. “I’ll see you around, Sainz.”

And then, he was gone and Rio didn’t even try to confront my attitude. Carlos stopped walking when he was just a black shadow against the strong light of a spotlight positioned at the end of the pit lane.

“If you have plans, you can go,” I said.

“Wait for me for breakfast, tomorrow,” Rio slid up the zipper of his jacket. “Try to get some good rest, tonight.”

Some kind of weight forced my head down, until I was more than sure they wouldn’t be there when I looked up.  Alone in the pit lane, I looked at the iPad, trying to find a distraction to avoid processing what had just happened—just like he used to do before, he inebriated me with his presence and stripped me from any shield I had held against him.

For a brief moment, I hoped to win the next day’s race, not just to win it, but to see him under the podium. Show him I was doing good, in fact, showing him that I was doing great. But then, like the universe was punishing me for my thoughts,  it all came crashing down. I was not there as he celebrated his maiden win. He didn’t deserve to the there tomorrow. He didn’t deserve to be here today.

That night, when I lay down to sleep, nostalgia was running in my blood. My skin burning like his presence had started a fever that was taking me whole. Fingers tingling. Soul aching.

I tried so hard to convince myself it would have been better if he hadn’t shown up but at the same time, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he had taken some time for me, and that was everything I had desired for a long time.

Just some time. Some attention. To feel that I mattered to him.

And I finally got it and, having it, relief came accompanied by a whirlwind of doubt. That encounter wasn’t nearly enough to fix anything. He shouldn’t be there. He didn’t deserve to be there, to be around. He had to do more for me if he wanted to mend something.

And that sparked another idea: if that’s all I needed— everything I'd done for him to be repaid, then I'd never loved him. Because this wasn't the love, in its purest form, that I’d once thought I felt.

That was not caring. That was not love.

Love is not selfish. Is not needy. Is not asking for too much attention or being content with a small fraction of someone else's time. Love is about commitment, and not about expecting the same in return.

I was not okay with being an option, I was not okay with a fraction of his time. I was not okay with being a past-time for when he finds the time, but I was also not okay with the idea of losing him, again. Not that I ever had him, not that I had him just because he came back, but at least, I had a bit of him. And I was not okay with the idea of losing him completely. To disappear from his world. To be forgotten by him. Again.

I was not okay with the idea of moving on without him.

I was not okay with the idea of him moving on without me.

I was not okay with any of this, but I did not know what to do. Too quickly, I failed my own promise. I was too deep in the memories and my mind was already finding ways to chase them. I felt lost.

That night I dreamed about the stormy night. I pictured his adult form on the bed in front of me. The adult me was still scared of thunderstorms. Our hands were extended towards each other, but this time the beds were too apart, and I couldn’t reach him.

He made no effort to reach me.

__________________________________

Of course, he was not there.

Rio pushed me into a thigh hug as I got off the car, muttering words of praise in my ear. “So proud, so proud, you’re amazing.” Fucking hell, it felt amazing. There wasn’t a moment when we thought we weren’t gonna win that race, but each corner was an opportunity to take risks and increase the lead. The gap to the second car stretched with every lap, the machine roared around me in an amazing symphony. The track was amazing. The light rain only helped. The team was ecstatic. Hugs, victory songs, a lot of laughter.

Another win. Three in a row.

Mugello had an incredible public and an incredible atmosphere. Red and yellow all over the place, prancing horses in every hat or flag. I stood on the podium, watery eyes when the crowd joined the Italian anthem that played on full volume. I looked for him—I should know better, but of course, I looked for him—and he was not there. The champagne washed away any pain the disappointment had caused and my brother's smile, celebrating on the pit lane floor alongside the entire team, made me forget about anything other than the race I had just won.

After that, a long shower followed. Half drunk on champagne, we rummaged into the town, finding rivals and friends amongst Italian teens in the nightclubs.

Another podium and I had my championship. Two races left. It could not escape.

And after three wins in a row, a podium seemed an easy task.

And those were enough reasons to celebrate like tomorrow would not exist. We danced the night away, flirting my way through the bottles on display in the club’s bar. We stepped outside well before 6 am, the sun already peaking between the old beautiful buildings.

“Not that you really care, but I won.”

In my defence, I was pretty drunk when I sent that to Carlos, drunk enough to think into it but apparently sharp enough to escape any typing mistakes.

Rio was trying to find us a uber to take us back to the RV, but he was taking his time and I was bored and drunk and with a loose tongue. The alcohol was siding with my anger, the rage making my stomach twist. Very quickly, the status of the message changed from “sent” to “read”, but there was no sign of a response.

He read the message. He was awake.

Impatient as always, I called him. He picked up right away.

“Hey,” he said. Hoarse, deep voice. I can’t lie and say it didn’t make my stomach twist even more.

“Hi,” my brother looked back confused, likely trying to figure out who I was talking to. As quickly as he had turned around to me, I turned his attention back to his phone. “I’m drunk.”

“I can tell.”

“I want to talk to you,” I heard a sigh on the other end and the ruffle of sheets. “Maybe later?”

“No, no,” he rushed to say. I heard him breathe, and then his sleepy voice spoke again. “Talk about what?”

“The past.” A pause. “How it hurts to know you’ve always had time for Rio.  You go out every. time. you’re in Madrid.” Another pause. My gaze fell on a pigeon walking around in front of me. “Why were you sooooo busy to see me but always had time for him?”

“I was an idiot. That’s how.”

“You were.” I was nodding, although he could not see me. “Oh, God, you are. And I am too. And I was because you were so… shitty to me sometimes, and I always forgave you because I understood your life and because I understood your work and I loved you. Oh my God, I loved you. And you were a fucking idiot. You didn’t even s—”

“Eva… I’m sorry. I—”

“No, I don’t want your apology.” The pigeon took flight, as my voice burst out to stop him from talking. “I just want you to know it hurts. And coming were on the night before a race? For real?” I paused. “Also, think about all the conversations we had on the phone when you moved to the UK and you were feeling homesick. All that time, I used to think I reminded you of home.” I chortled at my own stupidity. “And I was so fucking stupid,” a short laugh erupted through my lips again, “so so stupid because it took me months to realize you only called me because I was the only person that would pick up the phone at any time. You knew that, you used that, you used me.”

“That's not tru—”

“Don’t! Don’t interrupt me, please.” He mumbled a fast apology. “Until today, I felt like you owed me something. But… “ I took my hand to my stomach, feeling sick all of a sudden. “It’s not your fault I had all these expectations.”

I said too much, too fast, and my stomach was aching, my mind was rushing and the world was spinning around me. Carlos then started talking but I couldn’t hear his voice clearly. I put the phone down on the step I was sitting on and leaned forward. The only thing I could see, besides the cobblestones and the pigeon that had come back, was Rio’s feet, rushing back to me.

“You okay?”

“Drunk as fuck,” I replied and, as an answer, I got a small chuckle from him.

I lay down my head on his shoulder, my eyes closing for mere seconds; the soft sensation of his lips against my hair made me open them again.

“Just please,” he paused and stroked my back gently, “please, don’t throw up in the uber.”

A tired chuckle managed to drag itself from my lips, an antithesis to my watery eyes and sick stomach. A car stopped in front of us and my brother’s firm embrace accompanied me there. Settling down on the too-hot and too-smelly car, I opened my eyes to collect the last image from that weekend: the first rays of sunshine dropping over the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral, its dome painted across the periwinkle sky, the lines of it experimental and incoherent due to the layer of tears that blurred my vision.

Next Chapter: 02.

_______

Hello there, soooo I hope you enjoy this. I’ve been writing Tightrope for like 5/6 months, now? It’s been a while, I know. I have a few chapters ready and I’m loving to write Eva and Carlos so much that I feel it’s time to share them with the world.  I’m thinking about doing weekly updates, maybe sunday nights? If I’m not talking to the void, you can give me your opinions on that.  Also, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for eventual mistakes. 

All the love, Bru 🤍

[danfengfan]

virtual love ; prologue

synopsis : two high school students grew up studying as middle schoolers. although it doesnt seem like they ended on good terms

you tap your pencil on your japanese dictionary as you tried racking your brain for ideas

“愛してる… what else ends in てる?”

you sigh as you scrap your unfinished plan. your japanese teacher had asked you and several other students to create a poem about love in japanese. you knew you made decent poems but youve never attempted making any in said language. luckily your parents allowed you to stay at the library after school for a longer time so you can work more proficiently

you started to get lost in your head, staring blankly at the swarm of people. that was until a boy around your age comes up to your table

“may i sit here? i need to complete an essay”

you stared up with an absent mind at the boy, enjoying how soft his voice was until you realized he asked you something. you scrambled to organize some of the papers that were messily scattered around the small round table

“of course”

you accidentally squeak as you speak, a barley visible blush on your face as you tried to smile. you probably looked like a mess but the young boy didnt seem to mind it as he sat down in a steady manner

once the boy was seated, you tried to continue where you left off. you looked at the dictionary placed in front of you, almost taunting you, before looking up again. the boy had fluffy dark hair, a nice shade of blue makes up his eyes, perhaps he was in a rush this morning with how his hair fell in front of his face, the way you can see knots and tangles in his hair

thats when you notice it. hey, isnt that the uniform for your school? you look down and compare the two, and they were in fact (mostly) identical. you took a breath in before asking,

"hey, dont we go to the same school?"

you could feel your voice shake as you spoke each word, successfully catching the attention of the boy in front of you

"i believe so. youre in 7年级, right?"

"yeah i am"

"im a year older than you then, 8年级"

you start to feel yourself heat up with embarrassment. you werent exactly sure why but you had a guess. you closed your eyes to avoid eye contact with the stranger in front of you

"ohh, i see. thats nice"

you nod your head, soft smile on your face. dan heng only smile back before seemingly returning back to his book. you feel words get stuck on your tongue as you long to talk to the boy more but you simply left the conversation at that and went back to your poem. you have a faint idea in your head from your new interaction but before you could do anything, the dark-haired boy in front of you spoke up

“私は丹恒です”

“huh?”

“私の名前は丹恒です. あなたの名前は何ですか?”

“私の名前は...(name) です, よろしくお願い します”

“非常好”

“谢谢! did you also take japanese?”

your eyes sparkled as you continued to converse with dan heng. now that you knew his name, the air seeming to become more relaxed around you two

“yeah, last year”

dan heng nodded his head, seemingly bashful as his cheeks get coated with a very light pink. the tension between you two gets a lot less awkward as you two settle into a comfortable silence. well, as much you two could get in a crowded library

you softly turn the pages of your book as you let the words run free from your head to the paper. you knew you were being a bit delusional writing any sort of romance story between you and dan heng, a boy you literally met that day, but you cant help but silently laugh as you reread your poem

and just like that the days passed so quickly. dan heng and you still sat down together, even if the library had free seats. even if you guys didnt talk often, you still sat together. it felt like you only knew dan heng a week when it finally hit your one year anniversary

and the next year… and the year after, and as much as you would like to say the year after you cant. theres a bitter feeling in your mouth if you even try to mention it

you were just sitting, innocently waiting for dan heng to arrive, a gift on the table just for him. your eyes lit up as you saw his figure

“happy 3rd year anniversary”

you chirp, a wide smile on your face. your smile was never reciprocated as dan heng spoke up

“im leaving.. tomorrow. if i can, i might see you before i leave”

dan heng quietly tells you, his voice deep with a plethora of guilt and sadness. your smile immediately falters as you look at him with a hopeless smile

“youre kidding? right?”

“no, im not. its… family issues”

you just sigh as you nod your head in defeat

“well, open your gift. least we can do is have a nice day together”

dan heng chuckles at your attempt to lighten the mood. he places his gift on the table before he takes yours, opening it to find a small keychain, in the shape of a spear. dan heng smiles before looking at you with anticipation. at first you were confused before you realized he was waiting for you to open the gift

you blush in embarrassment before grabbing the box, opening it with excitement. you were so curious what dan heng got for you this year, he was always do attentive

this year proved it even more. dan heng had gotten you your own phone, set with a little dragon phone charm. you werent sure why he got you a dragon charm to match but you were still very grateful. how could you ever repay him back?

“ah, this is too much… i cant possibly have it”

“no, no, i insist. take it, you deserve it”

you bashfully nod your head, knowing you could never win against dan heng in these kind of battles

the next day, you didnt expect dan heng to meet you, but he did. except he was different. you almost contemplating not coming but you were glad as you cheerfully greet him, almost crying of relief. you knew dan heng would leave after but you were clutching onto any last scrap of hope that dan heng will still be there the next day

“id like to deliver a message. how about you back off, kay? id say i hate you so thanks”

‘dan heng’ told you brusquely, a fake smile on his face as his eyes closed. it didnt take long for them to open again as he gracefully walks out of the library

you were sat frozen, unsure what he meant. back off? huh? he hates you. was dan heng just leading you on? you dwell on his words, your pen shaking ever so slightly in your hand as you slightly tremble at the thought

and all these thoughts run in your head aided in your tears. the warm liquid flowing down your cheeks seemingly invisible to you. it wasnt until the librarian came up and asked if you were okay. you did your best to answer without a voice-crack

“yeah, yeah, im… okay”

the librarian looked at you suspiciously before nodding their head and leaving back to their post. it didnt take you long before you put back all your books and left the library, vowing to never get tricked like that again, vowing to never fall in love so easily again.

really you wouldnt have minded falling in love with someone. as long as it wasnt dan heng

dictionary (includes japanese + mandarin)

ᵎᵎ im still learning japanese and my mandarin is rusty, please correct me if anything is incorrect

愛してる (aishiteru) : i love you

╰┈➤ てる (teru) isnt supposed to mean anything here, just as something to rhyme

7年级 qī nián jí : 7th grade

╰┈➤ first year of middle school in china

8年级 bā nián jí : 8th grade

╰┈➤ second year of middle school in china

私は丹恒です (watashi wa dan heng desu) : i am dan heng

╰┈➤ im not exactly sure if 丹 would ne perceived as dan still (＞﹏＜)

私の名前は丹恒です. あなたの名前は何ですか? (watashi no namae wa dan heng desu. anata no namae wa nandesuka?) : my name is dan heng. what is your name?

私の名前は...(name) です, よろしくお願い します (watashi no namae wa... (name) desu, yorushiku onegai shimasu) : my name is... (name), its nice to meet you

╰┈➤ replace (name) with your name

非常好 (fēi cháng hǎo) : good job

谢谢 (xiè xiè) : thank you

𖦹 s.list // m.list

𖦹 next // previous

[dkniade]

I’ve finally realized why I cannot culturally connect with the Liyue setting or characters as a Chinese person, and I’m drawn to Mondstadt a lot more: I’m an immigrant who hasn’t lived in China for a while now.

“My life had less and less to do with Khaenri’ah as I grew up, and so I started caring less as well.”

I don’t know the proper terminology for it and it’s gonna come out in a really messy awkward way but… The traditions of Liyue, the architecture, the clothing, they’re not of my generation. They look nothing like what I see in my current life. I look around where I live, and it’s actually more comparable to Mondstadt.

(And it frustrates me that Liyue characters by default are stuck in a xianxia setting and it permeates their designs. Going by Liyue outfit motifs, saying “This character is from Liyue and you can tell because they dress this way! [smiley face]” is like saying “This person is Chinese and you can tell because they dress like a xianxia character!” As an immigrant, being Chinese does not equate to being ~traditional and in touch with my culture.~ I used to think drawing Liyue characters in modern clothing erases their ethnicity but no! How a person dresses obviously does not make their ethnicity more or less authentic. I should’ve realized this. Maybe it’s because I feel such a weak link towards my culture that I felt defensive.)

In fact, I’m so disconnected to my culture that to my surprise, I’m actually closer to Kaeya in terms of identity: born in one culture yet raised in another, to the point that my ties with my heritage is very weak—

“These days, my surname, Alberich, is probably the only link to Khaenri’ah that I have left.”

…save for my surname and a language I understand but have trouble speaking.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. It’s… a really strange feeling as an immigrant to not connect with characters based on your culture, and instead connect with a character with a similar experience but different culture.

…[A pause.]

And yet…

[Another pause.]

It brings me an even stranger sense of comfort knowing it’s Kaeya…

[Slightly longer pause.]

I could even cry.

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3653

today marks ten years since i started these entries.

the day i started was august 7th, 2014.

today is august 7th, 2024.

it doesn't feel like it's been all that long at all.

as i made this realization this morning, i was able to spend the day and think about how i've changed over the last ten years, about the things that have happened, about the person i've become. about what i would say to me ten years ago.

the long and short of it is this:

i grew up.

and i don't like thinking about it that way because that means my childhood is long gone, never to return. that everything from here on out is going to be hard.

so as i sit here crying, mourning that loss that i will never truly recover from, i also reflect on the personal growth i've made.

i have less tolerance for bullshit and i'm not afraid to have opinions. i found a group of people who love me for who i am and not what i can do for them. yes i am living paycheck to paycheck, but i no longer consider myself completely broke. i've gotten better at managing my time and my money. i've earned not one, not two, but three separate degrees, the highest of which was earned from a prestigious university. i have a close relationship with my sister. i've reconnected with some high school friends. i've lost so many other friends due to circumstances i was unwilling to accept any longer. i've loved and lost, but i'm happy to have loved. and even now, i have a partner who i've been with for more than half of the decade! and it's been wonderful.

i've had a dozen different jobs in different industries, i've used my knowledge to help people in a lot of places. i've made friends with people across the world and i've seen people blossom into who they're truly meant to be. and i know that everyone is a work in progress. so am i.

i'm not quite done yet. i'm almost ready to come out of the oven.

and maybe the closet, too.

in all of my thoughts today, the ones that have stood out the most have been of how i treat other people and my mental health. over the years, i've seen people from high school who i didn't really spend time around because they were in the "popular" crowd. i instantly recognized them. they were probably too busy to even try to think of where they might've known my face from. but i've learned that it's important to treat people with kindness, respect, and love, regardless of your personal history with them. that everyone deserves respect and dignity, regardless of who they are. of course, even i have my limits, but those who are out of the limits of my patience and care are usually bigots, fascists, neo-nazis, and any combination of things including any of those parts.

and my mental health - what a difference. it's night and day for how it is in my head. being properly medicated and stable and KNOWING that's it's more than "just depression" or "just anxiety" and having a therapist who understands all of it? it's a game-changer. it's great.

what i would tell myself ten years ago would be mostly about how it ends up and the process of getting there. you end up stable. you get a therapist who you love and who helps you get to the root of the trauma you don't even realize you have yet. you have people who love you more than you even know. people love you for who you are, mental illnesses, disabilities, and all. you take up crafting and d&d and playing games. you meet someone adorable and hilarious and he makes your days brighter. you lose your faith and your friends, but after all the anger and grief, you come out stronger than you ever thought you could be. and despite all of the horrors you see in the world, you're still softer than you think. you count bunnies on the way into work. you cry over your waitress, begging the universe to let her smile freely. you smile at and wave to a perfect stranger who doesn't speak your language on your way back to your car, even after a long day.

there's a lot of pain, yes.

but there is so much more beauty than you can possibly imagine.

see it. feel it. embrace it.

but most importantly, share it.

[sunnflowyyr]

heyo! first of all i LOVE your writing, I aspire to write as well as you one day <3 I wanted to request some headcanons with the rise boys w/ a gn reader who’s mute!! please don’t feel like you have to answer this, feel free to ignore/delete!!

aaa, hey there !! first of all, thank you so much for your kind words !! i'm sorry for taking so long to get to your request, but i've thought about your idea since it popped into my inbox so i'm excited to finally put it all into this post. i am my own critic and i bully myself until i like my content; so i took a while with this one.

quick disclaimer: i do not have a lot of knowledge about mute individuals, but i did some research during the writing of this fic to try to be as respectful as possible and to also educate myself; however, my comprehension skills aren't the greatest. if i have inaccurately represented this community with misleading information (or if i have misunderstood mutism as a whole), please let me know and i'll correct my work to reflect accurate information. it is never my intention to hurt or offend anyone. - much love, sun

i hope you enjoy !! <3

-

rise!turtles with a mute reader

Raph

i imagine april introduces you to the turtles and that he doesn't really clue into you are being mute at first

mainly because he didn't read the group chat message where april tells the turtles you're mute (he never reads the gc, smfh)

so he always feels bad when he talks to you and you just kind of smile or blink

since he doesn't realize, he just overthinks about why you don't answer back

maybe you don't like him? is he annoying? too loud?

can you smell his "I'm Nervous About Meeting New People" stink?

so when he tells his brothers and they clue him in, it just clicks for him

it makes him feel closer to you because he grew up mute

(i saw a hc once that raph was mute as a kid and no, i will not be convinced otherwise)

you might notice a slight behavior change

he'd normally be a little awkward or stiff in conversation before, but now he finds a way to communicate with you!

even if you don't talk, he'll find a way to keep you in conversation

especially because he can talk a lot if he thinks no one is annoyed by his rambling

the longer he knows you, the longer he picks up on your nonverbal cues and you both find an easy way to communicate with each other

he can't sign very well (just because of the lack of fingers) but he knows how to interpret ASL so you can communicate with him !!

Leo

honestly doesn't notice it from the first time he meets you

also doesn't read the group chat

mainly because he talks so much that he doesn't pay attention to how quiet you are

though when he does notice, he might ask about it?

not to embarrass you, though; he might tease people about a lot of things, but even he knows his limits on that

we love a respectful king

he's just curious about the details, but definitely doesn't push you into telling him about it

he's a nosey mf he can't help himself

all of the brothers (him included) will speak up for you

if you're comfortable with that, of course

"hey, they said no pickles."

he might be sassier about it though, just because he's leo

but he'll do it a million times over

he's also pretty good at picking up on nonverbal cues and body language (because of raph being mute and donnie having nonverbal moments)

if you're uncomfortable? tired? excited? overwhelmed?

leo is here for you

Donnie

knows immediately because he actually reads the group chat

like the others, he knows how to communicate with you

especially with sign language, because he actually knows it and can sign really well?

he actually finds it nice to communicate with you this way as well, especially during some nonverbal moments

and sometimes he can really ramble on; even more so if it's about his interests and superior tech

so signing helps him slow down (because he wants to make sure you can interpret his signing; having three fingers can make it difficult) and watch for your replies

there might be days where you both sit in a comfortable silence (or he just watches you if you want to communicate), or he's really verbal

he can either ramble or keep it short and simple; it really just depends on his mood

but he quietly appreciates the understanding between the both of you

he can see how excited you are about everyone talking about something you're interested in; you wanna join, but it's hard to keep up with their voices and it can be overwhelming

what's wrong, (name)? - donnie asks in ASL

when you tell him he immediately finds a way to stop the conversation

"(name) has something to say about that."

ALL of the brothers look out for you, but he would the most

Mikey

"knows immediately because he actually reads the group chat": the sequel

this boy will do all of the verbal talking for the both of you

he's not necessarily over-talkative, but enjoys having conversations

i'm projecting in the next headcanon but hear it out okay

when mikey was a kid, he grew up with a speech delay

it wasn't until his he was between age 8-9 that he began to improve in his speech

because of it however, he relied heavily on gestures and used very little words unless he was unsure of how to express himself

it was a frustrating for him as a kid; not being able to communicate as well with his brothers

excluding donnie from that cause he taught himself ASL, then taught mikey some words to help him

he wants to make sure you feel heard and that you're comfortable

be prepared because if he knows you're fine with it, he'll rope you into group conversations like donnie does

he understands ASL pretty well, but he won't sign back most of the time; he just has a hard time with it

like leo, he's also pretty good at noticing your body language

i mention reader knowing ASL a lot (aligning it with the fact that i hc the turtles knowing it), but if you don't use it to communicate?

the turtles value your friendship and will adapt any form of communication so you can talk with them!!

you just write on a small whiteboard? mikey's got plenty of supplies for you in his room

if you use a text to speech program? they wait patiently for your reply

as i said, they value you as an individual and welcome you into their little family with opens arms <3

[agirlunfilteredsblog]

📚 SMART GIRL ACTVITIES

Hi girls! If you’re anything like me, you love learning new things. Here are some different activities I recommend to further your education beyond what we learn at school. Remember, there is NOTHING shameful in being educated. Especially as women, we are being pushed into this narrative that being smart is trying to be “masculine” or “trying too hard”.

📚 READING BOOKS THAT MATCH YOUR INTERESTS

In my opinion, reading becomes so much more interesting when it caters to our interests/hobbies. Before the quarantine in 2020, I absolutely despised reading. It was only when I started reading history/art history books that I realized I truly loved it. Obviously, I love romance books like any sane person, but if I’m being honest it’s more fueling my hopeless romantic rather than my brain!

📚 WATCHING DOCUMENTARIES

The best way to absorb content, for me anyways, is through a screen. I don’t know why, but it’s so much more entertaining and enjoyable. Therefore, I can pretty much watch any type of documentary and still take away/learn something new.

📚 LEARNING A NEW LANGUAGE

Honestly, this is my favorite thing to do. I grew up majorly speaking French, and although I did speak English fluently, I really spent 2 years or so perfecting it to the point where I no longer had an accent or made much error while writing (sometimes it happens though lol). The language I am currently learning is ASL and I find it fascinating!! However, if you’re trying to learn a spoken language, I do not recommend Duolingo…

📚 CHALLENGING YOUR BRAIN

There’s no better way to get smarter than to tackle your weak points. For me, it is anything regarding math or chemistry… It does not sit well with me no matter how hard I try, but I’ve made it a point to work on it, until I manage to grasp the main points of these subjects.

📚 VISITING MUSEUMS

Knowledge on the past is so important. It gives us an understanding on who we are and how we’ve evolved. There’s a common misconception that museums are exclusive to paintings and art, but that could not be further from the truth… There are museums for any different categories, it’s simply about finding the one that works for you best.

so much love,

a girl unfiltered 💋

[metalbuckaroo]

Queen’s Blight Pt. 2

Summary// Hired as your bodyguard, James slowly starts to regain his memories and realizes just how poisonous he is

AU// Bodyguard!WS!Bucky x Mafia!F!Reader

Warnings// fingering, mention of nightmares, smut, cursing, a little angst with a smidgen of fluff, Im rusty at this so if I forgot anything let me know

Note// I'm baaaaaaack, hopefully for good but we'll just have to see jebshajfb

Series Masterlist

The two month mark of Soldat’s position was slowly creeping up. Along with the thought of how much longer he’d be staying.

He knew he was getting too comfortable.

It was near impossible not to- homemade meals instead of straight from a can, warm showers instead of cold hose downs, and a comfortable bed instead of a worn down mattress on a concrete floor. And, the longer he had been staying, the more missing time he’d pieced back together and the more emotion that started to seep through day by day.

Ones he hadn’t felt in god knows how long and he had trouble processing.

But, none of it compared to how much worse the dreams had gotten. Plaguing him during the night to the point he’d pace back and forth, occasionally slipping out into the hallway to peek into your room across the hall to make sure you were fine.

So, when you sat the plate of freshly cooked sausage and eggs in front of him before sitting across the small breakfast table, he just picked at it. Thinking that maybe if he tried weening himself away from the luxury of having everything at his fingertips it wouldn’t feel as miserable to think about going back.

‘Not hungry?’ Your voice tore him away from his own bubble as he poked the fork into a piece of sausage.

‘Just thinking’

‘If you want something else there’s plenty of food in the kitchen. You’re welcome to it.’ You offered, getting a shake of his head in response.

He appreciated when you’d speak to him in the language that had been drilled into his mind, it made him feel heard when you’d answer him. Like no one else knew what the two of you were talking about when others were around.

The rest of breakfast went by without much conversation. Your silky robe falling apart enough for him to get a small glimpse of the lacy bra underneath when you leaned to take his empty plate. A warm smile gracing your face as you laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“I have a meeting soon, yell for me when you need help into the stupid uniform.”

-

There was an odd bubbly feeling somewhere between Soldat’s chest and stomach. One that made him feel like something bad was going to happen as he stood to your right and slightly behind you. Eyes staying glued to the door as you talked on the phone.

“Go ahead and send him in.” He watched as you sat the phone back on its receiver, the office door opening soon after.

His heart sank when the handler that had brought him in the first day shut the door behind him. Stomach twisting itself in a disgusted knot as you exhaled heavily and leaned back in your chair.

Soldat knew his time in your home was limited, but he hadn’t imagined it would come to an end so soon.

But still, he kept his gaze on the door behind the man and a blank stare.

“I don’t like unannounced visits. I signed your contract, followed your rules. There’s no reason you should be here.” The stern tone of your voice sent a shiver down Soldat’s spine, eyes flicking over to look at your momentarily.

“Just checking in to make sure he’s following the rules.”

You scoffed, feeling the tension in the room getting thicker in the passing moments. “Check whatever you want. But, my contract isn’t up for another ten months.” You snapped, watching the man walk closer to inspect Soldat’s uniform.

The sound of his bionic arm whirring grew louder as he clenched his fist, teeth gritted behind the thick plastic mask and cold stare directed to a spot on the carpet. Focusing on how the color was slightly different than the rest of the room from an incident only weeks before.

“What is that smell?” The man said, lips curving in what seemed to be disgust but was really disapproval.

“Soap? Do you expect him to smell while he’s working?” You quipped, earning a threatening glare in response.

“No gun? How is he suppose to protect you without one?”

“Firearms aren’t allowed on the property. That’s why they searched you at the gate. Besides- I think the arm your ‘company’ attached to him does just fine.” You droned, going back to the paperwork you were working on before he’d shown up.

“Your attitude could be considered breach of contract.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head, not looking up from your paperwork. “I read it cover to cover. No rules have been broken. Now, get out if you’re finished.”

Soldat felt like a weight was lifted from his lungs when the door shut behind the handler, looking over his shoulder until he saw the sleek black car leaving the gate. Finally letting his muscles relax as he exhaled a long breath and looked to you. “I’m not gonna rat you out for being comfortable here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

-

Bucky’s shouting from across the hall is what had woke you up, the man’s large frame thrashing around on the bed as he groaned as if he was in pain.

You knew trying to wake him would be dangerous, but the thought of walking away made your stomach knot. Your feet mindlessly carrying you further into the room, only wanting to get a closer look to make sure he was fine.

A scream that couldn’t seem to make it out of his throat made you stumble back a step, the sound gravelly and deep in his chest before his right hand flew up. Blunt nails clawing at the base of his shoulder as he cursed and panted in his sleep.

You panicked, quickly grabbing at his hand to stop him. The action making him jerk awake and sit up abruptly, bionic hand clamping around your wrist.

“James! James, you’re okay.” You rushed out, holding your free hand out to him as he looked around the room. His chest heaving and face etched with fear. “Need some water?”

He nodded silently, eyes not meeting yours as he shifted around the bed. Listening to your retreating footsteps, hearing the echo of glasses clinking and running water through the vent that led to the kitchen below.

When you walked back into the room with the glass of water, he was sat on the edge of his bed. A blank expression as he stared at the wall. Not looking away or moving when you hesitantly sat beside him, holding the glass out for him to take.

“Everything okay?” You asked gently as he lifted the glass to his lips. The room unbearably quiet other than the mechanical whir of his arm as you thoughtfully laid your hand on his back.

“I don’t… know who I am anymore. Especially after seeing my paperwork on your desk. I shouldn't have looked but- Nothing makes sense.” His accent was still evident when he spoke, eyes glued to their spot on the wall.

You sucked in a deep breath and shrugged. “You are- James Buchanan Barnes from Brooklyn, New York.” You said with a comforting smile that made his stomach flip.

“Yeah…” He hesitated to rest his hand on your bare thigh, the skin soft against his calloused palm as he squeezed lightly.

“Get some sleep. I’m across the hall if you need anything.” You assured, rubbing small, soothing circles to the taut skin of his back.

You swore you saw a ghost of a smile when he finally turned his head to look at you. “I’m suppose to be saying that to you.”

You felt horrible to leave him alone after his nightmare, his hand warm against your thigh and bringing comfort you weren’t aware that you needed. “Do you want to come and watch some tv? Try to relax your mind? Cartoons sometimes help me.”

A breath of a laugh left his nose, a brief moment passing before he nodded.

Entering your room, he shifted back and forth on his feet. Watching as you got comfortable in your bed before patting the spot next to you.

He was tense as he laid on top of the thick comforter. Hands smoothing against the fabric of his sweatpants as you flipped through different movie titles on the tv that hung on the wall.

And, though the animated movie you picked did seem to help, James’ mind was wandering to other, more pleasant places.

Like, how the swell of your breasts rose and fell with each breath, and what they’d look like littered in bite marks left behind in a fit of lust. Your fingers pulling and twisting a loose thread, and what he would give to feel your manicured fingertips dig into his skin. To hear needy moans and whines pull from your throat as he buried himself in the warmth of your cunt.

Snapping himself away from his filthy thoughts, James focused on the tv. Hand gripping the blanket that covered his lap in hopes to hide the swelling in his sweatpants.

But, you were more focused on how ridged his form was. Sitting up to face him with creased eyebrows, worry plastered across your features.

“Everything okay?” You asked quietly, fingertips cradling his jaw.

James leaned into your touch, a barely audible whimper leaving his parted lips. A vulnerable feeling bubbling in his chest when they grazed along his stubble and down the side of his neck, hand resting on his shoulder. “James?”

He hummed in response, eyes glued to your mouth when his name fell into the air. “Are you okay?” You asked again, this time slower before his warm right hand lifted. Knuckles gently dragging along your cheek before he nodded.

In a sudden motion, his lips slotted over yours. Sloppy and taking you off guard at first before a rhythm was found, calloused fingers carefully curling around the back of your neck in attempt to pull you impossibly closer.

He wanted to feel more, a desire that burned deep to feel your bare skin against his as he urged you to your back. Settling between your legs, leaving wet kisses along the column of your neck as his hips rocked forward. The friction eliciting a soft moan from you as your legs lifted to his hips.

He couldn’t wait any longer, shuffling his pants down enough to free his erection. A nervous look etching across his flush face as your hands cupped his cheeks. “It’s okay, take your time.”

Shaky breaths fanned your face as his trembling hand went down to grip himself. “Do you want me to-“

He shook his head and swallowed hard, trying to remember the last time he was intimate with anyone. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” He murmured, bulbous tip prodding at your folds before he eased in. Trying his hardest not to jerk his hips forward and fill you in a single thrust when a shiver rolled down his spine.

The pain of the stretch was bearable, laced with pleasure as your arms went around his broad shoulders. Holding him close as his face buried in the crook of your neck, short, slow thrusts sending sparks of pleasure down your legs.

Words weren’t needed- quiet moans and the feel of his skin against yours being enough for both of you as the roll of his hips started to lose rhythm. Slowing to a grind as he tried to hold off his high.

But, it was too much, too overwhelming to even attempt to do as it wracked through him and made his whole body tense. Gasped out moans sounding in your ear as a pleased smile crept across your face.

“Fuck- I’m sorry.” He panted, face red from both excitement and embarrassment when he lifted his head to look at you.

Cradling his jaw in your fingers, you placed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“Let me-“ his knuckles grazed your inner thigh when you stopped him with a shake of your head.

“You don’t have to.” You assured, fingers threading in his thick hair.

“I want to. It’s only fair.” He insisted, slotting his lips over yours in a supple kiss as his fingertips glided along your glistening folds. Circling your clit before easing two of them into you, pressing into the rough patch just inside your cunt when he curled the long digits upwards. Eliciting a whine that he swallowed when his tongue slipped into your mouth, pressing into yours in a sloppier kiss.

He took his time, wanting to do it right as he curled and twisted his fingers against your velvety walls, breaths mixing together as you moaned into his mouth. Until, the throb of his cock took over again.

A needy whine pulled from your throat when he removed his hand. Quickly replaced with a gasp of a moan when he slammed into you. The pace much more rough as he held himself up on his forearms, lips brushing yours with every feverish snap of his hips and your fingers carving against the smooth skin of his back.

“Oh, god-“ you keened, legs tightening around his waist when the bubbling pleasure boiled over. Your walls clenching around him sending him over the edge as his hips pressed tight to yours.

Your body relaxed against the mattress when he slipped from between your legs. Leaving an empty feeling behind as he stood next to the bed and adjusted himself.

“I should probably go back to my room.” His voice was quiet as he found some tissues on the bedside table. Handing them to you so you could clean up.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you sat up. His eyes glossy from the afterglow as he looked at the tv.

“You can stay in here if you want.”