#and she keeps hinting at me how she thinks I'll get along with her husband and how she thinks he'll like me

[greppelheks]

sleep over girls night talk in the tags 💝💅🏻

[unusual-raccoon]

Modern!Osferth Headcanons

(Plus bonus drabble)

Guess who's rewatching The Last Kingdom for the 63rd time? I'll give you a hint - it's me! Guess who also had the brilliant idea at midnight for a modern babysitter!Osferth x Uhtred idea? Also me.

So, without further adieu, here are some modern!Osferth rambles/headcanons:

Osferth is still devout in his faith. It keeps him sane in a way, it's been a touchstone for most of his life. He's in between jobs and living alone.

He doesn't have much in the way of family. His father got his mother knocked up when she was young, and his father was married.

His mother was sickly and died when he was young.

He spent a lot of time in orphanages/churches under the care of nuns (Has been praying the gay away ever since) until he was taken in by his uncle.

His uncle Leofric, worked as a Prison Officer in London, got stabbed in the neck and killed during a riot when Osferth was only fifteen.

He has a sizable chunk of change in his name from a wealthy father he never knew. (He refuses to touch a dime).

Osferth spent a lot time in soup kitchens (eating & volunteering), spent many a year cutting his own hair to save money (forgive his bowl cuts), and just overall scraping by on odd jobs and the like.

He reconnected with his half-siblings as an adult, or tried to. He and Edward don't really get along (he thinks Edward is a terrible father - not that being a bastard gave him much ground to stand on). He and Aethelflaed absolutely clicked right away.

He is the bestest uncle to Aelfwynn!

Very good with kids, he is a big baby himself at heart, but also super independent because he's used to doing things on his own.

Aethelflaed is super supportive of Osferth (she just think's he's neat) and runs the "Osferth needs a DILF" fanclub

Have I mentioned he is very good w kids, loves trashy romance novels, can cook quite well, is modest about it (secretly thinks he'd be a kick ass housewife)

--- (How he's gotten involved with Uhtred)---

he met Gisela at the soup kitchen - it's a hike for him, but nothing compares to the loving atmosphere.

Was secretly intimidated by her.

Accidentally thought he had fallen in love w her when she showed him pictures of her babies and they made meals together and she asked him about his life - then he realized he has not known motherly affection in a long timeeee ;_;

Gisela would tell him about her lovely little family and how Stiorra was a nightmare to potty train in comparison to her brother

Gisela would show him pictures of the family and he would 'ooh' and 'aah' over pictures of the babies - promptly reminded he is gay when he saw a picture of her husband.

He'd been devastated when he discovered she had passed. She had been to the soup kitchen in a few weeks and he'd sent a few texts to see if she was well, but had merely chalked it up to being a mom of two youngsters.

He misses the funeral service, but figures it was private and reserved for family only.

Osferth, himself, imagined he landed somewhere between a work friend and gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

Still, he kept her in his prayers every night.

They hold a small gathering in the soup kitchen amongst other volunteers that have heard the news of Gisela's passing.

He mourns in his own way, and figures he should be better at it by now.

Still, he manages.

Until he sees Gisela's family walk into the soup kitchen...

Bonus Drabble:

Uhtred is a young, freshly widowed (fuck cancer) single dad to two beautiful children. Young Uhtred (Junior) is four and Stiorra is two. He misses his wife dearly and as a result ends up revisiting many places that remind him of Gisela.

He ends up at a soup kitchen where she often volunteered, the soup kitchen was supported by a local church and while Uhtred had his gripes about Christianity, his wife never did. Gisela loved all people, sometimes with a warm embrace, sometimes with a stern rap of her little knuckles.

The place is small and cramped and he recalls the scent of whatever's being doled into bowls because it used to stick to Gisela's clothes. It's warm in the air and heavy in his lungs, like thyme and bay leaves and sweet carrots and his heart aches.

There's a man - well, a boy who doesn't look older than 17, gangly, awkward, flaxen hair that spirals around his head like a halo, bowed as he chats with an older woman while he pours a heaping ladle's worth of soup into her bowl. The boy's face is familiar, vaguely. There's a spot next to him behind the counter where Gisela should've been.

A woman on line lets him ahead with a sympathetic face - the kids are with him, Stiorra held on his hip, her arms around his neck, and Junior holding his hand. He feels mortified, guilty.

Uhtred tries to back away, feeling terribly out of place and mourning every inch of the woman he loved. When the boy behind the counter spots him, his eyes are blue, startlingly blue - it's like a peek of the sky through a blanket of fog. A soft, angular face like looks like it belongs in a Renaissance painting with high cheeks and sharp cheekbones and pink rips.

Someone else waves them over, Junior gets a bowl, Stiorra does too, the woman that serves them tries to give one to Uhtred but he politely declines.

They sit, they eat. He blows on the little spoon for Stiorra and offers a small smile when she demandingly tugs on his hair, squirming, doughy little fist swinging for the spoon. Junior is able to handle eating on his own, like a big boy, (mostly).

Uhtred is cleaning the kids up and preparing to leave when he noticed someone had come over.

"Um, excuse me, sir," A timid voice begins, high and boyish, pale long fingers wring the sleeves of an aged brown sweatshirt, "I don't mean to - a-are you Uhtred?"

Uhtred stares warily at the boy, at his flaxen hair and ears that have since turned pink.

"Yes," He answers flatly, and he instantly feels cruel for the way the young man winces.

The nuance of conversation bypasses the children and Junior's hand springs up with a wave, as he says, "Me too!"

The boy smiles a timid, growing thing - less afraid.

"You volunteer here?" Uhtred asks though he knows the answer. Gisela had spoken of the friend she had made at the soup kitchen, and realizes why the boy's face seemed familiar. He'd never been bothered by it, his Gisela was a lovely woman and charmed many.

"Um, yes, sir, I...do." The boy answers, he swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing along the pale, elegant stretch of his throat.

He casts considerate blue eyes over to the children, to Junior who babbles about wanting to visit Thyra and Beocca, and to Stiorra who is dozing against Uhtred's shoulder...

"I," The boy begins, slim, pale hands listless as he tugs on a loose thread in the sleeve of his sweatshirt, those high sharp cheekbones that appeared chiseled from marble, redden, his lips, his very pink lips twitch with words unspoken, "My deepest condolences."

Gods, how many time had he heard that same sentiment over the weeks since his wife's passing? How many people had meant it? Uhtred's nostrils flare with every breath he struggles to take in and out with the fissure of pain that splits his chest.

He clears his throat roughly. He blinks away tears that makes the earnest blue eyes of the boy standing across from him dance like sapphires.

"Thank you," He says, it's a genuine thing that bubbles up without him meaning for it too. Many people loved Gisela, it was an easy thing to do, but it finally felt as though someone knew. Knew the agony of losing her. Like the sun had been torn from the sky.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, it's Hild. It could be a thousand things, a lapsed permit or zoning issue, the company has had enough hiccups, let alone after the death of his wife.

"I need to-" Uhtred motions to his phone, the boy nods politely.

"Of course," He says instantly in understanding.

He's still holding Stiorra when he stands, it was late and raining and it's too loud inside the hall.

"I can watch them," The boy offers, sort of perking up like a moping flower kissed by sunlight - it only becomes obvious then  how tall he is. Rightfully, he should be distrustful. He struggles, but his phone buzzes in his hand another time and Uhtred reluctantly hands his daughter over. He watches as the boy gingerly supports her weight, Stiorra's open mouth drooling on the boy's shoulder. He sways gently with Stiorra in his arms, bending and shifting like a reed in the wind.

"Uhtred?" He hears the boy call gently, "do you think you could help me keep an eye on your sister?"

"I can!" Junior answers eagerly.

"Clever boy," Uhtred can picture his son's wide smile, "I can be so forgetful - Oh goodness, where has she gone?"

"Right there," Junior begins to giggle, "Where? Uhtred are you trying to trick me?"

"There!" Junior squeals in laughter that Uhtred hadn't heard in weeks. It's a balm for his soul.

Uhtred answers Hild's incoming call, the phone pressed to his ear.

"How are you holding up?" Is her first question, he strives to be noncommittal with just about everyone but Hild. So, when he answers, he does so honestly, openly. He can hear the tightness in her throat.

"Did you want me to order something? I can be over in," there's rustle over the speaker, "twenty."

He smiles, he loves her all the more for the effort.

"Not tonight, but soon," He swears. He knows, despite everything he's going through, there are still people in his corner, his sister, Beocca, Hild: his relentless supporters.

"I know you're going to ignore me because you always do-"

"-I do not"

"But, have you considered hiring a sitter?"

"Hild," He sighs, he'd abhorred the idea for a time. His own fragmented upbringing left a general distrust of strangers that was easy to default to under duress.

They bicker for a bit, back and forth was their way and the normalcy alleviates some of the ache in his chest.

He wants to reject the idea of needing help, of shouldering responsibilities alone, of being anyone's burden. He rubs at his eyes, a cool sheen of rainwater on his skin.

Inside the soup kitchen, the scent of thyme and bay leaves and sweet carrots is in the air, the warmth in the room fells buttery in the comfort it provides. He can hear his son's voice, laughing, can hear other laughter too.

Stiorra's asleep on the stranger's shoulder. Little hands drowsily clinging to the brown fabric of the sweatshirt.

Hild's voice rattles in his head.

The boy's smile is wide, unbidden, so very youthful. He see's Uhtred and his smile dims, a coy curl of his lips lingers, like an echo, throat bobbing, tongue catching on pink lips, eyes like sapphires still dance.

"Papa!" Junior yelps, delighted, clinging to Uhtred's leg in an instant, "I counted more than Oz!"

"He did, I'm afraid - you're too clever for me." The boy answers, a sheepish way about him, he sways like a reed, right on over to Uhtred's side. Stiorra is very carefully handed over.

"Did you?" Uhtred asks, "How high?"

Junior makes a pensive little face, beside him, the boy, Oz, mouthes fifteen exaggeratedly.

"Oh! All the way up to fifteen!"

"Fifteen?" Uhtred gasps, "Auntie Hild isn't going to believe it."

The children had already been ready to leave before Hild had called and it doesn't take much to tug the lapels of his coat around Stiorra and hold out his hand for Junior.

The boy offers a polite smile, pink mouth pressed together, the scent of thyme and bay leaves and sweet carrots hanging on his sweatshirt, a patch of drool on his shoulder where Stiorra had slept.

"Well, um, goodnight." He says eventually, crouches down to bid a separate farewell to Junior. He rummages through the pocket of his sweatshirt, and pulls out a biscuit wrapped in wax paper.

"I nicked this from the kitchens," He admits, Junior looks affronted, scandalized, but the boy laughs, "It was supposed to be my treat for after, but," Junior's eyes go terribly wide, hopeful, "You did count to fifteen - so, I suppose, you've earned it."

"He can't, he's-" Uhtred begins, but that gangly boy looks up at him from the floor with smiling sapphire eyes and pink lips and says "It's gluten-free."

Uhtred feels...odd.

"Are you allergic as well?" He asks as Junior asks endlessly if he can eat his treat now.

The boy flushes, "Er, no, I-" He rises to his full his height smoothly, hands pushed off the faded knees of his jeans, "I grabbed it after I saw you come in, Gis-" His jaw tightened, tendons flutter under the pressure, "Another volunteer mentioned how someone in her family also had Celiac's..."

The odd feeling persists, its pressure, its hands stemming the flow of blood the open wound the passing of wife had left in him.

"Anyway, I-I only wanted to pay my respects," the boy sighs, flaxen head hanging before he offers a small, sad smile.

"Wait." Uhtred calls, his voice carves through the air.

The stranger turns towards him again, fluorescent lights catch on the delicate braid of a golden chain just barely visible around his neck, tendons jump in neck and the chain dances like motes of sunlight.

"What's your name, boy?"

Those pink lips part in a gentle smile.

"Osferth, sir." He answers.

"Osferth," He repeats sagely.

Hild's voice rattles in his head. Uhtred extends his hand and the boy examines it before shaking hands with him. The touch is soft and lingers in his palm like silk.

"Good to finally meet you."

This was just a silly little headcanon/drabble (1.8k still counts as a drabble, right?) idea, but like, idk, i might be tempted to add more?

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 23 JON III (pages 321-341)

Jon and Co arrive at Craster's Keep, and finally get a lead on Mance Rayder and the missing wildlings. Gilly is unable to join the party... for now.

-

Dywen said Craster was a kinslayer, liar, raper, and craven, and hinted he trafficked with slavers and demons. "And worse," the old forester would add, clacking his wooden teeth. "There's a cold smell to that one, there is."

For half a second I thought "what does the cold even smell like?" then my brain clicked with a smell, and I was like, "oh right, like that, freezer ice and mornings where the frost is on the ground." But like, how do you actually describe the smell beyond the moments when you smell it? Because it's just "it smells like ice."

Also: Craster trades his infants sons to ice demons for reasons. fun! (disgusted sarcasm.)

As he rode past a lightning-blasted chestnut tree overgrown with wild white roses, he heard something rustling in the underbrush.

I don't know why that sentence stuck a bit in my head, maybe because we typically (so far) see golden roses and blue roses, relating to Tyrells and Lyanna, and some part of my hind brain is waiting for these roses to have some kind of relevance even if only symbolically. The imagery of it sounds like it looks cool though.

really need to get myself a print out glossary of house sigils...

"Tell him, wife. Tell the Lord Crow how well content we all are." The woman licked thin lips. "This is our place. Craster keep s us safe. Better to die free than live a slave."

...I get the feeling she already knows, but the Wall's too far and the world so unknown and they're all too afraid to do anything about their (grand)father-husband.

These woman deserve so much better. pfff, name of the series right there. GRRM's A Song of all these women and a good chunk of the boys deserve better.

A girl of fifteen or sixteen years, he judged, dark hair plastered across a gaunt face by the falling rain, her bare feet muddy to the ankles. The body under the sewn skins was showing in the early turns of pregnancy.

Gilly? Hi Gilly!

*adds weight to the steel chair soon to be acquainted with Crasters crotch and skull* we're gonna crack all the things >:(

"I'll not fight a brother while we're beyond the Wall," Jon answered, his voice cooler than he felt.

Oh hon, you've never been cool a day in your life, you just lucked out with an actor who mopes pretty.

Oh, wrong definition of cooler, ahem... moving right along! (I do like Jon, just sometimes I like teasing him more?)

Jon reached to pull aside the cloak he'd hung over the rock, and found it stiff and frozen. He crept beneath it and stood in up in a forest turned to crystal. The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond, Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even muddy puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he'd dreamt of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all.

This sounds amazing, and I wish the show hadn't been made by a pair of asshats so we could have seen even a semblance of this. It's the quiet moments of beauty, the time to pause and breathe, that makes the horrors later all the more poignant and impactful.

"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower." "That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name.

Everyone likes to be told their name is pretty, or their hair looks great today, it's true. But also... "My Name is Rottila Phlegmuent." "That's pretty." Jon said, because Sansa had told him too, and she knew far more about what girls liked and courtesies than he did, so he'd trust her judgment on these things. "Really? Do you think so? No one has ever said so before. We'll be married at once!" "(＃°Д°)"

Sam's heart was as big as the rest of him, but for all his reading, he could be as thick as Grenn at times. It was impossible, and dishonorable besides. So why do I feel so ashamed?

Because you know she's in trouble, and you know you're not helping. The logistic of why you can't help mean nothing in the face of the fact that you aren't helping.

It's okay buddy, Gilly at least will be mostly alright. *sigh* this series...

"The wide world is full of people wanting help, Jon. Would that some could find the courage to help themselves. Craster sprawls in his loft even now, stinking of wine and lost to sense. on his board below lies a sharp new axe. Were it me, I'd name it Answered Prayer and make an end." ... "Craster is his own man. he has sworn us no vows. Nor is he subject to our laws. your heart is noble, Jon, but learn a lesson here. We cannot set the world to rights. that is not our purpose. The Night's watch has other wars to fight."

Mormont with the hard truths and hard to swallow pills tonight. (I'm choosing to read these in good faith.)

I don't fully agree with the first statement, only because I know about cults and how fucked up people's brains and beliefs (even in themselves) can get, some people need help but cannot get past their own psychological hurdles to help themselves with out the start from outside help. I wish more people could help themselves, I wish the ladies of Craster's Keep could help themselves. It doesn't end with removing Craster's head from his shoulders though. There's still the Cold Ones, the Others. The ladies can't stay there if they're trying to get away from sacrificing their sons. There's still the trip back south, through the cold, and any predators left in the woods, man or beast... to kill a man in his sleep is one thing, an active opponent? Completely different.

I do like Mormont's 'we can't fix the world, we have our own thing,' both as is but also in a transference of meaning kind of way. No one person or group can fix the whole world, we have to focus on what we can do, can fix, can change and do that, or nothing gets done. We focus and fix our thing, some one else focuses on and fixes their thing, and so on, and so on, and together we've fixed quite a bit before you know it.

Meanwhile the mystery of the empty villages has been solved! Mance has summoned the freefolk for reasons only he, the readers, and viewers know. (Mass exodus by any means necessary.)

[bewitchingbaker]

goodbye

@escapedartgeek

"SURPRISE!!"

Zora's eyes widened once they saw the sight before them. The sign at the new bakery was covered with a banner reading 'GOOD LUCK Z!' The lobby was covered with balloons and the tables were catered with all of the artist's favorite treats and meals. Confettie poppers could be heard from behind the counter where the new Luna family popped up with wide grins.

Two fang toothed children grinned brightly at Zora. Jason and Regine Luna, the two new additions to the family of witches. Like the rest of the Lunas, they had adorable noses though one could see their mother's influence as well. While Jason had a smile similar to his dad's, his eyes were much softer like his mothers. Regine, of course, inherrited those iconic puppy dog eyes that Chris was known for.

A young woman of average height offered a chill yet kind smile, Delainey 'D' Luna (nee' Harris). Like her children, she held a pair of fangs thanks to her vampire lineage. With her hair in braids, she had an look inspired by the 90's celebrity culture. Thanks to a black bandana covering her head that matched the converse on her fee she gave hints of the cool girl, even with the vintage Dungeons and Dragons shirt.

Finally was none other than Christopher Noe Luna, their best friend and planner of said party. Despite a few years passing, Chris still looked the same as the day they met. No doubt thanks to his witch side and maybe a healthy skin care routine.

A smile spreads across their face, "You guys! You didn't have to."

Chris and D could only shake their heads.

"Dude, we gotta. You're literally about to make a big ass step off the planet, it would be wrong if we didn't. Plus, it was their idea." Chris replied, hand ruustling the young Luna's hair.

Zora was then greeted by the family familars of Dee and Lord Quas, happily offering them cuddles. Knowing Quas and his theatrics, he thought this would be the last time he would get a chance to see the family close friend.

Zora was making preps to live off planet, journeying into the beyond. While they didn't know if it would be for good, the Luna's knew they would be gone for a while. As always they had their friends back, even if they would miss them dearly.

The night was filled with food, laughs, reminscing on fond and outright silly memories. Zora let out an uprorious laugh when they told the younger Lunas about how Chris and Delainey met.

"Oh trust me, I'll never forget your dad's face!" Zora laughed. "She literally said and I quote 'I could kill you where you stand'. Now tell me why Chris walks up to me talking about 'I...think I like her."

An embarrassed chuckle comes from Chris while his wife nods.

"Sure did, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw him again. Red roses and a card in his hand. 'Sorry about the misunderstanding...I hope this makes it up to you'." Delainey imitated her husband before giving him a playful nudge. "But he was cute and made it up to me with dinner."

"Then we had dinner or went to a movie every weekend before you...staked your claim on me."

A collective eye roll ensued.

"Oooooooooh brother! This guy stinks!" D laughed with another nudge, making Chris smile.

The youngest, Jason, looked up at Zora. Presenting them with a small wrapped box. Unwrapping the young man's gift, the artist found a box for a CD player along with a homemade CD. In a childish drawing, the cover displayed a picture of him playing ukulele to a planet sized crowd.

"...Um...I made some songs you might like. Like my own but there's also other songs you like on there..."

Z offered him a smile, rustling the adorable dreads on his head. "Oooh! I get the first CD? I'll make sure to keep it so you can sign it once you're famous." they chuckled, bringing an emberassed blush to the boys face.

Regine on the other hand, offered up a drawing. No doubt influenced by the anime her mom watched with her. Depicting the Lunas and Z as characters in an action manga.

"Me and Mom drew all of us as characters in my comic, I'm still figuring out the plot. But you get the first concept art!" Regine grinned.

"Ah! Glad to see creativity runs in the family! I'll make sure to keep this around when I need inspiration." Zora chuckled, pulling the young Luna in for a hug. For a moment, just for a second Z the thought of staying appeared in their mind but they wanted to stick to their plan.

"Well since everyone wanna give gifts or whateva, me and Chris made you a little something too." Delainey said, presenting a medium-sized white box. "A little something for when you go back in a more human form and want to flex on some people."

Curious, Zora opened said box. Inside was a custom carhartt jacket. On the right chest piece was a red and green logo inspired by Tribe's low-end theory album. The back held a design of the various Tribe members in a comic book style, reminiscent of MF DOOM's All Cap video.

"Chris made the designs, I just helped get it onto the jacket. It's a Carhartt so it'll last you a minute." she shrugged.

"Oh...man...this is," Zora took another look. "Beautiful...you guys really went all out on this...! Thank you..."

Chris offered up a smile.

"I mean we had to you're family, Zora. Always have and always will be."

The family said their goodbyes, each giving Zora a hug and promises of seeing each other again. D offers up the bakery as a place to stay if they decide to return before finally leaving the two best friends.

The duo stared at each other for an eternal moment before laughing, though one could see a tear forming in the baker's eyes.

"I knew you were gonna crack first!" Zora teased, making Chris shake his head.

"Nah, I saw you hesitate when Regine hugged you!" Chris replied, hand wiping away the teardrop. They finally embraced one another, Chris offering a squeeze. He knew this day was coming but he still wasn't prepared for it. Chris couldn't help but tear up at his best friend leaving. Despite the oncoming waterworks, the baker finally found the words he wanted to say to his friend.

"...I love you dude, "Chris finally spoke. "I'm gonna miss you, just know that. I don't know if you're gonna come back...but you always got a place here."

Even Z couldn't resist their own oncoming tears.

"I love you too," Z replied. "You guys are gonna be missed too...I appreciate everything you guys did for me. I'll be around at some point. I promise."

[bethany-thinking]

Read Along: For Women Only: Your Love Is Not Enough (part 2)

I'm realizing that if I respond to everything that this book says that's obviously wrong, it's going to take way too long to write this series and I'm not a serious blogger. I think maybe I'll try to just stick to the things we shouldn't do. So far, we have offering to help fix a DVD player, asking our husbands to stop and get directions, and giving advice that turns into instruction and we are only half-way through chapter 2! Can't wait to see what we get to add to this list!

Need #3: Respect in communication.

"Telling your husband that he's not really a fix-it-type person." Lest you think, yes that sounds a bit rude, no worries it's clearly stated that in this particular situation the woman wasn't being rude. So just don't say that.

"a simple female reminder" The example given is reminding your husband that the kitchen wall is damaged and needs to be fixed. Men see this as an "accusation of laziness or mistrust."

Too blunt of a question! Feldman drafted a survey question that would make men feel bad so she needed to soften it. (The bad question: "Do you know how to put together a romantic event that your partner would enjoy?") So, women make sure you "soften your approach." (I haven't read the man book but how much do you want to bet it's going to have some nonsense about how women don't say what they want clearly after this book just told women to be less direct.)

Feldman says we shouldn't have to walk on eggshells but honestly what else is this advice? I mean she even actually states that the men are even seeing disrespect where none is intended. But somehow that is still women's problem.

Need #4: Disrespect in Public

This section actually has a subtitle "the most fragile thing on the planet." Honestly, it's a good thing the men aren't supposed to read this book because I think a lot of men would find being called the most fragile thing on the planet really insulting.

Don't criticize in public (including teasing) -- okay, if you are communicating about your partner in a way that's making them feel embarrassed in public, yes that's not nice but again how is this different from men to women?

Also, don't talk negatively behind their backs.

This advice at this point of life really bothers me. I have seen over and over again how this type of advice is used to control and keep women from getting help and advice in abusive or non-healthy relationships. Yes, of course, we should be kind and not saying unfair and hurtful things about people in front of them or behind their back and you should consider who you are opening up to, but it's not healthy to say that you can never say anything negative about your partner.

Need #5: Respect in our assumptions

Basically, just assume the best even if the evidence point elsewhere. I mean again, this is okayish advice if it were just balanced a bit.

There is a teeny-tiny section of text at the end where she acknowledges that maybe some people are at the point in marriage that they just don't respect their man at all. Her tip, just do it anyways and maybe that will fix stuff.

That's the end of chapter 2. Why are these books handed out still? It's not great advice for any marriage, I know as a woman one of my biggest communication issues has been that I'm not direct enough because of years of socialization to soften everything and be indirect. I've had to unlearn and practice being direct and clear especially if the communication is negative.

I think a great example is the example of nagging about the house project. Women often are socialized to hint or soften their approaches which then makes it less clear to others what they need. A clear discussion about how the project is important to you and that you need reassurance that it is a priority and that your husband is going to take care of it rather than just push it off is a much better solution than just not saying anything and than constant hinting or nagging. But Feldman instead just basically tells you to not say anything. That's only going to prop up one person in the relationship.

In a good relationship, these things often sort themselves out. The wife follows the advice but feels disappointed that the project isn't getting done. When the husband finally figures it out (because he's human and not a mind reader), he feels terrible that he didn't realize it was a priority and says hey, please tell me next time. And the next time there is a project maybe he asks more questions to make sure he understands his wife's needs. Maybe the wife accidentally nags her husband about it and he gets mad, and after a discussion they both decide to be more clear and patient.

But in an abusive or selfish relationship, the wife being quiet fixes nothing. In a relationship where maybe it's not abusive but the couple just struggles with basic communication skills, being quiet isn't going to fix anything either.

This chapter has little advice to actually help people have better relationships. This kind of advice might make marriages seem better because it's going to cut down on conflict if one person stops speaking anything negative. What's the cost though?

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 38: Summer 1924

Masterlist

In the afternoon, Emma finds a moment to have a break during her shift at the Hospital and decides to wander into the square of the Village to see how far the war memorial is coming along. She's there for only a few minutes when she spots Tom, Robert and Mary walking past and hurries over to them. They must've just finished their meeting with Mr Wavell on Pip's corner. Emma knows there's still disagreement on what to do about Pip's corner. Robert is still stringently against the idea while Tom and Mary support the idea.

"Hello!" She calls to them. Tom sends her a beaming smile while Mary and Robert simply smile in greeting. She reaches them and Tom pecks her on the cheek as they embrace. "How was the meeting?"

Robert grumbles.

Mary grimaces. "Well, Mr Wavell has definitely given us something to think about."

Emma winces in sympathy. "Ah."

"He plans to take over whole field with houses not keeping with the area, selling them off and we get a portion of the profits. One time payment and that's it. It doesn't sound right to me." Robert complains.

Emma shares a look with Tom. She knows her husband can tell that she agrees with Robert. Tom sighs. "Can't stay long, I want to call on the blacksmith. I'll see you all back at the house."

He kisses her cheek and walks away. Mary and Robert stop, spotting Sao eating. Emma turns to see it's Mrs Patmore, with a basket over her arm as if she's been shopping. She's watching the work at the memorial site and wiping tears.

"Mrs Patmore?" Robert calls.

"Oh, good afternoon, M'lord. M'lady. Ma'am." She hurries away, embarrassed that she's been seen.

They all watch after her in confusion.

"I wish I knew what that was about," Robert comments as he and Mary begin walking again. Emma decides to join them for a short while. "And why the funny look when I asked after Shrimpie at luncheon?"

"What's this about Shrimpie?" Emma questions.

"He's back in the country. I didn't want papa to discuss it a luncheon because I suspect he's come to tell Rose they're getting a divorce." Mary explains.

Ah, Emma isn't surprised by that statement. She hasn't met them but from what she's heard, they've never been a well-suited pair.

Robert looks at her alarmed, slowing to a stop. "Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so. He's hinted at it in his letters, apparently, and I gather things have not been improving." Mary replies.

"That's the end of his career." Robert says solemnly.

"You've said yourself that the Marlboroughs have survived divorce." Mary retorts as they all continue walking again.

"Well, the Marlboroughs are very rich. Shrimpie hasn't got a bean. People will drop them like hot potatoes." Robert counters.

"Are you suggesting that you'll drop Shrimpie?" Emma questions. "Susan's your cousin, not him."

"No, I won't take sides, whatever Susan wants." Robert retorts.

——

Emma is thankful she had the day shift at the Hospital today and didn't have to face luncheon where Robert and Tom apparently clashed over their views on the Russian refugees. Emma knows that this is more than ever driving Tom towards their move to America idea.

Thomas had returned from his trip to supposedly see his gravely ill father that morning but when Emma gazed upon him at dinner that night, her suspicions are heightened. Thomas doesn't look well, he's pale and has dark shadows under his eyes.

Her eyes follow him with suspicion and concern as he and Mr Molesley serve coffee in the Drawing room after dinner as she sits on the settee. Billy, Tom and Mary are standing while Rose and Edith sit on chairs nearby.

Cora walks over to where they are all gathered after having a muttered argument with Robert and sits on a chair on the other side of the settee. "Edith, darling, why so glum?"

"I'm not glum, am I?" Edith replies with no upbeat in her tone.

"How's your prodigy child?" Cora asks. This piques Emma's interest, and she keeps an ear open as she talks to Rose.

"I haven't seen her for a while. I was getting rather under their feet, so I thought I'd give them a rest." Edith says.

"I knew that would happen." Robert remarks almost smugly. "Why don't you leave it for a few months?"

"A few months?" Edith looks cloaked up at the thought.

"I should. Then they'll be pleased to see you when you do go back."

Emma frowns in concern. She wishes Edith would just tell someone, other than Rosamund who Emma suspects to be involved in whatever this is.

Mary turns from talking with Tom and Billy to her parents. "Any more thoughts on Pip's Corner?"

"I'd love to understand the merits of the argument." Cora says.

Robert walks dismissively past her as he speaks to Mary and Tom. "You want us to do it, don't you?"

"Well, it's a lump of capital with no outlay. We have to consider it." Tom argues.

"Consider it, yes. But it's complex. Do we really want to start breaking bits off the estate and selling them piecemeal?" Robert counters.

"Emma?" Mary asks.

Emma shrugs. "I agree with Robert. I don't think it is wise to sell land as a lump."

Robert smiles and nods. "Exactly."

"I thought you'd wanted to sell land when Matthew died?" Billy says to Robert.

"I was wrong." Robert admits. "I didn't see then how many owners would chip away at their land until there was nothing viable left. Anyway, we can talk about it tomorrow."

"Not me. I'm going up to London first thing. Aunt Rosamund's taking me to a dress show." Mary says. And to see Tony Gillingham to turn him down.

"It's good to know you've got your priorities straight." Robert remarks.

——

The next day, Emma has the day off from the Hospital. Emma spends most of her day with Ivy, Michael, George, Sybbie and their Nannies outside, playing, with Tom joining them briefly on the way while he does his rounds.

When the children are resettled in the Nursery for an afternoon nap for the young ones, Emma takes the chance to browse the Library and do some reading since she has the time. She's sitting on one of the settees reading when Edith comes walking in. She had been in the room earlier but there had been a call for her, so she stepped out.

"It was Michael's office on the telephone." Edith speaks. "There's been a development. Apparently, there's a trial going on in Munich." She sits down on the ottoman. Emma lowers her book. "Of the leader of a group of thugs there."

Emma swallows thickly, trying to keep her voice steady and not to give anything away. "Yes, I've read about this. They wear brown shirts and go around attacking anyone that doesn't fit their ideals. The leader, Adolf Hitler I believe, tried to start a revolution."

"That's it. It was absurd." Edith replies.

Emma presses her lips together. "Maybe. But after the Treaty of Versailles, we shouldn't be surprised that there's this extremism happening. Germany was pushed very hard with the allies' demands after the war."

"It seems it was this gang... that got into a fight with Michael." Edith manages to say.

Emma sighs. "I can easily believe it."

"Yes, but we might be close to finding out what happened to him." Edith is certainly close to tears.

Emma's heart drops. "That's why his office telephoned?" Edith nods. Emma moves so that she can sit next to Edith and puts an arm around her. "I know you probably don't want to hear this but at least we'll know what happened to him, you'll have answers. Surely that's better than the unknown, always wondering?"

Edith is crying now. "But as long as I don't know for sure, then, in a way, I'm keeping him alive. I hate to let go of that." Edith argues. "Can you keep this to yourself, Emma? Until we're told for certain? I don't want to put up with Mary's pity any longer than I have to."

"She will pity you. Who wouldn't?" Emma squeezes her as she strokes her arm.

——

Emma learns from Robert why Mrs Patmore was so upset when they had seen her by the memorial. Mrs Patmore's nephew, the one that got shot for cowardice, is not being allowed on his Village's memorial and Mr Carson has been against him being put on Donwton's.

Robert is at the desk and Emma stands next to him as Mrs Patmore is standing nearby, with Mr Carson next to her.

"There are laws that govern the whole business of war memorials." Robert says apologetically.

"So, Mr Carson's told me, M'lord." Mrs Patmore replies softly.

"I appreciate how distressing this is for you and your family."

"Do you, M'lord? Because I'm not sure Mr Carson does." She speaks softly rather than angrily.

"I'm sure Mr Carson is sorry about it as we are. Aren't you, Carson?" Emma looks pointedly at the butler.

"I'm sorry that Mrs Patmore should be distressed, Mrs Branson." Mr Carson replies stiffly.

"But you're not sorry Archie's name's to be left off the memorial." Mrs Patmore retorts. "He volunteered. He didn't wait to be called up. He went to the front to fight, and as for his so-called cowardice... that were like a wound in battle, a wound to his brain, so he didn't know what he was doing. He were a good and decent lad."

"Of course, he was." Robert says.

"We do not doubt it." Emma adds sorrowfully. She can't imagine the pain this must be causing, to imply your relative doesn't matter.

"But doesn't that make him a casualty of war, Ma'am, M'lord? Same as our William or any of them. He could have stayed here, safe and well, until they came for him. But instead, he chose to fight for his country." Her voice fails her.

Robert rises. "It may surprise you to learn, Mrs Patmore, but I agree with you, even though I can do nothing about it. It's not helpful, but I do."

"No, it is helpful." Mrs Patmore reassures him. "It helps to think that decent folk can see our Archie was a victim. Even if Mr Carson can't." She walks out.

"Thank you, Carson." As the servants leave, Cora arrives.

"When does Shrimpie get here? And your ghastly art dealer?" Robert asks his wife. Emma glances at him in surprise. She doesn't particularly like Mr Bricker but she didn't know Robert felt like this towards him.

"They're both on the same train and the car's gone to meet them, so they'll have lots of time to change. And he isn't a dealer. He's a historian." Cora retorts.

"Is he, indeed? Lawks a-mercy. I wish I knew why he was coming."

Emma feels awkward like she's intruding.

"He wants to discuss the painting."

"With you?" Emma winces at that and begins to quickly depart from the room.

"Yes. Is that so shocking?" That harsh retort from Cora is the last thing she hears as she runs from the Library.

——

The guests, Shrimpie and Mr Bricker have arrived, and Violet and Isobel have been invited to dinner as well. The only one excluded is Mary who's still in London. Emma had spent all dinner watching Thomas with concern as he doesn't look any better.

The ladies have retired to the Drawing room after dinner. Cora, Emma, Isobel and Rose are talking in one corner of the room, Violet and Edith in the other. Emma glances worriedly over at Edith. It seems she's becoming more and more glum and Emma knows that the news about what might've happened to Michael is not helping plus whatever is happening with the child she's interested in.

The conversation between grandmother and granddaughter is tense and leads to Edith getting up just as the men – Robert, Billy, Tom, Shrimpie and Mr Bricker – have arrived. Shrimpie and Rose move to Violet while Tom and Billy move over to Isobel, Emma and Edith, who's joined them.

"Why not invite Miss Bunting to dinner tomorrow night? Mary will be back - we'll be quite a party. Edith, Tom, Emma, persuade him." Isobel says.

Emma and Tom share an awkward look while Edith shifts uncomfortably.

"I don't think Papa would think it a very good idea." Edith answers.

"It would make things awkward." Emma agrees. Edith gives her a thankful look.

Cora comes over with Mr Bricker behind her. Emma pulls a slight face at the man's appearance.

"What's this?"

"I wanted Billy to invite Miss Bunting to dinner tomorrow, but Edith says Robert won't allow it." Isobel explains.

"Nonsense. Of course, you must bring her, if you like. I insist." Cora declares.

Billy smiles awkwardly.

——

Sarah Bunting does end up joining them for dinner. Mr Bricker is seated next to Cora. They're both turned towards one another, muttering between themselves. Emma watches them sceptically from where she sits between Mary and Rose.

Shrimpie addresses Mary across Rose and Emma, "Did you have a good time in London?"

"Quite good. I set myself rather a difficult task, and it's always a relief when it's done, isn't it?" Mary replies breezily. She exchanges a look with Emma that shows she's not as calm as he is trying to appear. Mary had pulled Emma to the side to tell her that apparently, Tony hadn't taken the rejection very well. Emma thinks that's putting it lightly with what was apparently said.

"How are your lessons going?" Emma hears Isobel ask Sarah.

The teacher smiles and is about to answer when Robert cuts through, "What's this?" He questions.

"Miss Bunting is giving instruction to Mrs Patmore's under-cook." Edith explains.

"Oh, yes. I heard about that." Emma frowns. Had he? She doubts it.

This doesn't stop Sarah. "You sound as if you don't approve."

"I approve." Robert retorts. "As long as you're not making... her unsettled."

Sarah sees his hesitation. "You don't know her name, do you?"

Emma glances at Tom, who's sitting between Sarah and Edith to see he's already looking at her. He's as worried and as uncomfortable as she is.

Billy leans towards her from between Edith and Isobel. "Sarah, please."

"Of course, he does. Daisy." Mary says with false cheer.

"Well, he knows it now."

"Well, he hardly interacts with her, does he?" Emma butts in, trying to calm the situation.

"I knew it before. And from what I've been told, it sounds as if you're upsetting her and Mrs Patmore." Robert counters Sarah's claim.

"I think you should drop this." Violet mutters.

"Why don't you send for her? Bring Daisy in and ask her yourself." Sarah pushes.

Billy looks very disquieted while Mr Carson looks scandalised.

"I'm sure she's too busy." Robert replies.

"I doubt she's too too busy to answer a summons from you." Sarah retorts. Robert puts his glass down with a clank.

"We don't want to embarrass her." Tom says pointedly.

Robert ignores this. "Carson?"

"This is the busiest time of their day, M'lord." The butler replies. "Maybe it would be better—"

Sarah scoffs at this with a slight smile. Emma narrows her eyes at the woman. She's all for social justice and equality but why does she have to be so hateful? It's not exactly going to win this lot over.

Robert catches this. "No. Fetch her." He cuts Mr Carson off. "And ask Mrs Patmore to come up as well."

"Very good, M'lord." Mr Carson leaves.

There's an embarrassed silence all around the table. Even the servants look deeply unsettled.

"Your father may regret this." Violet murmurs to Mary.

Mr Carson returns upstairs with Mrs Patmore and Daisy in tow. The two women look rather alarmed.

"Is something wrong with the dinner, M'lord?" Mrs Patmore questions somewhat shakily.

"Not at all." Cora reassures her.

"No, we apologise, Mrs Patmore, for interfering with your duties in this strange and inconsiderate way." Violet adds, taking a dig at Sarah.

"Mrs Patmore, Carson tells me you feel Daisy's lessons have disturbed the peace of the Kitchen." Robert says, directing them to why the two had been brought up in the first place.

Daisy looks at Mrs Patmore in surprise. "Did you say that?"

"I don't know what I said. I was upset about that other business." Mrs Patmore replies. Emma feels the sorrow fill her. Poor Archie.

"I wondered if it were true." Robert interrupts. "Daisy?"

"Well, I'm sorry if I've made trouble downstairs." Daisy says.

"Well, you haven't. Not really." Mrs Patmore rebuffs.

"But I must say this, M'lord. Miss Bunting here has opened my eyes to a world of knowledge I knew nothing of. Maybe I'll stay a cook all my life, but I have choices now, interests, facts at my fingertips. And I'd never have had any of that if she hadn't come here to teach me." Daisy speaks with such real passion that Emma feels emotional, and she can see some of the others feel the same.

"Brava. Well said." Isobel congratulates.

"Quite a testimonial." Shrimpie remarks.

"May we go, M'lord? Only we've still got the pudding and the savouries." Mrs Patmore asks.

"Of course. Thank you." Robert accepts. The two women leave. "Obviously, the lessons have proved successful. I'm pleased to hear it."

"Are you, Lord Grantham?" Sarah Bunting is a woman who just can't let it go.

Mary rolls her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, let it go. You've proved your point."

"Have I, though? All I've proved is that Lord Grantham would like us serfs to stay in our allotted place from cradle to grave."

Robert finally loses his temper. He jumps up from his chair and turns his furious face towards Sarah as he yells, "There is only one thing I would like, and that I would like passionately! It is to see you leave this house and never come back!" He throws his napkin down with such force that he makes the plates and glasses rattle causing everyone to startle and marches out.

Emma gives Sarah a disappointed look. "Happy now?" She asks sarcastically.

Billy looks ready to cry and Tom looks over at him sympathetically.

Violet takes it upon herself to save what can be saved of the evening. "Edith, dear, are you still writing that very interesting column?"

Edith takes it. "Yes, Granny."

"Oh, you must show me some of them. What is the latest one about?"

"What are they all about? The way the world is changing."

Nice try. The awkward silence continues.

——

Emma walks up the stairs with Tom. Up on the gallery, she finds Billy leaning on the balustrade, looking lost. Emma gives her husband a look, trying to convey that she wants to talk to Billy on his own. Tom nods, kisses her and carries on to their room.

"Billy?" Emma says to get his attention.

Billy turns and Emma can almost see tears in his eyes. He gives her a listless smile. "Emma..."

Emma gives him a sympathetic smile as she walks up to stand next to him. "Suppose it's wrong for me to ask how you are."

Billy sighs, looking out into the Great Hall. "I don't know what to do..."

"Do you love her?"

Billy frowns. "I don't know, I could, maybe."

"I don't know if this helps but I don't think she's the right person for you." Emma admits.

Billy turns to her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Whether you stay or go in the future, it doesn't matter as you'll always be attached to the Crawleys. Your daughter is the granddaughter of the Earl and Countess of Grantham. Sarah Bunting will never truly accept that. You need someone that can accept this other side of your life." Emma explains.

Billy is deep in thought again and turns to look out once more.

"I'll say goodnight." Emma says, rubbing his arm.

Billy gives her a slight smile. "Goodnight."

——

"Mrs Branson?" Emma turns to see Miss Baxter hovering in the corridor.

"Miss Baxter?" Emma gives the woman a polite smile. She doesn't really know Cora's lady's maid very well other than she's close with Thomas and the whole Thomas knowing she was a criminal but that seems resolved as Cora has allowed Miss Baxter to stay on.

"There's something that's been worrying me, and I don't know who to turn to and I thought you are probably the best way to turn." Miss Baxter explains, shifting uncomfortably.

"What is it?"

"It's Thomas. I don't know if you've noticed he's been unwell since returning from seeing his father?"

Emma frowns she had noticed that. "Yes, I had."

"At first, I thought maybe he was the one who was actually ill but then I found a magazine of his." Miss Baxter admits.

The look on her face worries Emma. "Go on?"

"I think- I think he's trying to change himself."

Emma feels her heart drop. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[izukuisbaby]

੭ु⁾💌 ex!husband toji x reader : running into him at the supermarket

୭ A/N : you can find the other episode of this series here ! I'd be glad to receive your prompts or ideas for ex-husband toji :)

୭ infos : bestie gojo, possessive toji but he's being a sweetheart too because it's you<3, CUSSING, female reader, hints as to why Toji and reader divorced x

୭ inspired by @mari-the-bimbo 's concept

m.list | comment and reblog if u enjoyed !

Gojo often made fun of your close-to-death state after your divorce with Toji. He refused to leave you alone and you noticed he tried to take advantage of your celibate sometimes. Today, he insisted on joining you to get the groceries because "you never buy my favorites biscuits and when I come over, I crave them like crazy Y/N, how can you be such a bad friend to me :(" Satoru whined to you EVERY TIME he stayed at your flat. As a gentleman, he was pushing the cart and had an arm wrapped around your waist -- which you scolded him about earlier but Gojo being Gojo just did not care and even tightened the grip he had on you. "OH MY GOD LOOK Y/N THEY MAKE LITTLE TEDDY BEAR SHAPED COOKIES. I'm paying for those but we are bringing them home, sweetheart" Gojo yells in the biscuits alley, "You're such a child Satoru" you smile, "but fine take them". He thanks you by kissing your forehead, still not letting go off his arm around your waist. "Thank you princess" he says smirking.

" “Princess”? Huh, never miss an occasion to flirt with Y/N, right ?  Pathetic. You don't waste time, do you Gojo ? " a familiar voice calls out from afar. You both turn around at the same time and witness your ex-husband. "Aww, the single daddy’s here to complain about his miserable single life, how sad” Satoru mocks in his signature arrogant tone. ”She doesn't want you, Satoru Gojo, when will you get that ?" he says, grinning. "And do you really think Y/N wouldn't want me ?! As far as I know, you divorced her and you're not the one by her side every day, are you ? She doesn't love you anymore, move on Fushiguro" he smirks at your ex-husband. "I think Y/N has a mouth of her own Gojo. How are you doing love, you okay ?" Toji asks stepping towards you. Gojo puts his second arm in front of you to mark a limit so that Toji would not touch you. "Fuck off, she does not love you anymore okay ?! She's with me now" Gojo sternly scolds.

"Are you now, Y/N " Toji asked with a puzzled look, "I- I'm not with Satoru. I'm single." you timidly mutter. Gojo's smirk drops instantly. "That's what I thought. Come with me, love, I'll bring you home" he says, reaching out an arm - which Gojo quickly tries to put down by hitting it with his forearm. "Get. Away. From her.'' He looks straight into Toji's eyes. "If you don't move this arm away from Y/N within the next 3 seconds, I'll chop it off and shove it into your a$$ until I can pull your eye out with your own fingers." Toji threatens as he grasped and bruised Gojo's forearm.  " 'Toru, it's fine, I swear." you grab his arm and lower it while smiling at him. "Y/N, you're fu*king mad.", "He's not dangerous 'toru chill, he's just my ex" you say calmly. Oh, you really did try to resist his mesmerizing green eyes looking right into your soul. But you loved him, and he knew that - along with Gojo. Your heart desired to take his hand again, to feel him again and who were you to deny your own desires ? You took his hand and the sudden touch ignited sparkles within your body, is that how they describe the soulmates' touch ? It does not matter now anyways, all that matters is that Toji is with you.

As the galant man he is, Toji holds his car door open for you. You sit in the passenger seat as he directs himself towards the driver's. As soon as you both are buckled up, he puts his hand on your thigh and rubs soft circles on it. You try your hardest to keep your composure, but he knew your weaknesses and he loved playing with them. The unknowing paths he was taking let you know that he was bringing you to his house, the one he bought after the divorce. You start to think back to your encounter earlier and you could not help but think "did I do the right thing ?". As if on cue, your phone rang and displayed a goofy picture of Gojo who was calling you for the 26th time. "It was Gojo, isn't it ?" Toji asks, "it doesn't matter Toji, I'll call him back later", "I bet he'll give you a lecture : "oH mY gOd Y/n, HoW dArE yOu ChOoSe ThAt AsShOlE iNsTeAd Of MeEeEE?" and then he would start crying dramatically" he says, chuckling. Your smiley faces meet as you both laugh. Toji turns his head first to park in his alley and swiftly approaches the door on your side to open it for you. The smile you offer him is gratefully returned.

He guides you towards his front door with an arm behind your back and lets you into his home. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll make your favourite for dinner" Toji says, motioning to his couch. "DAAAAD YOU'RE HOME I MISSED YOU", of course that was Megumi. You see him wrap his small arms around his dad's leg, causing the latter to smile. Toji lifts Megumi into his arms and turns towards you. "Look who's here little runt", "Y/NNNNN" Megumi yells as he notices you and starts moving like a worm in his father's arms. He puts him down and Megumi runs towards you. "I MISSED YOU Y/N" you take him into your arms too. "I missed you too 'Gumi" you say, caressing his cheek with your finger. It's impossible for Toji not to remember how things were before you divorced. You three living together, as the picture-perfect family you see in advertisements. While he misses you, he divorced you for a reason, and this reason prevents him from getting back together with you.

© izukuisbaby. comments appreciated ! although do not modify, translate, copy, claim as your own or repost on any app/platform/social media (this applies to all of my content)💓

[redheadspark]

Hey HIl!

Can you do "complimenting the features you love most about you lover" and "getting lost in their eyes" with Benedict Bridgerton please?

Cant wait to see what you come up with!😘💕

A/N: AWW BABE! I love me some Benedict Bridgerton! Thanks for the request my dear!

Do Tell

Summary: Benedict could go on hours and hours about you if you let him.

Warnings: Just some lovely fluffiness :)

"Come now, Benedict! Let us hear all about your wonderful honeymoon!" "Colin, behave!"

"What? He's bene raving about it since the pair of them arrived back!" The other men were chuckling as Benedict just grinned as he read the newspaper. He was with his brothers, apart from his brother-in-law Simon who was on an errand with Daphne and their child for the day. Whereas his fiancé was with Kate and Eloise, along with his mother, for an afternoon tea session on the otherwise of the house. He's only been home for two days, being with his new wife on their honeymoon for two weeks out in the countryside after a small yet intimate wedding. It was hard to come back to reality when all he merely wanted to do was be with his wife, trapped under the bedsheets and bare with no ambition to dress until the afternoon, breathing in the deep trees the were touched with rain or the brightness of the sun.

Seeing her bare back illuminated with the sunlight and sweat.

"It was a lovely honeymoon, and since our younger brother is in the room" Benedict paused, gesturing to Gregory that was perched over the chess table, "And for the well being of my wife, I won't go into the details,"

"Not that we wish to hear such manners of our sister-in-law," Anthony reasoned as he moved to sit across from Gregory, moving a piece before the younger brother could rebuke him. Anthony, chuckled and then sat next to Benedict on the love seat, a smile on his face, "Did you at least enjoy yourself?"

"How could I not?" Benedict replied in a hum, "We both enjoyed the countryside far more than we wish to admit. She got lots of her reading done, as I did with my paintings,"

"But what about-" Colin was about to say.

"Hey! I'm right here!" Gregory scolded him mildly, huffing as he worked on his own solo game of chess. Colin grumbled as he looked back at you.

"As long as you are happy and you two enjoyed your time together, that's all that matters, brother," Anthony explained calmly to Benedict, whom was smiling softly, "Kate and I love being together, it helped and made our relationship more fulfilling,"

"And it did for us too," Benedict agreed, "I know we've known each other for years before I courted her, but it felt...new, after we were wed,"

Anthony was listening, purely interested while Colin seemed somewhat interest. Gregory had no care, which made sense since he was so young and never had to think of such things just yet. Benedict never minded telling his brothers what was on his heart, always surprising them with his softer romantic sides beyond his boyish nature.

"Her laugh reminds me of mothers laugh," Benedict explained, "Full of happiness and joy, like whatever I would tell her would be the best thing she's heard all day. Her smile alone makes me think of the early morning sun: bright and colorful with a hint of innocence. And her humor! I thought I was quite clever, she's far cleverer than I'll ever be. She'll keep me on my toes and never let a moment be dull between the pair of us,"

Benedict never thought he would be the kind of husband that would gush over his wife, yet he never thought he wouldn't be! He knew his wife long before they were engaged, let alone courting. She was mutual friend from similar social circles, Benedict seeing her eye some of the art pieces in a gallery at ball. He saw her tilt her head, a judgmental look on her brows as she then notice Benedict watching her. She pointing to the painting in front of her, a smile on her face.

"This one seems rather dull, don't you think?" She asked.

He was smitten with her ever since.

Her comments on art astounded Benedict, whenever they were on an outing together or Benedict painting one of his own pieces, she would always be honest with him in how she felt about art. He loved hearing it all, even the good and the bad, seeing the quirkiness in her when it came to the art of painting music.

"She challenges me to be better, Anthony," Benedict confessed to his older brother, whom was smiling at how Benedict was lighting up with the conversation, "I've never had that with someone else in my life. I love being with her, lifting her up, all of it,"

"Sounds like you found the perfect woman, Benedict," Anthony replied in a light hum, Benedict about to say something else when a chorus of giggles was heard right outside the parlor. All of the men perked up, seeing the Bridgerton ladies coming into their parlor with bright grins and laughter. Benedict's eyes, went to his wife, whom was on Kate's arm and her head thrown back with something Kate said to her. She looked radiant, the honeymoon glow on her face and in her hair as the sun was pouring into the room. Benedict felt lost in a trance for a moment, wishing for a solid second they were alone and he would paint her.

She would be a masterpiece on the canvas, yet she already was.

"Oh, did we interrupt?" Kate asked coyly as she moved away Benedict's wife to Anthony, whom greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, "Sounds like you boys were in a rousing conversation,"

"No, just Benedict wooing over his wife," Colin said sarcastically, but a grin was still evident. Benedict's ear reddened a bit, yet his spouse was grinning with pride as she cocked her head at him.

"Oh really?" She asked coyly, though the others were giggling. Benedict was paying attention to them, only to his wife. He would watch her for the rest of his life and let everything else melt away like the watercolors in his studio, she would remain.

"Do tell, dear husband,"

The End.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Six // Wanda Maximoff

chapter five | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter seven

author’s note: i’m glad you all seemed to like the last chapter! i’m all for slow burn but i didn’t want to leave you hanging too long aha. Now onto dating territory!

Since going to Blackpool with Wanda, we hadn't actually gotten another moment to ourselves. Wedding plans were picking up which kept her busy, and if not that, then I'd only see her in passing in which we'd exchange smiles before moving on.

So, I though it would be good to take her out on a date. A proper one, even if it was to be disguised as a simple outing between soon-to-be sister-in-laws. The plan was to 'bump' into her in town, which we did, then I asked her if she wanted to go to the art gallery. She'd been before, but they'd put in a new exhibition which I thought she might like.

We couldn't exactly hold hands when there, but I made the most of her presence and stood a little too close to her than a friend might. Since she'd kissed me at the beach, I wasn't able to think about anything else. And when shot me a knowing smile, I knew she felt the same.

"I like this one," I told her, pointing to a piece hung on the wall, before squinting to read the plaque. "Jedburgh Abbey from the River by Thomas Girtin."

"And why's that?" she asked, watching me with humoured eyes.

I pursed my lips, glancing between her and the painting sheepishly. "I'm not gonna lie, I just like the way the guy painted the clouds in the sky."

She stifled laughter, not wanting to draw attention from passers-by, and nudged me in the shoulder. "You're unbelievable, milaya (darling). We didn't have to come here if you don't like art."

I gave her a knowing look. "Hey, I love art. Especially when it's by a certain Sokovian artist named Wanda Maximoff."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. I grinned at her bashfulness, wanting to tease her but also very true with my words. Her work was my favourite, biased or not, and I still had that amazing portrait she'd done of me in my room back home. It was tucked into one of my drawers where nobody would find it. I didn't want anyone else to look at it since she'd done it for me and it was private... it was a beautiful reminder of the amazing day we'd had.

"You're poking fun, but in all seriousness, I'd actually love for my work to be up here someday," she said softly, looking at the painting before us with hopeful eyes. 

"They wish they were that lucky to score someone as talented as you," I said without skipping a beat.

She cracked a smile, tilting her head in my direction. It was obvious she was losing her patience with me, but I enjoyed watching her lose it. She didn't know what to say, especially when being complimented, and it was endearing to witness.

We remained civil for the remainder of the 'date', refraining from holding hands or gazing at each other longer than friends would, and I was pretty proud of myself for not thinking about kissing her once when we were done.

As we got into the carriage to go back home, the door closed and I was going to ask her how she found it when she moved towards me in an instant, kissing me without question. I raised my hand, caressing her jaw and closing my eyes as she leaned forward, practically on my lap, not that I cared. She sucked on my bottom lip sensually before she opened her mouth, pushing her tongue into mine. I almost forgot how to breathe as she did, unprepared for such an intense kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," she revealed when she pulled away.

I flushed at the contact, a dazed smile on my lips. "Huh."

She chuckled as she sat back beside me more 'appropriately'. "Thanks for taking me. I loved it."

I nodded lamely, still trying to recover from our kiss. "I'm– I'm glad."

She smirked playfully, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips before sitting back. "You're so cute."

My words still hadn't returned, so all I could do was nod before looking the other way. Her laughter filled the carriage and I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky to be in the presence of someone so perfect.

After exchanging some more kisses and actually being able to hold hands without prying eyes, we reached Wanda's home and she invited me in for some tea. Sadly, that meant we had to let go of one another, but I think she'd given me enough to remember her by as we parted, and she must have thought the same, judging from the smirk she sent my way.

We sat on the patio outside to have some tea and biscuits, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, a rare occurrence for England. We were chatting mindlessly when her brother decided to make an appearance, helping himself to a seat between Wanda and I.

"How lovely of you to grace us with your presence, Miss Y/L/N," he said playfully, shooting me a charming smile, before reaching to grab a biscuit. Wanda slapped his hand but he stole one anyway, making her roll her eyes.

"Nice to see you, Pietro," I greeted with amusement, always enjoying his presence.

"And you," he returned, before chowing down his biscuit.

Wanda gave me a fed up look over his shoulder which he was oblivious to, and I tried not to laugh as she clearly wasn't a fan of him interrupting our time.

"So, I caught a glimpse of the wedding invitations," Pietro said, making conversation. He glanced between us with a nod of approval. "They're coming along well."

I hummed in agreement, smile becoming less real when he mentioned the wedding. Wanda didn't acknowledge his words as she fiddled with the handle of her teacup.

"Is your brother behaving, Y/N?" Pietro continued jokingly, looking to me. "I know how many admirers he has, but my sister should be his first priority."

"Oh, Piet...," Wanda breathed out with embarrassment, facepalming.

"Of course he is," I assured her brother with a small smile. "He wouldn't dare try hurting Wanda or he'd have a lot of explaining to do."

There was some playfulness in my voice, but an underlying truth to my words.

"It's sweet how close you've gotten," Pietro noticed, looking between us, before settling his gaze on me. "It's about time Wanda made friends with people who aren't me."

Cue another slap. I chuckled at her sheepish expression, amused by Pietro's antics.

"Anyway," he changed the subject for his sister's sake, "mother has been getting on my very nerve about finding a bride because you decided to get married."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "We both know I didn't decide, Piet."

He sighed over-dramatically. "Well, it's because of your engagement that she's now on my back about it."

"Join the club," I joked, knowing exactly what he meant. "My mum was already on my back about finding a husband, but since this engagement, it's ten times more annoying."

Pietro laughed. "Oh, no. Has she lined up suitors? My parents like to point out every pretty woman they see to me in hopes I'll make a move. It's hardly productive."

"I haven't asked her for fear she'll pull out a folder with all of the eligible bachelors in town," I said, half joking and half serious.

Pietro snickered as Wanda rolled her eyes in the background. She should have been happy I was getting along with her brother. He was actually quite entertaining to be around.

"It's funny you say that because you're one of the women my parents pointed out," he admitted.

"Oh, God, so they're saying the same thing to you?" I asked with a groan, and he nodded regretfully. "Isn't it just the worst?"

"You're a lovely girl, Y/N, don't get me wrong," he began gently, "but I don't like you like that."

I raised my hand for a high five. "Me and you both."

Laughing once again, he returned my high five and I was glad we were on the same page. The amount of people that had been hinting at getting to know Wanda Maximoff's very single brother was getting pretty annoying. It was nice to know he was just as irritated at the insinuation as I was.

"Okay, I should leave you both to it," Pietro concluded, slapping his knees and standing up. Looking to me, he said, "Miss Y/L/N, it was as lovely as ever to make your acquaintance."

I smiled as he winked playfully before looking to his disgruntled sister.

"Dear sister, the pleasure is always mine," he continued to tease, and she slapped him once more, making him dodge her and begin to leave. "Love you, too!" he called before heading back inside.

I laughed at his silliness and relaxed in my seat, looking back to Wanda. She didn't seem half as amused as I was as she drummed her fingers on the table and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"I may be mistaken, love, but it looks like you're jealous," I poked fun at her.

She rolled her eyes and her jaw tensed before she finally looked to me, expression softening. "Can you blame me?" she asked quietly. "You're both single. You're both similar age. Everybody talks."

I shrugged nonchalantly, having a sip of my tea. "True... but I've got my eye on another Maximoff anyway."

She sighed, small smile creeping on her lips. Subtly moving my chair closer to hers, I grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed. My thumb stroked her hand softly as I leaned on the palm of my hand on the table.

"You look really beautiful today," I admitted in a hushed voice. "I should have told you earlier."

She, too, leaned into the palm of her hand as she watched me with an enchanting gaze. "So do you, milaya (darling)."

Unable to resist, I glanced around quickly before kissing her cheek and pulling away. Letting go of her hand, I busied myself with the tea and biscuits again.

"Biscuit?" I offered her, and she began to laugh at my attempt at acting casual.

Playing along, she accepted the biscuit from my hand. But a knowing smile was on her lips as she nodded. "Thank you."

—

Being with Wanda was a luxury in itself, even if we had to keep it private.

To everybody else, we were merely two women about to become family who happened to create a bond that was close. But we both knew what it really was and weren't eager to say it. Because saying it made it true and that meant that what we were doing became realer than it was in our daydreams and hidden moments.

I did find myself wracked with guilt sometimes – particularly the times when Y/B/N would gush about how excited he was to marry her. Wanda was technically cheating on him with me, his sister, but that fact was something that was still blurry to me.

We had no choice but to lie and be secretive. In a world like this, where we would never be able to be together like we wanted to, all we had was secrecy and deception. Did that still make us bad people?

I tried not to think about what would happen when she actually married my brother. The future was something I was adamant on pushing to the back of my mind because I knew what it would hold and I just wanted to enjoy the time I had with her. Convincing myself that what we had wasn't serious, just a heat of the moment relationship maybe, made things easier to accept. But really, I knew that whenever she looked my way with her signature smile and dazzling eyes, it was way more than I envisioned. She was way more.

So, trying not to be dragged down with the weight of reality, I vowed to myself to only focus on the now. Focus on the moments I shared with her whilst we could. Anything beyond that and I'd surely snap.

"Medovyy (honey), the Y/L/Ns are here!" Iryna called behind her, before looking to my family and I as we stood at her front door. "Please, all of you, come in!"

She ushered us into the main hall before closing the door after us. Perfectly timed, the rest of her family left the living room and came to greet us.

Automatically, my eyes found Wanda's and she was already looking my way, her dimple making a show as she attempted to reign in an excited smile. I did the same, trying to ignore the way my heart stirred upon seeing her.

Oleg and Iryna welcomed my parents and then me, kind expressions accompanying genuine greetings. In the corner of my eye, I saw Pietro shaking Y/B/N's hand before Wanda took his place, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Y/B/N. It wasn't jealousy that I felt whenever they were together, at least not entirely – they were to be married, what more could I expect? – but it wasn't anything pleasant either.

"Ah, my favourite Y/L/N," Pietro beamed upon shaking my hand, making my lips twitch upwards. "You excited for dinner? We're having salmon."

"Ecstatic, Pietro," I answered with a playful eye roll. "All I've been thinking all day."

He chuckled at my sarcasm before letting go of my hand and moving over to greet my parents. Wanda was next, her shoulders relaxing when she stepped before me with a soft smile present on her lips.

"It's good to see you," she said, but her eyes said much more than that. "How have you been?"

Exchanging a friendly-looking hug, my body was warm where she pressed against me. Touching her always sent a rush of emotion through me and I looked forward to it every time.

"I've been good," I answered aloud, before whispering into her ear, "Better now."

She squeezed my waist inconspicuously in response before letting go. "That's good. You know, we've got time before dinner and I wanted to show you the painting I've been working on lately. Wanna see?"

I glanced at my parents and hers for permission, knowing they'd heard her question.

"Just try not to take too long since dinner will be on the table soon," Iryna said with a nod. "It's so good to see you girls getting along."

Breathing out slightly, I smiled gratefully before letting Wanda intertwine our fingers and drag me up the staircase. She led me past several doors before we finally reached hers and she tugged me inside.

As soon as the door closed, she was quick to connect our lips in a heated, desperate kiss. I relaxed against her instantly, my hands falling to her side and pulling her closer. Her fingernails gently scratched the sensitive skin behind my neck, giving me goosebumps, and I let out an involuntary gasp at the feeling.

When we pulled away for a breath, her nose brushed against mine and she pressed a final kiss to my lips, slower and more tasteful compared to the first, before smiling at me.

"I missed you," she said, as if reading my mind.

A breathy laugh escaped my lips. "It's only been a week since we last saw each other, love."

She shrugged, arms laced around my neck. "A week too long."

Raising a brow judgementally, I gave her a knowing look. She wasn't embarrassed in the slightest as her half-lidded eyes met mine with a confident smirk.

"Did you just pull me up here to have a quick snog?" I teased her.

"Well, yes," she said, making me laugh again, before adding, "And I wanted to ask you if you'll go to the park with me tomorrow. A picnic. If you want."

She bit her lip anxiously, eyes darting elsewhere as she waited for an answer. I always found it amusing how she could be so confident one second and then so innocently adorable the next.

"Wanda, I'd love to." My thumb rubbed circles on her waist as I kept ahold of her. "I hear it's supposed to be nice weather tomorrow, too."

She pursed her lips. "Even if it rained, I'd still drag you to the park with me."

"Somehow, I feel like that's true," I countered with a ghost of a smile on my lips. She tried to hide her own smile and I continued, "Was there an actual painting you wanted to show me or...?"

Breathing out with amusement, she intertwined our fingers and pulled me to the back of her room where her 'studio' was. Since the last time I'd visited, there were plenty of new additions to her work, all as wonderful as the next.

"This one is from the beach at Blackpool," she said, stopping before a medium-sized canvas depicting the horizon. "When we sat on the bench. Just before I kissed you."

My heart fluttered at the memory and I studied the canvas, recalling it looked similar to her watercolour painting of the same view. She'd done a spectacular replica in oil paints, reminiscent of the trip we took.

"You should already know what I'm going to say," I said, looking to her knowingly. "But just so you can hear it again, I absolutely love this. You're so talented."

She rolled her eyes to distract from the pink spreading across her cheeks. "Thank you... and again, thank you for taking me. Seeing an actual water source upfront really helped me refine my paintings. It feels so much more real now."

I looked back to the painting, noticing what she meant. Either way, I loved both versions of her work, before and after going to the beach.

"You did good, love."

She squeezed my hand gently before sighing quietly with realisation. "We should probably go back down."

"We should," I agreed, glancing at her. "Thanks for showing me these."

She cracked a smile, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. "Always."

Reluctantly, the two of us returned downstairs and joined the others as they were settling at the dining table. Wanda and I sat side by side, and this time when her fingers brushed mine, I made no move to pull away.

The meal was good, but as usual, I found myself zoning out. The conversation made its rounds, falling to me as the Maximoffs wanted to know how I was doing, then moved on, giving me chance to focus on eating my dinner and getting through the evening. I knew that at one point, everybody was talking about some play that was showing in the theatres.

Bits of the conversation were going in one ear and out the other and I was minding my own business until Wanda's bare foot rubbed against my leg under the table. The sensation of her skin against mine made my knee bounce up and hit the table with surprise, earning everyone's attention.

"Are you okay, dear?" Oleg asked, noticing my discomfort.

I cleared my throat, straightening up and ignoring the stifled smile Wanda had in my peripheral vision.

"I'm good, sorry about that," I apologised awkwardly, shivering when she dragged her foot back down my leg. "You were talking about the play, right?"

That seemed to distract them, as they leapt right back into conversation, giving me a chance to breathe out with relief. I looked to Wanda, watching her lean on her palm and hide a smirk as she stared at me with mischievous eyes.

Glaring and nudging her in the arm subtly, I looked back to my food, but she didn't move her foot, nor her hand. Both brushed my against me, starting a fire on my skin and making me swallow hard. She kept like that for the whole evening, making my head dizzy and leaving me at a loss for words.

And when I looked her way, she was already staring, definitely knowing the effect she had on me.

—

"I just need to find my shoes and we can go," I told Wanda the next morning, before our date at the park.

She'd come to pick me up at my house and was hanging around my room as I finished getting ready. From her place at my desk, she hummed in acknowledgment before distracting herself with my notebooks.

"I see you're making great use of the notebook I picked out for you," she commented, and I glanced towards her mid-search for my shoes, seeing she was flicking through the already-filled book.

"I have a lot of ideas, what can I say?" I joked, before looking under the pile of clothes near my wardrobe.

She chuckled, before falling quiet again. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing until she spoke up after a few minutes.

"Y/N, your writing is beautiful," she said, making me look her way to see an amazed smile on her lips. "I didn't know you could write like this. I mean– I should have because you helped write that letter Y/B/N gave to me, but this..."

I shrugged awkwardly, distracting myself with my search again. "It's okay, I guess."

She exhaled mockingly. "Okay? Y/N, this is miles better than okay. Why didn't you show me this sooner?"

I smiled satisfactorily as I finally located my shoes. Grabbing them, I approached Wanda and took a seat on the edge of my bed, opposite her seat at my desk.

"Because it'll never be anything more than what you're looking at?" I said rhetorically. "It'll only ever be words confined to pages that nobody will see?"

She gave me a knowing look. "I think you forget that my brother is a publisher, dorogoy (dear)."

"And I think you forget that he is the publisher to my brother, dear," I retorted playfully.

She sighed, shaking her head and putting the notebook back on my desk. "You know Pietro would love this, right? He'd sign you in a heartbeat."

I snickered at the ludicrous thought. "Wanda, you're a little biased, love."

She rolled her eyes. "Writers write for audiences. I am an audience. I consume literature. And I'm telling you that it's not just me who would read what you have to write."

I tried not to laugh as I pulled my shoes onto my feet.

"Are you really telling me that you'd never want to get published?" she asked with a raised brow.

My heart ached at the thought of such a fantasy. "Of course I would, Wanda." I met her eyes, which were already peering across from me patiently. "I've dreamed of that. But it's just not what's to happen. My family have told me that many times. In another lifetime, maybe."

She pursed her lips, studying me thoughtfully. I offered her a smile and stood up, holding out my hand.

"Forget that," I told her. "I believe you promised me a picnic."

Thankfully, she dropped the subject and accepted my hand, letting me pull her up. The topic wasn't brought up again and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

We went to the park like she wanted and she brought a picnic basket with her, having packed a lovely variety of finger foods and snacks.

As she was unpacking the food onto the blanket, I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know, now that we're finally alone, I can say how unfair it was of you to do what you did last night."

She played dumb, shrugging, focusing on neatening up the sandwiches on a plate. "I don't know what you mean, milaya (darling)."

"Huh. Sure you don't."

Giggles flew from her lips as she glanced at me through her eyelashes. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I just love seeing you squirm. You get all tense and it's so cute."

I pursed my lips. "I figured. You've been watching me squirm since we met."

She grinned knowingly before straightening up. "Okay, I made sandwiches and there's also some coleslaw, fruit, cheese... I made some Sokovian dishes, too, if you want to try them. Okroshka – it's like a cold soup. Then there's this olivye salad. It's... well, salad."

I smiled at the thought she put into it all and grabbed her hand between us. We'd set the picnic out behind a tree so we wouldn't have curious eyes watching us. It didn't look like we were overtly hiding, but we still got our privacy, too.

"It all looks great, Wanda," I said with appreciation. "I can't wait to try it."

She squeezed my hand in response before letting go to grab some paper plates. After popping a strawberry in her mouth, she asked, "Do you just want a bit of everything?"

I leaned on the back of my hands as I hummed a 'yes'. She began to put me some food in and I watched her, admiring the sight.

Her hair was half-pulled back today, falling in waves down her back and exposing her perfectly sculpted jawline. Everything about her was perfect – the way she moved was elegant and graceful, even when her hair fell over her shoulder and in her way; she simply moved it back with a flick of her hand and resumed what she was doing. The sun caught her immaculately, her hair glowing bright under the light and her eyes magnificently green as they focused.

As always, she took my breath away.

"Here," she said, holding out the plate towards me and pulling me from my reverie.

I accepted the plate and fork, returning her smile, before she watching as she began to make another plate for herself.

"You sure this is fancy enough for you?" I asked jokingly, stabbing my fork into a carrot. "I heard you and my brother went to a very luxurious restaurant the other night."

She met my eyes, holding amusement in her own. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya (darling)."

I kissed my teeth and rolled my eyes. "I'm not jealous, I just– it's so annoying listening to him talk about how beautiful you are or how funny you are or how kind you are."

"Oh, so you don't think I'm any of those things?" she teased, trying to get a rise out of me.

I titled my head towards her. "Of course I know you're all those things. But it doesn't mean I like hearing him talk about it constantly..."

Clearly amused, she erupted into laughter and I felt my face heating up with embarrassment. I know it sounded like I was whining, but it was true. Sometimes, I wasn't envious of my brother but rather at the fact that he could actually take Wanda out properly. He could be seen with her in public and hold her hand without fear of getting looks or disowned. He had the privilege of being with her and it wasn't fair.

"You may hear him talk about it, but there's one thing I can assure you that you get that he doesn't," she said when recovering from her laughter.

I stared at her with an exasperated sigh. "And what's that?"

She smiled confidently, glancing around quickly, before leaning forward and kissing me softly. As quickly as it came, it disappeared, leaving me desiring more.

Licking my lips, I couldn't tear my eyes from hers. "You know, you're a really good kisser."

She chuckled at my reaction and I found myself leaning in again, entranced by the way she tasted. Putting my plate to the side, I raised a hand to pull her closer, getting better access to her mouth.

She tasted sweet like the strawberry she'd just eaten and I swiped my tongue across her lip, indicating I wanted her to part her them. She did, allowing me to slip my tongue in and wrestle with hers, revelling in the way she tasted. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest as she let out a moan, it reverberating in my mouth and giving me goosebumps.

When lack of oxygen became an issue, she pulled away breathlessly, flushed cheeks adorned with a smile.

"As lovely as that was, I actually want to eat what I made," she ridiculed playfully.

"Yes, we will," I assured her, my hand moving from her neck up to her jaw. My thumb touched her lips, outlining them tenderly, subconsciously committing them to memory. "We'll get back to it."

She wanted to laugh, but I moved forward and caught her bottom lip between mine, unable to stay away. It was wrong, the rush I felt in my gut and the warmth that spread all over my body and the tingles that travelled down my spine. Because I knew what it all meant, but admitting it was a different story. So, I didn't.

I just continued to kiss the girl before me, knowing I could have kissed her forever and not regretted a single thing.

[jasontoddswhitestreak]

you’re alive in my head

summary: in which natasha no longer had to live in a world without you, there you were in her arms once again. but why can’t she remember your life before westview?

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, there is some hints to homophobia in this chapter :/ (WANDAVISION SPOILERS!)

note: sorry this chapter was late!! it’s 3.3k words and i got my friend to spell check and edit it, ty ashy ily <33

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want anymore content like this!)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

‘принцесса’ = ‘princess’ (i used google translate so idk how accurate it is

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART THREE COMING SOON

Death.

It's a complicated thing; A theory.

Nobody knows what happens to you after you die. Nobody knows what happens to your soul after you die. We make things up to make ourselves feel better, and convince ourselves that our deceased loved ones are watching over us, all the while convincing others that our loved ones are in a better place now.

But in reality, those are just dreams dying to be true.

Natasha didn't know if you were dead or alive. She just knew your body turned into particles of dust, your soul disappeared along with the rest of you. She didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, so she spoke to you.

She spoke to you, thinking you were listening to her; believing you were listening to her and that you were still around.

It was almost as if she was speaking to your ghost, the mere presence of you that remained with her, the piece of you that was a part of her. It felt wrong being in the compound without you, she felt as though she was trapped; trapped with the many reminders of how she failed you. The walls were suffocating her. Every time she thought about what had happened it felt as though the rooms were becoming smaller. The large 'A' plastered around the compound taunting her, reminding her of what they lost. Of what she lost.

So she had to get away.

Natasha found herself taking trips to the beach, the one the two of you adored oh so much. She'd walk along the sand, the harsh wind blowing against her face. The air smelled of salt, and she'd take a deep breath in with a smile. She'd reminisce all the times the two of you managed to get away from the compound, how effortlessly gorgeous you'd look with the breeze blowing through your hair, your laughter sounding like a melody that Natasha now longed to hear once more.

If she stood really still, she could, once more, feel the warmth of your fingers dragging against her skin, gently tracing shapes onto her body. Her heart would ache whenever she'd turn to the side, finding that nobody was beside her.

She had to get used to living in a world without you.

"моя любовь..." She sighed, fumbling with a stone she'd picked up, before swinging her arm and throwing it into the rippling water. The temperature was dropping. Christmas coming closer and closer every day. Natasha wrapped her coat tighter around her body, staring at the waves in front of her, observing the way they'd hit the shore before pulling back into the ocean. In the distance, she could see boats, and although they were far away, she noticed how the water carried them; the movement of the ocean pushing the boat into the direction of the wind. "No sailors.." Natasha realized, her eyes following a lifeguard boat making its way to the empty boats, likely checking for any survivors.

Yet another reminder of how the Avengers had failed.

It's only been a couple of months since the battle yet the traces of you continued to fade away. The sweater that was once yours now clung to Natasha's body as she made her way back home.

She'd do anything to bring you back. She'd do anything to have you in her arms again, complaining about something you'd undoubtedly forget hours later. She missed the way you'd never share your snacks with anyone but her. The feeling of warmth that would blossom inside her when your eyes met in a crowded room. All the times when your knee would brush against hers during a meeting. She missed the way it felt to lay next to you. She missed forgetting the world with you.

God, she missed you so much.

But there she was. In the same room as you, years later, preparing breakfast. Her hair was coiled and pinned up, keeping it in place. Her dress fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying with her movements as she elegantly makes her way across the kitchen floor. Her every movement seemed like a performance; like she was the performer and you were the audience, watching her in awe. She was captivating in every possible way, her enchanting voice pulling you in like a siren.

"Good morning, honey! I've been up all morning making us a delightful breakfast." Natasha greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, her performance almost seeming comical. "Nat... it's just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." You pointed out, glancing over your shared kitchen, seeing the mess that was made. Somehow milk spilled all over the counters, dripping onto the ground, you immediately recognized the smell of burnt toast that hung in the air as you continued looking around.

"Peanut butter and jelly is your favourite, remember?" Natasha reminded you. Your eyes widened at the realization, thanking her. You helped her bring the food to the table, making a note to yourself to tidy up the kitchen before the dinner at Wanda and Vision's that the two of you were invited for.

But you couldn't recall Wanda telling you about the dinner?

"Are you okay, моя любовь?" She placed her hand above yours on the counter. The two of you sat in front of each other, your half-eaten breakfast resting between the two of you. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm with my best girl." You smiled softly at her, and though your words said one thing, Natasha could easily recognise the distant look on your face as you stared off into space, lost in your own thoughts. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours принцесса?" She teased, squeezing your hand gently.

"What time are we supposed to be at Wanda's?" You asked her, snapping yourself out of the trance you were in. Natasha hesitated, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your every move. Something was bothering you. "We're going to Wanda's in the evening моя любовь, she asked us a while back if we could help out before the others arrived, remember?" Natasha stated as the two of you brought your plates to the sink, beginning to tidy up.

"I'm not sure how much help you'll be sweetheart." You teased, pointing at the mess that was created due to Natasha making breakfast. She feigned hurt in response, "Oh принцесса, you're breaking my heart!" She made her way around you, passing you the cutlery as you rinsed the plates. You chuckled softly at her playful behaviour. "I think we should stick with me making us breakfast so our kitchen doesn't end up getting flooded, wouldn't you agree?" You chuckled, as you made your way around the kitchen, the two of you tidying up the mess Natasha had created.

"If only we were a robot," Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her, embracing the warmth which radiated from her body, "or had powers." This was a position you were so very used to. "If only," she responded playfully. You turn your head back at the grinning redhead, as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt your lips meet.

"You know," Natasha started, "we do have some time to spare-" you then cut her off.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," You smiled softly, turning in her arms before making your way to your shared bedroom. Natasha followed closely behind.

The two of you were dolled up, looking your best.

Your dress ended just below your knees, the skirt extenuating your hips; it swayed with every movement you made. The short sleeves of the dress looked as though they were about to fall off your shoulders. Natasha's dress, however, was much more slim fitting and hugged her hips perfectly before flowing down, much like a waterfall, making it harder to look at anything else but her.

"Do you think Wanda will get mad at us for arriving a bit later than expected?" You asked nervously, fumbling with your fingers as the two of you made your way down the path that led to Wanda and Vision's home. Natasha shuffled around balancing the tray of pastries you'd prepared in one hand while using her free hand to rub your back gently, comforting you, "I'm sure she won't mind, моя любовь," she reassured you. As you near the house you could hear mumbling from the inside; you heard three or more different voices.

"Is that- is Vision singing?" You asked worriedly, glancing at Natasha who was mirroring your reaction. She knocked on the door, and the singing inside had abruptly stopped. "Oh, that must be our other guests," You heard Vision exclaim, "perfect timing!" You could hear his footsteps gradually get closer. The door swung open and Vision gave a nervous smile, glancing down at the tray of food Natasha was holding before letting out a sigh of relief. He hugged the both of you before welcoming you into his home. He introduced you to Mr. Hart, Visions boss, and Mrs. Hart, his wife.

"Oh hello," Mrs. Hart greeted, "no need to be so formal tonight honey." she smiled at you, pushing away the hand you had extended for her to shake. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug which quite honestly surprised you. You awkwardly pat the older yet noteably shorter woman on the back before pulling away to quickly greet her husband. He glanced at you and Natasha in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before getting interrupted. "Oh here, let me take that, Natasha. You stay here and I'll go get a plate to put these on." You glanced at everyone in the room, offering them a smile before making your way to the kitchen, Vision stopped you before you got to the door, extending his arm out.

"Thank you," he leaned down to whisper to you. You squeezed his arm in response. You weren't used to seeing Vision in this form. He looked human. You rushed into the kitchen, startling Wanda, "I've figured you needed help." You smiled sheepishly at her, placing the tray down onto the counter, taking in all the chaos that was going on in the kitchen. It reminded you of this morning.

"Well, this isn't the first chaotic kitchen I've walked into today," you teased, reaching out for a plate before neatly plating the pastries onto it. Wanda laughed nervously in response, as she flicked through the recipe cards, searching for the right one. You walked back into the living room, placing the plate onto the coffee table prompting Vision to jump up out of his seat and offer Mr. and Mrs. Hart an appetizer. Looking to Natasha, you gave her a wink before swiftly turning around, your dress swaying with your movements as you made your way back into the kitchen, missing the frown forming on Mr. Hart's face.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do next?" Wanda began rambling, "what was the main course again?"

Making your way to the recipe cards floating in the air you attempted to help her find the card with the right recipe, steak. You could hear Vision playing a song on the ukulele while Natasha unwillingly sang alongside him.

"That's not it" You sighed, sifting through the cards, "is this one steak?"

"Steak," Wanda started, "Diane!" she accidentally yells. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She looks to you with a frown. You just barely heard Vision respond with a, "yes dear?"

"This is going terribly," Wanda frowned, leaning her head upon your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing her back gently before pulling her away, forcing her to look at you, "Hey, you can do this, okay? You're not alone," you reassured her, attempting to raise her spirits. She sighed in relief, repeating to herself ", "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."

Vision barged into the kitchen unexpectedly, his nerves radiating through room. Wanda panics, accidentally using her powers to throw the lobsters out of the window.

"How can I be of assistance." Vision asks, mirroring Wanda's expression.

"Well," Wanda started, "the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop, so the steak is the last man standing," she explains, making her way around the kitchen. You held the recipe card in your hand, skimming the instructions, "it says here you could cut down the prep time with a meat tenderiser." You recited, looking at the couple once more. "Excellent plan! Where's the tenderiser?" Vision questions, ready to help in the kitchen.

"I'm looking at him," Wanda began, holding her hand out to pass the tenderiser to Vision. You pull her hand back before Vision reaches out for it. "No. What you need to do, Vision, is go entertain your guests. Have faith in your wife and I, okay?" You pushed him out of the kitchen, before turning around and clapping your hands.

"So, where were we?" You asked, hopefully.

After a stressful couple of minutes, a brief visit from a woman with a pineapple, and Natasha almost spilling water on her dress; dinner was served.

Well technically, breakfast was served.

The six of you sat around the dining table, nervously looking around. Mr. and Mrs. Hart looked at the food in confusion, staring at the cooked bacon and eggs paired with the red wine and chocolate covered strawberries.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Mr, Hart began, with obvious judgement written all over his face. "How very-" "European." Mrs. Hart cut him off, smiling reassuringly at the two of you.

"European?" You muttered, glancing at Wanda in confusion, who then motioned her hand in a 'I'll tell you later' sort of way. "Oh, let's have a toast!" Vision began, raising his glass up. All of you followed suite as Vision continued.

"To my lovely and talented wife," he gloated, unable to take his eyes off her.

"And to our esteemed guests," Wanda added. You didn't miss the wink she threw at you and Natasha, causing the two of you to stifle your laughs. Everyone clinked their glasses together and dug into their food. It wasn't long after when the questioning began.

"So, where did you move from?" Mrs. Hart began, "what brought you here? How long have you been married? And why don't you have children yet?" She interrogated Wanda and Vision, and you glanced over at Natasha, hesitantly, who shrugged in response before continuing to eat her food. Her eyes then met Mr. Hart's, who's eyebrows were furrowed at the interaction, waiting for his wife to finish speaking so he could say something. You didn't notice Wanda struggling to answer the questions being thrown, while Vision looked at Wanda desperately waiting for an answer. It was almost as if the two of them didn't know themselves.

You also failed to notice Wanda zoning out of the conversation, staring off into the distance as Mrs. Hart continued pestering her for answers. "And what about the two of you, huh? You two roommates?" Mr. Hart questioned, noticing how closely seated you were next to Natasha.

"Something like that," Natasha responded, biting back the smirk that was fighting it's way onto her lips.

"Two lovely women such as yourselves shouldn't struggle to find a man. Why don't the two of you have husbands yet?" Mr. Hart asked, leaning forward. You felt the hair in your arms rise as you realised where the conversation was leading. Glancing at Natasha nervously, you noticed how her fingers were clenched around her cutlery.

"We just prefer each other's company," you stated simply, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth to distract yourself.

"What do you mean? Are you- that's unnatural!" He ranted. You ignored him, noticing that Wanda was still trying to answer questions about her and Visions marriage.

"Yes, yes, we were married in," Wanda paused, getting lost in her thoughts. Mr. Hart continued his rant to you and Natasha as You, Vision and Natasha glanced at Wanda nervously.

"You're both women! That's wrong!" Mr Hart argues.

"Well, what's your story?" Mrs. Hart questions Wanda.

Mr. Hart began shouting, slamming his fist onto the table as Mrs. Hart continued to grill Wanda for answers. Wanda snaps back into reality due to a sudden, unexpected noise. She turned to face Mr. Hart who began to choking. You stared at Natasha, frightened and unsure as of what to do in this situation.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it!" Mrs. Hart laughed. She repeated the words 'stop it' over and over again, her tone gradually becoming more panicked as her husband continued to choke. His hand rested on his throat. Vision stared at Mr. Hart in an unsure manner, his hands resting against the table almost as if the were pinned against it. You only just noticed how Mrs. Hart turned to Wanda as she continued repeating those same words.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she looked at Wanda, who was staring at Mr. Hart in shock. Mr. Hart fell off his chair and onto the ground as he continued to choke. You wanted to rush over and help him but it felt as though your hands were bound to the table and you couldn't move your legs. You were only able to watch as the man continued to choke while his wife chuckled.

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Vision, help him," Wanda demanded. Vision rushed out of his seat and next to Mr. Hart, phasing his hand through his throat and removing a whole chocolate covered strawberry.

When did Mr. Hart pick up the strawberry? You thought to yourself.

"Let me help you up," Vision offers, helping Mr. Hart back to his feet. The atmosphere in the room had immediately changed, going back to exactly how it was before. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped and everyone forgot what was happening.

"Would you look at the time!" Mr. Hart exclaimed making his way to the door as his wife followed behind him.

"Well," Wanda started, "are you both alright?" she questioned nervously, as she stood up. "Yes, we better be going. We had such a lovely time!" Mrs. Hart reassured. The couple left the house very abruptly, mentioning something about a promotion before exiting the front door.

"Oh, we must be going as well!" Natasha exclaims, pushing herself up out of her seat before saying goodbye to the two. She hugged them both before making her way out of the door. You hugged Vision and thanked him for having you over before making your way to Wanda.

"Tonight was wonderful, Wanda," you reassured, pulling her into a hug. You felt her shoulders slacken in your arms, sighing softly as she returned your embrace before pulling away from you, her arms resting on your shoulders.

"Thank you, thank you for everything."

As the two of you made your way home, you couldn't help but let Mr. Hart's words play on repeat in your mind. You could tell Natasha knew what was bugging you as she squeezed your hand gently. The two of you continued to hold hands as you made your way home.

"I know we can't get married," you started, as you stood in your living room, staring at the woman who made you feel most at home. She nodded, waiting for you to continue as she rested her hand against your cheek, allowing her thumb to gently stroke your face.

"But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. For better or for worse. I never want to be apart from you," you chuckled softly, staring at her in awe, allowing your eyes to glance at her lips before you looked back into her eyes.

"I know, моя любовь. And I'd do anything for you," Natasha began.

"Even die for you."

natasha romanoff taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @severepeanutartisanhands @madamevirgo @starsvck @umsolikeblog @baddecisions-png @yourmcu

all works: @teenwonder @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers

[mooniefics]

— the hands that beckon me

pairing : zeke jaeger / reader

word count : 1.9k

tags : emotional hurt / comfort, relationship discussion, pillow talk, insecure zeke :(

summary : zeke is finally home, on a brief layover from the war, and you both finally get around to having that tough discussion you've been putting off for far too long.

— originally posted 1 / 21 / 21 on ao3 —

"what do you do while i'm gone?"

your skin was still hot from being pressed over his when he asked, thrumming with a warmth you hadn't felt yet craved so deeply for months. you turned to face him from your place on your back in bed, pressing into his side, peering curiously at his profile. you'd missed seeing him like this, out of his ironed, pristine uniform, hair messy from your fingers running through it, sharp features warmed with the flush of passion, unobscured by his glasses, eyes and voice sleepy and relaxed rather than alert and tight with self-awareness.

"what do you mean?" your reply was soft, almost playful to counter his matter-of-fact delivery, reaching out to draw your fingers across his firm, bare chest.

"i mean what keeps you busy? what do you do for fun?"

>readmore<

the war with the mid-east allied forces had been dragging on for just about two years now, and there seemed to be no end in sight, but after the marleyan army managed to snatch a victory from the jaws of defeat on foreign soil, the news came to your internment zone that the soldiers would be returning on a brief layover as the countries' political leaders decided whether or not they'd be willing to smooth things over in a more peaceful manner.

this afternoon you had been there at the gates with his grandparents, barely able to stand still beside them as all three of you waited wordlessly with baited breath, balancing up on your tiptoes, straining to peek over the crowd to catch a glimpse of him. while others were stood by with looks of unmasked dread—men with clenched jaws and stiff shoulders, women with tears brimming their eyes, children tugging at sleeves and already crying with impatience—you felt an uncontainable joy. it was humbling to look around at all the panicked faces, to remember that not every family had the luxury of your confidence, the almost guaranteed certainty that the one you loved would return. but you couldn't help the blinding smile that broke out across your face as he ambled through the crowd, tired, well-kept, but looking warmly down at you and his family.

you had let him to greet them first, they were his blood relatives after all, but only after he'd finished giving his grandmother a tight hug and exchanging affectionate words did you allow yourself to throw your arms around him, burying your face into his shoulder and breathing in his rich scent of gunpowder, pine, just a faint hint of cigarettes, melting easily into his strong embrace. you and zeke had wandered back alongside the older couple to their home, sharing a calm, easy dinner where zeke relayed what information he could to them about the status of the ongoing battle, but you were just itching to have some time to yourself with him.

you'd spent hours cleaning your quaint little home a few streets down, agonizing over every little detail despite how you knew he didn't mind whatever state it was in, just that you were there. and as soon as you'd both said your friendly goodbyes and made it through the door of your home, he was pulling you along to the bedroom, legs having memorized the path of weaving through the living room and kitchen and down the hall to the door on the left.

he was impatient, as he always was when he was tugging you out of your clothes, but sensual all in the same when he pressed his lips onto yours, murmured soft, longing words in your ear, hands squeezing and grabbing, reacquainting themselves with your soft figure. you both didn't last long—how could you when you were so eager—but felt satisfied all the time after everything was said and done, lowering back onto the mattress, flushed and panting, a faint sheen of sweat shimmering over your skin. his question just now had puzzled you. it was simple, but you knew it hid something deeper, he'd never asked something of that nature in all the time he'd been coming back and going away.

"well.. not much really. i go to work at the jewelry shop, have tea with your grandmother on thursdays, wander around the market if i feel up to it, help mary from down the street with her boys if she needs it."

you faltered at the mention of her, not remembering whether you'd seen her husband when you'd met with zeke at the entrance to the zone. you forced yourself not to frown. how selfish of you, you didn't even bother to check on her before you allowed yourself to be whisked away for the night.

he seemed to notice your sudden dismay, wrapping a comforting arm around you as he spoke, "you mean aksoy?" you nodded. "he made it back on the train alright. drunk off his ass, but alive."

you breathed a small sigh of relief, offering up a small smile at him. "good to hear."

and though his lips curled back in a similar expression, it didn't quite reach his eyes, and you only felt further perturbed by how his gaze briefly flickered elsewhere. "why do you ask?" you prompted, fingers trailing up his neck to rest at his jaw, gently turning him to face you again.

"just curious, is all.."

you could sense that he was lying, but about what you didn't quite know. "come on, zeke, we've known each other since we were kids. you don't think i know when you're hiding something?"

he hummed, the corners of his eyes creasing as an easy, genuine grin graced his features. "i apologize for underestimating your lie detecting skills."

you couldn't help but giggle softly at his words, thumb stroking over his warm cheek, body fitting perfectly against his. he was really here. finally, after all this waiting, he had come back to you, even if only for a few weeks that would surely fly past in an instant.

"i don't really know how to say this.." he seemed uncharacteristically sheepish, grey eyes traversing over your face, onto a far wall of the room, then up to the ceiling for a brief moment before it finally wandered back to you, "i guess you could say it started with me feeling a bit guilty, leaving you here all by yourself."

"i can bear the wait, you know that. as long as i know that i'll get to see you." for now, came the silent addendum.

he had three years left, barely a quarter remaining in his term, but you didn't broach the topic, and he seemed just as content putting off the discussion as you were. your relationship was easy, in a sense. there was never any squabbling over when the two of you would move in, or when he would retire from his position and settle down, milestones such as marriage and children were never issues. but there were days where you wished they were, though you'd never admit it.

just like how you'd never admit to the warm burn of envy that sparked to life when a man came into the shop you worked at searching for a ring for his partner, a spark that inevitably gave way to a cool emptiness settling deep into your chest, swallowing up your heart and balling an uncomfortable lump in your throat by the time you'd helped him choose out just the perfect jewel and sent him on his way.

"i know that, but," he swallowed, licking his lips, "sometimes i'm afraid that you're getting bored."

"bored?" the word felt strangely odd on your tongue, your own eyes blinking at him.

"bored." he reaffirmed, frowning slightly as he continued, "you see other people your age—our age—every day, don't you? when you go to the market, when you're at work, hell, even when you're spending time with your friends, you see people with lives, with structure." you knew the exact words that were coming next, but the impact of them hurt all the same. "people who don't have the thought of how time is running out hanging over their head."

it was you who turned away this time, feeling your lower lip tremble, eyes suddenly watering despite how you wished not to cry. all those complicated feelings you'd pushed down in favor of relishing in your feigned ignorance, of pretending that zeke was just a normal soldier with normal duties who was just lucky enough to come back each time. you'd always politely brushed your friends off when they'd pestered you of the absence of a ring on your finger, asking when you'd have children of your own rather than always being there to help them take care of theirs, you swept their concerns aside with a rehearsed smile because you didn't want to come to terms with the fact that you wanted those things for yourself.

the pill of zeke's looming mortality was hard enough to swallow on its own, all without mentioning how the love you shared was so rich yet so fleeting, fruitful yet futile all at once. you had no words to offer him, but your silence seemed to be enough of a reply, a forlorn, almost remorseful look settling over his handsome features.

"perhaps— perhaps you should search for someone else." you felt your stomach knot and twist, sorrow bubbling up like a geyser from below, biting at your cheek as to not let your shaky breaths spill from your mouth, "you're beautiful, it would really be no trouble at all for you to find someone—someone who can give you a good life. a fulfilling life."

"but.. there's still time left, isn't there?" your voice was quiet, thick with restrained tears, "there's still time for us."

"it isn't fair to you."

"it wouldn't be fair to you either if i left now." your brows knitting together, expression strained as you felt warmth trickle down your face, dripping down your chin onto his shoulder. "do you want me to leave?"

he looked away, hesitating just enough to make more droplets bead at your lashes before he shook his head, drawing a crooked finger across your cheek to catch a few stray tears. again, that disdain at your own selfishness came. he was worried for you, ruminating own his own impending death, trying to soften the blow of it for you at the expense of his own happiness, yet all you could do was cry at the thought of parting with him in any voluntary way.

"you're the one i want." you whispered, sniffling, "i knew what i was getting into at the start of all this, the things that i would miss, the things i would have to give up on, but they can wait. i can't be without you, not if i know that i can spend a single moment longer like this, loving you."

the sun had sank low in the sky, light abandoning the two of you in the dark of your room, alone with your shared, trembling breaths, his frown and distant eyes, your tears and imploring gaze. you felt weary in many ways as you allowed yourself to settle back onto his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his arm tightening its grasp around you, holding you close, a silent plea to stay just as you were.

he didn't speak, not another word of uncertainty exchanged, but you knew that he understood. he was here, and as long as that was the case you would always wait, keep turning down the hands that beckoned you, rescind your domestic desires for the sake of clinging to this one rare, importunate, lovely thing you had—clinging to him.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤°~Ghost Marriage: Lovely Bride To Be?! Part 3°~¤

Previously... 

"STOP YOUR STEP!!"

At the end of the hall, Senior Vanrouge and Sebek were conversing with the ghosts knights. "They became angery just because of a mere joke I made about them. Such a bunch of narrow minded ghosts." Lilia jests with ignorance in his tone.

"Ugh, the guys from Diasomnia! Why did you bring these ghosts here?!" Ace yells out in fear. "You naive ghosts who dare to snarl at Lilia. I'll get rid of you guys!" Sebek said with very little amusement.

Present Time..

After the fight with the ghosts. The student's and Headmaster go to the field so ghosts won't bother them. Students who were also kicked out the school stayed at the field. "Ha...haaa. Ugh the sides of my stomach hurt so much." Ace tries to say as he and Deuce groan and grumble in pain.

"Ace, Deuce." A familiar voice spoke. "Ah, Prefect Roseheart!" The two huff out as they nod. Azul and Kalim stood next to Riddle, but Azul looks at the two with confusion. "Where is Prefect (Y/N)? Shouldn't you two be with her?" The prefect of Octavinelle points out.

The A-Deuce combo only shrug. "I think she got mixed up the crowed." Deuce says as he looks at the growing crowd of students. "How did you guys get put here?" Ace asks the three dorm leaders.

"We had gotten chased out by some ghosts that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Even though it was valuable time for the three of us to study together." Kalim responded, while Azul shot him tired glance. "Kalim. Shouldn't it be "valuable time where we teach you about studying."?" Riddle could only sigh and cross his arms. "We almost got Kalim to understand the question..!"

"When we stayed in class, a bunch of ghosts appeared. They chased us out while saying, "this will be the brides fitting room!"" Grim watched as more students came up to them. Telling the same tale. "Everyone who was kicked out from campus has already gathered around..!"

"It seems like the whole campus has been taken away by those ghosts." Deuce said rather calmly. Ace on the other hand was more shocked than calm. "Oi! Principal, what's going on!?"

Before Mr. Crowley could respond, Ortho decided to explain. "I'll be the one to explain. You see, yesterday..." Once the young Shroud told everyone of the events that occurred. Everyone went silent. The only person who spoke after Ortho, was Riddle.

"The ghost groom has been searching for his ideal princess. Then had chosen (Y/N) as his ideal bride... That's the idea, correct?" Riddle revised as his expression was oddly calm. "WHAT!!!!" The group of NRC boys all screamed in anger and fear, a lot of other expression as well.

"We need to save her!!" Ace says immediately after the video was shown. "What will happen to (Y/N) if she does marry the Ghost Groom?!" Deuce asks the principal with fret. Mr. Crowley casted his eyes downward, with a somber voice he said.

"If (Y/N) marries the ghost prince, that is the same meaning of signing a contract. Which will mean, once the wedding is over.. SHE WILL FOLLOW HER SOON-TO-BE-HUSBAND TO THE UNDERWORLD!!!" "EEEEHHH!!!" Everyone yelled out in shock.

Mr. Crowley continues: "I put my guard down because I never would of expected someone who meets the conditions of the prince and his ideal Princess would exist in this world." Headmaster Crowley said with dread in every word he spoke.

"(Y/N)... Is going to be a ghost..!?" Epel gasps out with fear. "We can't let that happen!" Jack gruffs out as he bared his fangs. Many others agreed at helping the female student from her impending doom.

"We need to come up with a plan then!" Ortho tells the group of fired-up teens. "How about we start talking with them? We can throw a party! I bet that the ghosts will definitely let (Y/N) go if we just explain the situation."

The young Al-Asim heir suggested to his fellow peers. Rook nods, agreeing with his classmates. "A truly splendid idea, Roi d'or." A slim smile crepts on Rooks lips, "though..." The huntsman drawls out, his eyes turn a bit narrow.

"Do you think you'll be able to persuade a groom who has been searching for his bride for so long?" Rook crossed his arms over his chest as he continues on. His voice hinting with amusement. "If I was in his place, I'd never let my beloved go."

Leona growls, "so our only option is to just beat those ghost into submission." Vil scoffed at Leona and his idea. "Have you forgotten that we all ran all the way out here because we couldn't do just that." The male model said sassily with a frown gracing his painted lips. "No matter what we did, we couldn't defeat all those ghosts."

The headmaster starts to speak, "they are truly a infuriating opponent to take on. We should avoid confrontation as much as possible." Lilia starts to ponder as Crowley squawked about. "Lord Sam is well versed in the ways of ghosts and things of a spiritual nature. Shall we go see what he has to say on the matter?"

"Lord Sam... Do you mean Sam from the student store?" Deuce questioned the old fae. Lilia hums, "I was acquainted with his great grandfather." Cater starts to laugh dryly. "I still can't tell when you're joking or when your being serious... Lilia."

"Then we must make haste to the student store!" The headmaster yells as he and the others rush to Sam's shop. As soon as the shop door closed, Sam greets them. "Yo, headmaster and little demons. Whay could you be looking for that brought you all here?"

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. "Kidding! I know you're looking for something to deal with that ghost groom, right?" Sam told the group of teens and headmaster. Riddle is perplexed by Sam and his words. "This speeds things up but it sounds like you knew we would end up here."

Sam starts to laugh once more. "My friends on the other side bring me all kinds of info." Soon Sam's voice quickly turns less cheerful. "But things are getting really dicey. Ghost are tied to this world by a really powerful "lingering attachment".

Sam explained more in depth on what he meant. How they still come back because of the "attachment". "And as long is it remains, they'll keep comin' back." Grim felt realization struck him like lightning. "That's why the ghost of Ramshackle keep coming back!"

"Bingo! Precisely. That's why ghosts are so hard to handle." Ortho asked how they can save (Y/N), saying there was no such item like that to get rid of the ghost permanently. Sam grins and says, "IN STOCK NOW!" Azul looks at Sam selection while Leona tsks.

"Groom and brides are especially quick to meet tragedy. So they turn into ghosts all the time." Sam then holds up a item, "to get rid of a ghost groom. You need the "ring of severance." Slide this ring onto the host's left finger while saying "I shall love you till death do us part." And it will forcibly send him to the other side."

"How could (Y/N) give this to him? She's not even here!" Vil said as he picks up the small ring. Crowley gasped as he remembers something about the ghost groom. "Hold on a moment, the ghost groom was a boy who loved a challenge."

"So if one of you asked for (Y/N)'s hand. He'll see it as a duel for her hand in marriage, you don't have to win. But you must be able to give her the ring and tell her what to say." Lilia giggles at the crows plan. "It'll be fun to watch the drama unfold by stealing someone's bride."

"We shall call this plan... "Operation, Lovely Bride To Never Be!"" The headmaster said confidently, "it's a bit long for a name." Ace mutters under his breath. "Now I must decide on who the grooms will be for his plan." Crowley exclaimed as the male students to crowd and shout. "I'll do it!" "Let me do it!" "As if!"

The headmaster started to sweat with nervousness stirring in him. The gleaming eyes of the students were scaring him! It was almost as if each student was ready to take a role as a groom by ANY means necessary. Which it seemed like the students were readying themselves for.

"Alright alright! Will do a vote! I will write down all of your names and put them in my hat. I'll choose four grooms for this operation. So that means four names will be drawn." Mr. Crowley says with a exasperated look on his face.

_________________________________________________________

(Y/N) sat in the far corner of the "fitting room." She held a blank expression as she looks at herself. She wore a beautiful wedding (gown/suit/ect) as her hair was spruced up and was placed into a (loose/ponytail/ect). A (white/gold/silver) tiara with a veil attached to it was on her head. (Y/N) wanted to rip the thing off her, but then the ghost would force the item back onto her head again.

Sighing and cursing under her breath. (Y/N) felt queasy, or maybe it was because she hadn't ate anything yet. This was all happening so fast! (Y/N) did not want to be married to this ghost groom. She hoped that her friends would find a way to get too her before the wedding started.

"Bleh..." The female utters as she looks at her bare feet. A knock was heard on the door as a soft "coming in" was heard. A slim ghost that wore a white suite appears in front of her. He was the nanny of the ghost groom.

"Come, my dear lady. Your fiance is waiting, he needs your help with decorations and would like your words on it." (Y/N) felt herself become stiff, but agrees. Playing along was her better chance of escaping her "wedding". "Of course," (Y/N) said politely as she walks with nanny ghost.

The two reach the cafeteria, now transformed with pretty decorations and tombstones. Along with dark blue flowers and white sheets cover each table. The nanny smiles at his prince with nostalgia. "It seems like only yesterday you were a small child. Trying to find follow your dream and find your dear princess. A dream you lost long ago with your life as well. What a cruel twist of fate." The nanny said as his voice started to crack.

"If only I had arrived at your room faster, I could of helped you escape..." The sweet prince smiles at his caretaker. "It is alright now, know need to bring up the past. Don't let all that stuff bring you down."

The young princes smile never faltered. "Besides, going through all that pain and sadness is what allowed me to meet (Y/N)!" His caretaker could feel his spirits lift at the princes words. "Oh prince Elias, you are always so courageous and strong."

(Y/N) could feel her heart cry at what she heard. She didn't know that... Breathing in a gulp of air, she slowly walks closer to the two. 'It's gonna be okay..' "You did a great job Elias." (Y/N) said as she gives him a small smile.

The ghost groom returns her smile tenfold as he looks at his bride. "My goodness, (Y/N)! You look just as beautiful as a.. Well beautiful than an' undead flower!" Elias said happily, (Y/N) giggles at his childish wording.

"Thanks." The caretaker gives the two a tender look. "You both are just perfect for one another. Prince Elias, we must get you ready before nightfall. You have to look your best for your princess."

The caretaker jests as he pushes the prince out of the cafeteria. "Wha- but I wanted to-!" "No sir, you must get ready. *Sigh* your still a stubborn little boy too." Elias waves at (Y/N), "I shall see you soon, my love!"

Once the two were gone, the ghost soldiers take (Y/N) back to the dressing room. Before the door closed, (Y/N) asks them something. "Can I please have something to eat? I haven't ate in a few hours."

To be continued...

(Okay, part three was supposed to be the end of the series. But that didn't happen, so I'll do my best to make sure part four is the last installment. I really wanna get to work for the Halloween event for Twst and a bunch of other stories I wanna put on this account! But I have to wait until I finish part four. Thanks for reading!)

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Don't Leave Me This Way

Word count- It's a doozy at 3500

Warnings- language, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, penetration (vaginal), angsty romance

A/N- After a decade together, Honey and Leon have come undone. But on the anniversary of the day their lives changed Leon decides to mend them. For @forenschik 💋  Part One

Part Two:

Leon wasn’t quite sure walking was the best choice. Lightning lit up the sky every few minutes, and Honey’s silence as they strolled at a leisurely pace worried him. He knew, if anything, she was contemplating what he had said about traveling.

After a block, she finally looked at him and took a sharp breath in. Then all she could exhale was the damn kids.

“We still need to decide about Sunny going to school! Can he control himself around other kids, or should he be homesch-”

“HONEYYY!” Leon let loose his familiar whine. He stood firm so that as she kept going he yanked her backwards. “Enough about the kids! I love them, but please. Can you even make it back home without talking about them for one bloody minute?!”

Honey turned to face Leon. She planted her fists on her hips. This was a move he had watched Selina make a hundred times, but thought she swiped it from Wonder Woman. Now he knew it was from the bad ass chick he lived with. His wife popped one hip out to the side and curved a brow.

“Is that a challenge, Kostas? Care to wager.”

“Whot? No. I suck at gambling.”

“Bingo! Whatever you’re going to say, if I win, I get to sleep with Klaus.”

It was as if she had been thinking about this for ages. Just waiting for an opportunity to ask her husband, or maybe bait him. Spurned on by the heat and mundanity she never believed would settle in her marriage.

Leon wouldn't bite. Not really. “Even if you win, that'll never happen. You'll take one look at the bloody stupid problematic tattoo on his stomach and get unnerved.”

“Whatever. Either way, top that bitch.” Honey only had a hint of seriousness in her voice. Her smile reached her eyes.

Leon made a huff noise and rolled his eyes. Like he was disgusted. He threw his arms up and shrugged. “If you lose, ANYTIME or ANYWHERE, no matter what is happening, when I ask? you've got to kiss me.”

“That's not a punishment. I kiss you all the time.”

“But do you really, love? A nice one before work or when we get home or before we go to sleep. I'm talking about deep, passionate kisses like we used to.”

Honey’s shoulders sagged. Here she was wagering a night with a knock off, literally, of her husband. And all he wanted was that fire they once had. Both of them worried it had become embers just begging to be stoked and lit ablaze again.

Honey held out her hand, “Deal.”

Leon took it and turned it over. He raised it up to his lips and kissed her wrist, “Deal.” His hand encompassed hers and they started to walk as the wind picked up. They, however, strolled leisurely down Mulberry Street.

Honey was rather quiet, and Leon smirked. His wife would rather keep her mouth shut than risk mentioning the kids if she opened it. He didn't mind talking about them, not really.

Leon joked to Johnny once that his “Littles” were like acid trips that had come to life. Except they needed emotional guidance. He was glad that they had at least a few more years until they had to explain Sunny didn't just resemble his father, but his mother had her suspicions.

“Leon, where have you gone off to?” Honey was snapping her fingers in his face. “I asked you why a week isn't enough to reset?”

“How often did your parents go on holiday without the six of you?”

Honey was silent for so long as they sauntered along that Leon thought she was either worried she would mention Selina and Sunny in her answer. But she was thinking and couldn't recall. She responded with, “It's more like WHEN did my parents go on vacation without the six of us.”

“Alright.”

“1969. Wait no. That was the holiday you paid for to see me. Oh.. I don't know!”

“Exactly. My parents never went away without us and then not alone until my dad got sick. I don't want to wait until it's our last holiday together. So we go home,” he put his arm around Honey's neck and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head, “and just close your eyes and pick.”

She let her hands enclose around his as it hung down over her chest. “And we go there.” Honey brought Leon's hand up to her mouth so her lips just brushed his knuckles.

Leon’s instincts took over when she let him go. He slid under the fabric of her dress between her breasts. His fingers traced a lazy circle over Honey's nipple then teased it pert.

He went around. Quicker. This time he pinched it gently. When her breath hitched, he did it a bit harder. His eyes on the people milling about the streets of Lower Manhattan. His touch never waned.

Honey looked up at her husband. She studied the way his lip curled a bit like Elvis. How his nose curved subtly to the left because of a youthful accident near Kensington Gardens.

“Never trust a boomerang. They bloody well do come back!” he declared one night during their first years together.

Present Honey let her nail trace over it, and snickered unexpectedly. She watched Leon's eyebrows meet in the middle with thoughts of what was on with his missus. His eyes shifted a sideways glance at her, but his lip turned outwards in the tiny pout that preceded a smile.

“Whot?!” he exclaimed when Honey retraced the old break. She giggled a little more. “I WAS SEVEN! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GONNA WORK!” Leon shouted. “Dad told me I ruined my Greek face with a Roman nose.”

Honey stopped dead and gasped. Her jaw fell open in feigned shock. “Excuse me!? Romans took the Greeks, and we made them better!”

Leon reached his hands down over his wife’s ass. Their bodies flush with each other so he could knead it. “You certainly made this Greek better.”

Honey raised up on her tiptoes (despite her four inch heels) to throw her arms around Leon's neck. He was taken aback when Honey did a little hop so her lips could meet. He lifted her off the ground while her mouth opened enough for him to slip her his tongue. Hers fought back.

Back and forth their tongues went while they kissed on Bleecker street across from the apothecary. A few cars drove passed and whistled. Honey let go enough to flip someone off. Leon laughed in her mouth.

His oxygen became hers, and Honey remembered what it had all been like. When was the last time she and Leon sparred with their mouths? Were desperate to be inside of each other?

She was the first to break the kiss. Back on the ground. She took Leon and led him off the street in a doorway to a shuttered bodega. Honey pushed him up against the brick wall then began undoing his dress pants. She delved in to grab his cock which easily hardened in her grip.

“Want a blow job?” she purred at him. Her touch stroked along his shaft.

“We're.. We're not that far from the flat. I.. can,” Leon moaned. He glanced down to see Honey lowering herself to her knees. “You'll ruin your dress.”

She had freed his cock to lick at the head. “I'll buy another.”

Honey took Leon completely in her mouth so that he hit the back of her throat. She gagged a little; his hips shuddered. He bucked and she created a vacuum with her mouth. She let go before letting the tip of her tongue run the length of his erection and around the tip. She looked up at him from where she knelt while spreading the foreskin to lick at the sensitive part inside.

“People know us around here,” Leon whined. His hold on the back of her head tightened and twisted up in her hair.

“Oh no! Local sexy Columbia professor gets sucked off by his goddess-like wife and East Village club owner.” Honey punctuated every few words with a swipe of her tongue on his cock. This was followed by soft sucking motions over the head and further down. “Wait until they find out we met making a porno.”

She stopped suddenly and stood to lead her husband back out onto the sidewalk towards home. Leon whimpered; Honey laughed. “Now that's for the restaurant! But you're right, a few more blocks and we're home. Then we're gonna fuck good and hard all over the flat.”

Leon picked up the pace.

----

Honey stumbled backwards into the stairwell up to their apartment. Leon invaded her space as he bent over to mesh his mouth with hers. He blindly fumbled for the zipper to her dress as she unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked his shoes off, then his pants and tugged the dress off his wife's body so she was naked in the foyer except for her wedged heels.

Honey took a step back to catch her breath. She pushed the shirt back off Leon's shoulders and kissed them. Once he stepped out of his boxers, she let her mouth hurry along his collarbone. She stopped only to nibble and bite at the base of his neck.

He sighed letting his hands run up and down her bare back. They settled where the small of her back curved inwards. Leon held her to his chest when Honey reciprocated.

Another instance lost to their busy schedule. Neither could remember the last time they embraced like this. Not just a hug. Luckily they were affectionate with each other if only in passing. But not like this. Just touching one another in their nakedness.

Leon backed Honey onto the stairs where he sat her down on his shirt. Like her dress, he could buy another. He just wanted a clean place for her to rest. He lifted her ankle thanking the gods her shoes had laces around it instead of those damnable straps even she had a hard time with.

Honey sat forward to stop him. “I want to leave them on.”

Leon frowned, “Whot?”

Honey laughed and got up to face him as she made her way up the steps. She bit her lip as he followed. The light in the well helps her see every inch of her partner.

The erection she created out on the street as it strained and twitched for her. His muscular arms couldn't quite catch her because she remained out of his reach the further up she climbed. His sly smile with the curved top lip. A smile that reached green eyes that transformed from indescribable colors to a shade darkened by desire.

Honey wasn't paying attention to the pile of troll dolls that were set up just outside their door. She was too busy squealing when Leon finally caught up to her. He growled and snapped his jaw at her thigh from a few feet down. She couldn't see anything but her 34 years flash across her eyes when she tripped and toppled and cried out.

“DAMMIT, SELINA!!”

Leon practically flew to snatch her up in his arms before she could properly fall. She had opened the door at least and instead of down the stairs they tumbled on to the front hallway floor. Leon cushioned her as best as he could when they landed.

“I told her if she left those creepy things out there someone was gonna get killed! OOOO!” Honey let out a frustrated scream.

“Are you alright?” Leon pretended to inspect his wife’s body. “No lumps?” He distracted her by capturing one of her breasts in his mouth while they laid side by side on the hardwood and throw-rug. He crawled on top of Honey and snuck a hand inside of her thighs. His fingers dove inside of her like back at the restaurant. “No bruises?”

Honey felt her sex throb. Her back arched with one leg thrown around Leon's waist. “If you finger fuck me harder, I'll forget all about it.”

Leon complied. He slid them easily in and out; she had grown so wet for him already. His wife twisted and dug her nails into his back. Her hips bucking now like his had outside.

“Your ego is going to bruise,” he said low in her ear.

“Whhhhyyyy?!” She replied in a high pitched moan.

“You mentioned our daughter before we got home.”

“WE WERE IN THE STAIRWELL!”

Leon rolled off of his wife and got to his feet. He helped her up and made like he was going to kiss her. Honey ducked out of his way. “We don't live out on those stairs do we?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You lost, and I want my first snog.”

Honey dodged him once more and slithered out of his arms. “Cheeky bastard. That's cheating!” She moved towards the living room.

“That's not! It's called tactical. One again, WHO’S CIA TRAINED NOW?! NOW COME BACK HERE AND SNOG ME, WOMAN!”

“BUGGER OFF!” Honey screamed but launched into hysterical laughter as she gave chase through the apartment.

“Minx!” Leon shouted. He ran after her out on to the fire escape where she was out of his grasp once more.

He chased Honey to the roof. Once up there he looked around the garden they had built. Their own secret away from Manhattan created by the two of them, The Littles and Klaus. Ivy and wildflowers and a patch for vegetables and fruit. It wasn't much, but wildflowers always blossomed where they were planted and the bees that followed made honey tended to by his own sweet, sticky woman.

“Grazia, dove sei? Te voglio, ma donna selvaggia.” Leon called out to his wife in Italian. Then Greek: “Μου χρωστάς ένα φιλί”

Gracie, where are you? I want you, my wild woman. You owe me a kiss!

“Sono qui amore mio!” Honey called back from under the Bougainvillea covered arbor. “Say te voglio bene, Leo.” A nickname her father teased him with. “I want you always.”

“I DO want you. From the moment I saw you. Your hair was all plaited up around your head with this crown of daisies in your hair. Like Khloris, the goddess of flowers.”

Leon finally found Honey laying on the bench under the wooden structure. She was twisted at the waist with one leg curved, the other stretched out. She was propped up on her elbow. Her long black hair covered her breasts down to her sides almost. The rest of it splayed out on the seat.

He stood by her side now. “Now you're Aphrodite, aren't you?”

Leon let his touch trace over her olive skin curves. He studied her dark pubic hair between the softness of those curves. Brushed his fingers through it before sitting down next to her. He kissed the thickness of his wife’s hip.

Honey rolled on to her back. Her fingers in Leon's hair encouraged him to move his lips to her stomach and chest. He captured one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked till it hardened. Then he bit it gently until she cried out.

Leon laid on top of Honey. She drew his mouth to hers when he attempted to head back down her body. She craved the battle their tongues waged before. So they did.

Honey locked her ankles to Leon's hips and begged for him to push inside of her. She took the head of his cock to guide it inside of her slick entrance. “Please?” she beseeched.

Leon pushed up so he could look at her. “You don't want me to go down on you?”

“I do. Later. We can reenact that scene from our film debut. I just need you inside of me. I want to remember what we used to be like. Before we raised the moon and the sun and became mortal.”

Leon kissed Honey. Then again. And again. Small, quick, innocent kisses. He took her wrists and pinned them to the bench above her head. His free hand did with his cock what she had been doing moments before. He taunted her entrance with the first inch or so of his cock.

Honey pleaded for Leon to just do it already. He pressed his forehead in the crook of her neck just as he buried himself in her walls. “We are the pantheon wrapped up in human bodies. We will never be mortals.”

Honey cried out. She dragged her nails over Leon's shoulder blades as he lost himself up to the hilt with each thrust. The friction and movements grew steadily faster. Harder. Not quite violent, but their bodies crashed together repeatedly. As if the pain of Leon's pelvis slamming into Honey’s reminded them of who they are.

“Leon.. Stop,” Honey said breathlessly.

All movement ceased. “Am I hurting you?” he looked down at her apologetically.

She pushed the sweat soaked hair back from his forehead. The smell of sex and sweat and rain in the air coursed through Honey’s veins. She littered Leon's chest and neck with tiny pecks.

“No, I feel really good. I want to switch positions?”

The way she asked was almost sheepish. It made Leon smile as he pulled out of her and helped her up. Now he laid down so she could straddle him. The bench wasn't wide enough for her to kneel like she usually did, so Honey would quite literally treat Leon like a horse.

She positioned herself over his cock. Used the head to caress her slit. Honey watched Leon bite his entire bottom lip. His chest heaved with heavy breaths that only quickened when she finally sank down on to him. His fingers dug so deep into her curves, he was practically up to his first knuckle.

Honey found a pace that was slow and steady. She balanced herself with palms flat on her husband’s chest. She drove forward so that he filled her totally. Then back until only the head stayed inside. She thrust forward swift and vigorous until every inch was covered by her sex Honey felt herself pulsate around Leon.

She let herself be physically manipulated by her husband now. He rocked her back and forth until their rhythm was breakneck.

Neither of them realized the skies had opened up and it started to pour. The rain cascaded through the arbor on to them as they discovered each other on the bench in the middle of their own Garden of Eden.

And Honey understood as she arched her back and anchored herself on Leon's thighs. Her body was undulating with abandon. The two of them fucking; their bodies crashing together like the thunder. She understood what it meant to gain knowledge from the forbidden fruit.

Somewhere, in some ripple in time, or flip of the coin, she and Leon had been split in half. Honey was made from him. Pulled from his soul and fashioned for him. He had been taken from HER soul and fashioned for her. This was what she meant the night Selina had been born: their stolen pieces would always mend together in every generation.

He spilled into her, crying out her name. Her real name. She threw back her head and released a cry a few minutes later drowned out by the sound of a storm. They twitched and sighed and smiled in that lazy post orgasmic way.

Now they stood, Honey a bit off balance and giggling as Leon righted her. His hair a matted mess stuck to his face and neck which she tried desperately to manage. But he kissed her instead like the night they met and the night they fell in love. How they would kiss for the next fifty years.

“I think a hot bath is in order!” he bellowed over the noise.

For the second time that night, Honey couldn't resist.

Tag: @magic-multicolored-miracle @love-is-dirty-baby @a-ghoulish-tale @elliethesuperfruitlover @neuroticpuppy @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @duck-noises @falloutby @vonkimmeren @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private @maerenee930 @messengeronthemoon @frogs--are--bitches @firstpersonnarrator @feed-davis-and-steve

[babylooneytoonz]

Author's Note: I got this as a request, but decided to turn this into a fic. Thank you to whoever this person was who requested it. 💗

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Set somewhere after Avengers Civil War. My book does not follow the storyline, and will not include the events of Infinity War and Endgame. I do not take credit for any of the characters, except for my OC/Reader.

Warnings: 18+ [Will include SMUT, curses and violence] // Bucky Barnes is an ass

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

Coffee Stains

You almost didn't realize how late it was; the sun had set hours back, and the moon was now shining bright, pale white glow radiating from its cheeks like White ivory spread over the ground outside. You finally decided to stop working, and instead head home. So, you shut your laptop, pushing your glasses over the bridge of your nose, and finally stood up. The SHEILD headquarters was still hustling and bustling with people. People kept walking past your office door, most of them in a hurry as you joined them in the hallway, making your way towards the elevator.

Your father had worked for SHEILD, having been one of the building blocks, along with Nick Fury, and now you, being his daughter, there was nothing more you had ever wanted to do but to dedicate yourself entirely to SHEILD. So here you were, associated with SHEILD, for almost two years now.

You didn't realize when in the bubble of your mind, the kinesis of your thoughts, a woman had stepped out of her office and was making her way towards you, but not after having called your name almost three times. When she reached the elevator, she let out a soft huff, which was enough to finally put you out of your trance.

"Maria, I'm sorry, didn't see you there," you retorted, a little flustered and pink at the cheeks.

The woman almost gave you a tight lipped smile, and slowly, her long, slender arms came to cross on her chest, her left foot almost tapping against the tiled floor of the headquarters, "I've been calling your name, you didn't respond. You alright?"

You thought for a moment, your glossy eyes looking down at her feet before back up on her face again, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah, just thinking. Is there anything you needed?"

"Not me, Fury wanted to see you before you left."

You nodded, pursing your lips slightly and gave her a ghost of a smile before taking a step back and craning your neck towards Fury's office once and then back, " Well then, I guess I'll pay the boss a visit." The two of you exchanged a light hearted chuckle, and you waved Maria off as she stepped into the elevator with two more agents, and you slowly made your way up to Nick Fury's office.

You stood awkwardly at the glass door, bringing your palm up to the glass and knocking on it. Inside the office, the bald headed man with a patch on one of his eyes slowly looked up, and when he saw you, a hint of a smile broke out on his lips as he nodded, and you stepped in.

"You wanted to see me?"

You and Fury shared an easy going relation; he reminded you of your dad, for the two of them had served together before your dad was killed in action, and ever since, Nick Fury had taken it upon him, to watch over you like a father figure.

"Come on in Y/N, I wanted to speak to you."

Shutting the door, you walked up to where he was seated and slowly lowered yourself on the empty chair in front of him, your elbows coming to rest on the surface of the desk.

"So– " He began, sitting back more comfortably, and also to keep a better eye at your expressions and reactions, "With Natasha Romanoff out on a mission, the Avengers are in need of a dire back up agent."

Your eyebrow shot up at his words, not understanding where he was getting at. As though he sensed your confusion, he continued, "A position is open. The Avengers are looking for someone to join the team. And I recommended your name."

It was as though your ears managed to block out every word that Fury said except for the part that he had recommended your name. Avengers had only been a distant dream for you till now. They really intrigued you; and you had done your research on almost everyone of them, except for the newbies of course that you hadn't had the chance to meet. Your lips parted in surprise, and a soft gush of air managed to escape your lips.

"Fury, I – I don't know."

"They asked us for the best we've got, and although it's been a long time we've sent you on our mission, you're the best we've got. I couldn't say no," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood for he was now able to sense that you were starting to get nervous.

"Holy shit." You finally managed to form words, not the best choice of words that you could have formed, but you were so surprised, you didn't know what to say.

"Rest up, Y/N. Tomorrow, we go to the Avengers Towers, and meet your new team."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The next day, you woke up earlier than you usually did, but you knew that it was your part excitement part anxiety bubbling up that had kept you tossing and turning in bed all night. You had gone over all the possible scenarios that could happen today, at the Avengers Towers, on why the Avengers would think that you weren't cut out for this. You were really good, there was no doubt about that; you were trained in hand to hand combat, espionage, you were good with weapons, with the small guns and also the big ones; you could say you were pretty good with your sniping skills. But, you hadn't been on a mission for the SHEILD in a long time, especially not after your messy divorce with Wallis, your ex husband who had been your colleague and your partner at SHEILD, the one person you always went on missions with. It had taken you a long time to come out of the emotional trauma that came with a separation, and to worsen it all, he had been the one that you had caught with another woman in your bed, on a night you almost escaped death, on one of your solo missions.

You were already dressed and ready by the time you were picked up and dropped off at the Stark Towers, with Fury by your side.

You wouldn't lie if you would say that you were starstruck, by just a look at the exterior of it. It was heavenly. And the interior. You didn't even want to comment on it, it was that breathtaking, a complete opposite to the SHEILD headquarters.

"Like it?" Fury chuckled next to you, breaking your thought process, and a faint hue of a blush to grace your cheeks. As the two of you got into the elevator, you turned around and gasped slightly at the sight of the entire city of Manhattan right there in front of your eyes, from a little glass box.

"Friday, Tony's lab, please. Thank you."

"Right away, Director, and Miss Y/N," the AI chortled back, causing your eyes to widen even further. Friday was like a celebrity to you, and now finally you were here, at a place you had only dreamt of being, and the reality was slowly sinking in.

The elevator pinged open, and Fury was the first one to step out, followed by you as the two of you walked into what looked like a really high technology lab. Your eyes marvelled at the sight, and you just looked around, your eyes scanning through it all, your mind still in a daze.

"Welcome, welcome to my humble abode," there he was, the man himself, the man behind all of this, the famous Tony Stark. Although you had met him before, and Steve and Natasha as well, it was back at the SHEILD headquarters.

"Tony Stark, long time no see."

"Well, I've been busy you see," he smirked smugly at you, but soon, a small smile paved its way over his lips and he slowly engulfed you in a warm hug.

"Welcome home, I always did say to Fury."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, side glancing your boss, who was, for a change, having a smile of his own over his lips.

"You always belonged with us, here at the Avengers Towers. He never really let you go," he gave Fury a look and then, his friendly demeanor altogether changed and a professional look took over his face, his features turning stoic. "Now Fury have you spoken to her about her trainings?"

"Not yet."

"Great, so–" Tony dramatically clapped his hands together, "With a great position comes great responsibilities."

"With power you mean?" You chuckled.

"Yes yes. And that," he winked playfully, only to straighten up again. "But that power needs to be harnessed. You will be put into training, like all the newbies we get and we will get to decide when and if you have what it takes to be one of us."

Fury nodded, and you looked at him, noting how he was beaming at you, like a proud father, causing your confidence to boost up as you nodded in Tony's direction.

"When do we start?"

"Hold that thought, ah, Friday? Can you please ask Captain to join us, please?"

"Right away, Mr. Stark." The AI replied.

"Well then, so that fixes it."

A comfortable silence fell over the lab and Tony walked off to look at something on one of his screens. You fixed yourself by the glass staring out at the picturesque view of the city of Manhattan. It wasn't long when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, and finally when you heard Fury greet Steve, you realized he had joined the lot of you. The minute you turned around, your eyes fell on him and with a soft smile, you nodded in his direction, "Mr. Rogers."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Bucky wasn't having the best day.

At first, he had woken up to bone chilling nightmare. If that wasn't all, he had taken his motorcycle out for a ride, and somehow he had parked it when he had reached the cliff, and made his way to the edge to just stare at the horizon, when someone had somehow managed to steal the bike. And if that wasn't the worst part of the day, he was sexually frustrated and utterly sex deprived as he had just returned yesterday from almost a month long mission.

Sam being the nice person he was, had tried to warn most of te people to stay out of Bucky's way today; because today, he was really biting.

But he really hadn't warned you.

Because he still didn't know who you were.

After having met with Steve in Tony's lab, Fury had left, and Steve had opted to walk you around the facility, until he had dropped you off at your apartment on the seventh floor. He had told you that you were to share this floor with a few of the Avengers, but he was in a hurry so he had asked you to come find him later in the evening. Besides, you had to be ready to train with him today at 7 in the evening.

It was already 5 by the time you stepped into your apartment; your eyes widening in awe when you saw the interior of it. The furniture was sleek and modern, made out of the best quality of wood there could be, and the walls were painted a spotless white, numerous abstract paintings hanging on the walls.

You gotta hand it to Tony, the man sure did have a taste.

It didn't take you long to fill the walk in closet up with your clothes, and even after filling up the two bags that you had brought over, you couldn't help but marvel at how much space the closet still had for more stuff, giving you an inspiration to shop for a dozen more outfits. However, now wasn't the time to think about it, and instead you decided to grab yourself a mug of coffee from the kitchen, so you could be alert and fresh for your training session with Captain.

Whistling to yourself, and with the help of Friday, you did manage to find your way to the massive kitchen, adjoining the spacious recreation room that was empty when you reached. Walking into the kitchen, you filled up your mug with piping hot coffee to the brim, and lifted the mug up, walking out of the kitchen.

Little did you know that a mistake was bound to happen on your first day here.

Bucky had just stepped out of the gym, dressed in a tight white tank top and his joggers, his hair all sweaty and sticking to his face. At first he had decided to hop right into the shower, and maybe get a little frisky, but at the last moment, he finally gave up on that idea, having decided to stall the shower for a little more time so he could grab himself a granola bar from the kitchen.

Although his feet made a lot of ruckus as he walked into the recreation room, and towards the kitchen, but perhaps you were so engrossed in licking your lips, eyeing the mug of coffee in your hands that you failed to hear him come in.

You stepped out of the kitchen at the exact same time when he tried to enter, and you ended up crashing into him, your hot coffee spilling all over his white tank, causing a massive stain.

Bucky cursed as the coffee came in contact with his flesh, a faint hissing sound escaping from his lips, which was probably due to the burn that he could now feel on his abs. His eyes turned venomous instantly, and his face contorted in fury.

"Even with a pair of glasses on, you still cannot watch where you going?" He barked at you, in a rude tone.

You looked at the stain on his abs, and then back up at him, not failing to notice the blue in his eyes, mentally cursing yourself for how clumsy you were.

"I – I'm really sorry, I –" You started stammering, only to be cut off by him again.

"Your sorry won't fix the mess you made, would it?" Sarcasm dripped through his words, and now, you were starting to feel how this man was simply overreacting. You spilling a piping hot mug of coffee over him wasn't really that much of a big deal, was it?

"Let me wash it –"

"We have machines that does that stuff for us, you really don't have to bother. Now, if you don't mind, you are in my way," the blue eyed man simply huffed, his face slowly turning cold and emotionless, as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching you and waiting for you to move out of his way. Maybe you weren't that fast in moving; and you understood this when you felt him roughly push himself past you, ignoring the way you fell to your side by the weight of his body, almost crashing against the doorframe and hurting your side.

"Really? Did you just fucking push me?"

This time, you turned around, your eyes contorted in fury, and your lips laced together, in a hope that pressing your lips together like that would stop your curses from flowing out.

"Would you rather have had me jump over you? You aren't exactly small."

He had his back now turned towards you, his body bent over the fridge as he callously moved his hands through the contents of the fridge.

"Prick."

Shaking your head, you took a step away, leaving the now empty mug of coffee on the slab before making your way out of the kitchen.

You were fuming.

(Feedback is always appreciated.)

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[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 11 (Bucky Barnes au)

"High hopes, when you let it go, go out and start again"

It took Bucky exactly eight minutes to meet you in the kitchen after you'd come back from taking your things at Darren's. He didn't say anything right away, placing a hot cup of fresh coffee in front of you.

"Black, no sugar," he told you.

You smiled softly at that small thing he'd managed to remember about you. Damn, your standards were low.

"How did it go?" he asked as he sat before you.

"Not as bad as I imagined," — you sighed – "even though he still found a way to be a dick."

"I'm sorry."

You shrugged as you held on tight to your cup. "It's not your fault, don't  be."

"I kinda feel responsible, though."

You took a sip of your warm drink before instinctively grabbing his hands on the table.

"The only thing you're responsible for is making me see how he already was. I should thank you for that."

"I just..."

Footsteps made you remove your hands and place them back around your cup as you looked down. Bucky cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable as well.

"I didn't want to interrupt anything, sorry," Steve apologised. "Buck, Tony just confirmed we're going on a small mission tomorrow. You're still up, right?" He looked back and forth at you and his friend. "You can also stick around if you want. It's not gonna be difficult."

Bucky's eyes interrogated you for a second. Did he want to stick around to stay with you? You wish you knew. He tilted his head on the side, thinking.

"Nah, I already said I'd come."

"Cool. It's just gonna be Nat and the two of us. We should be fine."

As Steve laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, you felt his last sentence was more directed at you than it was at Bucky, who would actually be on the mission. He squeezed your shoulder before leaving the two of you alone again. The awkwardness that lingered  in the air was killing you : had you made him uncomfortable by kissing him? Had he changed his mind about you?

"This is weird," you finally said. "I made it weird, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Hey, hey, calm down," he whispered. "You didn't make anything weird. I just don't want to you  to think I'm pushing you to anything so I..." — he  shook his head – "I though not saying anything about what happened  between us would make you more comfortable."

"Thank God," you breathed. "I thought you regretted it."

"How could I?" He stared at your eyes, his own checking out your lips for a second. "I'd do it again without any hesitation if you asked."

You felt a tickle in your stomach as he leaned towards you, his elbows resting on the table.

"What if I asked now?" you questioned, feeling your cheeks heating up.

The shadow of a smile appeared on his face as he grew closer to you, teasing you with his slow motion. You put your chin forward to make your intentions clear. Taking the hint, he  brushed his lips against yours, sending shivers down your spine. You allowed your hand to touch his neck to pull  him in and kiss him deeper. You soon felt him smile before he pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth and sat back properly. You rested your head on your hand and shot him a bright smile before acknowledging your feelings and what you'd told Wanda.

"I'm scared, Buck," you confessed. "I don't want to impose my mess of a sentimental life on you."

"You mean that husband of yours?" Bucky scoffed. "It's not gonna be a problem,  doll."

You chuckled at the nickname before grabbing his hand again. "I'm talking to Tony tonight to see if he knows a decent lawyer. After that...I'll have divorce papers drafted," you explained.

Bucky gently squeezed your fingers. "Are you ready to do it now? You have the right to wait."

"I know," you said, distractingly drawing circles on his hand with your thumb. "I also know that the sooner I do this, the less time he'll be able to torment me, because... I'm convinced he won't let this settle in peace."

"I'll be there. All the way."

You couldn't help but smile as you looked at both your hands. It felt so natural that you couldn't even feel any guilt about your marriage.

"Alright lovebirds, I've waited long enough  for my tea," your sister joked as she walked in.

You let out a delicate laugh before getting up. "I'm gonna go work in the lab a little," you said. "I promised Bruce I would look into our tissue theory."

"Can I watch?" Bucky asked in an eager voice.

"Of course!  I'll even teach you a few science tricks if you're nice enough." You smiled once more. "See you,  Wanda!"

---

"Thanks for doing this with me," you said. "I could've gone alone, but..."

"Hey, it's alright," Sam told you. "That's what friends are for."

"Mrs y/l/n?" a young man asked you. "Mr. Reyes is ready to meet you."

You got up and breathed out before entering the attorney's office. As he invited you to take a seat in front of him, you quickly explained Sam was here to support you.

"Mr. Stark told me you might come with a friend," he told you as he grabbed a pile of paper and his pen. "Do  you know what you want out of this divorce? Money, the house?"

"Oh, hum..." You  fiddled with your fingers and Sam gave you a nod of encouragement. "All I want is to get out of this marriage. He can keep the place, I don't care. We don't even have joined bank accounts."

"Yeah, I noticed that. A smart move from you, lady." He took some notes before asking you for your postal address. : you gave him the compound's one. "You won't need elaborate papers for this, I believe. Regular ones will do it just fine, and I promise  you'll  be out of it in no time, provided your future ex-husband signs them soon enough."

"About that... What should I do if he doesn't?"

"Is it a strong possibility?"

You looked at Sam as you debated the question. You hadn't been married for long, but you believed Darren's ego and pride could possibly make this procedure trickier than it actually was.

"Yeah. He's not really happy with my decision."

"If he doesn't sign, then we'll settle this in court. Don't worry, though, we'll make sure we don't have to. Shall we go over the papers together?"

Once you were out of the office, Sam decided to stop at a bar to buy you a drink. "You deserve it," he said. Sitting there at the counter, a beer in your hand, you were anxious about Darren signing papers that hadn't even been sent yet.

"He'll sign them, y/n. And if he doesn't do it willingly, I trust Steve and myself to convince him."

He bumped your shoulder, making you chuckle.

"I hope you're right. I really don't want this do be dramatic. I know it's unfair to him, but..."

"Wait a second," he interrupted you. "Divorce isn't unfair given the way he's been treating you for years."

"I know that now. Both Wanda and Bucky have made it seem very clear to me. But he still deserves a real soulmate, one he will treat right. And I shouldn't have lied to him in the first place."

Sam took a sip of his beer and you took a minute to check out the beautiful small carvings on the edge of the counter. The whole bar had a dark, comfy vibe that you found yourself to enjoy a lot. The bartender had obviously recognised Sam, but he was chill about it.

"Maybe, but the same reasoning applies to you," your friend replied. "You deserve to be with your soulmate, and so does Bucky."

"You're probably right. Thank  you again for coming along. I would've asked Wanda, but..."

"You didn't want to bother her and Vision, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and Steve was on a mission, so... Plus, you're way more chill than he is," you said, laughing a little. "Don't tell him I said that."

"I won't."

"I'm glad we're friends, you know? You, Steve, and the others...you're family to me now."

Sam patted your shoulder.

"I know. We'll always be."

You nodded slowly, taking another sip before Sam's phone started buzzing.  He picked it up quick.

"Stark? What's up?"

You couldn't hear Tony's voice on the other end of the call, but Sam's furrowed brows had you worried. He looked down for a second.

"We'll be here in no time."

He hung up, probably making this one of the shortest calls in history.

"What's wrong?" you asked. "I know something's wrong. Tell me."

"They're back. We gotta go."

Sam grabbed his coat on his chair and dropped a bill on the counter to pay for the beers. He didn't even bother to wait for his change and you followed him outside.

"Okay but why the rush, Sam?"

"Bucky's hurt, and you're the only doc available right now."

--- And that's part 11! Part 13 will be the last one and it's making me emotional... :)

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[fragmentwitch]

Pondering Eua and Re:Unanswered Questions

Me after finishing Gou:

I have several questions but I will spend most of this post trying to answer just one.

If a new rule allows Rika and Satoko to transfer to the same new fragment after dying, did she really keep track of which Rika since that was made only after the Chandelier death?

Is Gou Rika Matsuribayashi Rika? Or Chandelier Rika? If the Rika she gets in her happy ending isn't her actual original Rika, could this be the cost Eua might have vaguely warned about and not actually the loops bleeding into people's memories?

Is Satoko a piece of Lambdadelta along with Vier/LD3105/Mitsuyo and Eua a piece of Featherine's? And not actually Lambdatoko? Or is Ryukishi just trolling with having Eua babble nonsense (Thinking Emoji)

Where/when will the Logic Error occur?

I used to believe the error was in the original series going off the VERY VAGUE statement about the beginning and end being connected. Never has there ever been a perfectly airtight idea of what the real Logic Error is though, and the new mechanics shown by Gou really makes my brain hurt.

Are Hanyuu and Eua the same person? Are Eua and FEATHERINE the same person?

I continue to have hope Hanyuu doesn't get retconned into being a Big Bad Evil Demon Lady named Eua, despite mounting implications that suggest otherwise. I had originally been led to believe Hanyuu was a piece that was left to roam the game board by her Game Master: given that she's been part of the Hinamizawa world for 1k years I wondered for a bit if she was a Witch that somehow lost her memory. Kotohogushi is a bit dubious on the canonicity so I have to remind myself the translation about Hanyuu coming from a line of 'alien' like people transferring their consciousness from another dimension with a grain of salt.

But Eua looks so much like Featherine I've been rewatching her scenes lately and thinking... this line I really keep thinking about:

What did Eua mean by this? She phrases it like there is someone/something of a higher power than even herself.

In terms of ranking, Lambda described Aurora higher than Voyagers/Witches. She was one step below THE Creator (supposedly there is a typo where there is actually just One Creator and Aurora is merely a Witch with a comparable power to a creator but idk Japanese so cant verify this).

From the way she worded things, she isn't talking to Satoko exclusively: she's talking about Vier, LD3105, and Mitsuyo. Referencing that it took hundreds of millions of loops for Eua and Satoko to meet 'once more'. Surely this can't mean Rika's looping merely referring to Hanyuu and Satoko; that sort of looping sounds beyond 100 years' worth.

Could it be that Eua is a self-aware god piece referring to all the various Expies in the WTCverse as being the same person at the heart of things? Possibly... but let's remember that Featherine lost her memory when her device was damaged; Lambda described it as one severe enough to alter her memory, appearance, and personality. It happened once, and Featherine would likely be extremely guarded against letting it happen again. How it happened is one more mystery.

Back to Eua: when Satoko asks her to 'alter' the rules of the game, and she acts like it's no biggie, then this carries heavy implications of being the Game Master/Territory Lord. If she was merely a piece, no amount of self-awareness would make her capable of altering the actual rules on a whim would it?

There's also this line she spoke to Satoko in episode 18ish: "The horn that granted the cat power was damaged, but mine is not."

Note that she says horn singular. Not plural. She doesn't say "mine are not" and confirms Rika was given the looping ability by something external. Yet she doesn't assign it a name (Hanyuu), just refers to it as an object. Which might be a hint as to how Featherine might create piece Witches: her device might be a way of transferring loop power with more permanence that gets around a 'sponsorship' which can be withdrawn at the Witch's discretion.

Also recall that when Satoko touches the Oyashiro statue (whose arm is intact but has a hollow head), it shatters on the upper part and only one horn falls out onto the floor. Not a horseshoe shaped device like Featherine's. It's also black, while Eua's is all white. Yet Hanyuu's horns are still with one chunk missing and colored black. Eua also mentions she isn't supposed to even have a name, in fact, her meeting with Satoko seems almost by 'chance' (she speaks like Satoko summoned her to the fragment in this manner). Hanyuu's full real name is given in a chapter that is dubiously semi-canon, so Ryukishi might elect to leave it out of Gou, but her husband Riku Furude gave her the nickname 'Hanyuu'. (Which still contains the character for Feather)

These observations are making me consider the possibility that Hanyuu and Eua are separate personas of a singular entity: The smooth horn belongs to Eua while the broken one belongs to Hanyuu. Black and White; a contrast between the kind demon mother who feels Rika's pain and lived on the gameboard & the demon who relishes in tormenting humans, too above to be part of the gameboard herself.

So, that leads us to the million dollar question: who is the entity if we put both horns together? Do we get Featherine Augustus Aurora? Or the Oyashiro living in this reverse-world Hinamizawa and hiding inside the actual statue? (Seriously is there a corpse in there? Wtf)

Or are these two halves of a GM making a tug of war for control over the Higurashi Catbox via their loopers? Now THAT is a mindblower if true.

We got our answer that Takano forfeited her villain role before Gou actually began so that may explain why the legend of Oyashiro is told deceptively 'wrong', but how does one account for the unbroken statue with a removeable head... could we potentially get a fragment in Sotsu where Satoko doesn't break the arm off it as a child and thus it affects all the loops afterwards? Hmm.

Either way we haven't actually caught up to GOU chronologically speaking, so until Sotsu comes out, there's no way to tell for sure if Eua and Hanyuu are one and the same or if they are actually two halves of a whole. But I will be a happy camper if this crackpot theory turns out to be right. Usually I'm wrong though. Lol

But now I'll definitely see about cooking up a diagram or something if we can actually make a branching map of the different Rikas to figure out which one is Gou Rika.