#are you that incapable of independent thought
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writing a disorganized attachment style? Please, and thank you in advance.
Writing Notes: Disorganized Attachment Style
Disorganized Attachment
The most recently identified classification of attachment systems.
In the Strange Situation, a form of insecure attachment in which infants show no coherent or consistent behavior during separation from and reunion with their parents. Also called disoriented attachment.
General Attitude: “I am uncomfortable getting close to others and find it difficult to trust and depend on them. I worry I will be hurt if I get close to my partner.”
CAUSES
Associated with parenting that induces fear in the infant.
Arises from scenarios where a child’s attachment figure or parent is observably frightened or frightening when a child needs comforting or reassurance.
Involves frightening and violent behaviors from parents or caregivers and is, therefore, more common with families suffering from combined or distinct problems of child abuse, domestic violence, and family instability.
CONSEQUENCES
The severe long-term consequences for disorganized attachment systems include later dissociative disorders, anxiety disorders, and serious behavior problems.
Patterns of affective communication that result from frightened or frightening caregiver behavior (e.g., contradictory emotional cues, withdrawal) also correspond to infant disorganization.
PREVALENCE
Disorganization is more prevalent in samples with abuse or neglect and in samples with high levels of parental depression and unresolved loss.
Especially frequent among children who have been subjected to abuse or serious neglect.
Interpersonal Markers of a Disorganized Attachment Style
Proximity/distance: Fear proximity but feel lost without it
Trust/expectations of others: Strong distrust of others, fear of boundaries being breached or violated
Attitude to seeking and receiving help: Afraid of getting involved, but feel helpless
Expression and regulation of emotions: Absent or chaotic expressions of emotions, difficulties in regulating emotions
Self-image/self-esteem: Low self-esteem, incoherent self-image
Openness and self-disclosure: Are reticent about sharing thoughts and feelings, but involuntary ‘breakthroughs’ may occur
Dependence/independence: Strong conflict between the desire for independence and feelings of dependence
Conflict management: Conflicts may lead to breakdowns and inappropriate behaviour
Empathy: Own fear/helplessness hinders empathy and solicitude with others
Narrative Markers of a Disorganized Attachment Style
Coherence and credibility: Trauma-related material is unintegrated in the narrative and destabilizes it
Balance in descriptions: Incoherent, contradictory or suddenly changing descriptions of self and others
Dramatization/downplaying: Sudden shifts between dramatization and downplaying
Description of emotions: Absence of integrated descriptions of emotions, anxiety may ‘leak’ unintentionally
Abstraction/specificity: Both abstraction and episodic fragments are present, but are poorly integrated
Consideration of interlocutor/listener: Can be in ‘own world’ without a sense of the interlocutor, may at times frighten the listener
Verbosity: Can shift between reticence and verbosity
Narrative "orderliness": Abrupt shifts in the narrative in connection with trauma-related material
Mentalization: Magical reasoning and absence of mentalization in connection with trauma-related material
A theoretical and empirical distinction is made between organized attachment patterns (secure, avoidant, and ambivalent) and disorganized attachment patterns.
Later research has shown that children with disorganized attachment patterns often find their caregivers frightening, either because their behaviour towards the child is hostile or inappropriate, or because the caregivers themselves were traumatized and therefore become overwhelmed and incapable of supporting the child when needed (Lyons-Ruth and Jacobvitz, 2008).
This creates an unsolvable dilemma for the child:
The child’s attachment system urges the child to seek comfort from caregivers when scared.
However, if the caregiver is simultaneously the source of fear, the child experiences irreconcilable impulses to simultaneously approach and withdraw from the caregiver.
Like the ‘organized’ insecure attachment patterns, disorganized attachment is NOT in itself a sign of mental illness in a child.
However, out of the four attachment patterns, it is the pattern most systematically connected to mental problems in the long term (Dozier et al., 2008 , Greenberg, 1999).
Disorganized Attachment: As Adults
As adults, these individuals have difficulty with:
trust,
lack empathy towards others, and
are worried about their partner’s commitment.
These individuals engage in a push/pull dynamic, sometimes wanting intimacy and other times not wanting intimacy.
These individuals struggle to understand their emotions and downplay the importance of relationships.
Disorganized Attachment: In a Relationship
Experience conflicting desires for intimacy and fear of rejection or betrayal (Fearful-Avoidant).
Extremely inconsistent behavior and difficulty trusting others.
You might even go back and forth from seeking closeness with your partner to withdrawing in order to protect yourself from potential harm.
This may stem from childhood experiences of trauma, neglect or abuse.
Struggling to trust others and often feeling overwhelmed by emotional needs are indicators of a disorganized attachment style.
Other signs include:
Fear of rejection
Inability to regulate emotions
Contradictory behaviors
High levels of anxiety
Difficulty trusting others
Signs of both avoidant and anxious attachment styles
Understanding the different attachment styles can help empower people when it comes to recognizing relational patterns. Knowing your own attachment style will help you to cultivate healthier connections that you deserve! By practicing self-awareness and empathy, you can navigate attachment needs and communicate effectively with all relationships in life.
REMEMBER: Attachment styles learned through childhood CAN change.
When we enter relationships, each partner brings their own unresolved needs or fears. Partners often have different attachment styles, which guides their beliefs and behaviors within the relationship.
Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: On Attachment ⚜ Avoidant ⚜ Anxious ⚜ Secure
Hope this helps with your writing! Please use these notes as just quick references. More research may be needed to write your story.
#attachment#psychology#writing reference#writeblr#writing notes#studyblr#literature#writers on tumblr#dark academia#spilled ink#writing prompt#light academia#fiction#creative writing#writing resources
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(Probably Lukewarm) Hot Take: I fucking hate it when people infantilize Red Alert, there is something so 😬 about it..
#Infantilizing a mental illness? More common than you think#It feels like you’re using his mental state to justify treating him as a child incapable of intelligent thought#He’s always just “the paranoid one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about”#And while I love Inferno/Red Alert#I think some of you guys make Red Alert codependent on Inferno#As if he is incapable of being independent because of his disability#I don’t know if this reads the right way#I’m no expert on psychology or mental health#I’m just a person on the internet
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Trying to explain how to take a standardized test to my son—do not be creative, follow the directions as close as you can—and feeling the creep of black bilious hatred for the education system that I try to keep repressed clawing at the back of my skull
#it is both not what Fox News says it is and yet far worse than you can imagine#i can see the damage in my own students#they just follow directions#totally incapable of independent thought or action#horrifying
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Late Cravings : ̗̀➛ George Russell
summary: what baby wants, baby gets, even if she does want it at 3am, much to george's dissatisfaction
You barely managed to walk through the door before George appeared in front of you, his eyes were wide as his hands held onto your arms, studying you closely before closing the door.
“George, at least let me get in,” you told him, being directed by his hold. “What’s going on? Why do you look so scared?” You questioned, sliding your shoes off and kicking them to one side.
It was only once George stood still that you could see how nervous he looked. His heart was racing as he finally let you go, brushing his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, taking a moment to pace and compose himself a little bit once again.
The fear of stirring in the night and not feeling you there brought a terror that George had never experienced before. He had no idea where you were, terrified that one of his worst fears during your pregnancy had come true.
“Where were you?” George frantically asked you, “what sort of person just gets up and leaves the house at three in the morning without telling anyone where you’re going first.”
You felt guilty as you heard the panic that was still in George’s voice, encouraging him to take a seat beside you. Your hand rested against his leg, assuring him that you were there and that you were safe.
Your free hand reached into your bag and pulled out what you had bought on your late-night adventure, with George’s eyes watching carefully to see many of the things you’d been craving in front of you.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about these and I knew I wasn’t going to sleep without getting my hands on them,” you told him, ripping open the packet of crisps you’d bought.
“But I could have gone to get them for you, all you had to do was ask,” George groaned, staring across at you as you placed a crisp into your mouth, throwing your head back in satisfaction.
The thought of waking George did cross your mind, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, he was peacefully sleeping beside you and you didn’t have the heart to disturb him.
“You were asleep and with how busy you are you need to rest as much as possible,” you told him, I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t feel like I was up to it George.”
George’s head nodded, he understood where you were coming from, knowing that you wanted to remain as independent as possible, but even by his standards this was a stretch too far.
“I could’ve sat in the passenger seat and slept,” he suggested with a smile on his face, “at least then I would have known exactly where you were.”
“But you know where I am now, that’s the main thing, right?”
George’s eyes narrowed on you, as safe as you were now, half an hour ago he was worried that it was going to be a whole different story.
“I wish you’d tell me when you’re planning on giving me a heart attack,” George joked.
“It’s all part of the fun,” you argued, resting your head down against George’s shoulder as you continued to eat. “You know I am just pregnant though George, I’m not incapable.”
Whilst George was overprotective, you were a little carefree making the two of you a little conflicted. George wanted to know every last detail while you tended to not tell him much about what you were up to, confident you could still take on the world, even if George was a little more doubtful.
“Maybe going out so early in the morning wasn’t the brightest idea,” you reasoned, much to George’s delight, “I suppose I could have sorted out my cravings in a little bit of a better way.”
“I know how you get when you’re craving though,” George mused, “if there’s one thing that I know about you it’s that you definitely get whatever you want when you’re craving.”
You nodded in agreement with him, you were determined with everything that you did, but now you were more determined than ever to do as much as you could for as long as you possibly could too.
“I don’t mean to constantly be on your case,” George told you, kissing against the top of your head. “I need to remind myself to trust you more, to know that you know how far you can push your body.”
“I wouldn’t do something if I couldn’t,” you assured, “and as much as you might not believe me, if I need help then I will ask you for it George.”
The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “I know you will, and I’ll always be there whenever you need me to step in and help you out.”
“That’s why you’re such a fantastic husband.”
You weren’t oblivious to how lucky you were to have George by your side doing absolutely anything that you needed. He was beyond excited to have a baby, wanting to do as much as he could to help both you and the baby out, maybe sometimes a little too much, although you knew George always meant well.
“I draw the line at three in the morning,” George then spoke up, sending you a knowing glance. “It’s dark outside and you can’t see where you’re going. No craving can be as important as keeping you safe in conditions like that.”
“I was driving and my lights were on.”
“Still,” George sniggered, dismissing your protests. “From now on if you need anything in the night then you can shake and kick me awake, regardless of how sleepy I might look beside you.”
Your eyebrows raised as George spoke, “I can kick you?”
“That’s the bit you focus on,” George grumbled, rolling his eyes at you as you threw your crisp packet into the bin. “You got anything else in there, I’m hungry now after all the energy I’ve just exerted panicking for you.”
“Are you pregnant and craving?” You asked him as his head shook. “In that case then you get nothing, these are mine and mine only.”
You reached forwards and opened up the packet of sweets that you’d bought, taking one out. Luckily for George you reached across and popped one of the sweets into his mouth, much to his delight. You leant back against his chest as you started tucking in, his arm wrapping around you.
Despite the way his heart had raced just a few minutes earlier, it was a lot calmer as George noticed the content smile now on your face. He knew that pregnancy was far from easy for you, trying his best to understand your mood and emotions as much as he could.
“Maybe we should stock up on some of the things you crave,” George suggested, watching your eyes light up. “You know like how people how emergency rations; we could have emergency cravings.”
“That might not be the worst idea,” you agreed, “but only if you agree that they’re for my cravings and not for you to keep tucking into.”
“You know what my appetite is like, when there’s food in front of me then I’m probably going to eat it.”
“Think of it like this, would you deny your child food if you ate the food that is kept in the cupboard for them?”
“Oh wow, now that is the ultimate guilt trip.”
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#george russell#george russell imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 reaction#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#george russell x you#george russell x reader#george russell drabble#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 fic#formula one#f1 drabble#f1 fluff#f1 x you#f1 fic
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simon riley x blind!reader requested by @wareagleofthemountain <3 tw: none!
Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. He didn’t attach himself to people, and interactions with strangers with the intent of becoming more than that was a far-fetched idea for somebody like him. Being on his own was something he greatly preferred, and his task force were the only people he ever needed.
That was what he thought, anyway, up until you.
Even when you had accidentally bumped into him in the middle of a rundown convenience store late at night, you didn’t cower away from him. The sight of his mask didn’t cause you to turn away and mumble out a half-assed apology in order to leave his vicinity as quickly as possible, and at first, he didn’t understand.
That was until he noticed the furball standing next to you, staring up at him as if scolding him for getting in the way. The harness was glaringly obvious now that he looked at it, and he felt a bit stupid for not noticing it in the first place. You had a guide dog, with words boldly lettered indicating that you were blind.
“I’m so sorry!” you said, and he caught himself staring at you as you began rambling out genuine, sweet apologies, explaining that you didn’t mean to bump into him, that you hoped you didn’t hurt him by accident.
Simon didn’t get attached to people, no. But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice cute people who had hearts of gold that made his look rotten in comparison.
“S’alright,” he assured you, fighting so hard to push back the smile that threatened to curl up under his mask. Smiling meant he felt amused, and amusement meant he saw something in you that intrigued him. “What’s his name?”
When he asked about your guide dog, you practically lit up like a damn Christmas tree and oh, he was fucked. That smile wasn’t fair.
“Peanut,” you introduced affectionately, and when he glanced down at your dog, Peanut, the little thing looked almost prideful at that.
“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, and before he could detach himself from the conversation, before he could bid you farewell and leave you behind for good, he found himself speaking once more. “And yours?”
Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. But you did, and he found himself so engrossed in you, he couldn’t ever imagine life without you.
He thinks fondly of the day you two met, where he was in a mindset of pushing everybody around him away. He’d never given himself an opportunity to live a normal life, then you came around and had him seeking out the future.
The future was never a possibility until you, nor was it a possibility without you in it.
Simon never made you feel incapable just because you were blind. You had worked your way around the world just fine before him, and you’d continue to do it during him.
That didn’t mean he never tried his best, though. In fact, Simon took pride in helping you out with things as his way of showing his undying love for you. He may not have been the most affectionate person physically, but doing things for you was his favorite form of care.
Cooking was one of many. Simon was naturally a lover of cooking, so teaching you how to do it was something he took to almost immediately.
When it came to chopping vegetables, he’d gently guide your hands with his own, closed around the kitchen knife and showing you how to chop away without nicking yourself. If it was an excuse to hold your hand and watch your joyful smile light up your face, he’d never admit it.
He’d explain every step of a recipe to you, wanting to give you your independence of cooking on your own while also involving himself enough to be useful. He’d explain in soft ways how to properly cook meat, how to make sure it’s not undercooked or overcooked, guiding you through every part of the meal and watching with pride when you’d figure it out after a few trial errors.
Simon had never thought a meal could taste so good until it was cooked by the one you adore.
Reading was something you could do on your own. Your entire collection were books geared towards your blindness to help make it more accessible to you, but Simon quickly found out that he specifically liked reading for you.
It became routine in your apartment, the one that he was staying in so much that it might as well had been his as well, for the two of you to snuggle up close on the couch with a book you mentioned hearing about in those silly videos you listen to on your phone. His arm would tuck you into his side while the other held the book he’d gone out for, venturing to find (even if it took going to multiple stores), while Peanut laid content at your feet.
The books might not have been his personal favorite, but he’d spend every night reading them to you, his voice soft and quiet as they executed every page. You’d listen with a smile on your face, head resting in the pit of his shoulder, allowing the warmness of his voice send you into a peaceful serenity that almost always had you falling asleep twenty pages in.
Simon never minded that you’d fall asleep, and with a sweet kiss on your head, he’d string you along to bed, bookmarking the book for the next night when he’d read to you once again.
Being blind had never bothered you, and it was something you were never embarrassed or ashamed of.
Simon aided you in whatever you needed, but never made you feel an inkling of being broken or unable. He was passionate in the way he cared for you, while remaining stern in letting you be your own person.
The one thing that did bother you was that you’d never be able to see Simon’s face for all the true glory it was. The man you’d come to love over the time spent together was so close to you, yet felt so far when your brain would remind you that you didn’t know what he looked like.
The more time went on, the more you failed to grasp on to those strings, enough for Simon to take notice. When you finally had the gall to express this concern of yours, he understood completely why you’d upset yourself over it.
Thankfully for you, Simon had an easy fix for that.
“No need to worry yourself over that, sweetheart. Here.”
You may not have been able to see him, but you could feel him. Simon took your soft hands into his own, gently guiding them to cup his face. He bore himself naked to you, adorning no mask, all scars and rugged skin on display.
Your fingers traced along every feature of his, taking it in and mapping them out. You felt the thickness of his brows, trailing down to the flutter of his eyelashes, gently swiping your thumbs across them. You felt every bump of old, healed scars that indented his skin, every prickly stubble of his unshaven face.
You may not have been able to see him, but you knew he was beautiful.
Simon didn’t rush you. He remained patient and willing, face relaxed as you felt every crevice and divot. Your fingers were so careful in the way you handled him, like dealing with fragile glass, that he could’ve easily fallen in love with you a second time.
“You’re pretty,” you breathed out, hands halting their movements to lay flat on his cheeks. You were holding the world in your hands, and after getting a feel of what lay beyond it, you never wanted to let go.
Your words had dazed him, and he felt his mouth go dry as he stared at you, sinking in your own lovely features just as you did his own.
Simon had no words to speak back to you, but you knew what he was thinking without him having to say it – he loved you, more than any word could express.
Simon might not have been the type of person to get attached. You were the last thing he’d been looking for in life, but you came rushing into him like a flood, engulfing him in a forever calmness.
His body was permanently sinking in a sea of passion, and you were the life vest keeping him afloat.
i promise i didn't forget about u lovie! work was a bit crazy and my brain was a bit fried but it's here and i sincerely hope u enjoy it! thank u for the request, i love soft simon sm
#cod#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#call of duty#cod mw3#cod x reader#cod mwii#ghost simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#blind!reader#cod requests
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The Perfect Match
Damian Wayne x Reader
Summary: Ways in which you are Damian’s perfect match
Requested: Yes
Masterlist - Tip Jar
Damian Wayne at times yearned for a partner.
He never dwelled too much on the idea, as his way of life does not accommodate a nurturing environment for a relationship to grow.
The volatility of his lifestyle would always squash any ambers of romance.
But you are the outlier that defined all odds.
You were Damian’s perfect match.
Independence and Sense of Adventure
Damian is a free-spirit so to speak and generally thrives in personal space.
Since Damians life has always centred around independence and self sufficiency, he requires his significant other to reflect similar qualities.
Whilst you could always go for extra-Damian-time. You’re quite content on letting Damian have his personal space.
But that doesn’t mean your going to sit around and wait for him.
Damian: “I’m heading out, will probably be back whenever….”
Y/n: “… Kay, see you later.”
During Damian’s frequent disappearance acts, you often take advantage and go on spur of the moments girls trip with Kori and Steph.
Damian: “I just got back home, where are you?”
Y/n: “Los Vegas with Kori and Steph.”
Damian: “I- … Fine send me the hotel address I’m on my way.”
Y/n: “Girls trip only!”
Damian: “I’m part of the gir-“
Y/n: “I’ll see you tomorrow, Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
Similar Interests
Whilst you might not be on the Streets of Gotham, dirtying yourself with the likes of criminals.
You support Damian from a distance behind the very safe bat computer.
Often you excitedly present him with his next case.
Y/n: “So I’ve found our next case! An advocate for West Papua was attending a world submit to advocate their people’s freedom, but in the middle of his speech he just disappeared!”
Damian: “Government did it. Case closed.”
Y/n: “Except not case closed, his monitor is still registering his heartbeat, oxygen and sleeping statistics and his tracker is still locating him in the same room!”
Damian: “A supernatural anomaly… interesting… tell me more.”
Abrasive
Damian has had an incredibly volatile up bringing which has conditioned him to act and behave in certain ways that isn’t easy to handle.
You’re generally very empathetic and flexible as a result.
But at times Damian is incapable of knowing his limits which means you need to step in and put your foot down.
Damian: “- the team needed me-“
Y/n: “This isn’t a debate Damian! You disappeared for an ENTIRE month without warning! That’s not an acceptable way to treat your partner, it is objectively and fundamentally wrong. You cannot do as you please and expect me to just accept your every whim.”
Damian: “You were preemptively warned about the demands of my lifestyle.”
Y/n: “Precaution is not a synonym for absolute submission. Your actions are not permissible, there are steps that could’ve been made, but you chose not to because you thought I’d blindly accept what was happening.”
Damian: “Forgive me, I did not intend for things to get out of hand like this.”
Y/n: “…I forgive you this time, be warned, I have my limits.”
#Damian Wayne#Damian Wayne x Reader#Damian x Reader#Wayne X reader#DC x reader#DC Imagine#Damian Wayne imagine#Damian imagine#batboys#batboys x reader#batboys imagine
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almost all of the angels being incredibly gullible and accepting flagrantly ridiculous things (even things they have good reason to doubt, like whether humans can be born as adults), to the point of confidently declaring that they “already knew” something that’s flat-out wrong, makes a lot of sense when you consider that the one angel we know for a fact asked questions got kicked Downstairs over it
like, if you weed out everyone who has both the intelligence to notice a problem and the confidence to voice it, and make it clear that doubting anything is literally a damnable offense, no shit you’re going to end up with a bunch of yes men incapable of independent thought and too afraid to express that they don’t know something, even just to clarify something.
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Father Charlie x reader | Sinner pt 4; Is this how it ends?
Warnings; manipulation, coercive behaviour, mentions of pregnancy and active labour, angst, mentions of abortion (no smut this time😢)
A/N; I really struggled for this part and I’m not entirely happy with it but it’ll do😂 part 5 is cominggg
Your sudden disappearance was the talk of the church each Sunday, every family theorising what could have possibly happened.
Your mother was distraught, inconsolable as she had no explanation as to where you were or whether you were even alive.
Father Charlie often comforted her after mass, cruelly lifting her spirits by claiming that you would one day return, though he knew otherwise.
Your family's persistent searching often left him anxious, that they'd somehow trace your disappearance back to him.
He'd thought of several different ways to resolve the issue, all exposing your pregnancy one way or another with the knowledge that your parents would disown you for it.
He'd thought of carefully planting a pregnancy test in one of your coat pockets after conveniently visiting your family home to console your mother, hoping she'd find it as she rummaged for clues as to your whereabouts.
He'd even considered paying one of the local homeless men to falsely inform your mother that he'd seen you leaving town with a blossoming baby bump, but that seemed to be one of the riskier options, he knew he'd be setting himself up for blackmail.
You were completely oblivious to the state your family were in, confined to the four walls of Father Charlie's home as he claimed it would be impossible for you to leave it without being noticed now that half of the town knew you were missing.
His intentions were far from pure, he disguised his reasons for keeping you a prisoner in his home as concern for the abandonment you'd inevitably receive from your family if they discovered the truth.
He'd carefully manipulated you into believing that he had done nothing wrong, that he acted on the lust you inflicted upon him and that any consequences were only yours to suffer.
You were disconnected from the outside world as he'd even taken away your phone, claiming that you were easy to trace as long as you were in possession of it.
Each day that passed was another that he'd paralysed your mind, ridding you of your independence unconsciously so that you were solely reliant on him for even the most basic human care.
He had a strong desire to control every aspect of your life, carefully planting small seeds of doubt in your mind that you were incapable of making your own decisions and taking proper care of yourself.
He provided you with a home, the clothes that you wore, the food that you ate and the comfort most people long for, it made him feel so unbelievably powerful.
He'd carefully prepared every meal you'd eat, insisting that he knew best where nutritional value was concerned due to his previous work as a personal trainer, yet his intention was to ensure you never ate unless he provided it, much like a dependant child.
The only time he'd leave your side was to fulfil his duties at the church and even then he wondered if that were too long, he couldn't risk leaving your mind unoccupied.
Despite his extreme measures you'd never once thought of yourself as a prisoner, he appeared so attentive and caring that you believed it was just in his nature, not part of his carefully crafted plot to manipulate the woman he'd purposely impregnated so she could never exist without him.
You couldn't help but feel like a house pet, always perched on the sofa or beside him in bed with no real purpose other than incubating his unborn child.
Father Charlie had managed to convince you not to see anyone of the medical profession during your pregnancy, claiming that once you'd stepped foot over the threshold of a hospital that they'd inform your family immediately.
Being so fearful of their disappointment, you agreed that a doctor he had known previous to becoming a priest could regularly check you over.
Violent nausea woke you from your slumber each morning, you'd spend the majority of your day hunched over the toilet bowl and for that father Charlie was pleased, while you were in that state you were incapable of even attempting to leave which bought him more time to work his manipulative ways.
While he was sympathetic to your sickness, he strongly felt it was the perfect punishment for trying to end your pregnancy, though he never told you that.
He hadn't totally forgiven you for your actions but he wasn't a complete monster, he knelt beside you to hold your hair back when he could.
In an ideal world, the two of you would have been married and equally excited for the arrival of your child, but the conception date made it difficult for him to find a way to leave his position at the church without exposing his sexual relationship with you during his time there.
It was at dinner one night that he'd noticed how withdrawn you'd become, assuming it was due to the toll early pregnancy was having on your body but the sound of stifled sobs caused him to stiffen.
He'd immediately placed the dinner plates onto the table, rushing to your side to kneel beside the chair where you sat.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked softly, lifting one of his hands to gently cup your cheek and wipe away your tears, caressing your soft skin with his thumb.
"I..miss my family.." you whispered quietly, your gaze thankfully adverted as Father Charlie clenched his jaw in growing frustration for the reason of your sudden sadness.
"I know you do. But think about it..your family think you've run away. You can't just suddenly show up pregnant, with no husband in sight." He attempted to sound reasonable and sympathetic, as if his sole purpose of keeping you within the four walls of his home was for your own good and not his.
"You're not the reincarnation of Mary, somebody put that baby inside of you and they'll want to know who."
You flinched at his words, perhaps he didn't mean to be so crass but the thought of you exposing him as the father of your child made him anxious.
Hurt by his words, you attempted to turn your head away but his hand nudged at your cheek to force your head back towards him.
"This goes beyond you, sweetheart. What about me? How can I support you if I lose my position? We'll lose this house, I'll lose the support of the community."
He intended to scare you into thinking the two of you could never survive if he were to lose his priesthood, that the luxury that came with the role was the only acceptable choice for your new family.
He knew you'd feel guilty enough at the thought of him losing everything he'd ever worked for to not raise the issue again, but it didn't stop you from feeling disappointed.
He placed one of his palms against your barely noticeable bump, a prideful smile replacing the scowl he wore a moment before.
"This is what happens, sweet girl. You move on, and you start your own family..you leave those you love behind to make space in your heart for new." He said in a soft yet condescending tone, attempting to sever the ties between you and your family completely.
You lowered your gaze as you allowed his words to soak in, unknowingly ingesting the poison that would slowly rid you of your clarity.
His infectious smile caused you to smile back, and for the first time during your pregnancy, you felt hopeful for the future the two of you would share.
Your second trimester brought its own challenges, your breasts were notably larger and constantly sore, and you were almost always in discomfort as the skin of your abdomen stretched to accommodate your growing bundle of joy.
Most days were spent perched in the same spot on the living room couch, no longer able to read nor watch the television as the outside world was all that seemed to occupy your mind.
Each time father Charlie left for mass you'd spend your hour of isolated silence staring out of the window into the front garden, watching as spring finally swept away the darkness of winter.
Once naked tree branches were now beautifully decorated with blossoming flower buds, sparsely planted flowers blooming from the ground while nature began to emerge from its hibernation.
Butterflies were a rare sighting so you were always pleased when one did appear, you thought you'd struck gold as two suddenly appeared to drift past and settle on the window ledge.
You leant closer to the window in fascination, A beautiful white butterfly trapped beneath a black and red patterned one.
It was oddly symbolic, the darkness holding the pure and innocent captive, much like how Father Charlie held you.
The sudden sound of a closing door forced you to jump, your hand falling to your rounded belly to clutch it as you glanced over your shoulder, your gaze meeting Father Charlie's.
He stood frozen in the doorway as he took a moment to admire the sight before him, how beautiful you looked as you sit and wait for him to return, the natural light reflecting against your skin to create a radiant glow.
"There's my girl." He murmured as he walked over to take a seat beside you, excitedly placing a hand on either side of your pregnant belly.
"Not much longer and I can finally come home to two beautiful girls." He chuckled, lowering his head to press a soft peck to the top of your baby bump.
"We don't know if we're having a girl." You replied, quietly giggling as you found his assumption of the gender amusing seeing as he was so adamant.
"Oh she's definitely a girl." He argued, lifting his head to look up at you before leaning in to place a delicate kiss to your lips, silencing you from correcting him once more.
He'd pulled away before you even had chance to reciprocate, your lips left parted as your eyes met once more.
"How have you been feeling? I thought perhaps we could take a walk around the church grounds later, get some fresh air?" He offered, a reward for your compliance now that he was confident you'd never run.
Later, meaning after it had gotten dark as he certainly couldn't allow anyone to see you now you were very visibly pregnant.
He watched as your eyes lit up with excitement at such a small offering of freedom and it left him nervous, mentally questioning how you'd act if he ever accidentally left the door unlocked.
"Great. But first, I've got some ideas about the nursery I'd like to run by you." He added, his hand falling from your bump to his pocket to retrieve his phone.
He lifted it slightly as he swiped through his apps in search of the photo one, clicking on it to then scroll upwards in search of the screenshots he'd taken from various shopping sites for inspiration.
"I was thinking neutral? Seeing as you're not going to let me paint it pink." He teased, smiling as he held the phone up just enough for you to see the inspiration photos he had.
It was later that evening that he'd taken you to the church grounds as promised, aware that gentle exercise is essential for expectant mothers and would aid the correct positioning of the baby as your due date drew closer.
He kept a slow pace as he walked beside you, acknowledging that due to the pressure bearing down on your pelvis it was uncomfortable to walk any faster.
Despite the discomfort, the walk was more than pleasing as you'd finally got to feel the fresh spring breeze brush past your skin while taking in a view far more pleasant than the same four walls of his home.
The church held many memories for you, most fond while some were unpleasant, such as your scuffle with Father Charlie.
You'd often dreamed of marrying at such a beautiful place, though now the thought of marriage was no longer as your relationship with Father Charlie would be frowned upon by most.
He'd often wondered whether you missed the church, the beautiful hymns you knew every word of and the scriptures you'd followed so closely until his corruption of you.
"Do you miss being here?" He asked sincerely after noticing the longing in your eyes as you take in the view, for once not taking the opportunity to taunt you.
You nodded simply in response, reminiscent of the Sundays you'd spent sat amongst your family as you looked for guidance from the Lord, when your feelings for Father Charlie were nothing more than your best kept secret.
"I do. I wish I'd have had some self restraint, things may have been different.."
Father Charlie grew stiff at your confession, your words of regret made him feel both uncomfortable and somewhat sad.
"But I'm not regretful. What good is regret? Everyone's path in life is different, and if it's God's will..I will gladly accept the path chosen for me." You softly add, turning your attention towards him as you smile warmly.
Somehow he'd felt even more sad, God's will never played a part in your fate, it was his decisions that led you down the path you now walked.
The warmth of your smile filled him with nothing more than shame, more shame than he'd inflicted upon you for attempting to better your future by aborting the living evidence of your sexual relationship, he understood in that very moment why you'd considered it.
You gently took hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as a way of showing that the two of you would walk your ill fated path together.
"God will forgive us for our sins, and I hope you will forgive me for the selfish decision I almost made.." You timidly said, his reaction to the abortion you almost endured still ingrained on your mind.
Father Charlie could only respond with a smile, truly stunned by your sudden remorse and compliance, it was deeply unnerving.
Father Charlie never truly recovered from that day, he'd become even more nervy and on edge, waiting for you to one day take your revenge instead of now appreciating the compliance he'd always sought from you.
It was several weeks until your supposed due date and you could barely tell the difference between every day pain and possible contractions.
The pain prevented you from sleeping at night, every time you'd settle another sharp pain in your lower abdomen would disturb you, leaving you exhausted and desperate for your pregnancy to be over with.
Father Charlie felt your accidental nudges throughout the night as you stirred, always waking from his own slumber to ask whether you were okay.
He was reluctant to leave for mass one morning but you insisted he should, convinced that the pain was nothing more than those practise contractions you'd read so much about, but you couldn't have been more wrong.
The pain became drastically worse and had you still been in possession of your phone, you'd have called the first contact you could to come and help.
The intense pain lasted for just a few seconds every couple of minutes, it was a pain you could only describe as a tightening squeeze across your lower abdomen.
Father Charlie had returned from mass to find you slumped against the wall in the hallway with your knees slightly bent up towards your chest, your hand desperately shaking as you clutched at your belly while your body writhed in pain.
His eyes widening in panic as dropped his briefcase in desperate hurry, rushing to your side faster than his mind could even comprehend before falling to his knees beside you.
Your skin was visibly clammy while your face was scrunched in clear discomfort, your purposeful drawn out breathes interrupted as loud pain filled sobs erupt from your lips when another contraction reached its peak.
Father Charlie was visibly panicked, untrained and certainly not educated enough to deliver a baby but there was hardly any time to wait for his doctor friend.
"Baby? Baby, tell me how far apart the contractions are?" He asked, attempting to sound confident while completely overcome with nerves, raising a hand to softly stroke your hair in an attempt to comfort you.
"I, I don't know!" You choke out, arching your back from against the wall as the pain rippled through your abdomen uncomfortably.
Unbeknownst to father Charlie, your mother had followed him home in hope of seeking the comfort he'd often provided her in regard to your disappearance.
Though he could hardly hear a thing over your agonised sobbing, a loud knock at the door followed by a familiar voice caused him to freeze in absolute panic.
"Father Charlie, are you there?" She called out, and the sound of your mother's comforting voice was everything you'd wished to hear as your body fought to bring new life into the world.
Father Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the door, his breath audibly trembling as he believed the two of you would inevitably be caught.
He felt your body tense beside him, confident that a contraction was impending, and as you began to let out a violent sob his hand came to harshly cover your mouth to muffle it.
It felt sickeningly cruel to touch you this way knowing the intense pain that rushed throughout your body, but he just needed to let your mother leave before attending to your greatly immense suffering and the delivery of his beautiful baby.
Taglist; @targaryenswhxre @dckweed @psychocitylights @yoongling 💖💖
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Ok so I’m not trying to call anyone out or insinuate things but I really don’t like it when people have “oh my god poor helaena she doesn’t want to be at the funeral she doesn’t want to hurt team black her trauma is being exploited by her evil bitch mother and brother uwu” takes.
Because yes, Helaena is a much kinder and gentler person than most of the Greens. Yes, she was barely involved in the war. But, believe it or not, she is actually capable of independent thought and comprehension beyond being “the nice one.”
She watched her son be killed in front of her. Her daughter threatened with rape. Her other son told that she wants him dead. All because of her sister and uncle, people that have no war with her or her children, people that only two weeks ago were enjoying her company at dinner. You’re telling me that she feels no anger or resentment towards these people? At all? That nowhere, nowhere in the corner of her mind, nowhere does she want the people of King’s Landing to understand their brutality?
Look I know that people already think that autistic people are sweet little innocent uwu small beans who could never feel a negative emotion towards anyone in their life and who are incapable of comprehending anything as complex as politics and war, but this is getting ridiculous. And you know what? Maybe when the season comes out she will have been forced to go to the funeral, and I’ll eat my words. But for now, can we please not do this?
#helaena targaryen#house of the dragon#blood and cheese#alicent hightower#aegon ii targaryen#i stg i am this close to turning full green#autistic people are not babies#we can feel things just like you can
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🍬Uranus Energy🍬
Uranus may signify death through accident, injury, or natural disaster, but at least it never signifies the death-in-life that is characteristic of Saturn. Thus, although Uranus energies can be extremely difficult to live with, the measure of chaos that they introduce is essential for life. Life is to a great extent a balancing of the orderly forces of Saturn with the chaotic forces of Uranus. Each has its place, and each needs to be kept in check by the other. Uranus represents something very different, very unique. But can also be very strange and unfamiliar. Anywhere you have uranus in your house it shows where your life is the most different. Uranus energies coming too soon in life can cause a chronically erratic quality that prevents any kind of maturation and produces an individual incapable of taking part in the social contract. Such people are automatic rebels: they rebel simply to negate order, even when order is still useful. Whatever it may affect or symbolize takes the form of something unusual, far different from the everyday world.
🦋Uranus in 1st house- you might present yourself differently to others or feel somehow out- of step. You can play a role as outsider, bringing valuable insight to outmoded situations. Your appearance is unique and your beauty can also be original and different from others. These people tend to have a different perspective than the rest. They think and look at life outside the box. You usually don't like things related to systems, you prefer to stick to your own rules. This placement often indicates an unconventional approach to life. This suggests that you are a very individualistic person, who operates the best on their own.
🌱Uranus in 2nd house-Financial fortunes might be subject to sudden changes, perhaps a result of not playing it safe. Income might come from independent freelance sources. Your money can go up and down very quickly. You can also have a different way of making money. This can lead to a unique approach to finances, a deep understanding of personal values, and an unconventional path to self-expression. Another strength of this placement is its innovative, progressive energy. You have a different way of managing your money. You spend a lot of money on things that are more dreamy. You have a free way of managing money and it doesn't mean much to you.
🌱Uranus in 3rd house- Your mind works at lightning speed. You can be single-minded in the way you think, with a talent for presenting the opposite view. Your way of thinking is often contradictory and different from the others. Many times your thinking and manner can confuse other people. This can also mean that your relationship with relatives is distant and cold. Your thoughts are often ahead of their time, leading you to challenge established ideas and concepts. Uranus here can also cause sudden accidents on the road. You have to be careful how you drive.
💕Uranus in 4th house- Early independence may have been high on the agenda. You might opt to rent rather than buy, so you can change the scenery from time to time. At home, you can often be rebellious and do things on your own. The relationship with the mother can be more distant, cold and perhaps strange. You can move a lot and the moves are usually sudden. Uranus can make a home unstable and strange.
🍭Uranus in 5th house-You have potential for genuine creative originality, although your challenge might be to allow it to land and take form, because each idea is rapidly superseded by the next. Your dates are usually sudden, different, and you may always feel that this area is not so close to you. Many times people can suddenly surprise you (positively or negatively) - also many times you don't get an answer as to why something happened the way it did. You can also suddenly fall in love. Pregnancy can happen spontaneously and the child may be born different from the others.
🍸Uranus in 6th house- You probably need some excitement in your daily round. Being freelance might suit you, so you can set your own routine and timetable. You like work that is independent and free. Above all, what you need is freedom - you hate when someone is above you and tells you what to do. Your rebellious path can be most effective through work. But since this house also represents the physical body, health - it means that you may have some disease that is unusual or you may have some skin problems that are unusual.
🛼Uranus in 7th house- You may prefer to break up with someone who curtails your freedom. Partners may seem unpredictable, but perhaps an assertion of your independence is at the root of it. You can go into a relationship suddenly or end it suddenly. Many times you can attract people who are different, strange, unique, smart. You can have certain conditions that you like about the relationship and stick to them. Few meet your standards. But you need a lot of freedom. Uranus can mean that marriage can be sudden. The law, however, can be quite different from normal laws. It suggests an individual who seeks independence, freedom, and excitement within their intimate connections. Uranus in this house indicates that you seek the company of people who have similar views as you do.
🏹Uranus in 8th house- You can shine intellectual light into life's mysteries, bringing clarity and rational discourse. It might be important to you to maintain your distance in intimate encounters. Because it is also the house of transformation, rebirth & things connected with needles, blood also sugerirs. It also means that you can go for sudden surgery. It can also mean a sudden loss. But you can deal with a loss in a different way than others. They are likely to attract unconventional partners who challenge their views on intimacy and shared resources. It can lead to successful relationships, marriages, and beneficial business opportunities. On the other hand, it can also create disruption in relationships due to its unpredictable nature and an unwillingness to conform.
🥊Uranus in 9th house-Going to university or grappling with religious principles can bring enlightenment - but you might also be inclined to question, rejecting orthodoxy and tradition. You can be very rebellious when it comes to church, religion, other culture and you can also be very controversial about that. Cuz you can also have your own religion that you believe in. Your opinion about the world can be completely different and the places that interest you can also be very unusual. You can also travel to places that others would never go. Especially to unpopular places. You can also have a very unpopular opinion about the world things & around you.
🎱Uranus in 10th house-Bowing to authority is not your style and you may choose work which encourages your independent vision and allows you to change track when it suits you. You can also be very rebellious when it comes to authority figures. The career may be in constant motion, but this can make it difficult to identify with a profession. They are often innovative thinkers with a knack for science and technology, and they bring originality and ingenuity into their development efforts. This often leads to unique and inventive career opportunities, an exciting public image, and the potential for innovative and progressive thinking.
🏝️Uranus in 11th house-This placement offers a parodox: how to maintain your freedom and autonomy within a democratic context. You could play the role of agitator, bringing radical change. You can have a unique way of doing things and seeing them. Many times it is strictly seen that you have the characteristics of uranus. U can also have very unique group or friends. This placement suggests that you enjoy taking part in online discussions where you can connect with like-minded people. Uranus here suggests that you are not interested in everyday goals, craved by most people. You have unique visions for your life. But you can also have the feeling that you are quite different from your friends (can also be lonely placement).
🧚🏼♀️Uranus in 12th house-Perhaps you hide your unconventionality so as to fit in - reclaiming this can help set you free. Your radar for collective trends can put you ahead of your time. You can also struggle with spirituality, things that are hidden ,unconscious -this doesn't mean that you don't believe in it, but you can have complex believing into this stuff. They may have dreams, intuitions, or sudden insights that challenge societal norms and traditional beliefs. It often happens with this placement that your parents expected a child with a different type of personality. As a child, you felt that you have to live up to their expectations, but you were struggling on the inside. Social conventions annoy you, but you struggle to express this.
🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸
-Rebekah🎸❤️🔥🧚🏼♀️
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nanami x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read cw: unprotected sex (and he cums inside you), fingering, nipple play if you squint, squirting
notes: a half-baked attempt at a nanami char study. also, not canon, this is post-jujutsu kaisen storyline, and nanami is alive and well – physically, at least. also x2, gege akutami, idgaf about you and your updated cute cyclops cat avatar, when i get you, it's fucking over for you.
NANAMI HAS a habit of falling into silence after arguments with you.
your first fight, you interpreted his silence as stonewalling, a way to prevent the conversation from continuing so that he wouldn’t have to take any more accountability or responsibility. so, you interrogated – demanded that he say something, anything.
but, in a fragile, almost meek voice, he hoarsely responded, “i’m sorry, my love. i just… i just need time to think.”
almost instinctively, you lurched forward to embrace him. you couldn’t bear to see him in such a state any longer – eyes downcast and watery, fists balled tightly, perspiration collecting on his temples.
“take all the time you need, kento,” you reassured.
the following morning, the two of you discussed and made amends over breakfast (which he got up early to make). and nanami revealed parts of himself you had never known before.
you see, nanami takes his roles as your partner for life and, more generally, as an adult very seriously. he’s given several subject matters and issues deep thought – the jujutsu world, global affairs, mentorship, parenting, and more –, yet he still finds himself in situations he hasn’t encountered before and is stumped. he doesn’t know how to proceed, how to navigate, unable to adapt because a critical, sneering voice in his head exacerbates his immobility.
it screams: “why don’t you know what to do!”
he’s suffering from performance anxiety, disabled from acting like the adult he should be, reminded of the fact that he was forced to grow up when he was still only a teenager, still too underprepared and incapable to handle anything independently. he can’t even prevent his own relationship from falling apart, and that’s something within his control.
and you know these thoughts still poison your husband’s mind today. even though he’s no longer a sorcerer, and the both of you have moved to kauntan, malaysia, they will probably plague him for the rest of his life, fueled by his regrets and grief.
it’s obviously frustrating for you. but you’re also an adult, and you’re no stranger to regrets or grief yourself. unlike nanami, however, you’re more optimistic, even arguably whimsical and idealistic. just as there is so much pain and suffering in the world, there is also love and comfort. and you’d like to be a source of that support for nanami, standing right beside him as you both move forward, learning to seek and appreciate joy while living with sadness and mourning.
so after every heated conversation (because the two of you have resolved to never fight again), you stay true to your words and remind your husband just how far-reaching and unconditional your love is.
you’re seated on his lap and cupping his face in your palms.
“kento, look at me,” you whisper as you search for his eyes. nanami always gets so shy when you do this. you coax again, “kento, just let me say what i have to say, alright?”
“you don’t have to do this every time,” he mutters, though you know he doesn’t mean it.
“i’ll keep this up until you stop avoiding me.”
with that, he acquiesces. he peers at you, a little nervous and hesitant.
“kento, remember,” you begin, “when we argue, it doesn’t mean i want to break up with you.” kiss. “it doesn’t mean i hate you.” kiss. “it doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” you pepper a few more pecks, scattering them across his cheekbones, chin, and the spot right between his eyebrows. “it’s natural” – and you stress this – “for us to disagree and be annoyed at each other because we are not the same person. we both know what to do better on, and that’s that, yeah?”
nanami grunts in agreement, and you happily reward him with a longer smooch on his lips before you finish, “you’re the love of my life, kento, and nothing will change that. i hope you come to believe that.”
he blushes at your confession and mumbles a soft “i love you” in response.
content with your work, you start to sit up, preparing to slide off of nanami’s lap. however, nanami’s hands fly up to square your hips, preventing you from leaving.
“kento?” you ask. he doesn’t say anything, simply takes one of your hands and presses it against his growing bulge. you let out a soft sound of surprise.
“this is incredibly indecent of me,” he mumbles. “i just… need to show you how grateful i am for you.”
it’s your turn to melt at his words. heat floods your face, and you nod enthusiastically, earning a light giggle from your husband.
nanami leans forward to kiss you, gentle presses of his lips to yours. his left hand has bunched your nightgown to give his right access to the tops of your thighs and your core. his right hand caresses, almost tickles, the sensitive skin of your legs, palming and squeezing them as he feels you. he continues to travel upward, reaching to play with the fringes of your underwear. your whimper is swallowed by him as well, as he sneaks his tongue into your mouth, transitioning the kiss into a full-blown makeout.
he traces your folds and lines through your panties, his fingertips poking at the wet spot that is starting to dampen the lace and cotton. just his sheer touch is enough to make you keen, transform into a whimpering mess that only wants more, more, all of him. as a result, you pull away, translucent spit connecting and stretching out before it’s broken apart as you take off your nightgown and throw it behind you. nanami also strips himself of his shirt, before the two of you crash back together and resume kissing and mouthing and moaning.
nanami’s hands continue to work magic on your body – circling around and then tugging and twisting at your puffy nipples, shifting your panties to the side and inserting a thick finger into your squelching hole. throwing caution and embarrassment to the wind, he even becomes a little forceful and only gives you a brief moment to adjust before he shoves two more fingers in, forcing your pussy to take in three at once.
you can only throw your head back, whining his name, pressure and pleasure making you drool.
“sorry, dearest, i’m usually more careful than this,” he grunts through gritted teeth. his cock is still stuck in the confines of his pajama pants, and he knows he should give you more time. but, after a few more seconds, he has to pull his cock out, slip his fingers out of you, and align his tip with your entrance.
“i need it,” you sob, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.
“are you sure?” you firmly nod your head, leaving him no choice but to stuff you full.
the stretch is delicious. honeyed. syrupy. your walls welcome him, and you feel your heart fill with so much warmth. the two of you are so clearly in love, heart eyes locked onto each other’s, even as nanami ruts into you and your nipples sing as they graze against his chest. you’re panting each other’s names, finding some way – any way – to get even closer, prove that physicality could never impede the joining of your souls. your thighs trap the sides of nanami’s legs, and your husband has lowered his hands to cup your ass to better bounce you up and down on his cock. every rock stretches you out even more, allowing him to sink even deeper into you.
you yelp, “kento! i – hah – love! you!” even though you’re short of breath, you try your best to say it over and over again, desperately hoping that nanami can get a glimpse of just how much you cherish him.
he gasps, “you just – never stop giving.” nanami knows he will never be able to string words together the way you do, intonate them with such profound adoration and admiration like you do. so the least he can do is show you.
he embraces you fully, arms moving up to wrap around your chest and torso, and hugs you closely as he thrusts up, punching air out of you so that you’re totally out of breath. he’s giving you everything he has because never has he felt so moved in his life. he just wants to give you everything, and if he can give you even a taste of ecstasy, he’ll be able to sleep soundly by your side tonight.
you’re fucked out, mouth lolling open, and because you’ve lost even the strength to hold your head up, you rest yourself in the crook of nanami’s neck.
“i’m close,” you whisper. dutifully, nanami nods, gives you a swift kiss on the cheek, and hammers even harder into you. each sheathe of his cock is a force to be reckoned, and in no time, you feel yourself squirting all over, losing yourself to the sensation of being enclosed by nanami’s body, heat, and devotion. nanami follows shortly thereafter, sucking heavily on your collarbone as he fills you up, up, up with his cum, a promise to remind you for day’s to come that he will always give you himself over to you, over and over again, everyday if you so pleased.
as the two of you rest, he looks down at you and waits for you to come back to him. and when you do, he musters his courage because, while words may always fail him, he will always try his best for you. “i love you more than you know,” he promises, voice laced with blissful exhaustion, and kisses you once again.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#nanami#jjk nanami#jjk smut#nanami kento#kento nanami#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami smut#nanami x reader#kento nanami smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#carrot cake!
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I JUST CAN’T LEAVE YOU ALONE, CAN WE GET EVEN CLOSER?
pairing. kamisato ayato x gn!bodyguard!reader
genre. fluff for the most part + does get suggestive tho 😁
synopsis. the yashiro commissioner resorts to a scandalous method to get your attention.
wc. 1.5k (i know its short but i wanted to get straight to the point LMAO)
an. guys this is so dumb but one thing that popped up in my head while writing this is that tiktok of that girl going i slowly started to be seducted by him like he’s trying to SEDUCE me 😭😭😭 omg that shits so fuckin funny
“you’re too far away, y/n.”
your eye twitches as you stare at the wooden door. he’s teasing you. a filthy load of shamelessness drips in his tone. an arm rises so he can relax his cheek in his palm, eyeing your figure that has been standing in front of the door this whole time.
you realise why he’s decided to open his mouth after five minutes of dead silence.
you’re not looking at him.
“y/n, i said you’re too far away.” his voice is louder this time. it sounds closer to a command.
“i am standing at an appropriate distance from you, my lord.” you’re staring laser beams into the door at this point. “feel free to attend to your bathing requirements independently.”
ayato scoffs. a shiver crawls up your spine.
“it was my understanding that you, my personal bodyguard, were informed about the injuries i sustained during the failed fatui assassination attempt.” drawing circles in the water with the tip of his index finger, he sighs, “sadly, my current physical state renders me incapable of attending to my bathing requirements.”
“so i would be most grateful for your assistance.” you can practically see the grin on his lips, devilish and scheming.
before ayato picks up the bathing cloth, you’ve already given in, practically attaching your eyes to the bathtub as you sit on the stool provided for you. taking the cloth, you dip it in the water to soak it up before gently gliding it across his shoulders with shaky hands.
“ah, there we go. now wasn’t that easy?” ayato turns his face towards you, now showing more of his naked back—wet and glistening in all its glory.
you feel you might faint.
you hum in agreement, holding onto that blasted bathing cloth for dear life. ayato seems to notice and turns his whole body towards you out of curiosity, but your head snaps in the other direction instead!
“y/n, how will you help me bathe if you’re facing that way?” you can hear the water splash around the stone material of the tub. it drips down the side, slowly sliding towards the stone floor.
you’re his bodyguard. you’re his bodyguard. this wasn’t part of the job description—so why are you even here?!
“my lord, i find it difficult to provide assistance if you keep moving,” you respond indifferently, maintaining some level of professionalism despite how this situation has broken all levels of it.
from the corner of your eye, you can vaguely see his hair sticking to his collarbones and shoulders. ayato knows you can see him like this. so there’s simply no point in acting such a way. but he laughs, humoured by your behaviour anyway. “oh please drop the formalities. i am merely an injured man before you.”
a naked, injured man. you correct him silently.
“mm.” you don’t really know what else to say. how were you supposed to explain any of this to anybody if they caught you leaving the bathing hall with him?!
you soak up the wash cloth once more, beginning to clean him up again. avoiding all eye contact and opportunities of skinship turns out to be much more difficult than you thought. however, when it’s time to clean his chest area, you wordlessly pass the cloth back to him.
“hm?” he looks at you. “what about over here?” he asks, pointing at his chest shamelessly.
you gape at him—oh, you’re finally looking at him now. and you wish you didn’t.
ayato is so utterly gorgeous. cheeks dusted in a shade of pink from the steam and his lips, moistened and sanguine. he would have been recognised as a deity were it not for his mortal disposition.
ayato rather takes pleasure in this look on your face. baffled, stunned, dumbfounded—this list could go on! what he finds interesting though, is that your eyes never seem to go past his shoulders. and, ayato, being quite fond of his cute and adorable bodyguard, has to tease you.
“this is as far as i will go,” you inhale, feeling like your mask of indifference will crumble within seconds. “my lord, it would be inappropriate for me to assist you in this area.”
ayato’s brows raise in excitement, revelling in how you try to stay professional. you’re doing a much better job than he would’ve expected—if it were anybody else, they would have been seduced right away.
but it’s you that the lord is playing with. and he intends to play with you until he is satisfied.
“but you’ve already come this far, why not do the rest while you’re at it?” your bottom lip quivers.
ayato figures that he’ll need to try something else to get your attention to where it needs to be.
you gasp when he takes your hand in his, gently pulling you towards him until you’re sitting on the edge of the stone tub. your uniform is dampened as you sit on the edge but you can care less when ayato peers up at you with those lavender eyes.
“m- my lord, what do you intend to do?” you curse yourself silently for stuttering. the vapour from the bath water makes your cheeks hot and sticks your hair to your forehead.
kind of looks like you could use a bath too. ayato makes a brief comment in his mind, his thumb caressing the back of your hand as he ponders on a response.
“get in the bath with me.”
a moment passes by. you swear you have never heard a more ridiculous request than this. for the past few years you’ve dealt with his unique appetite, his clothing requirements and his… special personality but this request is the first one that renders you speechless.
“what?”
“get in the bath with me,” ayato repeats, firmer this time.
you’ve lost feeling in your legs ever since he took your hand, but it’s not long before you’re soaked in bath water—with ayato there to soften the fall as your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders. you land with an oompf, fingers wiping droplets on your face, unfortunately missing the biggest grin on your boss’ lips.
“there, that was not so difficult, was it?” his voice is much closer by your ear now, sending a wave of chills down your spine.
you hesitantly meet his eyes, behind those pretty lashes and soft sky blue hair that clings to his forehead and cheeks. “wasn’t,” you mutter as your gaze shakes in your stare. you fear that if you tear your eyes away from him again he’ll do something else even more ridiculous.
the water swooshes and you fall onto your butt when ayato finds himself on top of your lap. you can feel his thighs just gently pressing against your own which is making you wonder how you haven’t already lost consciousness.
but it’s also making you think about things you never would’ve thought you would think about.
is ayato, your employer, trying to seduce you?!
you try to think of something to say. anything. doesn’t matter how random it could be. you inhale sharply, “so did you actually have work to do or did you just want me to loiter around you?”
“not to ‘loiter’,” ayato chuckles at your word choice while you think you’ve heard heaven’s gates fly right open. “but to ‘accompany’. i did indeed have work to complete but such a mind-numbing task becomes more bearable with you around.” he traces your cheek with the pad of his thumb, palm just ghosting over your ear. “do you know how adorable you look when you’re sitting by the door with that straight look on your face?”
“that is my job, my lord.” you don’t lean away from his touch. a good sign for him. “i didn’t think i would be such a distraction, if you would like, i could relocate just outsi-”
it’s featherlight. barely even a kiss. just a gentle brush of his lips over yours. but that miniscule feeling is like a fire and it burgeons in your chest, melting away the cold iceberg of your doubts and worries. there is no turning back now. it’s like your hand has grown a mind of its own when it wraps around ayato’s neck, pulling him closer so his lips collide with yours again.
“oh dear,” ayato mutters lowly. his hair tickles your cheek. “are my feelings being reciprocated?”
your lips are like magnets to his. it makes you grin at the revelation of your own emotions. “i fear you’ve successfully seduced me, my lord.” ayato smiles as your gaze flickers between his eyes and lips.
being caged between his arms has to be considered some sort of sport for your heart. the last time it threatened to leap out of your chest like this was during the official selection of ayato’s bodyguards.
“that makes a fine headline for the steambird, don’t you think?” ayato keeps his lips close to yours, doing everything he can in his power to not crash his lips onto yours again. and so pathetically too. “‘bodyguard allegedly seduced by the yashiro commissioner’.”
“indeed. now wouldn’t that shake things up here in inazuma,” you laugh, cupping your hands in the water to pour over what you can onto his shoulders. “well now that you’re all cleaned up, don’t you think you should get ready for bed?”
ayato gives you a pointed look. “will you dress me?”
“i-” you shouldn’t even pretend like you’re surprised by this. nodding your head, you reassure him, “that can be arranged.”
#ayato x reader#kamisato ayato x reader#ayato fluff#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#genshin x reader fluff#ayato x reader fluff#kamisato ayato fluff
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You were born to two people who never wanted to have you, who never should've had you. You grew up around alcohol, and your only role model was on television. People tried to make friends with you, but you just pushed them away. You made your first friend at 21. You love your friend more than anything, but you cannot escape the fact that he was indirectly responsible for your downfall. You try so hard to go back to the era where you thought you were happy that you end up making two of the biggest mistakes of your life. You surround yourself with people who remind you either of him, of yourself, or both. Your lack of true, authentic experience means that you believe yourself to be both unworthy and incapable of love. You have 4 best friends and you take them all for granted until it's too late. Millions love you, and you feel so alone.
You were born into a family of 7. Everyone in that family hates you. You were bullied in school, and your only role model was on television. You survive your 20s on sheer unbridled optimism and a barista's salary. You meet two people who are just like you, who are passionate and cynical and bright minded. One day, you fall in love with an older man who is nothing like you, but he's kind and extraverted, and it's something you have no frame of reference for. You meet your idol. He's not who you thought he'd be. He's the furthest from it that you could possibly imagine. But you love him. Because he's you. He reminds you of the girl you were growing up. Sometimes he's compassionate towards you. Sometimes your now husband is compassionate towards you. You don't know how to respond in either situation. You try to look for reasons to push them away. Your closest friends love you, and you feel so alone.
You were born the youngest of 12. Your mother loves you, but she needs you a little too much. You grow up obsessed with a film about a girl who flies away, a girl who (for better or for worse) comes of age. So then you decide to fly away. You get a job as a strongly independent intern. But then you meet a man. He's deeply flawed, and the way you take care of him reminds you too much of the girl you were growing up. But you see so much good in him, and you spend your time telling yourself that the good outweighs the bad. He has single handedly got you out of the worst situations you have ever found yourself in. And for all your independence, you crave companionship, in any form. The love that anyone feels for you is forever fleeting. You feel so alone.
You were born into a loving family. You meet a beautiful wife in your 20s, and get the best job ever solely by accident. There is no reality other than this. And why would anyone want one? This is perfect. You try so hard to go back to that first era where you were happy, by surrounding yourself with people who agree with you. Your first wife starts to disagree. You don't understand her decision to go into politics, because there is no reality other than this, and why would anyone want one? You break up with her. You have to keep the illusion going, fill that space asap. Your second wife disagrees with you. You meet your third wife on the day your second wife leaves you. Your third wife cares more about the world outside the bubble you've cultivated than your first wife did. But status quo is god. It worked in your dream job, and it's going to work now. Your third wife leaves you. You feel so alone.
You were born of a man you don't even remember. You were forcibly given the name of the man your mother married. He's extremely hard on you and you don't understand why. You love music and games and new experiences, and he loves anger and being boring and getting a job. You get kicked out at 18. You find someone new, and you feel almost as reliant on them. You don't know when your new situation will end, but it's easy. This is what you wanted, right? But all your new friends have proper lives. They have some sense of knowledge for what they were doing. And maybe your stepfather was right. Maybe BoJack was right. Maybe you need to get your act together before you amount to anything. Because for all your independence, you still crave approval and acknowledgement, in any form. You have no idea if anyone loves you, and you feel so alone.
#parallels in the main cast#see THIS is what I mean when I say that the main cast all compliment each other so well#they're all such direct foils!#i could draw like#a rock paper scissors lizard spock type diagram for them and#because each relationship is so interesting#bjhm analysis#bojack horseman#bjhm#bojack the horse#diane nguyen#princess carolyn#todd chavez#mr peanutbutter
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『 think I need someone older. || buggy x reader 』
pairing: buggy x f!reader words: there's many words in here alright! like, many summary: who would've thought that the best thing you'd get out of your relationship would be the guy after it. angst; smut; fluff. ᴄᴡ: ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ; ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ
"Come on, let's go!"
Buggy stared with an intense look, from the corner of the room, as this drunk looking guy grabbed your arm and dragged you across the bar.
"Stop! Let me go! I haven't finished my shift!"
The man's grip tightened on you and he pulled you close, your noses almost touching from the proximity.
"I told you I don't want you working! Much less in a fucking bar! What, you like all these men looking at you!?"
Your boyfriend spat those words at your through gritted teeth, and you swore his iris shrunk in size giving his eyes more space to express their hatred at disgust towards you.
"Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus..." Buggy repeated the quote in his head like a mantra as he sipped his beer, reminding himself that the extraneous relationship was none of his business.
And usually he would not mind, other people's predicaments were none of his concern and he didn't care to make them his concern, but you were different.
The Captain had only seen you working at the bar a couple of times and he had found you... pathetic. Smiling at the customers, apologising, actually doing your best and being polite. That showed weakness. You were weak. Weak, and innocent, and pathetic, and someone who would never survive in this world. And for that he wanted you.
Buggy refused to put two and two together, he refused to accept that for once there was someone he wanted to protect instead of hurt - because that would mean that he would have a weakness: you.
It was only when you showed him kindness and respect instead of fear and disgust that the Captain began somewhat welcoming the idea of you.
It had been a terrible day - the crew was hungover and some punks took the chance to ransack the ship - and Buggy just needed a drink. He sat alone on the corner and some pesky, useless waitress set the wrong drink in front of him.
"I should have you killed for your incompetence!" He had dramatically yelled at you.
Instead of pleas or more yelling, his threat was met with a question.
"Why?"
It instantly calmed him down, he had never been questioned on his threats... Sure they had been laughed at, they had been feared... But never questioned.
"Does this look like my order!?" Buggy said, a lot calmer but still showing annoyance as he didn't want you to think you somehow had the power to take away his rage.
"Can't I just replace it, Sir? I can make it on the house if you'd like!"
Buggy left after that, without another word. It effectively made you think that he now hated you and your service, but the fact was his heart beat faster. His heart beat in a way that had only beat before when he was fighting or torturing someone, and the Captain had to sit alone and wonder what it meant - and how he could shoo it away. No one had ever been able to calm him down, let alone make him feel bad for the tone he had used - until you waltzed in the Captains' life with your pretty smile and tight fabrics.
He sat on that same corner that day watching that man mistreat you in front of everyone. The look on your face was one Buggy did not recognize - he was half certain you were incapable of portraying negative emotions, but now it seemed like all of them were flowing through you.
"I-I wanted to get money t-to help you buy that ship you wanted! For your birthday, baby!" You lied, trying to stop your body from shaking.
You wanted some financial independence from that man, you wanted to be able to buy stuff for yourself without having to go by your partner first, or without having to get his approval because "it was his money after all", but you figured a lie would be best.
After that, the man roughly let go of your arm, but your faces remained at the same distance.
"We will discuss your schedules at home." He said in a threatening, low tone and promptly left the bar.
You looked around - the place was never calm, except when there was gossip and drama to pay attention to. Your eyes scanned the room and you laughed nervously.
"It's alright fellas! Apologies for disturbing your night I will get you all a round on the house!"
Cheers echoed the room and it went back to the rowdy environment you knew as you tried your best to excuse yourself to the back where you could breathe.
You left through the door and slid down the brick wall of the alleyway where the staff took their smoke breaks, thanking the gods that it was vacant. Your thighs hit the cold stone floor but you didn't care - at least you could breathe. It felt like there was a boulder on your chest that prevented you the air to leave your lungs and chemicals in your eyes that prevented you from crying up until that point.
The sound heavy boots smacking against the stone echoed in the air, getting closer and closer to you. You assumed it was your manager, and you didn't want to get fired but you couldn't get back inside just yet.
"Sorry, Sir... I will go back in in just a minute." You said, voice muffled from your head being buried in your arms.
Buggy wasn't sure what to say, - he wasn't good at comforting people, not at all - so he just stood there, looking down at you, as if the space around him would freeze to give him enough time to think of the appropriate reply.
When you obtained no reply, you got worried - was you boss that mad that he wouldn't even dignify you with a response?...
You slowly peeled your head from your arms and looked up at the person in front of you, to find the somber clown that sat on the corner of the bar every other day. You immediately stood up and violently wiped the tears from your cheeks and the dirt from your skirt as you tried your best to look presentable.
Buggy's looks towards you were always a mix of very intense emotions that you couldn't decipher, but now they were a lot softer, almost as if he felt sad for you - and honestly you much preferred angst to pity.
The Captain softly grabbed your arm, stopping it from rubbing your skin so violently and potentially damaging something so beautiful.
"I-I'm sorry I will go back in now I didn't mean to disturb the service please let me offer you-"
Your frantic, apologetic rant was cut short by Buggy's voice.
"Why are you with him?"
Your eyes, that previously wandered everywhere but his face, found his gaze.
"Him? Him who? My... boyfriend?"
Buggy just nodded, searching your face for all of the emotions he could gather - they were all negative, and those he was good at.
"I love him." You said dryly, not one ounce of emotion laced in your words.
"You don't. You fear him. People who are feared are not loved, I should know..." The Captain said the last part under a deep inhale.
You were left silent. You were angry and in disbelief that this man that didn't even know you had the gall to make such serious accusations about you and your relationship.
But he was right. And now you knew how painfully obvious it was.
At some point you did love him - your boyfriend would bring you flowers every other week, he would write often, expressing his love, when he needed to sail for work, he would cook intricate dinners and fill the bedroom with roses and gifts in every special date you shared... But once he knew he had you, the man changed completely - a tale as old as time. And your boyfriend knew you held onto the hopes and memories of the past and used it against you, pretending to be the caring man he once was from time to time to keep you around.
"So? Why are you with him?" The Captain asked once more upon being faced with your silence, slowly stepping closer.
You opened your mouth to say something, hoping your brain could scramble together an excuse for being with that man that didn't sound as pathetic as just "nostalgia".
Before you could speak, Buggy placed his index finger on your chin and tilted your head up so you could look into his beautiful, big green eyes. They were hypnotizing, really.
"Exactly." He whispered "There is no reason. So let me take you away."
You widened your eyes.
"Take me away!? Where would you even take me?..."
Buggy chuckled, approaching his face to yours.
"Anywhere, everywhere..." He whispered.
Your face grew hot and the atmosphere around you became tense, this time a completely different feeling filling the air.
"But... why? I thought you disliked me. You know, because of that day... I feel like you've been giving me the stink eye from that corner you sit on ever since."
Buggy let out a short laugh as he took his time to examine every pretty little detail of your face up close.
"Dislike you? I'm crazy about you. The way your fetching eyes twinkle when you smile, the way you sing when you wipe down the bar, the way your dresses fit you..."
Buggy allowed the hand that wasn't on your chin to trail up your body, still remaining far from any places he shouldn't (but wanted to) touch, as his eyes stole a look at your slightly exposed chest.
You were speechless. You hadn't heard someone talk about you with such admiration and love in a long time, but alas, the last time you believed it it lead you to the nightmare you lived in currently.
As you were reminded of such a fact, your eyes filled with tears once more and you stepped back, away from his touch.
"He used to tell me those things too... I've heard all of it. I'm sorry I-I can't trust this act a-and I need to go back to work."
Buggy stayed in his place, not wanting to scare you more than you already were or ruin any potential chance he might've had by being too insistant. In a last effort, he called your name, just as your hand met the cold metal of the door's handle, and you stopped.
"Y/N. You're dating a manchild, he doesn't know what to do with a good woman like you because he's a boy." Upon seeing he had piqued your interest, the Captain stepped closer and leaned to whisper in your ear from behind "Let me show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman such as yourself."
Your heart was thumping in a way you had never felt before, and althought you opened the door and ran inside to stop Buggy from seeing your blush, he knew.
He chuckled, left the alleyway and walked to his ship, letting the proposal sit on your mind.
Unbeknownst to your boyfriend (and to you), that night was crucial. The events of that night would heavily determine if you'd take the Captain up on his offer or not, even if you didn't know it at the time.
Once your shift ended you bid goodbye to the old man that owned the bar and made your way home, hands in the pockets of your heavy coat and smoke coming out of your mouth with every breath from the cold night air.
"Hey!" You greeted once you closed the door of your home.
You removed your coat and put on the best fake smile you could muster as you ealked over to your boyfriend whom sat on the dinner table drinking some sort of ale that he had brought from work.
"Good news honey!" The man said, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist.
"What is it?" You asked with hope in your voice that, for once, the good news would benefit you as well.
"The man who handles the money down at the bar you work for is an old pal of mine, I talked to him and he can send the money directly to our house so I can keep it safe! So no need to wait for it on pay day anymore, I can just put it directly towards my ship like we wanted!"
Your boyfriend kept talking, but you had stopped listening halfway through. Your heart was beating way too fast for you to focus, and the ringing in your ears became too loud for you to hear.
He decided what you did, what you bought, what you wore, where you went... The smallest, tiniest bit of freedom you had was taken away. Everything was taken away.
There was no escape. Anywhere you went, anything you did... no escape.
Except... the Captain. He had offered you an escape. The clown had practically opened the door to freedom for you.
Or maybe not, maybe you'd just be walking into a different type of captivity, but something in your head and in your heart told you Captain Buggy was different. Maybe it was the sweet words or the twinkle in his eyes that were shining with something other than the possessiveness you had always been used to, something like care, or admiration even.
You placed your hands in your boyfriend's chest, slowly peeling yourself away from the hold he had on you as the fake smile faded into visible panic and anxiety. You had to make a decision, and you had to make it fast.
Before your head could process anything and before your mouth could protest his decision, your body turned to the door and your legs started running.
You didn't even know what Captain Buggy's ship looked like, you just ran to the docks in hopes that it would somehow work out for you.
As expected, the man you once loved ran after you, screaming, cursing and threatening all the way to the docks.
You had a considerable distance from him, and, thankfully, Buggy's flags with red-nosed skull made it easy for you to find the ship - although it wasn't needed.
When you looked behind you to make sure you kept said distance from your (ex-)boyfriend, you bumped into someone. The person didn't let you fall, however - he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you as steady as possible.
"Get your fucking hands off her, clown!" Your boyfriend said in a tone that made it seem like he was frothing at the mouth - he might as well have been.
When you looked up to identify your saviour, you smiled in relief to find Buggy, tears welling in your eyes from the previous anxiety and panic that finally dawned on you. His piercing green eyes stared at your boyfriend menacingly, and had you not known how much the man wanted you, you too would have been scared of the expression painted on his face.
"Watch your tone, boy, and then leave." The Captain warned.
"I won't watch-"
Buggy didn't allow your partner to finish the sentence, he detached the hand that didn't hold onto you and wrapped it around the other man's neck, throwing him against a wall with enough strenght to knock him out.
As the hand came back to its place, Buggy looked down at you adoringly.
"I take it you accept my proposal, princess?"
You tried to bite back the smile, but to no avail.
"I do accept it. But!" Buggy leaned down ever so slightly, showing the most interest in whatever condition you had decided to set "If you ever scream at me I will leave you."
Buggy's smile stretched wide, and he pressed kisses all over your face.
"Oh my dear princess, my beautiful, beautiful treasure... If I ever so much as annoy you feel free to shoot me dead."
You grinned and slapped his chest.
"Don't be dramatic!" You said and giggled, unable to contain how giddy he made you, how he made you feel a way you hadn't ever felt, not even at the peak of your ex-boyfriend's supposed love.
You yelped and wrapped your arms around Buggy's neck as he picked you up bridal style to take you to his ship.
Some wolf whistles were heard as he walked through the ship carrying you, forcing you to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment, but they were quickly shut up by the stern, disapproving look on the Captain's face.
You lifted your head and opened your eyes when he placed you down on the creaky wooden floor. You looked around to find a somewhat messy and dark room. There was a single, not-so-spacious bed that was unmade against the wall in front of you and under the porthole of the room, an old, tall dresser and a big desk with papers (that you assumed were maps) and random jewelry scattered across it were to your left and to your right was an worn out couch with questionable stains. A pair of boots as well as various items of clothing were by the corner of the room.
Buggy hissed and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the mess in his bedroom.
"Yeah... I didn't acutally expect any company..." The Captain said, obvious embarrassment in his voice.
You giggled and picked up some of the clothes forgotten in the corner of the room.
"That's okay, I'm a little messy sometimes!" You tried your best to make him feel more comfortable about the state of his room as you folded his clothes.
"No, no, no! What are you doing? Don't trouble yourself!" Buggy panicked, holding your hands to stop you from doing any housework.
"Just trying to help you out a little! You know, as a thank you..." Your voice got a little shaky as the memory of the wave of emotions that had overcome you just minutes ago hit once more.
"A thank you for what? My own crew gives me a harder time than that little... sample of a man. He's a weak man, it was no trouble." The Captain assured, basically pleading you to lay down and rest.
You couldn't help but smile, a victorious smile, more than anything. Your now ex-boyfriend was prideful in his strenght and (supposed) fighting skill, no one really fought him, and when they did he'd unfortunately come out on top most times, but to hear Buggy speak of him in such a way and describe him as if he were but an annoying fly waiting to be swatted... it felt like victory. Imagining him pathetically limping back home and wallowing in his own self pity was nothing short of a dream come true.
"A thank you for rescuing me, Captain."
Buggy thought he was feeling sick, from the way his heart beat and his face heat up. He couldn't speak or think straight, for a second he thought it was a stroke or something of the sort.
The man stood in the same place, watching you fold his clothes neatly and fluff the pillows of the couch before moving to (try to) help you. He did his best to organize all the maps in the desk as he pushed the jewelry into a drawer with a detached foot.
By the time he had properly rolled up the maps and put them in their proper place, you had already finished the remaining parts of the room.
"You did well! That looks good!" You said, walking up behind him.
Buggy felt a strange wave of pride hit him. Like no other accomplishment he had previously achieved mattered, because this was the only one the Captain had complimented you on. The man did his best to wipe the stupid smile off of his face but there was no hiding how obsessed he was with you and everything you did.
Your tired yawn snapped him out of his trance, and his big green eyes looked at you in worry.
"Are you tired? You must be tired... Just..." Buggy walked to over to the dresser and took a big, warm blanket from it, handing it to you "Take the bed, you should get some sleep."
You held the thick blanket in your arms as you saw the man try his best to fluff the pillows and make the bed comfortable for you. You didn't know how to react to this much care and attention, you felt undeserving of it.
"Y/N? Shit, are you okay? Did I go overboard? Did I do too much!?" You didn't realize how fast you were breathing until Buggy brought it to your attention, and before long there were two panicked people in the room not knowing what to do for two completely different reasons.
The clown had never liked someone as much as he liked you, and you had never had anyone like you as much as he did. It was comical, really, although at the time it didn't feel like it, it was just the purest image of two fools falling in love.
"I-I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of me, that is all- I can take the floor." You said, trying to stabilize your voice as much as possible.
"Oh princess, I've been thrown around by people my whole life, I've gotten pieces of me stuck in boxes and I've been used as a punching bag, sleeping in the couch instead of the bed is no trouble at all... I didn't bring you to my ship just to have you sleep on the floor, that is an absolute no." The Captain said with a small smile, carefully cupping your cheek.
He could tell from your face that you weren't satisfied with the solution, even if the man guaranteed you he'd be comfortable.
"What if... we share the bed? If you don't mind..." You suggested, unable to look him in the eye.
Buggy's body tensed and heat up at the thought of the both of you pressed up against each other in the small bed, and he tried his very best to not seem like a creepy pervert, but the thoughts in his head seemed to have other plans.
"Uh sure... Yeah, that works." He blurted out, like an awkward teenager trying to seem cool and uninterested after a long silence.
You loosened your corset and set it neatly next to your shoes, as you removed the hairband that tried its best to keep your hair in place during your shifts at the bar.
Buggy turned his back to you, feeling like he was somehow invading your privacy even though you hadn't asked him to look away.
The man removed his jacket, boots and belt as well, trying to get more comfortable. Usually both you and him would sleep in less clothing, but for the sake of decency and modesty (which Buggy had apparently adhered to exclusively for you) you decided against it.
When you turned around, Buggy was removing his bandana, and your eyes widened as his blue hair extended down to his lower back.
"Woah..."
Buggy turned around to face you, confused, as you softly grabbed a strand of his hair.
Once he saw your eyes shining as you looked at his long blue locks he smiled - a mix of confidence about his hair, and shyness about the way you looked at him.
"You like it? I kinda forget people don't really know how long my hair is."
"It's beautiful..." Your voice was soft as you ran your hand along his (surprisingly) soft and shiny hair, almost as if you were afraid to scare him away.
"Not nearly as beautiful as you. Not even close. Nothing has even been or will ever be as beautiful as you are." The words were caught in Buggy's throat, more than anything, he was afraid that his feelings and constant thoughts of your alluringness would scare your off, so those words were replaced by the suggestion of going to sleep.
Buggy let you lay first, closer to the wall so you wouldn't fall off the bed if you happened to move as you slept. The Captain then laid next to you, very happy about the lack of space the bed offered.
You both had to lay on your side, your back pressed against his chest. You'd be lying if you said you'd disliked the proximity - his body was warm and you felt protected as his toned chest heaved up and down against you and his muscly arm draped mindlessly over your waist.
You didn't want to move, but your leg became numb after some time. You shifted in your place slightly to make it more comfortable, only to feel a strong hand grip your hips in place almost instantly.
"Careful." Buggy's low and raspy voice whispered, almost as if warning you about some danger.
And there was a danger indeed. Having your body so close to his was torture enough, but if you so much as shifted in place you'd be rubbing yourself against him - and the clown wasn't sure how far this newfound restraint could go.
"Sorry..." You apologised, thinking your movements had woken him up.
"Don't be..." He mumbled and buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your perfume.
Weeks went by from that day, and the two of you got to know each other intimately, but Buggy was hard to read. There were times where it seemed you were the light of his day and the reason for him to breathe, but there were others where your image seemed to be the Captain's worst nightmare.
It all came to a climax on a day where Buggy was having a particular hard time coming face to face with his feelings.
"Buggy!? What is wrong with you!?"
"Stop fucking following me around!"
You didn't understand the sudden shift in behaviour, but quite honestly neither did he.
The Captain was obviously not used to having feelings, nevermind dealing with them. He didn't know what to do or how to behave, all he knew was that he wanted you in an obsessive, animalistic way. Everything Buggy did, every step he took... You were on his mind. You were a constant. He couldn't stop thinking of your smile, of your voice, of your smell, of your body...
It was driving him insane, and most of all, it was driving him insane the fact that he didn't know what to do, so he just did what he knew how to do best: get angry and lash out.
Buggy was a master of self-sabotage, and as he yelled at you he knew very well that he was making a mistake, almost as if the real Captain was inside, screaming, banging and begging his body to stop betraying him, but he couldn't.
"Don't raise your voice at me!" You yelled with tears in your eyes.
"Or what!?" Buggy challenged, his voice raspy from yelling, as he finally turned around to face you.
His face showed anger and disgust, but his eyes conveyed a completely different message, one of sorrow and regret.
You looked at the desk next to the man, where his gun was. You grabbed it and, pulling the safety trigger, placed the barrel between his eyes.
"If I ever so much as annoy you, feel free to shoot me dead." You said, repeating Buggy's speech the night he had brought you to the ship "You're annoying me. You're making me angry, actually, which is arguably worse."
"Then shoot me."
If there was something you'd learned in your previous relationship, was to read emotions beyond words. You could see it in Buggy's eyes, it was obvious... He didn't mean what he was saying, he didn't mean to act this way. It didn't hurt any less to know he didn't mean it, but you at least wanted to know...
"Why?"
"Shoot me." Buggy repeated, his voice shaking every so slightly as your question had caused him to face everything he had been avoiding.
"Why." You asked once more, adamantly this time.
Buggy threw his hands up in frustration and groaned, taking a violent step closer to you.
"Because you're all I think about! Day and night, I can't stop thinking about you. There isn't a single thing that occupies my mind other than you. You are all that I've ever needed and all that I've ever wanted and you change me I-I'm different around you and I'm vulnerable and I'm scared!" The Captain was screaming like a madman getting tortured, fighting the side that wanted to shut you out and walk away and the side that wanted him to fall to his knees, beg for mercy and confess his love for you. He knew what he felt, even though he desperately tried to ignore it, but saying it out loud made it... real.
The gun made a loud sound that echoed in the room when you let it fall by your feet, so you could cup both his cheeks.
"Buggy... Why would you be scared? Have I done something to you that made you feel like you can't trust me?"
The man slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. He dipped his head, resting his forehead on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him tightly - you knew, after the short time you had spent together, that that was how he seeked some sort of comfort, Buggy turned into a little kid sometimes, that needed support and reassurance, and that was his way of asking for it.
"I don't want to leave you, Buggy, you've been good to me. But you can't treat me like this..."
"I'm... I'm sorry." His voice was shaky, a couple sobs here and there, and muffled from his head being buried in your shoulder "I trusted one person, once and he... betrayed me. And I didn't like him as much as I like you, not even close. I'm scared... Please don't leave me, I'm sorry for what I said, I'm sorry for yelling at you, I'm-"
You shut him up by lifting his head and giving him a kiss. It was simple and no longer than five seconds, but you'd both swear the world was spinning and fireworks were going off.
Buggy's big, green, teary eyes were staring at you when you pulled away. Once he processed what happened, the Captain grabbed your face and brought it close for another kiss. And then another, and another, and another - until he was out of breath from kissing and you were out of breath from giggling.
"I'm forgiven?" The man asked, still holding your face.
"You are forgiven, Buggy. I'd never, ever hurt you. And if I do, you can shoot me dead." You said, mimicking his speech.
He laughed and kissed you once more, a slower, deeper kiss.
"You're crazy, you know that?" Buggy asked, running his hand through your hair.
"We can be crazy together..." You replied, your eyes looking between his eyes and lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
"That sounds like a plan I can get behind..." His voice trailed into a whisper as his head leaned to the side, the space between their lips slowly closing.
What started out as another innocent kiss gradually developed into a heated mess of tongues and saliva. Surprisingly, Buggy was very vocal, and there was no telling if it was the thigh between your legs or his needy whimpers that turned you on more, but you were sure feeling a different type of heat spread through your body.
You two pulled away from the kiss. His makeup was messy, some of it smeared on your face, his lips were red and plump from the biting and his hungry eyes searched your face.
"Please... can I fuck you?" His needy, whimpery and hushed voice nearly made your knees falter.
It was pathetic how he could ask you anything in that tone and you'd fall to your knees and you'd comply.
"Do it. Please do it Buggy, fuck me."
His hands trailed down to grip your ass with force, bringing your crotch to press against his. You felt his very hard cock press against you as he laughed in a raspy voice.
"Careful."
Those words were familiar... When you two slept together the first night... He wasn't angry you'd woken him up! He was warning you because he was horny.
You playfully traced his jawline with your nail.
"Do you worst." You whispered in his ear, teasing him.
Buggy pushed you to lay down on the bed. One of his knees pushed your legs open as his hand found your clothed pussy under your skirt. The Captain's lips paid attention to your neck as you slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head to claw at his back.
You were used to being the one doing all the work, so the amount of attention he gave you felt overwhelming - a very good type of overwhelming.
"Buggy- that feels good... So good..." You moaned.
Buggy chuckled as he kissed the red spots of skin on your neck he had kissed and sucked. His lips approached your ear and he softly bit your earlobe.
"I'm going to show you how a real man fucks."
The Captain's index finger hooked on the front of your panties and slowly brought them down. Two of his fingers ran along your exposed folds and his eyes widened. He brought them up to his face and separated them, showing you how they glistened with your juices.
"Already?" He paused and chuckled "I'm going to have fun."
Buggy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you two around, sitting you on his waist.
"Take it all off." The man said, gesturing to your clothes "And then sit on my face."
You had began to unbutton your blouse, but you stopped and blushed.
"I- I don't want to hurt you, maybe we could-"
You yelped as one of his hands came into contact with your ass harshly.
"I don't care if you suffocate me. Sit. On. My. Face."
You bit your lip and nodded, obeying his orders.
Buggy groaned and cursed under his breath as your pieces of clothing slowly came off one by one, and as your pussy hovered over his face, he swore he could've cum from the sight alone.
When you didn't fully lay your body weight on him, Buggy wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your cunt down onto his face.
"Shit!" You shrieked and gripped his hair in your hands as your hips started moving along to the movements of his tongue.
"So this is what it's supposed to feel like-" You tought, too intoxicated in pleasure to blurt out anything that wasn't a moan.
Buggy's groans sent a different (yet very good) feeling through your body, and it only left you craving for more. You wanted him to keep going, but you wanted more, you needed more - as much as he could give you.
"More- please- I need more Buggy- I need you to fuck me." You begged between whimpers and sighs.
Buggy took his sweet time finishing his business, too pussy drunk to give it up immediately as you asked. Once he managed to peel himself away from between your legs, one of his strong arms wrapped around you and flipped you both.
His lips were quick to attatch to yours, and you could taste yourself in the Captain's tongue.
One of your hands cupped his face as the other worked on the zipper of his pants. Once you were able to slide your hand inside, you weren't surprised to find he was a fan of going commando.
Buggy pulled away and whined when you gripped his hard cock and swiped your thumb along the slit. His eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure and he was breathing hard.
"Do you want me to suck your cock, baby?" You asked, your voice dripping in fake innocence which caused him to chuckle.
Buggy kissed you softly.
"I'd love to princess, but I won't last. And I really want to fuck you."
"Then fuck me, Captain."
In one swift and quick move, Buggy placed the tip of his cock in your entrance and pushed inside of you, filling you up to the brim with his shaft.
His movements were smooth and proficient - it was almost as if his cock was made for you.
Your fingernails dug into Buggy's biceps, making him whine a little louder as his hips snapped against yours and his lips left small bites and open-mouth kisses wherever they could reach.
The Captain tried to be gentle with his touch, but he was so desperate for your body... it was nearly impossible. His fingers squeezed your sides, your ass and your thighs - he was in love with every curve of your body.
"You feel good... So good..." You admitted, breathlessly.
"Do I? Say my name."
"Buggy-" You moaned.
"Louder! I want them all to hear you."
"Buggy!" You yell-whimpered, as his cock hit a particular spot inside of you.
"That's right princess..." The clown bent over to bite your neck "This is what real cock feels like, from someone who knows how to fuck."
His whimpers and moans were sent straight to your pussy, who seemed to pulsate harder whenever his mouth hung open and the sinful sounds left past his lips.
Buggy seemed to read your mind: as you felt a nice feeling bubble up inside of you, one of his fingers sneaked between your bodies and rubbed your clit - a firm yet soft touch.
"I'm gonna need you to cum for me pretty, 'cause I can't last much longer with you squeezing me like that." Buggy confessed, looking down at his cock disappearing inside of you.
"Almost... I'm almost..." You breathlessly told him.
Buggy mantained his movements, working his hips and fingers until your back arched and your toes curled. The Captain had seen many places, many views and many people, but nothing came close to the beauty of your face when you climaxed, yelling his name.
The clown's mouth hung open, his brows furrowed and he moaned as he pulled out and came on your stomach, the hot cum splattering in different places.
"Guess I gotta clean up..." You said with a giggle.
Buggy looked up at you, with the mischiveous grin you'd learned to love and bent down. His tongue swiped across your abdomen, collecting every last drop of cum. He then pressed his lips against yours, dumping his cum into your mouth.
"There," The Captain said, stroking your red cheek "all cleaned up."
You could only giggle and press another kiss to his lips, as you shifted your positions so you could drape your leg over him and lay your head on his chest.
The two of you closed your eyes, his hand playing with your hair as you listened to his heartbeat.
"If you ever raise your voice at me again I will actually shoot you."
#opla#opla smut#one piece#one piece smut#buggy#one piece buggy#buggy smut#one piece buggy smut#one piece reader inseet#one piece live action#one piece live action buggy#opa buggy#opla buggy smut#one piece live action buggy smut#buggy fluff#buggy angst#one piece buggy angst#one piece buggy fluff#opla buggy fluff#opla buggy angst#buggy x reader#buggy reader#buggy reader smut#buggy x reader smut#buggy the clown#buggy the clown smut
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Hi love love your work ❤️ I was wondering if you’d be open for a request on Good For It Ari? Was wondering if there was a chance they get pregnant eventually? 😊 Would love a one shot about that if you’re open to it :)
Hi hi! <3 omg, thank you sm for sending in this ask!! I love this prompt too. Hope I did it justice!~
Pairing: Lumberjack!Recluse!Ari x F!Reader (Good For It)
Word Count: 1k~
Summary: The multitude of ways that Ari continues to care, love and protect you during your pregnancy.
You could read the original fic here.
Disclaimer: ***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee***
Reblogs help writers reach more readers who may also enjoy our work. As you like, kindly reblog~ <3
Warnings/Triggers: reader is pregnant, pregnancy hormones, negative intrusive thoughts surrounding body image.
“Love, what do you think you’re doing?”
You turned at hearing Ari’s deep baritone voice questioning you by the doorway. A soft, teasing smirk on his handsome face as he leaned against the doorway, just watching you.
“The light was hitting me in the wrong spot.” You pouted while sitting pathetically down on the floor.
Ari chuckled, “So you thought that you would try to move the armchair, on your own?”
Releasing out a huff, “I’m pregnant, Ari. Doesn’t make me weaker or less capable.” Your pout only deepened as your face formed an annoyed frown. Looking at the unwavering soft smile on his face made you harumph, turn away from him to cross your arms childishly across your growing belly.
Ever since you got pregnant, you felt so incapable of doing the things that you wanted to do. You would waddle over to the couch and need to grip Ari’s tree trunk arms for support. Or, if you wanted to reach for a plate on the high shelf, your belly just pressed onto the counter uncomfortably as you would attempt to reach for it until your efforts could be heard by Ari, who would come over to get it for you in a second.
In other words, it was exhausting to rely on Ari all the time.
It’s not like you weren’t grateful for his presence, you were! You always love feeling cared for by Ari, and certainly since you told him that you were expecting, he has been so loving. ‘Love’ was his endearment on a daily basis now, and was freely said in every space. No longer was Ari, Mr. Gruntle Grumps (well, -ish. You just got exclusively better at learning how to speak ‘Ari’).
But you also loved the independence that existed in your relationship before getting pregnant. You miss the freedom of going anywhere that you wanted, the ability to get out of bed without assistance, or like now– being able to move your armchair that always seems to be a degree off center and because of that, the sun would annoyingly hit your face.
You moved it back after every use because the room felt so asymmetrical when it wasn’t in a certain position. But when you would sit in your comfy armchair for your daily read, you would either always forget to move it yourself (however greuling the task is to do), or ask Ari to move it forward before you started reading.
Henceforth, we get situations like now where you try to deep squat (and fail), attempt to pull the chair forward (unsuccessfully) and then flail back to catch yourself and pout on the floor. You used to be able to still pull it forward yourself in the earlier stages of your pregnancy, but it's become increasingly difficult by the day as time goes by.
Nowadays, you still try to do it yourself, but you quickly give up, and eventually just practice sucking it up and suffering in the shine of the sun, less you get caught by Ari trying to lift heavy things.
So stuck in your frustrated pouting, you finally got caught by Ari today and could almost feel the silent judgment from your position on the floor.
Feeling tears brim to your eyes, you sniffled silently as you tried to wipe them away before he could see. You felt so irrational and your hormones just went haywire all the time.
Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke the back of your head affectionately and you look up to see Ari kneeling over you with an empathetic look on his face.
“You miss bein’ able to do stuff, huh.” Ari said compassionately, that soft smile not budging from his face as he continued stroking your hair. Tears fell over as you put a fist to your eyes to wipe it away.
Another thing that you have appreciated about Ari is that he doesn't judge you. Not ever, not once.
It seems like he understood how you were feeling without you having to even say anything. It was unlike you to not communicate, but Ari took the brunt of it effortlessly. He bypassed your own criticisms on his sense of judgment, he merely noticed, and just observed.
Sometimes, you would feel insecure in your body as you would notice a stretch mark blooming here and there. Or looking at how disproportionate your body was as your tummy grew.
It was a beautiful process to go through, and you so wanted this with Ari, but every now and again, your brain would tell you all of these harmful and intrusive thoughts that just seemed to eat at you the further you were along in your pregnancy.
Your brain would criticize and tell you that even Ari is burdened by you, or that he would judge you for your looks or incapabilities– even if you knew that he would never treat you that way.
Though, in a way, Ari seemed to be well-versed in protecting you even from yourself.
Even now as he waited patiently with you on the floor, just stroking your hair and over your hunched back, he never complained. He only waited for you to sniffle your last sniffle, to look up at him with a pout as he helped you off the floor, and put his large arms around you to form a protective support and embrace.
The next day, you saw translucent curtains hanging from the windows. That way, the sun wouldn’t hit you as harshly whilst you got to enjoy reading your book that was now comfortably lit by a dimmed, warm glow.
You cried when you realized Ari did that for you too. He kissed you on the forehead and whispered promises of adoration. The clarity of his love was so tender as he simply laid a giant hand on your stomach.
“I got you, love.” Ari said with the same reverence of love during that time at the bar. He’s shown you time and time again how much he cares and loves you – how your comfort and safety was the intention behind everything that he would do.
He was good for it.
A/N: lil drabble, lil drabble there 🥹 hope you enjoyed the snippet of their life. thank you again for sending in the ask!
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Chapter 1: The President’s Son
From: Guardian Angel Series
Pairing: (future) Mafia! Stucky x Bodyguard! Reader
Summary: A longtime client snubs you, causing you to leave the life you know
Word Count: 3,629
Content/Warnings: swears, patriarchy, weaponized incompetence, borderline mansplaining, yelling, fighting, mentions of nose picking, misogyny, secrets, explosions, mentions of weapons, strong female characters, no Steve or Bucky yet
A/N: Okay, here’s the start of something long-anticipated by me. I hope you enjoy! Your feedback is greatly appreciated, can’t wait to hear what you guys think!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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You stood in the back of the banquet hall, eyes surveying the room like they did any other, as you tried to appear as nonchalant waitstaff for the function. That was your specialty: blending in to the background, and you were damn good at it. Tonight’s job was to do so as your were protecting the most important individuals entrusted to you: the First Lady and her son.
You moved with ease throughout the evening, keeping mobile with your head on a swivel, eyes never leaving your two clients for more than a couple seconds. After a cocktail hour, everyone had sat down for dinner and a round of awards and speeches, leaving you here for a relatively easy period.
You didn’t work alone, no. You were here as part of a group. Part of a company, actually, and it belonged to your father. He ran a security conglomerate which focused heavily on government contracting, ranging from secret service duties, to vehicle brigades, to protection and procurement of goods, virtual and physical, and you knew every single part of it. You loved your job, and you loved working with your dad. For as long as you could remember, you would spend all of your free time in his office with him as he went through schedules, and escape plans, and all sorts of strategies to keep his patrons and their assets safe. You were always flitting around, learning new things, earning you the nickname ‘tweety bird’ from him, which correlated to your codename Redwing.
You’d picked it all up so easily, you were a natural, which earned you your first presidential-adjacent gig much younger than anyone else around. Sure, it started as you going to school and posing as another student to protect the president’s son, even thought you were a few years out already, which wasn’t necessarily glamorous, since you were meant to fly under the radar, but it was an independent job. One that was coming to a close, though, as this was your eighth year of doing the same. Soon, the president would be out of office, and the security detail on his family would be greatly reduced, likely no longer requiring your services.
Even as you let your mind wander, blocking out the droning speeches and rich people backstories, you remained on high alert. If anything bad was going to happen, you had a feeling it would be at an event like this one. An event where everyone had their guard down because it was for a universally agreeable good cause. But for some reason, heading into it tonight, something was churning in your gut.
After not being able to ignore the way your stomach twisted and turned, you had gone to speak to your father about tonight, requesting backup in addition to your other two friends, Natasha and Daisy, who often accompanied you to guard shifts associated with larger crowds.
Usually he was on the same page as you, but lately, your requests had been met with more protest, likely due to your little brother’s input buzzing in your father’s ear.
Your brother, Dylan, had just freshly turned eighteen, and with it came more responsibility in the agency. For being so much younger than you, your father was giving him mountains of control, including this event of your two most important clients. With your request of a team came the the caveat that your brother would be leading it.
Dylan was, to put it nicely, an oaf? Incapable of performing a task without crashing and burning, which made your blood boil. Probably from the fires he created and you subsequently had to put out. You had no room to complain, though, as your father dismissed you from his office.
So Dylan ‘led’ your team this evening, packed with his twerp friends who were more capable, but just as reckless as him. They’d listen to some of your orders, but not without the confirmation of your brother, who knew better enough sometimes to listen to your input.
You let him think he was in the lead tonight, executing a plan you had essentially spoon fed to him in your meetings leading up to the event. There were several backup plans and exit strategies that had their own code names, made by you, of course. All Dylan, or ‘The Chief,’ as he liked to go as over coms, had to do was keep an eye out on the cameras for any suspicious activity around the venue, and be prepared to drive away if he called for extraction due to suspicious activity. That was it. You and your two trusty companions would take control of everything inside the banquet, while two of Dylan’s friends surveilled the outside. Should be easy, right?
Dylan had been instructed to give an update through your earpiece every three minutes, on any action seen in the camera footage. Every time he did, though, it was accompanied by music blasting in the car, and the increments kept getting further and further apart. Almost like he was forgetting about his responsibilities and the importance of this event on your shoulders, should something go wrong. You rolled your eyes and kept a watch of the room. If you had such little backup, it was on you now to do this job, without the team you had specifically requested.
Dylan’s friends seemed to go quiet, too, which you were hoping wasn’t due to capture or something worse, but when you heard conversation about a fantasy football draft in your ear, you knew they were at least alive, although not helpful at all.
You were sick of running blind, though, so you casually made it look like your were scratching your ear and turned away from the crowd.
“Chief, status report.” Nothing. You waited thirty seconds. Silence.
You turned back to the room, the gnawing feeling in your stomach growing as you looked out at the crowd. Natasha, code name Widow, was making her way around with a tray of champagne flutes. Daisy, codename Blossom, sat in a vent somewhere, watching from above and monitoring everyone’s trackers. The three of you sighed and continued on, hoping this night wouldn’t be every eventful, but that’s never how life goes, is it?
“Blossom, report on coms. Is everything working?”
You waited a second for the response.
“All is good, Redwing. It’s a human, not technology error.”
You rolled your eyes for the thousandth time that night, but were pulled out of your annoyance by a searing sound. In the next moment, just as you were about to ask for any other possible news from Daisy, a crackling took over your ear.
You fought the urge to wince and draw attention to yourself. It was probably Dylan finally getting back to you, but the voice that came through was one you’d never heard before. It was low and urgent.
“Get them out of there.”
You couldn’t help the way your eyes went wide and you whisper yelled, turning into the fake plant you found yourself nearby.
“Who is this? This is a secure line! What’s going on?”
You were surprised by the warning firmness of the speaker, it was menacing, who did this person think they were? Was that a threat?
“This is Bootleg. Your clients are in danger. What’s about to happen isn’t meant for them. Find a way to get them to leave.”
You sighed and nodded, although the disembodied voice named ‘Bootleg’ wasn’t reassuring. You knew to never turn down a tip, though. You weren’t going to risk it with clients like this. So you let out a sigh and made eye contact with Nat across the room.
“Execute plan beta sixteen alpha.”
She gave you a curt nod and increased her pace in a way only someone with your type of training could pick up. She was circling to make her movements seem undetectable, but she was ultimately going towards the First Lady and her son. Nat tripped, spilling the tray of champagne on their laps, causing them to gasp and look down. You could tell they were ready to yell, but they looked to your face and you nodded, signaling them to get up, brushing away anyone with apologies or offers for help, saying they were just going to clean up. The rest of the rich party goers didn’t pay it a second thought besides whispers of clumsy waitstaff. It’s not like they would bother to remember the face of one of them, though, and were too busy watching a fumbling Nat to see your approach to take your clients out of the venue. You did your best to move slowly to the same exit as them, and as soon as your bodies were behind the closed ballroom door, you were rushing them towards the back service door to get in Dylan’s getaway vehicle.
You ducked their heads under your arms as you rushed them out, and shoved them into the back of the town car, only giving a quick, breathless word to your clients and your brother.
“Take them home, Dyl. Fast. Don’t let yourself get tracked. I’ll take the decoy car. Go, now!”
He nodded like a bobble head, shifting the car in gear and peeling out of the lot as you jogged over to the other vehicle where Daisy and Nat were already waiting in the front seat for you. They moved fast.
You hopped in, Daisy expertly backing out until she hit the street. Just as she put it in drive, you flinched at a sudden noise and looked out the back window to where an explosion happened in front of the venue and soldiers dressed in all black rushed in through the cloud of smoke. This would definitely hit the news tomorrow, but you were sure your father would commend you for the safe delivery of two of his most important packages.
Daisy and Nat had been by your side for as long a you could remember. When you were in elementary school, you remembered a brooding girl sitting at the end of the lunch table, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, with the angriest pout you’d ever seen. You walked over and plopped down with your tray.
“Hi.”
She looked up from her meal and to your smile and simply gave a blink of acknowledgment, face unchanging.
“Are you okay? Something wrong with your lunch?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath, sitting up to eat a tater tot.
“No. Something’s wrong with my shirt.”
You tilted your head to the side. “What about it? I think it’s beautiful. I love Daisies.”
She shrugged and continued to pick through her food. “Yeah, I guess they’re alright. But my mom forced me to wear this. I had a plain black shirt picked out and she gave me this. I don’t wanna wear daisies.”
You giggled and looked down at the plain black shirt on your body. “Trade?”
For the first time, you watched the corner of her lip reach a smile, your new friend who would soon earn the shirt flower as a nickname. That little grin was huge compared to the tight line her lip previously held. That was the start of a bunch of mini smirks and teamwork.
Nat had been around since you were in diapers. Her parents had worked for your father’s organization their entire lives, so when they passed as she was in her teens, your family took her in.
She was always incredibly smart, her wit challenging you and Daisy, but the two of you would hit her right back. The timeline of her moving in with you, too, was a few years before the presidential gig started, but she rose through the ranks with you, through every single job, the two of you bringing Daisy on board who caught on quickly. Your grouping was nearly unrivaled. Nearly.
Daisy and Nat physically stood by your sides as the three of you looked on to your father talking on a podium. Your best suits were pressed and tailored perfectly for the special occasion. It was his retirement party in your family’s backyard garden where he was noting the successes of the company under him, including the recent incident from which the two important clients had been saved.
The three of you lightly nudged each other’s arms in commendation for the quick act despite your lack of backup, a small smile on your face, a smirk on Nat’s, with Daisy looking as composed and stoic as ever. You father continued in his speech, noting the valiant effort that needs to be maintained in a generational business like this, one that should be rewarded and carried on for the generations to come. You stood straight, chin up with pride at your hard work and dedication finally paying off.
“I was a young pup, only in my early twenties when I took this business over from my father. He deemed me most fit for the job, so it is my pleasure to do the same, keeping this line of work led by my family. I’d like to name my replacement, someone who valiantly saved the president’s son and wife. Someone who the son has raved about for returning them home to the White House safely. My wonderful child…”
You were ready for the culmination of years being under his wing. He gestured his arm out to the side and you braced yourself for the good news, except the arm wasn’t outstretched towards you. It was directed towards the other side of the stage and everyone’s eyes followed. “Dylan.”
Dylan was jerkily shoved forward by one of his friends, having been zoned out for the entirety of your father’s speech, but at the sound of cheering and clapping, a smile grew on his face. He waved at the crowd, walking over to the podium to shake your father’s hand and give a word of his own.
Meanwhile, your face fell. It was dragged downward in defeat. You quickly pulled yourself together, though, at a squeeze to your arm. You couldn’t even tell which side it came from. Your body was going numb. Shifting to plant your feet and fighting the burn in your eyes, you looked straight forward, no longer at the podium, although you had no way to shut off your ears.
“Wow, wow. Thank you. This is such an honor. At eighteen years old, I will be the youngest to ever run this organization.”
It seemed like he’s was at least doing well and presenting a strong face. That was rare.
“Haha, I beat ya, gramps! Okay, let’s party!”
You outwardly cringed, but your legs were paralyzed as his friends let out a whooping cheer and the party erupted in confetti. It was getting caught in your hair as Nat and Daisy dragged you away and inside, up the stairs to your childhood bedroom, jostling you like a rag doll. You felt almost catatonic.
As soon as you flopped down on your bed, though, you turned over and screamed into your pillow before sitting up, realizing this act of melodrama was going to wrinkle your suit.
You sat up and sniffled, rubbing your eyes and taking a deep breath to give yourself just a moment to think. You looked between your best friends and started pointing.
“Daise, can you pack up anything you think I might need from here? Whatever I can’t live without.”
You then looked to the redhead who was peeking out the window, watching your father enter the outdoor entrance of his home office.
“Nat, can you gather some home essentials? Food, first aid, some of the hidden and spare weapons. Only the ones they won’t sense are missing, okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. We better do it quick. Your pops just came in.”
You bit your lip and your nostrils flared in anger and thought, rubbing your hands over your face. “Okay. That’s fine, I need to talk to him anyway. That should give you enough time to grab everything. Then we’re heading back to the apartment to get some essentials.”
The three of you were roommates in the city, renting out a place Daisy’s distant uncle owned, which allowed you some freedoms, as well as independence from the possible tracing of your location on government records. Even under a security conglomerate, you could sense things were going downhill, so it was a good choice to move out and detach yourself. At this point, you were barely traceable. Only one thing tethered you here on a paper trail: the company.
You stormed out of your room and down the stairs to the hall that held your father’s office. You were furious. You had no patience left for formality or kindness, this was all rage. You kicked in the strong oak door, splintering the wooden frame, and were met with the view of your father and brother clinking whiskey glasses, an old celebratory reserve poured in them.
You stomped over to the filing cabinets where your file, thick as a novel, was stored. Next to it, you pulled out two more, no less impressive. Your dad, even though he possessed several methods for tech security, still kept employee information on paper in case he accidentally hired a mole. Everything was under lock and key and 24 hour surveillance.
You dug around in the left side drawer of his desk until you found the cigar lighter, hitting the edge of the folders until they caught and throwing them into his metal trash can. It was only then that he and your brother let words come out of their dropped jaws and awestruck faces.
“Tweety Bird, what’s the issue, kiddo? Didn’t wanna celebrate with your old man and little brother?”
You scoffed as you put your hands on your hips.
“Celebrate!? Celebrate what!? Being snubbed? Overlooked for something I’ve dedicated my life towards!?”
Your father’s bushy brows furrowed in confusion, your brother’s face mirroring it in a mini version. “What do you mean? You haven’t been snubbed. Dylan and I agree you’re meant to run teams and operations. You wouldn’t want to be in charge. Plus, it’s tradition that the first son takes over.”
You threw your hands up in exasperation. Smoke was filling the room, but partially getting swept out the cracked windows that pointed toward the back yard. “You didn’t think to ask me, the one keeping your business afloat, to run it!? No one knows it better than me, but it’s so ridiculous. Just because I’m an older sister like Aunt Kay, doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be in charge! She wanted to leave this life, but I don’t!”
You heard a chuckle rise behind you. “What, Dylan?”
He shrugged with a smug smile on his face. “Aunt Kay didn’t want to leave this life. She wanted the company, too. But Gramps gave it to dad. That’s why she fucked off to who knows where and started that bank vault company.”
You gasped in shock and looked to your father but he seemed unaffected. You turned to him now, disgusted with the sight of your little brother. “What!? Do you hear yourself right now!? Just because we aren’t men!? That’s insane!! I’m the one who saved the president’s family. Not Dylan, me! He was too busy sitting on his ass and picking his nose to be of any help. Maybe we would’ve seen the team coming to attack the venue sooner if he would’ve done his job!”
Your chest was heaving and your face was warm from the yelling. Your father still calmly continued. “Dylan returned the family safe and sound. You were nowhere to be seen. He deserves this step of responsibility, but I have no doubt you can guide him like an invisible hand.”
You shook your head, moving back towards the door between the leather couches of the sitting area, pacing on the Persian rug. “No, no. Absolutely not. I refuse to keep performing thankless service. You’ve made a mistake. I no longer want to work for you and I no longer want to be a part of this family. This whole thing is fucked. I’m out.”
Your father sighed, about to speak up. “Bird, we-“
He was cut off by the arm of your brother, though. “No, dad. If she wants to leave, I think she should. I don’t want anyone here questioning my leadership. The president’s son will back me on that. He’s upset the extraction ruined a designer suit and thinks that I’m the best fit, too. I can run this without her.”
Your dad gave a hmph of affirmation, which sent you over the edge. After all those years of service, both your father and the president’s son still didn’t credit your work. You couldn’t stand this anymore, especially not when Dylan was fabricating lies in his own head about the greatness you performed.
“You know what, Dyl? Yeah, let’s have it your way. You guys will never need to see me again. Good luck not running this thing into the ground.”
You turned on your heel and marched out the door. When you turned the corner, you saw both Nat and Daisy waiting for you, double fisting duffel bags. You motioned for both of them to head to Nat’s car, walking quickly, but they were more than capable of keeping up. You heard Daisy speak from over your left shoulder.
“Bird, where are we going?”
As you barged through the glass front door and put on your sunglasses, you took a breath in of the air that marked your new life, outside the stuffy patriarchy of what you thought would be your legacy.
“Somewhere far. And don’t ever call me that again.”
Next >
Bonus A/N: Bruh, could you imagine being betrayed by your own father like that? Also, we’ll be seeing more of Daisy as the reader for Jake’s storyline in the future.
Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly
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