#but then she got away with it because the war was about to start and they were like fine we'll let you be the military leader again

[goodkushnalchohol]

OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC ‧₊˚ੈ joaquin torres x fem!reader. fluff / suggestive? / you’re an avenger / after endgame / sam and bucky trio / intentional use of lowercase / not proofread

the blip wasn’t good for anyone really, except joaquin torres. yeah, of course he lost some friends and family but the outcome of it was pretty good for him. he became lieutenant in the air force, befriended sam wilson, and got awfully close to being the falcon - yet sam wouldn’t admit it.

even since before the snap, he had deeply admired the avengers, which included sam, bucky, and you, but he would never tell his friends which person he admired more.

you briefly met once in the compound for sam’s birthday party and he was surprisingly shocked at your skill in playing poker. that evening he left with an ache in his stomach and a yearn in his heart for a woman he didn’t even talk to. he threw silent curses at wanda in his head for keeping you at her side the whole night.

and though he kept silent about it to avoid getting laughed at by sam, his friend could tell he had taken a liking towards you - his stares were quite obvious.

the second time he saw you was at your very own promotion ceremony, you had been given the spot of being the presidents first man in the air, meaning you were sent on high risk air missions at the presidents command. which took a lot of work to accomplish, and was one of the many reasons why joaquin took an interest in you.

in his head you were the perfect pair. two highly trained pilots both at high ranks in the air force, you were practically made for each other. and when sam called you in to help with a mission that seemed too big for just captain america and the falcon, he realised there was so much more to you beneath your skin.

it was eight am on the dot when you arrived in the compound, the sun was shining brightly down on you as you walked, the sound of your boots hitting the pavement echoed with each step. right now, in your eyes, this was a simple mission sam needed help on - nothing extraordinary.

but you were blissfully unaware of who watched you take your strides from the upper levels of the building.

‘oh my god there she is! she’s getting so close i’m so nerv-‘

joaquin’s face was pressed to the glass wall of the common area, where he eagerly watched as you neared the entrance of the building. ‘she’s gonna see you if you keep staring like that, and that won’t be a good real first impression.’ sam spoke with humour in his tone, clearly teasing the boy.

‘how is she gonna see me if im all the way up here huh?’

‘you do know she was an avenger right? she can more than likely sense someone staring at her, that someone being you.” sam poked a finger in the tan man’s chest, who had finally pulled away from the window and approached sam.

he scoffed at sam, and felt a pang of anxiety in his chest when his friend uttered those words. ‘well jokes on you, because i was a stealth pilot!’ he said, gesturing to the air force logo on his shirt with a smirk

‘so was she.’

sam patted his friend on the back, laughing as he did so. ‘for someone so skilled in tech, you are so dumb with words.’

the door to the room buzzed as it opened, allowing your entrances to be known. your eyes immediately found sam’s, the two of you breaking into giddy grins after in so long.

‘good morning cap.’ your voice was dangerously sly, sarcasm lacing your lips as you joked.

‘now don’t you dare start talking to me like a 1960s war veteran.’

you both laughed, bringing each other into tight hugs once you finally reached one another. you pulled away, eyes meeting with another young man behind sam. you smiled cheekily, watching as the he stumbled over his introduction.

‘good morning lieutenant or um - ma’am - y/n, it’s uh, nice to meet you officially.’ he gave an awkward grin as he shook your hand, glancing at sam briefly with embarrassment in his eyes.

‘ugh don’t start with that official bullshit, call me y/n.’

sam chuckled at his teammate, finding his new behaviour funny. ‘y/n i want you to meet my newest recruit, joaquin torres.’ he couldn’t have been much younger than you, maybe a year or so behind you in flight training.

you smiled at the fondness in his eyes, remembering how he once introduced you to bucky and steve the same way before the blip, back then you were the new recruit, who received all the snarky jokes and comments.

‘looks like you’ve finally passed on the bird suit, i am so not gonna miss red wing.

the two men shook their heads laughing, well aware of your feelings around the drone. ‘uh no way, i still got him on my new suit, you’re never getting rid of him. i never understood why you and nat don’t like him.’

you raised your hands in mock defence, chucking to yourself. ‘it’s like an insect following you around in fights, it’s annoying.’ joaquin and sam exchanged glances, tutting at your words. ‘hey i love red wing, just so you know.’ joaquin butted in, that boy really wanted you like him, but he can’t stand red wing slander.

‘suck up.’

his head spun to face you, a hurt expression etched on his features. ‘alright alright, why don’t we go to my office and review the mission.’ sam waved his hand dismissively, brushing off your comment towards joaquin.

‘can’t have you two having a brawl before we even get started.’

after you gathered in sam’s office to discuss the missions rules, actions and procedures, you eventually noticed how skilled joaquin was in his work, and how he looked more than happy to obey sam’s orders. he seemed to be the perfect fit for sam since bucky went askew to become congressman, maybe - just maybe, you could stick around to fill the space you were previously in.

you were currently laid on the large leather couch in the room, and was researching more about adamantium when sam suddenly left, claimed he had samples he needed to check on, leaving you and joaquin alone in his office.

the silence was peaceful, and you were content to work alone, joaquin on the other hand, was not. the poor man who was given the task of getting more information on the buyer was clawing his eyeballs out as he stared at his computer screen. he wanted to talk to you so badly, but he was just so nervous of seeming uncool that he didn’t know what to say.

luckily for him, you were the one who broke the silence.

‘i saw you staring at me from the window by the way, i couldn’t tell if you wanted me to notice or not.’ he groaned into his hands with embarrassment, sam was right. as always.

you peered at him from the top of your computer, laughing at his weird antics. ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t want to come off as annoying and i think your really cool - because you were an avenger and stuff -‘ not for any other reason. ‘and i was eager to meet you.’

a small smile broke out on your face from his sheepish confession, and you put your computer to the side. you soon found yourself in a deep conversation about the avengers, talking about who you thought was the strongest or funniest or overall best.

‘no way you think tony was the coolest! it’s obviously steve!’

‘absolutely not. you’re only saying that because you’re captain americas sidekick, iron man is way cooler than cap and tony is also cooler than steve. there’s no denying it!’

your efforts to defend tony went through deaf ears as joaquin explained why steve was the best choice. ‘let’s just agree to disagree, alright?’ the man finally stopped his endless rant about steve rogers and eventually agreed to finish.

he sighed softly, pondering more questions to ask you. ‘oh! who actually makes the best jokes. 3..2..1..go!’

‘thor!’

‘thor!’

you jumped up in joy as you finally agreed on something, the both of you laughing as you simultaneously said your answers. the atmosphere was radiant now, with the two of you comfortably talking about this random topic.

‘y’know you’re actually a pretty funny guy, even though i’ve only known you a couple hours.’ you said quietly, as you stared at his side profile. he was also pretty handsome too, but you weren’t gonna tell him that. not yet anyway.

joaquin felt his ego inflate at your words, and the tips of his ears redden, and he only prayed you didn’t notice it. he left his spot at the desk a while ago and was now sat beside you on the couch, with your laptop forgotten about on the coffee table.

you two had also gotten closer with all the jumping and moving about you did, so now you’re placed directly infront of him with your hands on his knees which were almost tucked to his chest.

‘well you’re actually better than what everyone made you out to be.’ he admitted yet still in a taunting tone.

you raised a brow at his comment, curious about how others talk about you. ‘oh? how so?’ your response came out slowly, questioning his words.

he shook his head bashfully, while thinking about what to say. ‘i don’t know how to say it, i guess you’re just.. perfect.’ you laughed at his wording, trying to bring your hopes back down because there was no way he thought that highly of you.

‘you really think so?’

he hadn’t realised the true meaning behind his sentence until you said that, but he did infact mean it. he really did think you were perfect. his breath caught in his throat as he looked in your eyes, nodding as a reply. he really hoped you didn’t notice his face heating up.

‘yeah.’

he reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, lightly caressing your jaw as he did so. the two of you leaned in, getting closer as you nearly met in the middle. he was right there, if either of you moved an inch you would -

‘cmon guys, we gotta head to this base to get some samples and away from all distractions’ sam bursted through the door, gathering his bag and suit as he walked in. he was loud and authoritative, and real glad he put a stop to whatever you were about to do.

you leapt from your seat on the couch, slightly embarrassed at what you were doing. ‘i’ll get my gear from my car and meet you guys in the parking lot.’

once you left the room and left the two men in silence, they both stared at each other in annoyance and disbelief.

‘man i cannot believe you did that.’

‘i can’t believe you did that! i was so close!’ joaquin threw his hands in the air, bothered by his friend’s interruption. sam shook his head at the dark haired man, acting like a single father trying to parent his teenager.

‘is this why you were overly enthusiastic about her joining us?’

©veluques - pls do not copy/post my works on any other platforms!!

[emeraldserenade]

Connections ~ Joaquin Torres

synopsis: you and Joaquin keep meeting, yet you never seem to get his number. Not until someone pushes you together.

tw: limited use of y/n, someone tries to wear white to reader's sister's wedding, reader was a sharp shooter, violence, reader only briefly talks about their dead dog, reader gets hurt and goes into surgery, possible spoilers for cabnw, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

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It was at the hospital when you first met Joaquin Torres, he was being released and you were visiting your brother. Joaquin was by himself when you met him, waiting to be pick up.

"Hey, you're the new Falcon, right?" You asked, stopping only a few steps away from him.

"Uh, yeah, I am," he nodded and you smiled at him.

"Cool," you nodded before hesitating. "Thanks for what you did at Celestial Island, you saved my father from having to go back to a war zone," you told him, eyes shining from unshed tears. Joaquin did have time to answer you before you were ushered inside by your mother.

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The next time you met Joaquin was in a bookstore, he saw you first. He remembered you, how you recognized and thanked him. He wanted to tell you how much that had meant to him but got nervous. That changed, however, when you looked up from the book you were looking at and made eye contact with him.

"Hey, I don't know if you remember me but," you stopped talking when you realized you had started talking at the same time as Joaquin.

"No, I remember you. You're the girl from the hospital," he offered and you smiled.

"Yeah that's me," you laughed gently and pushed some hair behind your ear. "I'm y/n by the way," you told him.

"Joaquin Torres," he offered his name and hand. You took the latter for a handshake.

"Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Joaquin," you smiled at him before leaving. Joaquin cursing himself for not getting your number.

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The third time you met Joaquin was at your sister's wedding. You were the Maid of Honor and was tasked with making sure no one was wearing white after you finished getting ready. You greeted people as they walked in, a bottle of red wine hidden in the podium next to you just in case. You should have guessed that Joaquin was Sam Wilson's plus one, but you somehow didn't even think of that. The two walked in and you greeted Sam warmly before turning to Joaquin and greeting him just as warmly.

"You know Sam?" Joaquin had walked up to you a few minutes later, you were still greeting guests.

"Yeah, my sister and his sister have been friends for years," you told Joaquin.

"Did Sam tell you to thank me then?" Joaquin's voice took on a tone that you've never heard before.

"What? No, I haven't seen Sam in months until today," you spun to look at him, eyebrows scrunched together. "Joaquin, I swear, I thanked you because I wanted to," you told him, placing your hand against his arm. Joaquin didn't have a chance to answer before an uproar happened outside. You looked out the door and saw your soon-to-be brother-in-law's girlfriend outside in a wedding dress. "What is she doing here? She's not even invited," you mused to yourself. Joaquin followed you outside, his eyes darting down to the bottle of red wine in your hand.

"Just let me in!" She tried to push past the people around her but you just walked up and brandished the bottle you were holding. She didn't seem to realize but everyone around her did and took a step back. She huffed in amusement before whipping around and coming face to face with you and the bottle of red. You reached forward and tipped the bottle of her head, making sure to use your other hand to hold the bottom of your dress away from the splashes.

"There," you gave her a self satisfied smile and stepped out of the way as she lunged at you.

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It was later at the reception that you and Joaquin got to talk again, your sister, ever the loving person, paid for every bridesmaid to have a reception dress that was shorter and easier to move in. Which is how Joaquin convinced you to dance with him, which you did, for hours. You two were a little out of breath and laughing when you both left the dance floor. You noticed some of your sister's friends staring you two down but thought nothing of it.

"When Sam said he was brining a plus one, part of me was hoping it would be you," you confessed, looking over at Joaquin. He smiled but was interrupted by one of your sister's more brazen friends.

"Hey, handsome, do you want an escape from my friend's boring little sister? We can go dance," She was touching his shoulders, back, and chest as she spoke and you couldn't help but think about how if the roles were reversed it wouldn't even be ok.

"Oh, no thank you, I'm good here," Joaquin gave her a smile but she wasn't backing down.

"Are you sure? You don't have to be nice to her, I never was," she tried to whisper the last part as if it were a secret, but the alcohol she had been drinking wasn't helping her. Joaquin was saved from answering when the girl's boyfriend walked over, the two started fighting a few steps away and you made bewildered eye contact with Joaquin before you both started laughing.

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The fourth time you met Joaquin, you were helping him and Sam with a mission. You were, as someone you can't remember once said, the 'guy' in the chair. You weren't as good a Joaquin at computers but you knew your way around.

"Uh, Sam, you might want to move," you told him.

"Why?" He questioned, he was on a roof of a nearby building.

"You've got company coming up the stairs," you told him, watching as more started to go up the stairs of the building Joaquin was on too. "Joaquin, move now," you told him, desperate as you watched both boys get into fights. You called in backup, getting people there would take time, time the boys did not have. "Shit," you cursed and looked around the room you were in and spotted a sniper rifle. You got up and grabbed it, sprinting to the stairwell of the building you were in and up that stairs.

"y/n, are you there? We need backup, send people in!" You heard Sam yell through the comms.

"I did, they should be here in like 15 minutes," you told him, getting to the right spot to take aim at the building Joaquin was on. He needed your help more than Sam. You shot them down, none of them were wearing helmets or leg protection. That's where you aimed, you watched Joaquin look around for the person who was helping him but you didn't have time to wave at him. You moved your sights and aim to help Sam, shooting down the people he was having trouble with.

"I thought you said they wouldn't be here for 15 minutes," Sam panted into his comm. You stood up straight and looked directly over to Sam as you set the gun down.

"I was an FBI sharp shooter, did you forget?" You waved over to Joaquin as he flew back to the building, Sam not far behind.

"Yeah, I did," Sam admitted and you shook your head. The three of you started back down the stairs, Sam leading the way. Joaquin lagged a little behind with you.

"You were a sharp shooter?" Joaquin looked over at you as you two walked down the stairs side by side.

"Yeah, I quit after a job gone wrong," you sighed, shuddering as you remembered accidentally hitting a little girl after just following orders.

"What do you do now?" Joaquin asked.

"Oh, right now, nothing. I was helping out at the VA with Sam for a while after I got back but then I moved farther than I wanted to travel everyday. I still go and help every now and again, but not as often as I'd like," you admitted, walking back into the room you three had been holed up in.

"We probably need to move," Sam told you two and you nodded.

"I can get us in a hotel, I have a card that isn't in my name," you told Sam and he slowly nodded.

"Why do you have a credit card not in your name?" Same questioned.

"First off, it's a debit card, I am not putting someone into credit card debit. Secondly, I was given it after I helped this old rich man. He just handed me the card and a paper with the information and told me he would put money on it monthly," you explained, crossing your arms.

"A old man just gave you his debit card?" Sam looked at you with an incredulous look as you three started packing up the room.

"I mean, yeah. It's not like he was a complete stranger, he knows my dad," you shrugged.

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The fifth time you met Joaquin was the same day, when you had to tell the two that there was only one room left.

"Hey, so, I have some not great news," you announced as you walked up to the other two.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"There's only one room," you cringed at Sam's annoyed face. "There's two beds and a couch," you told them and watched Sam relax a little.

You three walked into the room and you didn't even voice your decision before you hurried over to the couch.

"Uh, no. y/n you get a bed," Sam tried to argue with you but you gave him a pointed look.

"You're Captain America now, you need a bed. And Joaquin don't you even dare try and argue with me," you looked over at your shoulder at the boy you addressed.

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You shifted on the couch again before sitting up and looking over at the door, you had wanted to leave but didn't know how heavy of a sleeper Joaquin is. You knew Sam could sleep through just about anything. You sighed and got up, slipping on one of the slippers the hotel provided for you all.

"Can't sleep?" You jumped at Joaquin's voice, slapping your hand over your chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he raised his hands up in surrender.

"No, it's ok," you sighed, calming your heartbeat. "And no, I can't. I don't get how Sam can sleep anywhere," you mused. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I couldn't sleep either," he told you and you nodded at him. "I'm not used to sleeping without another body in my bed," he told you and you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Really?" You teased and he backtracked a little.

"I have a dog, he lays in bed with me until I fall asleep," Joaquin told you and you laughed gently.

"I get that, I'm not used to being alone while I fall asleep either. My dog passed a few months ago and I'm still getting used to it," you admitted. You two stood in silence for a while before Joaquin broke it.

"Want to share the bed? That way both of us might be able to sleep," Joaquin offered and you thought about it.

"Sure," you and Joaquin walked in and both laid down on his bed. You two fell asleep and awoke in the morning to Sam taking pictures of you two cuddling, claiming he would be keeping them for your future wedding.

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The final time you met Joaquin was after the mission. You had gotten hurt while helping them, the others got smart about you being on another roof and taking them down. You were now in the hospital after your surgery, it wasn't major. You woke up to Joaquin in the chair next to your bed, it was clear he was in a state of disarray.

"Hey," you gently squeezed the hand that was gently resting in yours.

"Querida, you're awake," Joaquin shot up straight.

"Yeah, I am," you told him, letting him roam his eyes over you and rub the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I," Joaquin started to talk but cut himself off. "Sam told me that you like me and that I should just ask you out, so would you like to go on a date with me?" Joaquin looked nervous and his thumb stilled on the back of your hand.

"I would love to," you told him, smiling at him as he smiled back. "I do need your number though," you joked, laughing with Joaquin.

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Masterlist | Requests

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii! Can I please request a Steve Rogers x shy!fem reader where back in Avengers Age of Ultron, when the Avengers raided that Hydra facility (where they first ran into Wanda and Pietro) Steve, when sweeping through the place before they left, found one cell that was actually still occupied. He found a young woman there, Y/n curled up on the ground of her cell. She wasn’t there willingly, unlike the twins, she had been abducted by Hydra when she was a kid and experimented on her. She developed disintegration powers, so she can make things disintegrate through a projected beam and touch, their plan was to use her like they used Bucky (luckily she hadn’t been sent on any missions when the Avengers got to her). She’s extremely terrified of Steve and jumpy when he approaches her, having most of her experience with other people be the Hydra doctors and agents that poke and prod at her with needles and hurt her. Also Hydra definitely convinced her that the Avengers would hurt her if they ever found her. She’s also a bit scared of her own powers because she doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s able to get her to trust him and that he won’t hurt her and she agrees to go with the Avengers back to the compound. She won’t speak to anyone else and is still really scared of the rest of the Avengers, Steve is the only one who can get through to her and get her to open up a bit, they both have clear chemistry and have growing feelings. He’s the only person she’ll let touch her at all, and he’s super understanding that she’s still getting used to communicating with other people 🥺 He’d help her train but she’d rarely go on missions, but imagine she goes with them when they run into Rumlow and she stops the bomb from going off because she disintegrates it before it hit the building (so no Sokovia Accords and no Civil War!). Anyways, Steve is SO proud of her and expresses so when they’re back at the compound, and she abruptly kisses him shhs

(She’s embarrassed until he pulls her back in for a deeper kiss🥰🥹)

Not Going To Hurt You » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Female Reader with the Avengers

Summary: HYDRA convinces you that the Avengers would hurt you, but Steve assures you that won’t happen.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (not Steve and you), language, mentions of needles, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the amazingly detailed request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Steve somehow managed to get inside of the HYDRA base after taking down the agents who were outside of the building. He cautiously walked around.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain America.” Strucker says.

Steve sighs and turned around. Strucker was standing a few feet.

“Strucker.” Steve says.

“I was wondering when you and the Avengers would come here and try to take us down.” Strucker says.

“I just go where there’s work to be done.” Steve says.

Strucker chuckles before he explains HYDRA’s plan to Steve. Steve was over the conversation when he started talking. That’s when Steve heard something in a room to the right of him. He looked over to the right to see a door with a lock on it.

“Who or what’s behind that door?” Steve asks.

“It’s nothing.” Strucker answers.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him before knocking him out with his shield. He walked over to the door, breaking the lock and the door handle with his shield. He opened the door to see you in the corner of the room, scared and shaking. Your legs were against your chest and your arms were wrapped around your legs.

“Ma’am?” Steve cautiously entered the room. “Are you ok?” He asks.

You looked up to see Steve standing a couple feet away from you. You recognized him as one of the Avengers. HYDRA told you about them. They also told you that they were hurt you.

“Please- Please don’t hurt me!” You say, stuttering out of fear.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Steve says softly.

Steve crouched down in front of you so he was at eye level with you. You scrambled to move backwards, forgetting that you were already leaning against the wall. He moved backwards a bit, not wanting to scare you any more than you already are.

“Ma’am, it’s ok. Breathe for me.” He says softly.

You stared at Steve for a few seconds before taking deep breaths to get your breathing under control.

“My name is Steve. What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You tell him quietly.

“How long have you been here?” He asks.

“Since I was a kid.” You say.

“Did HYDRA do anything to you?” He asks.

Instead of answering him, you extended your arms out to him, showing him the needle marks all over your arms. Steve gently grasped your arms to get a better look at the scars. You yanked your arms away from him out of habit.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “I do that when people touch me.” You say quietly.

“It’s ok. I understand.” He gives you a soft smile. “Will you let me help you?” He asks.

You shook your head no.

“HYDRA said the Avengers will hurt me.” You said.

“No, we won’t. I promise.” He says softly.

You stared at him for a moment. Something is telling you that Steve is trusting. You nodded, agreeing to let him help you. Steve stood up and walked to the door, waiting for you. You stood up from the cold floor and followed him. Steve informed the Avengers to go to the quinjet.

“Take a seat anywhere you want.” Steve says.

You watched Steve go to a different part of the quinjet to get something. You finally sat down after a few seconds. You put your feet on the seat and wrapped your arms around your legs. Steve came back with a blanket and wrapped it around you. You gave him a small smile as a thank you. Even though, Steve assured you that him and the Avengers aren’t going to hurt you, you aren’t ready to have a full conversation with him, which he understands. All of the Avengers got on the quinjet. They stared at you in confusion when they seen you. You avoided eye contact with them. You felt yourself getting smaller under their gaze.

“I didn’t know this turned into a rescue mission.” Tony says.

“I found her and I’m going to help her.” Steve says.

You were quiet during the whole flight to the Avengers compound. When you got to the compound with Steve and the Avengers, you were scared to go inside of the compound. You weren’t sure if it was safe or not. You stopped and stood at the exit of the quinjet, staring inside of the compound. Steve realized you weren’t walking with him and turned around to see you still standing in the quinjet.

“Is this place safe?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I promise you it’s more than safe.” Steve says softly.

Steve held his hand out for you. You stared at his hand for a few seconds before hesitantly putting your hand in his. You carefully stepped out of the quinjet and Steve led you inside of the compound. Steve took you to a spare bedroom and bathroom for you to get cleaned up and dressed in more comfortable and warmer clothes, which Natasha gave you to wear. Steve came to check on you afterwards. He walked in the bedroom to see you sitting against the headboard with your legs against your chest and your arms wrapped around them.

“Is it ok if I ask you some questions?” Steve asks.

You stared at him silently and nodded your head. He sat down on the bed next to you. You scrambled further away from him out of fear. You mumbled “sorry” to him. He gave you an understanding smile.

“What did HYDRA do to you?” He asks.

“They experimented on me for years and wanted to use me as a weapon. They experimented on me more and never used me as a weapon.” You tell him. “So many needles.” You mumbled to yourself.

“So you have powers?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes.

“What kind of powers do you have?” He asks curiously.

“I can make things disintegrate.” You say.

“What do you mean by they wanted to use you as a weapon?” He asks.

“They wanted to make me like the Winter Soldier.” You tell him. “I never met him though, but they told me a lot about him.” You say.

“I’m sorry you went through all of that. You didn’t deserve any of that. I want to assure you that you’re safe here and we’re not going to hurt you. I completely understand if you’re not ready with trusting any of us yet.” He says.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. Something about Steve is telling you that you can trust him, but you’re not sure yet. You’re willing to give it a try and take it step by step.

“Do you want a tour of the compound?” Steve asks.

You nodded. Steve stood up and walked to the door, opening it. You got off the bed and followed him out of the room. Steve started off with the kitchen and then took you to the gym. You got scared when he showed you the med bay. You stood outside of the med bay, not wanting to go in there cause of the needles and doctors.

“N-No.” You shook your head no.

Your breathing became uneven and your eyes watered. You were scared that Steve was going to take you in the med bay for a different reason. Images of being poked and prodded by HYDRA flashed in your mind.

“Please- Please don’t take me in there.” You say in a shaky voice.

Steve felt bad for showing you the med bay and skipped over it.

“Hey, it’s ok. Breathe for me.” Steve coos. “We won’t go in there. I’ll show you something else.” He says softly.

You nodded and got your breathing under control. You yelped and jumped when Jarvis started talking.

“Captain Rogers, you’re needed in the lounge room.” Jarvis says.

Steve went to the lounge room to see what he was needed for. You followed him. All of the Avengers were in there. They stared at you as you walked in the room. You hid behind Steve to avoid their gazes.

“Jarvis said you guys needed me.” Steve says.

“Yes, but we think it would be better if she wasn’t in here for it.” Natasha says, trying to sound nice as possible.

You frowned. Steve turned around to face you.

“Could you give us a moment please?” Steve asks softly.

You nodded and left the room, going back to your room.

“Why is she even here?” Tony asks.

“She’s here, because I want to help her.” Steve said. “I told you guys that earlier.” He says.

“How can you help her if she doesn’t talk to you?” Natasha asks.

“She talks a little bit. She just has a hard time trusting people. Just give her some time and you guys will see the progress she makes.” He says.

The Avengers sighed and agreed to give you a chance.

Over the next few weeks, you started talking to Steve a little more and began trusting him. Your instincts keep telling you that Steve is a very trusting person. You’re still not sure about trust the rest of the Avengers, but you’re trying to. You don’t talk to them either. When they talk to you, they don’t expect you to answer them. You nod your head and smile when they’re talking to you.

Steve has been helping you train. You’ll only train with him and no one else. He helped you control your powers and helped you use them the right way, instead of using them the way HYDRA told you to use them. He has also showed you a few moves of his own for fun. You rarely go on missions though. If you’re being honest, you like spending time with Steve. He makes training fun.

You also started to have feelings for him. In a way, it feels different to you, because you’ve never felt this way for anyone before you started trusting Steve. For now, you’re going to keep those feelings you have for Steve to yourself.

———

“Where are we again?” You whispered to Steve.

“Lagos. There’s a former HYDRA agent here and he’s going to do something he shouldn’t do.” Steve explains.

“Oh ok.” You say.

You and Steve were hiding out in a building while Sam was on top of the building keeping an eye out and Wanda and Natasha were trying to blend in with everyone else.

“Do you remember the plan?” He asks.

“Find somewhere safe to hide and come out of my hiding place when you say my name.” You say.

“Good.” He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He says.

You blushed when he kisses your forehead. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda were doing their parts of the mission while you were in your safe hiding spot. You had your head poked out of your hiding spot so you could see what was happening. You seen Steve walking towards a guy who was on the ground. He grabbed his tactical vest, pulling him up from the ground.

“You know he knew you. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky. I was there.” Brock tells Steve.

Steve’s jaw clenched when Brock mentioned Bucky.

“Y/N!” Steve says loudly.

You came out of your hiding place and ran over to Steve.

“Stay next to me.” He says softly.

You nodded and patiently waited for him to give you orders. Brock had some kind of remote in his hand that was the button to the bomb that was strapped to him. Wanda used her powers to get the bomb off of him and held it in the air.

“Y/N, now!” Steve tells you.

You held your hands up and disintegrated the bomb before it exploded. It went into pieces without an explosion. You smiled to yourself, proud that you were able to use your powers for something good.

You got praised for your amazing work on the way back to the compound. Everyone gave you hugs. It made you feel good.

“You keep training and keep up the amazing work, you might be able to go on more missions.” Steve says.

“Really?” You asked with a smile.

“Yes.” He says with a smile.

Instead of hugging him, you grabbed his face and kissed him. Steve was caught by surprise, but didn’t mind it one bit. It took you a couple seconds to realize that you were kissing him and pulled away. Your face was red with embarrassment.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” You apologized quickly. “I meant to hug you and then I did that!” You say

“Honestly, I’m happy that you kissed me.” Steve admits.

“Wha-” Steve kissed you before you could get one word out.

You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back. Your hands grasped the fabric of his mission suit, clutching it in your hands. Your lips moved in sync with his. Both of you could feel the love in the kiss. The kiss left both of you breathless when Steve pulled away.

“I like you!” You blurted out.

“I like you too.” Steve smiles.

“You do?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes. I have for a while.” He says.

You smiled and pecked his lips softly.

“I want to take you out on a date, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He says.

“I don’t mind, but I want to take things slow if that’s ok with you.” You say.

“That’s more than ok with me.” He almost whispers. “Do you want to go on a date this weekend?” He asks.

“I would love that.” You say with a smile.

Steve smiles and pecked your lips softly.

“Let get cleaned up, changed, and we can talk about where we should go on our date.” Steve says softly with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan.” You smiled back.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[callmrmorrow]

to make up for my last post, here’s what i think the invincible characters would do as content creators

mark grayson/invincible: comic book channel who analyzes and breaks down different in-world comics, particularly seance dog. very critical. has those really dumb cheesy thumbnails of his jaw hanging while he points at the new issue in blatant shock. is on youtube. think star wars theory but with less alt-right pipeline bs. has a somewhat decent following

nolan grayson/omniman: this motherfucker hates social media and thinks it is one of the most moronic things to come out of humanity. has a twitter account to post about his books, only follows his wife and son (maybe his publisher) but doesn’t like mark’s tweets bc they’re mostly complaining, flaming, or talking about comic books (average male teen activities)

debbie grayson: house hunters for superheroes, or maybe closer to selling sunset with the entire company? could sell you a house with two murder victims on the floor ten feet away from you. if it’s something like selling sunset, she’s definitely the most popular with the fans because she’s super humble, competent, and shockingly compassionate on the camera. has a couple superfans who are largely middle-aged men and the occasional teenage girl (she has to manually block them on nolan’s phone; i imagine he’s not insecure but maybe a bit possessive)

amber bennett: probably runs a tiktok account on social justice topics. might have a tumblr or some other online blog where she breaks down current events and shares petitions for world betterment. anything but performative, frequently starts or attends protests for various causes. insanely well-spoken, lots of posts about her work at the soup kitchen, and you just know she donates money to everyone who pops up on her feed. such a good person it almost makes you feel like you’re not doing enough (and that’s lowkey the point).

eve wilkins/atom eve: science tutoring on youtube. faceless, think like khan academy, but has voiceovers. covers simple to super advanced stuff in a very understandable format that made her super popular. its some shit like “atomswitheve,” and it’s wildly popular but she literally never talks about it #humblequeen. while she and rex were dating, she let him edit a video and came back to like six explosions superimposed over chemical formulas.

the immortal: fucking history channel but it’s all about things he’s actually experienced, but nobody fucking believes him. voiceovers a slideshow of images. incredibly boring, comments are full of people saying “source” and he replies “I was there.” but again… no one believes him. a couple college professors cite his videos for historical inaccuracy — and they are inaccurate because immortal has an ego, but his content is actually closer than other firsthand accounts because he survived most of the stuff (and remembers it well).

oliver grayson: debbie screens his online time so he doesn’t go all ultron (we all know this motherfucker has little care for human life). mostly posts skating stuff or gaming clips that aren’t particularly good. does not get much traction but mark is always in his comments hyping him up, but he’s always wrong about what tricks oliver performs; it’s become a habit for oliver to march up to mark and say “this was actually a nollie inward heelflip you MORON”

rex splode: runs his own fan account that has like 7 posts of the druski dance with himself and captions like “yes i’m rex splode, yes i’m the best guardian, yes i bagged atom eve, yes i can defeat omni man, did i mention i can defeat omni man?” relatively popular. does tiktok live reactions of WWE fights — since he’s not wearing his costume, no one knows who he is — or anything else that his viewers submit. got cancelled twice but nobody seems to care, least of all him.

shrinking rae: runs a youtube account that is like… emulating one of those “day in the life of a [insert occupation] student” videos where she just kind of pretends to be normal. also makes cooking videos, videos about cleaning her apartment, self-care tips and tricks for young women (can’t imagine she got a lot of advice from her gung-ho superhero parents), and study habits for struggling college students. she kind of pretends to be who she wants to be irl.

kate cha: lowkey a music producer, since all her clones just play different instruments or harmonize with each other. she doesn’t get a lot of chances to do it with her hero work, but releases nothing but bangers when she can. featured rex yelling at her for cheating on him as an intro for one of her songs (like that one guy on tiktok) and it blew up. has a lot of songs about death, which most think is odd (important to remember she’s died a lot).

cecil stedman: does NOT post on social media and i can’t think of a world where he would. but if he did, it’s probably just a fake bot account that reposts pro-government propaganda. “more funding for the GDA” “cecil was right” “lets double the US defense budget” he’s the kind of guy to like everything on his fyp just to throw off the algorithm.

i do have more but this post is getting too long for most people’s (including me) low attention spans. will do a part 2 with requested characters if this is well-received

[dinoformer]

Alone again

She/her, Prowl, Sins of the Wreckers spoilers. inspired by: Dandelions- Ruth B, Atlantis- Seafret

☆*: .｡. ☆☆*: .｡. ☆☆*: .｡. ☆☆*: .｡. ☆☆*: .｡. ☆

When he hears bots saying the famous 'don't know what you have until you lose it', Prowl never thought there would come a day where he must live that. He always had complicated relationship with other bots with most of them being negative.

He met her before the great war, she was introduced to the Autobots as a new member and medical assistant for the Wreckers, and one of the few triple changers on the team.

As they were paired for missions, she demonstrated to be a friendly individual, and even then, at beginning she found herself on one-way conversations most of the time and outside of the base he pretended he did not know her name. But like every good medic she was a caring bot to the young autobots, he often saw her checking on Bumblebee or lecturing Cliffjumper. Prowl noticed her caring nature extended to the rest of team including him, she sometime would ask him if he had enough rest or if he already had his energon rations. When he got injured during missions, she was the first one to make sure he was physically and mentally well, she would ask him how he was holding after rough mission and accompany him to the med bay.

Just like that she become a constant presence in his daily routines, it was suffocating at the beginning since Prowl was not used to having someone care so much for him, but with time he also began  waiting for her at the entrance of the base on the mornings, and at the end of the day he would walk by the med bay or training grounds when she was done with her assignment.

Naturally, they started gravitating to each other more and the rest of the Wreckers could not understand how it happened.

Why Prowl? From everyone on the team she chose Prowl.

He couldn't understand it either, it just happened without him realizing it, he found himself sharing energon treats with her after training, going together to the market when she needed supplies for the med bay, walking her to her habsuit, and he just felt odd when he was doing domestic activities with her.

Maybe it was when she went out of her way to check on him or how she made him feel safe after his missions.

Maybe it was her smiles when she spots him from far away or the way she started holding his hand when they walked around the market.

And it was good, he never imagined feeling this content because of someone else.

The relationship was never formalized by words to the rest of the team, but everyone could tell that they were practically conjux at that point.

Prowl had heard bots talking about 'a love that comes once in a lifetime' before and he wanted to believe that she was the one, after all she was the only one that stayed by his side for centuries, the one that bonded with solidifying their feelings.

At the beginning of the great war he started working with Mesothulas, he thought he was helping the Autobots and that the cause justified the means, so he never told her about Aequitas, the Decepti-bombs, or anything regarding the partnership with the scientist.

Mesothulas whoever was aware of her and Prowls relationship, he did not really plan to do anything to her but then Carpessa was destroyed and Prowl wanted to break of their partnership. He believed he needed Prowl a much as Prowl needed him for the success of the autobots, so he lured her to his laboratory.

That same day Impactor made his way to the laboratory to get rid of the scientist on behalf of Prowl, he barreled into the place not noticing her standings next to the Noisemaze since before Impactors arrival Mesothulas was about to trap her inside the Noisemaze.

It was too late now, Impactor pushed both into the prison, he noticed her too late and even when he tried to reach her, he was not fast enough.

Impactor did not know what to do or what was he going to tell Prowl, but he needed to destroy the Noisemaze with the rest of the workshop.

After they decided to keep Ostaros Prowl asked Impactor if he had seen his partner.

"She is in Noisemaze, Mesothulas trapped her when I arrived, we don't know what is inside there and she is probably gone by now" Impactor was not sure if she was alive inside that place.

"It can't be" he denied "she doesn't even know him, why would she be there with him?"

Prowls mind went blank, what is he going to do now that he is alone again. He can save her, his pillar, he must save her and hold her close again.

He never thought that when you love someone in your mind, they are invincible, you do not think that something is going to take them away until it happens.

And he feels more trapped every day, he lives with a mask of indifference, but he is fooling none, the Autobots could tell when walked by her habsuit and went to the med bay after his shifts, he was mourning the loss of his partner.

He promised her once that he will always find her, he doesn't care who he has to destroy for her.

He must set his grief aside and get her back home.

[brawnsleloenigmadoublesonic]

Tfes earthspark megatron backstory except he's actually not a miner or gladiator or politician (yet) or anything like that no he's actually a prostitute, like not "Oh in the arena his sponsors forced him to sleep with people" or like "he makes no money from being a miner so he sells himself for some extra cash" no he's just a straight up prostitute. His speeches were of course very similar but there was always a special focus on the rights of the workers in the sex worker industry. He was cold constructed literally for sex work, his really strong frame came from the fact that the bot in charge of his construction had a really severe kink of being dominated by war frames, no one knows how he got a gun, literally no one.

When Megatron eventually became a war lord, he killed anyone who had bought him in the past. So here comes optimus.

Optimus actually had bought megatron as a prostitute plenty of times, but he was Orion at the time and had fallen in love helplessly with megatron after the first time that young Orion pax had fucked that beautiful, gorgeous, wet valve that had sucked his just unsealed spike in so good his processor had quite literally, short circuit-ed. And not like, as a figure of speech either, like ACTUALLY short curcuit-ed to the point where he had to spend almost the last of his credits afterword on a medic to fix the damage to his processor.

For megatron, he doesn't actually have a clue in this universe that Optimus used to be the creepy little miner that would sometimes follow him on his rare days off and what was one of the reasons why he set out to killl everyone who bought him, just loves his conjunx even despite the, admittedly, semi bad sex that he has to grit through and pretend to enjoy, going through his own processor each time to activate that old mod that would manually make him squirt (for his old clients who liked their partners making a mess) and making sure that his moans sounded as convincing as possible.

He still loves his conjunx, of course! It's just the...kinda bad sex that plagues him in the washracks at night after optimus would pass out after overloading his own mind away, muffling his crys and moans as a vibrating false-spike that he had owned and hid from anyone and anything for who knows how long made his tanks tingle and churn in bliss, a servo holding up the shower head to his fat, chubby T-node with the solvent pressure set to maximum and making him convulse as his pussy squirted for real that time. he would pass out on the tile floor for a good klik or two. The evidence of his satisfaction washed away after a good couple swipes of the shower head over the walls and floor of the washing station after he would wake up.

Guilt that he thought that he would never experience again after he had started the war would resurface in the afterglow of those moments, ruining it entirely and basically sobering him up.

Why did he have to be such a slut? Wasn't optimus supposed to be enough? Why did he feel like he could be treated better than that?

The last one would always make him feel the most guilt, because optimus was amazing! He was romantic, he was kind, he had been through so much with him even while being enemies. He loved him with all his spark!

So why couldn't he have just been grateful?

Megatron had somehow managed to convince himself that his frame was just too needy, too greedy and just too slutty and sometimes, in moments of weakness, he cries after the afterglow of his wonderful overload that he knew that his sparkmate could never even hope to give him.

(Well, not technically sparkmate. While he had been plenty open to it, hadn't even been the one to offer it, it had been optimus that did. optimus got cold pedes and hadn't felt comfortable about it at the time, and the next time he had offered it, and the next time and the next...)

Even though he used to hate his old job, he has to admit that the bots that would give him the best overloads were the ones that would go by she. Making his insides sore and bruised and oh so wonderfully tingly afterwards and would give him the best tips too.

Well, elita has been very kind to him lately, kinda touchy too. Megatron isn't dumb, he knows when somebot wants to fuck him, had seen it millions of time before, during, and after the war. The look she gave him whenever they'd spar, refuel, stretched his frame in a certain way (that he most definitely hasn't been doing on purpose) or the look of slight jealousy whenever he would give a good morning kiss to a rushing out the door optimus would fuel his little scenarios in the washracks at night, desperately riding that false spike as if it were elita and he was thanking her for finally, finally giving him a nice long good fuck after so fucking long he didn't know how to fucking think.

Sometimes, when optimus and megatron have sex, optimus gets reminded about that first night all those stellar cycles ago before the war, and he knows he should feel guilty, and he does to an extent, but it's not nearly enough for the feeling of satisfaction when megatrons fat pussy squirts uselessly on his spike and he's sucking his wife's titties in his mouth only for his wife to tell him no with that lovely smile on his faceplate, that he knew, he would never see again if he were to tell him his old name.

I need megatron to get fucked out of his godamn mind by elita while pathetic whiny optimus watches like the cuck he is

Oh my. I. I have absolutely nothing to say idk man that was great. Can I give you applause?? Holy shit, poor Oppy is just so fucking pathetic... Can't even please his wife!

Megatron should show him how a real mech fucks, right after Elita fucks his brains out right in front of him! Turn Oppy into a stupid pathetic bottom and bully his useless spike. Elita will give Megs the overloads he deserves <3

[lizardho]

A rant I wrote for my best friend in 2020-ish - now she's my wife and is gonna be like "Why did you post this instead of working on your dissertation?" and the answer is because I'm procrastinating silly stylez

Mormon Missions

The Basis of Mormon Missionary Work

              Mormons, like many evangelical religions, proselyte as a core part of their religious activities. They claim (accurately) that early Christians did the same thing, and that scripture tells followers of Christ to do the same thing. So it’s a pretty big deal to them. When the Mormon church was first founded, missionary work was seen as an excited thing for Mormon men to do. The first prophet, Joseph Smith, would go visit people or invite them to his home, and tell them personally where God wanted them to go preach. They’d take a crate of copies of The Book of Mormon and go to close places (like New York or the American  South), or they’d go to far-away places, like England, Scotland, and Ireland.

Early missionaries were wildly successful, mainly because people the world was in sort of a religious frenzy at the time, and also the internet didn’t exist. They’d convert a few hundred people, tell them to move to Missouri, then continue on their merry way, going for a few years at a time before returning home as heroes. It was sees as a fun, manly way to abandon your family for a few years to go to England and sell books. After a while, though, Joseph Smith started getting too horny. At first, he was content to fuck the babysitter and some single ladies, telling them that God gave them the thumbs up, so it was cool. After a while, he got even hornier, and decided it was about time he fucked some married women. So he’d send the husbands of the hottest MILFs in his congregation to England for a few years, and then marry and fuck their wives while they were gone.

Sometimes, he’d tell them (“Oh, haha, hey, funny story, while you were in England because God told you to go there, your wife tripped and fell on my penis, and God said it was part of his plan, and I was into it, so we just went with it”) and sometimes he DIDN’T tell them. One guy he told got pretty mad about it, and he and his wife packed up and left Missouri, set up shop in a nearby town, and then made a newspaper. They printed the hot headline “Joseph Smith says God wants him to fuck your wives” and Joseph was like “Oh hey, let’s not let people in on that”. A mob of Mormon acolytes, who may or may not have been cucked by Joe the Prophet, also got upsetti spaghetti and burned down the printing press. Joseph then pardoned them, and was backed by the Nauvoo Legion, the 2nd largest military force in the U.S. at the time, and 100% Mormon. This was bad because a) Arson is a felony, commonly referred to as a “dick move”, and b) This violates the bill of rights, which guarantees freedom of the press. So Joseph was arrested. In jail, he was killed by an angry mob, and a new guy took over the Mormon church. His name was Brigham Young, and he was hornier than Joseph, who in turn was hornier than God had ever intended for anyone to be. Brigham took up the proud tradition of ignoring consent and ethical polyamory, and just sending men on far-away missions so he could spread his seed like a shitty incel-gone-rogue Genghis Khan.

After a while, missionary work stopped. Mainly, it stopped because of World War I. Then, the depression his the world like a starvation-inducing meteor, and missionary work slowed down a bit. Fortunately, the great depression ended! Because WWII started and everyone started dying again, so like, it was more of a lateral move. After WWII, though, the U.S. was suddenly a financial superpower with access to more of the world that it had previously had. So they started shipping missionaries off all over. It was still done by “calling”, where local congregation leaders would feel inspired to send people on missions, and then they would do that.

At some point in the 50s, an attempt was made to standardize missionary teachings a little bit, since the church was dealing with issues about people teaching weird stuff, like women having rights (the church still teaches that women shouldn’t work unless single or their husband is struggling to provide, and operates proudly on a “barefoot and pregnant” model of women’s rights that they teach very strongly to everyone from the ages of about 4 until 18), black people not being inferior (this was taught until the 70s), and tithing not being important (the church currently has over $100 billion in stocks and real-estate that we know of, it’s probably more).

So they made a tiny booklet with a basic summary of canon Mormon doctrine. Then, later, in the 70s, there was a HUGE push to get more missionaries. The phrase “every worthy, able-bodied young man should serve a mission” was used, and is still used, to describe who is expected to “serve” a mission. As they started this movement, they also began making rigid lesson plans, called “The Discussions” that missionaries needed to stick to. They were roughly 30 minutes long, relied on rote memorization, and were inflexible. At first, these were a big hit and people had a lot of success, but as education in the world improved, and more people were given access to schooling, technology, and financial stability, suddenly numbers began to plummet. So they changed the game plan: Make the lessons less structured, then blame missionaries personally for failure to convert people. These changes produced a book called “Preach My Gospel”, which was what I used as a missionary. They changed it again recently, but not by much, it’s just more simplistic. Like going from 3.5 to 5e.

- https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/new-era/1981/05/president-kimball-speaks-out-on-being-a-missionary?lang=eng

- https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/gospel-topics/missionary-work?lang=eng

My own missionary experience

Basics of Mission Structure

-Mormon congregations are called “Wards”, which get sorted into “Stakes”, which is a group of 5-10 wards.

-A mission is made when there is a certain ratio of stakes-to-non Mormons.

-A mission is split when there are too many Mormons in an area. So like, my dad’s mission has been split 5 or 6 times now into smaller missions because of how rapidly the church grew in those areas.

-Transfers: A transfer cycle is 6 weeks long, and you stay with your assigned companion for at least that whole cycle, sometimes 2-3 cycles.

 One of the things to note (that you may have kinda picked up on already) is that being a missionary is kind of an exalted “rite of passage” thing. They view missionary work as an act of service to the world at large, and thing that missionaries are comparable to like…soldiers or doctors, heroes who are saving people from the forces of evil or spiritual sickness. It’s a weird mindset to be in, and it really gets pushed on you, especially as a missionary. Missionary work is pushed on young men as a spiritual obligation (note: They can’t force you to go, so it’s not like an actual obligation, but it’s definitely perceived as such for a lot of people). So, since I was a young “man” they started pushing it on me at like…12? A little younger? My grandpas both went on missions, so they thought that it would be great if I did too. My dad went on a mission (He went to Argentina’s southern end). It just kinda seemed like the thing everyone did, except I didn’t really want to go. I wanted to get married and have kids, but like…’f’ in the chat, I guess. Uterus machine broke.

I just ignored the general discomfort I felt about missionary work (like the general discomfort I felt about a lot of things tbh), and went to BYU like a good l’il Mormon. I turned down a 10k/year scholarship from ASU to go to BYU, because I am an idiot. At BYU, I made good friends, one of whom was trans!!! But she transferred away after coming out :c  But I had a D&D group!!! But they all left on missions :c  So I decided that if it was between being the only 20 year old on BYU campus who didn’t go on a mission, or going on a mission, I’d go. That was literally my process. Please make fun of dumb boy me, please, he deserves it. Anyways, I put in my papers, the prophets and apostles in Salt Lake sign me up with a big batch of elders going to Mexico City North. Mexico City is HUGE, so it’s broken down into 6 separate missions with 6 separate mission leaders. I was in the northernmost areas of Mexico City, including parts of Hidalgo. Chronologically, my mission went like this:

Months 1-6: Zone – Tultepec  |  Congregation Name – Primavera

-Companions: Elder Luis (my trainer): Chubby, kinda annoying but honestly just a sweetheart who liked to eat.

-Elder Mendez (my follow-up trainer): Chubby, good cook, seems nice at first but a bit unhinged. Threatened to kill me a few times. Kinda moody. Mostly just mean and dumb.

àIn this area, me and Elder Luis baptized: Ricardo Frias, who is no longer a member. Veronica, Alejandra, and Brenda, who are still members. Me and elder Mendez baptized Karen Itzel, who I have not been able to catch up with in years. She’d be about 14 now, tho? She was really little when she joined.

àStories: Nothing weird happened in a paranormal sense, but I did get robbed twice in my first week here, which was fun. There was a place in this area called Infonavit that was like a little neighborhood. There was a gang that controlled the area, but they were nice to missionaries, so we never got held up or bothered by them. Still, I did see 2 men with Uzis once just…walking around. Like. In broad daylight. It was incredible.

Months 6-10.5: Zone – Tula  |  Congregation Name – El Carmen

-Companions: Elder Lopez (my best companion): Short, very dark (from Chiapas, so like…very dark for a Mexican), shredded. The man had a 6 pack. Also, intimidatingly intense. After the first lesson we taught together, we were walking away and he belted out “ELDER HOBBS! I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT!” and I was all intimidated because he sounded like a drill sergeant, and despite being a foot taller and about 60 lbs heavier than him, he scared me. So I was like “What?” and he just goes “THAT WAS SO GOOD. YOU ARE A GIFTED TEACHER. I AM LUCKY TO BE ASSIGNED WITH YOU. WE’RE GONNA DO GOOD THINGS HERE.” And anyway he was the best. He cooked every day, he let me play D&D (by myself, so sad lonely hours, but still, it was stress relief). He worked out in a frenzy, had a miserable homelife, and was really just a very nice and supportive person.

-Elder Amador: Tall, really into soccer (had played semiprofessionally for Cruz Azul, as like a minor league player or something). Funny, aggressively cheerful, kind of a wimp. Farted a LOT for some reason, so we’d always take detours down the “less travelled” roads so he could fart in private. I didn’t mind tho because the area was actually really pretty, and sometimes I could see cows 🥺

- In this area, we didn’t baptize anyone. Which was fine with me.

- Stories: So, this is the area where I learned to make guacamole. We were visiting in on an elderly couple nobody had seen in forever. They lived in the BOONIES, like, it was just NOTHING on all sides, and when they answered the door they invited us in, and made us eggs with hotdogs, and then the best goddamn guacamole I’ve ever had in my life. I ate until I was sick.

-ALSO in the area: A supernatural (ish) story: So, Mormons believe that they have “priesthood power”, which is like divine power from God to effectuate his will on earth. This is stuff like healing the sick (never seems to work), causing miracles, summoning angels, and other bullshit that never actually happens. Sometimes people ask for priesthood blessings, usually if they’re sick or if they’re sad and want to feel better. So a guy in our ward flags us down, says he’s feeling iffy, and asks for a blessing. We had nothing else to do, so…sure! Why not? My companion, Elder Lopez, does it, and immediately after he says “amen” the guy starts puking SUPER hard. He stops, looks at us, and says “I cannot feel the left half of my body” and I was like “Hey elder, this guy is gonna die, let’s go get help” so we went basically next door to the home of the one guy in the area that had a car, told him what was happening, and then headed to the hospital. He stopped breathing twice on the way, and Brother Ricardo (the guy with the car) didn’t know CPR, so instead he just hulk-smashed his chest with arms about as thick as my legs, and that seemed to work. Funny stuff.

Months 10.5-15 – Zone: Nicolas Romero  |  Congregation name: Nicolas Romero

-Companions: Elder Casillas (the funnest companion): Fat. Very fat. Lazy, but we still managed to get more done than with anyone else. He was hilarious, and SUPER smart.

-Elder Montini: Originally form Argentina, immigrated to Mexico as a kid, then lived in Cancún. ¼ Italian, and Argentines are pretty white, so he looked American. He also spoke flawless English, and used this ability to shit talk people without them knowing. Also, VERY fat. Like. IN one day he ripped 3 pairs of pants just by sitting down. Kinda “holier-than-thou” but not too bad usually.

-In this area, we baptized NOBODY. Which was GREAT because this ward was actually the woooooorst. I fucking hated everyone in that Ward. They had about 80 people who attended regularly, but 900 people on record, and all 820 people NOT in attendance could tell you exactly why they left, and it was always because one of the shitty 80 had been excessively rude to them. There were 3 good people in that ward, and they all moved away eventually, so…yikes.

- No weird stories from here, but I did get in big trouble for breaking mission rules to… (checks notes)… provide service to elderly widows, so that was fun.

Months 15-21 Zone: Huehuetoca  |  Congregation name: Xalpa

-Companions: Elder Lucero: Total sweetheart, VERY shy. I cured his shyness by annoying him, since apparently feeling angry made him just rash enough to actually speak, so I just kept him lightly agitated with me for a few weeks until he realized he was good at what he did. He’s probably my favorite companion. We actually got along REALLY well.

-Elder Ramirez: Very nice, VERY fun, has a VERY cute sister. We got along well.

-In this area, the ward was HORRIBLE. Nobody liked each other, and everyone was shitty to us, too. We made our way into the ward’s good graces by getting on the good side of the women’s group, then berating their husbands about how shitty they were. The girls loved it, so we did great here. The ward basically tripled in size, and it wasn’t baptisms, it was just us bringing people back. It was actually really fun at the time. We didn’t baptize anyone, but after I left a Jehovah’s Witness got baptized, so I’m counting that as a HUGE win for us. I can shit talk Mormons all day, but the JWs are somehow worse.

-Weird stories from here: We were teaching an old lady, and she was being annoying and obstinate, arguing with us that her family didn’t need to go to church and that she didn’t want to confuse them. So we decided to leave. Nowadays, I’d have completely agreed with her, but at the time I thought I was a divine messenger sent on behalf of God. So. Anyways, as I went to leave, I felt some thing take control of my legs. Like. They stopped working. Idk how to explain it. The rest of me worked. I just couldn’t move my legs. My companion was already standing, I was trying to stand, and finally I just looked at the lady, opened my mouth to say something, and then kinda just went off, but like…they weren’t really MY words coming out of my mouth? Like, I was barely able to move my mouth fast enough for the words to happen, I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying, but when I finished, she said “Wow, Elder, I’ve never thought about it like that. I will absolutely bring my grandson to church on Sunday.” And my companion was just gawking, so apparently whatever I said was pretty good 🤷 

Months 21-24: Area – Nicolas Romero  |  Congregation name: La Colmena

-Companions: Elder Toledo: Kinda immature and lazy, but nice enough.

-Elder Tec: Kinda geeky and weird, very nice, also very jumpy.

-In this area: The ward was good, the people were nice enough, and there was a cool abandoned ranch house that was used as a dog sanctuary  that I loved. There was El Viejito Emilio that guarded the place, and there was a cute middle-aged couple that ran it, and they liked us, so we’d do “service” for them 1-2x a week, which largely consisted of picking up poop and stuff, and then just petting all the cute dogs for so long. Plus, the ranch house itself was HIGH KEY aesthetic. Like a fallout thing, it had graffiti all over, and cool little nicknacks lying around, and we could use it to hide from the rain, and I loved that little ranch house SO much.

- Weird stories: Another blessing. I was giving a VERY newlywed couple a blessing. The husband said he was possessed, but really he just sleeptalked. Whatever, I can bless that I guess? 🤷 So I put my hands on his head and am really just preparing to make something up, when what actually happens in suddenly I knew these people fucked before they tied the knot. An unwelcome surprise, since they were both deeply weird people and I didn’t want to know about their sex lives. So that just kinda popped out of my mouth, and immediately the guy goes RIGID and falls out of his chair. His wife is panicking, she thinks he died, so I go into emergency mode, we prop up his feet, Elder Tec checks for a pulse, he’s still breathing, all good,  and then the mission doctor won’t answer he phone. She was bad about that usually, but it was pretty late, so I wasn’t surprised. So instead, I just called home. Like. Dr Dad to the rescue, right? It was late, my parents were VERY confused, and so I described what what happened, and my dad walked me through some stuff and we kinda just decided he was having a full-blown panic attack because I had announced to the room that he and his wife did it before their wedding, which, again, matters very little to me. It didn’t even matter to me at the time, like…people have sex. It’s what they do. But for some reason some part of the universe was like “You get to know this now, bitch” and I was like “ew, OK, thanks for that”. Anyways, we got home super lte because it took us a while to calm him down, and that was the last time I ever had anything weird like that happen to me again.

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T_NYZesRdY (this is from the Book of Mormon musical, and it’s FUCKING hilarious)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KSBEChzpMM (my experience in a nutshell)

[synthapostate]

I'm starting my Animorphs reread.

"My name is Jake. That's my first name, obviously. I can't tell you my last name. It would be too dangerous." This is the iconic opening to every book, and it's never more effective than the first time. On page one, Jake makes the rather hopeless statement that, "Maybe, somehow, the human race can survive until the Andalites return and rescue us, as they promised they would. Maybe."

Then it cuts back to him hanging out at the mall. It's nothing groundbreaking, structurally, but I first read this as a child, used to very straightforward children's storytelling, and it blew my mind to realize that you could hint at what was to come and then back away from the action for some scene-setting. It was a technique I imitated many times when I got serious about writing as a middle schooler.

Jake introduces his best friend, Marco, who is really good at video games because he "has this amazing ability to analyze games and figure out all the little tricks." Marco will continue throughout the series as the sarcastic slacker who doesn't seem like he'd be any use in a war, but that analytical ability of his will save their asses more than once. Also, the fact that Jake has a Sega at home and Marco doesn't, and Jake provides the quarters they use at the arcade, is a nice indicator of the differences in their living situations that will be made more explicit later.

Jake's own character introduction is that he's having a bad day because he didn't make the basketball team, setting him up as a kid so average, he's not even that great at the sport he really cares about. It also sets up the motivation that will drive him throughout the war: his brother is a basketball star, and he just wants them to hang out like they used to. Little does he know.

Next is Tobias: "I actually met Tobias when he had his head in a toilet. There were these two big guys holding him down and laughing while they flushed...I told the two creeps to step off, and ever since then, Tobias figured I was his friend." Tobias will not miss being a normal kid. Also, the fact that even the one person who was nice to him thinks "friendship" is a strong word is just one of many ways the author will grind this boy's happiness into the dirt. Yay 😊

"Cassie is quieter than Rachel, more peaceful, like she always understands something on some different, more mystical level." Yeah, Jake has a crush (sometimes he sits with her on the bus!) but there's truth in what he sees in her. Cassie's first action is to shut down a fight before it can begin, and she will continue to play peacemaker throughout the war.

And Rachel? Her first action is to start the fight that Cassie stops, when Jake suggests the girls shouldn't walk through an abandoned construction site after dark, because they're girls. "I never should have suggested to Rachel that she's weak or helpless. She may look like Little Miss Teen Model or whatever, but she thinks she's Storm from the X-Men. 'Are you going to come and protect us, you big, strong m-a-a-a-a-n?'" Rachel is a born fighter, already walking the line between fearless and stupidly reckless, and she will never learn to pick her battles.

These are great character introductions, fleshing the kids out in some subtle ways in between the more standard "Rachel is my cousin and she's a pretty blonde, Tobias is weird, Cassie is black." It sets up who they will be, but also who they are on their last day of being normal kids.

And then aliens show up.

It's a hell of a Chapter One.

[quirkyfries]

Huzzah, a user of quality! I raise you:

Ruin had different objectives during those times. Different priorities. He’d progressed through half a character arc by the time og!Puppet brought that up.

During the nexus arc, he had nothing, but BEFORE that he was perfectly okay with letting (new) moon kill him right after he’d destroyed those dimensions, it’s why he let himself be imprisoned. Then his body got tampered with by Dark Sun, and then killing him became very much not in anyone’s best interests due to something very bad possibly happening as a direct result. For a time, it was all he could do to prevent any MORE misfortune befalling the family because of him—he didn’t want to hurt anyone else after the dimensions were taken care of.

During the nexus arc, being alive became his punishment. Maybe he believed that he deserved the treatment from Nexus for awhile, after all, Nexus was one of those that suffered the most because of Ruin. (I’ve talked about this before but Nexus goes above and beyond simply getting back at ruin for what he did but anywho) This was Ruin’s survival mode, playing the long game—the one he used under Sven, doing whatever needed to be done as long as he saw another day, never mind his own feelings on the matter. I’m half sure he continued because if he were to be on the inside, he could somehow help the Celestials in a way, and that’s A reason to keep on going compared to his lack of one previously

Then, a little bit later, he finds a reason to want to live. He finds out about a dimension he inadvertently created. He created something good. After destroying everything he touched for so, so long, all the way back to Sven.

Of course he’d swear to guide it along its path, start befriending people there. At this point he wouldn’t want to leave that! So actually yes I agree with him having a singular backup that was made sometime between Ruin arriving to the EAPS dimension and sometime after befriending Ballora mayhaps, a “just in case” thing, Ruin’s the type to do that. OG!puppet was INSTRUMENTAL in his development (which is not done yet by the way,) giving him some semblance of a chance to be better, something Eclipses are not often afforded, and he took it. She offered him that because she was once in the same boat, albeit with slightly different circumstances, and she would’ve wanted someone to look at her and say “it’s not okay, but we can work on this, for however long it takes” when she was at her lowest moments.

By the time Ruin asks about his fate along with puppet’s, yes it was a safety thing, he might’ve launched right into making sure he would survive a severance like that, but I like to think the reason is that because he has so much to live for now that he has something to protect and friends that like him, frenemies of the past be damned! By that point, he’d had the chance to help out (accidentally causing a civil war in the process oops) and steer Lefty away from some extremes right after. He made friends who accepted him as he is, again not something very common in Ruin’s long life. He was able to be a key player in the initial Mimic situation by knowing how to play the long game and keep up appearances and weed out the drones and shove the kids somewhere safe for awhile. He’s making progress! Maybe a little bit of his self worth was restored by that, enough to be a little selfish and have a backup of himself stashed somewhere. He won’t let go of the first good thing to happen to him in however many years unless you ripped it from his dead body, or however that saying goes

I was re-watching the episode Earth meets the new Puppet (im not sure how to do it but it said charlie in small letters above puppet in the title)

and i realized

Everyone else's backups are set up in the way of like if they get irreparably damaged that someone else, presumably the person who's making their new body, goes and gets the backup and uploads it.

Eclipse's back ups are set up in such a way that he doesn't have to rely on anyone else repairing him to get back online.

The man just /cannot/ bring himself to depend on anyone.

[rigginsstreet]

MAE: And then also her implementing that change and breaking that pattern in her familial relationships that her mom was having of taking back these guys who do not treat them right and her sort of not only saying no to that, but also "I'm not doing that in my life" with Riggins! SCOTT: Big move. Big move. And a lot of Tyra-Tim scenes haven't been making it into the episodes, but have been in the scripts, but a lot of them are the show trying to figure out how to same the same thing and get Tim to the place where he's so honest, and he is in that scene. He's like "I did." And she says "This is exactly what somebody would say before they just revert back to who they were." And I'm like, ah man, can Tyra not believe that people can kind of change at this point? Maybe not until she fully changes her situation. MAE: She's also, like, I think, to a degree that's such a tricky thing about relationships and people in general, like yes people can change, but at some point- at what point does it not work for you anymore? And being- I think that's like a really grown up thing- another kids having to grow up thing to realize that look, you're on your own journey, and I support you and I'm glad you- I understand you have to do this as many times as it takes for it to make sense to you to actually implement this change in your life and have it really be yours, but I can't go with you on that journey anymore.

-IT’S NOT ONLY FOOTBALL: FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS AND BEYOND

[rubber-glovs]

Oooohhh the urge to yap about my ocs and the world they live in......

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

for the most part I actually don’t see Harry and Draco as being the get married types or at least not the have a wedding types but it’s also fun to just. Have them do it anyway. Weddings are fun and fun to write and read about!

[karnalesbian]

Ah fuck dude not like this. My day did not need to get worse in any way and certainly not this way man

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - NINE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of leukemia; death; pregnancy; abortion.

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe had been through a ton of traumatic bullshit by the age of fourteen. 

His mom had been battling leukemia since he was ten, it started off as an infection—but it turned into one of those long, drawn-out wars that tricks you into thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.

It would go away for a bit, just enough to make everyone think the fight was over, and then it’d come slamming back worse every time.

When he was fourteen, it finally took her for good, when he’d been silly enough to believe she might pull through. 

To be fair, he was only a little kid waiting on a miracle, praying she’d wake up one day magically cured.

Now, when he looked back on it, he hated himself for being so naive. The signs had been there all along, the nurses whispering in the hallways, Ward turning into this void of a human, who looked at him like he didn’t know how to fix it anymore. The talks his mom would have with him about how “no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

That phrase haunted him for years.

Her death didn’t wreck him; it tore him apart and left him in tiny pieces that didn’t fit together the same way. He wasn’t the same kid afterward, not even close.

He got angrier, distant. 

He didn’t recognize who he’d been before it all—some kid who really believed in happy endings.

He didn’t believe in much after she died, people let you down, life ripped everything good out of your hands. Why bother holding on to anything at all?

It wasn’t just the grief; it was the guilt.

He’d get mad at her, sometimes, for being sick. He’d slam his door and cry into his pillow because he just wanted a normal life, a mom who wasn’t always tired or in pain or hooked up to some machine.

He hated himself for that. 

The day of her funeral, he remembered everything, even though he wished he didn’t. The church smelled like old wood and lilies, that smell that never left you once it sank in.

People kept coming up to him, patting his shoulder, saying things like, “She’s in a better place now,” or “Stay strong, buddy.” 

He wanted to yell at them, shake them, make them shut up. She wasn’t in a better place. A better place would’ve been here, alive, laughing at his dumb jokes, or rolling her eyes at him for leaving his shoes in the hallway. It wouldn’t be six feet under, locked in a box, shoved into a hole in the ground like she never existed.

He didn’t cry, not when they opened the casket for everyone to say their final goodbyes, not when his dad stood up and choked through some half-assed speech that was mostly apologies and memories, not when they lowered her into the ground, the ropes creaking as her casket disappeared into the earth. 

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn’t even present. Inside, though?

His his chest was on fire. 

He refused to let even a single tear fall, it felt pointless, it wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. And deep down, he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, if he’d been stronger if he’d prayed harder, or been a better son, she’d still be alive.

The sound he remembered the most was the thud of dirt hitting the coffin after the service. It was final, loud, the earth itself mocking him. People around him sniffled, hugged each other, wiped at their eyes, but Rafe just stood there, staring down into the hole, fists buried in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms. 

He kept thinking about how wrong this all was, this wasn’t where she was supposed to end up, and none of this was fair.

She should’ve been there.

She should’ve been standing next to him, arm around his shoulder, telling him to stop slouching, whispering something to make him laugh in the middle of all this sadness. Instead, she was in there, soon the dirt would cover it up, and that’d be it. 

Gone. Just like that.

After the service, Rafe didn’t try to stick around for the house gathering, he wasn’t going to survive that. All those people crowding the living room, balancing paper plates of casserole, acting like they gave a fuck about his mom. It was fake, all of it. 

They’d forget about her in a week.

He slipped out when no one was paying attention, cutting through the side yard and heading to the only place that felt halfway normal—the old skate park behind the rec center. It was run-down as fuck, but he and his friends used to hang out there all the time, sitting on the busted ramps, talking trash, or just doing nothing.

When he got there, it was empty, which was exactly what he wanted. He climbed up on the old half-pipe, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement below. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the day in his head, the casket, the dirt, the stupid better place comments. His chest felt like it was breaking in a million tiny pieces, but he still couldn’t cry, his body just wouldn’t let him. 

Instead, he just sat there, wishing the world would leave him alone for five minutes.

That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.

He thought about running—didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially not now. But then you spoke.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? Well, congrats. You win the prize.” 

He wasn’t in the mood to be nice, even to you.

But you didn’t flinch, you never did. That’s one of the things he liked about you—you didn’t get scared off when he got like this. You just climbed up next to him and sat down. 

You didn’t try to say all that comforting bullshit people had been feeding him all day, and he was grateful for that.

“You okay?” you asked eventually.

He snorted. “Do I look okay?”

"Sorry, stupid question."

He sighed, hating that he was being asshole to his best friend, "It's fine."

When he finally glanced at you, you were watching him, trying to figure out what to say. It made him nervous, the way you looked at him. You always did that—you cared about what was going on in his head, you saw more than what he let people see.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I know what you’re feeling,” you said finally. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Rafe. You know that, right?”

If only you knew what you would be going through just three short years later.

He wanted to snap at you, tell you to leave, he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared down at the pavement again, “Feels like I do.”

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer, close enough that your arm brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel…something, less alone.

Rafe didn’t know how long you both sat there, could’ve been ten minutes, could’ve been an hour. Time didn’t feel real anymore, you didn’t push him to talk, which he appreciated more than he’d ever admit, you didn’t throw out any of those awkward “it’ll get better” lines. You just sat with him. 

“You can talk to me, you know.” 

He shook his head without looking at you. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice was rough, flat. “She’s gone. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck."

He clenched his jaw, staring at the pavement like if he looked at you, everything would break.

“What’s the point?” he muttered. “Crying’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back.

“Rafe.” You sighed, and this time “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone, okay? It’s me.”

That broke him, actually broke him. His chest felt tight, suddenly he couldn’t keep it in.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shook, and before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. He tried to stop it, to hide it, scrubbing his hands over his face, but it was no use.

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice cracking once more.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, and before he could pull away or do something stupid like tell you to leave, you scooted over.

He froze for a second, unsure what to do, but then he remembered the funeral, the whispers, the dirt hitting the casket, all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about—he just let it all out.

The first sob ripped out of him so suddenly it startled him, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair, as if he could physically stop himself from breaking. But it didn’t work.

Another sob followed, and then another, and soon they were pouring out of him—loud, messy, completely out of his control. He couldn’t stop it, and he hated it.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and just cried. When he felt your arms instantly wrap around him, pulling him into a hug as if you’d been waiting for his permission, he shattered completely.

“She’s—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to stop, gasping for air as the tears kept coming. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” He broke off.

It was ugly and loud and nothing like how he’d pictured himself breaking down, but he didn’t care. You didn’t tell him it’d be okay or try to make him stop, just held him, your arms tight around him. 

“I miss her,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely sounded like him. “I miss her so much, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, and part of him hated how exposed it made him feel. He hated crying in front of people—anyone. But right now, with you, he didn’t feel embarrassed. 

“I know,” you nodded, your hand moving in small circles on his back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t—this isn’t—it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you didn’t want to scare away the fragile pieces of him that were finally surfacing. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

He couldn’t stop shaking or gasping for breaths that hitched in his chest. The more he tried to push it all backdown, the harder it fought to claw its way out. For years, he’d kept it buried—buried so deep he thought he’d never have to deal with it.

“I hate it,” he managed, the words tumbling out in a jagged mess. “I hate that she’s gone. I hate that I didn’t—” He stopped, gripping his hair harder. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve been better, done something—anything.”

“Stop. You can’t do that to yourself.”

He shook his head violently, “But I did. I gave up on her. I stopped believing she’d get better, I—I got mad at her for being sick. What kind of son does that? I didn’t even say goodbye the way I should’ve. I just—I left the hospital because I couldn’t take it anymore, and then she—” His voice cracked again, and his hands dropped from his hair to his lap, clenched into fists “She’s gone, and I left. I wasn’t there when she—” His breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re a kid. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is.”

“But it feels like it is,” he shot back, “I should’ve done something, anything. I just feel so—” He stopped, letting out a shaky exhale. “Empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way you said it, so certain—He didn’t know why, but it cut through the noise in his head just enough to let him breathe again.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted, “I don’t know how t-to live without her.”

Growing up, Rafe had always been a momma’s boy. 

She was his safe place—the one person who didn’t make him feel like he had to be someone else. With her, he didn’t have to try so damn hard to be tough, or perfect, or whatever the hell his dad wanted him to be. 

Ward wasn’t the kind of dad who let his kids cry on his shoulder or told them he loved them every day. No, Ward was the kind of dad who believed in rules.

Men didn’t cry. Men didn’t show weakness. Men didn’t mess up—or, if they did, they sure as hell didn’t admit it.

He expected Rafe to follow those rules like they were gospel.

The worst part? His rules about what it meant to be a man stuck with Rafe, even when he didn’t want them to. When his mom got sick, he found himself choking back tears in the hospital bathroom, staring at his reflection and hearing Ward’s voice in his head: “Crying doesn’t solve anything. You’ve gotta be strong, for her, for your sisters.”

He had this idea in his head of what Rafe was supposed to be—strong, dependable, successful. He didn’t yell or lose his temper like some dads back then, he just made him feel like shit in this fucked up way.

Rafe tried, shit, he’d tried, but it felt impossible.

Every time he looked at his mom, pale and tired but still managing to smile at him like he was her whole world, he felt like he was dying too, then he’d feel guilty—for being so weak, for wanting to break down when she was the one fighting for her life.

It didn’t help that Ward had always had a soft spot for Sarah. Everyone could see it, even Rafe. She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one Ward went out of his way to protect. 

If Rafe screwed up, it was a lecture or a punishment, but if Sarah did? Ward would just shake his head and say, “She’s still young. She’ll learn.”

It used to piss him off more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he hated her—she was his sister, and he loved her. But how could he not resent her? He felt invisible when she got all the attention and the understanding, while he was expected to man up and deal with it.

After her funeral, things changed.

Rafe became quicker to snap, to walk away from anything that felt too hard. He was only himself around you, behind closed doors, never for preying eyes. Sarah grew colder, retreating into her own world where everything was controlled and distant.

Every time they spoke, it ended in shouting matches, slamming doors, or long stretches of silence that neither of them attempted to solve.

Except when you were there.

Ward got even colder, the grief had frozen whatever part of him used to care. He threw himself into work, making sure Sarah was okay, and barely even looked at his son. When he did, it was usually to tell him to pull it together, or to stop being so “moody.”

Rafe started to wonder if he even cared that he was falling apart, if he ever noticed the nights Rafe stayed out too late or came home smelling like booze. If he saw the way he avoided talking to him, how he flinched whenever Ward brought up his mom. But if his dad noticed, he never said anything. 

He thought it was just Rafe being Rafe—angry, unpredictable, a disappointment.

Fast forward to the present, and he hadn’t felt this helpless since that day at the funeral, not even when Ward’s died four months ago. 

You weren’t in his life anymore—hadn’t been for a while and you were possibly pregnant. 

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it made sense, everything lined up with that possibility. He thought back to everything you’d been through together, the times you’d been there for him when no one else was, how you’d seen the pieces of him no one else cared to.

Now, you were having his kid—and he was hearing about it from Topper?

Rafe spent the first hour after Topper dropped the news pacing his bedroom like a caged animal, his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he felt like a ticking time bomb. 

The Rafe—the one who flew off the handle, yelled, broke things, and pushed people away—was begging to get out. But Topper’s voice kept replaying in his head, he had to act right, be calm, for your sake. To prove himself.

The problem was, that staying calm wasn’t his strong suit. 

He’d spent years burying every emotion he couldn’t control under layers of anger, and now he was supposed to sit with the hurricane in his chest and figure out how to make things right. 

For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

That night, he locked himself in his room, ignoring his phone, his friends, everyone. None of it mattered anymore, the only thing he could think about was you—and the baby. 

He spent hours pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of what the fuck he was going to say.

What was he gonna say after everything he’d put you through? After the fight, the distance, the way he’d shut you out when you’d been nothing but good to him until that point?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head still in his hands, and let himself feel everything he’d been avoiding. The fear, the regret, the anger at himself. He thought about you—how you used to look at him like he wasn’t just a mess of a person, you’d stuck by him even when he’d given you every reason to leave.

You weren’t here anymore.

He’d pushed you so far away you hadn’t even told him about the situation yourself. Why would you anyway? He ghosted you and the next time you saw him he was with someone else. He could still see the look on your face when you saw him that night—arms slung casually around Sofia, while you sat in your car, eyes wild, you hadn’t tried to step outside, hadn’t yelled or made a scene, you simply drove off. 

It wasn’t until an hour later and terrible text message to you, that drunk and pissed at himself, he realized just how badly he’d screwed up. But by then, the damage was done, and he’d been too much of a coward to fix it. What followed was a sea of bad decisions and nights he couldn’t remember, trying to drown out the ache of losing you. 

He’d been drinking for Ward’s death until that point, now he did it for you.

Everything was catching up to him—the way he let his dad’s voice in his head drown out his own, making him let you slip through his fingers.

He didn’t deserve you—he knew that.

By sunrise, Rafe was still wide awake, sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by half-crumpled pieces of paper. He’d been trying to write down what he wanted to say to you, but everything sounded wrong. He’d never been good with words, not the kind that mattered.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t even close to being the kind of guy who could be a dad. 

What the fuck did he know about raising a kid? Changing diapers? Teaching someone right from wrong? Being patient? But the thought of you—of you carrying his kid—hit him differently.

At first, it had been pure panic. You hated him, what if you didn’t want him involved? What if he was just like Ward—cold, distant, always expecting too much? What if he screwed the kid up the same way he felt like he’d been screwed up? 

He pictured it without meaning to: you holding a tiny bundle in your arms, your face soft in a way he hadn’t seen in so long. A kid with your smile, your laugh—but his eyes. Or his messy hair. It scared the shit out of him.

What if she doesn’t even want to keep it?

Rafe hadn’t let himself go there at first, it was a lot to wrap his head around, the idea that there might not even be a child to fight for. 

The thought of you going through this, struggling to make a choice that he couldn’t help with, made him feel useless. 

Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and headed out, needing to clear his head. The island was silent this early, the kind of calm that used to make him feel trapped, but now, though, it was a relief. He drove aimlessly for a while, the salty air whipping through the open windows, until he found himself parked at the beach.

He didn’t know why he’d come here—well, you’d always bring him here when he spiraled. He sat there, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling a weird sort of clarity that he hadn’t felt in months. 

Perhaps it was the silence, or the way the ocean didn’t care about all the fucking mess in his head, but something about it made him stop spiraling for a second.

He started to think about what Topper had said—not just about staying calm, but about proving to you that he still cared. That wasn’t something he could do with words alone, not after everything. He’d have to show you, he’d have to be the version of himself you used to believe in, the one who wasn’t ruled by his worst impulses.

Rafe knew the first step before he could even think about talking to you: he had to end things with Sofia. They weren’t official, but they might as well have been. 

People talked, made assumptions, and sure, he’d let them. It was easier that way—less explaining, less having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that he’d only been with her to fill the empty space you left behind. It was cruel, but at the time, he hadn’t cared. 

Sofia wasn’t you, but she was there, and more importantly, she didn’t expect anything from him. Keeping things going with her wasn’t just a bad idea; it was disrespectful. To you, to her, to himself. He couldn’t pretend he cared about her like that—not when his heart had never really left your orbit.

When he showed up at her place that morning before work, she didn’t seem surprised—not even a little. She’d seen the writing on the wall for weeks now, but tonight, seeing him standing there, just confirmed what she already knew.

She watched him like she was waiting for him to get to the point, but not impatiently—just resigned, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Can I come in?” 

She let him in without a word, she wasn’t mad, not really. If anything, she felt sad—mostly for him, a little for herself. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive?

“You okay?” she asked quietly, she wasn’t being polite—she was trying to read him, figure out where this was going.

Rafe didn’t sit, didn’t take off his jacket. He stayed standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something. 

She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Be honest.”

“This...this isn’t fair to you,” he started, his words tumbling out fast, “I should’ve been real with you from the start, but I wasn't," He swallowed hard, “You deserve better than me using you to forget someone else.”

Sofia didn’t say anything at first, just crossed her arms loosely, not making it easy for him, but she wasn’t making it harder, either.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” he continued, forcing himself to look at her. “It feels wrong and it’s not because of you. You’re great. You’ve been...you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that wasn’t quite happy but wasn’t cruel either. “But you’re still in love with her.”

He didn’t know why it shocked him—Sofia had always been perceptive—but hearing her say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I—” He hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“I knew,” She nodded like she’d been waiting for that confirmation. “I figured. I told myself it didn’t matter because—because I thought maybe you’d move on. Maybe I could help you move on. But you didn’t, and I—” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her arms tightened around herself.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, the movement almost casual. 

“Because I really like you,” she admitted, “I knew. The party? When you got blackout drunk after seeing her leave? Or the country club, when you nearly started a fight defending her? I know you drove her to the hospital too. I kept hoping—God, I kept hoping you’d see me, that you’d let me be enough.”

He’d known she cared—he wasn’t blind—but hearing her saying like that made him realize just how he fucked up. She wasn’t wrong. He had been trying to numb himself, to drown out the reality of losing you, and she had been the collateral damage.

He looked away, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No,” she agreed, her tone firm but not unkind. “It wasn’t, but I don’t think you meant to hurt me either, you were trying to hurt yourself. It's still stupid of me to try, knowing you need to figure your shit out, but you don’t have to end things. I know what I signed up for, Rafe. I’m not asking you to choose me over her—I’m just asking you to try."

There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness—just exhaustion. It made him feel like a piece of shit because she deserved to feel angry, to lash out at him. But instead, she was still trying to give him a way out, a way to make this easier on himself.

“I’ll take whatever part of you I can get.”

It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was resigned. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help saying it out loud.

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. That’s not me.”

“Why not?” she pressed, her tone insistent.

“Because all of me already belongs to her,” Rafe admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “It always has, it always will.”

Sofia blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt—just...sad. She nodded slowly, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I hope she knows what she has, and I pray you show her," She stood up and motioning toward the door. “We both deserve better than a guy who drinks himself to death after seeing her at a party. So do you.”

Rafe didn’t move right away, unsure if he should say something more, apologize again, explain himself better. 

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Just do better.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he confessed, “I just—I didn’t know how to stop.”

Her expression softened just enough to show the tiniest sliver of empathy. “For what is worth, I think she still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now.” She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn around, “Next time, please don’t do this to someone else, and don’t do it to her again, either.”

She still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. The faint possibility, that you might still love him, it meant he had a chance but it also meant he could screw them up even worse.

He stood slowly, “Thank you,” he repeated,“For...everything.”

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded, opening the door and holding it for him. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and it wasn’t cold or angry—just sad.

By the time he got back to his car, he knew she wasn’t wrong, about any of it. 

She hadn’t screamed or cried or made him feel like the asshole he knew he was, that made it worse. If his mom was here, she would’ve smacked him across he head for hurting two amazing women at the same time. 

He hadn’t been ready to deal with his feelings for you—not when he started whatever the fuck it was with Sofia, not when he ran into you at that party, not when he defended you at the country club.

He’d been running, hiding, trying to bury everything under distractions that only made him feel emptier.

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and for a moment, it was like he was fourteen again, sitting on the edge of his mom’s hospital bed while his mom teased him.

“Come on, sweetheart” she’d said, her voice playful, even through the weariness. “You’ve been talking about her birthday for weeks. I think you like her more than you’re letting on.”

Rafe’s head shot up, and his ears burned red. “Mooomm,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “it’s not like that, she’s my best friend.”

“She’s your pretty best friend,” she’d corrected, smiling at him in that knowing way only she could. “You’re gonna pick out something nice for her, right?”

“I already did,” he mumbled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and holding it out like it was some great secret. Inside was a delicate bracelet he’d saved up for, something special, something he thought you’d like.

His mom’s smile had softened, the teasing fading into something more tender. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” she’d said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Even if you are a little knucklehead sometimes.”

He’d ducked away, embarrassed but secretly pleased, tucking the box back into his pocket.

“M’m not a knucklehead,” he complained, but she just laughed, and it was one of the last times he remembered hearing her laugh like that—free, unburdened, just his mom.

“She’s a good one. You’ve got good taste.” Her smile softened, and the teasing faded into something gentler. “I hope I’m still around when you get married. I’d love to see you happy like that.”

The words were a punch he hadn’t expected. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say to that? He wanted to argue, to tell her she would be, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

She knew. She always knew.

He just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Me too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said without thinking because he meant it.

“When you find that person—really find them—don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

He nodded again.

Years later, standing in a stupid fucking car alone, those words haunted him. He’d found that person, he’d had her and he’d let her go.

“God,” he muttered, the self-loathing reaching a new high, “I’m so sorry, mom.”

As terrifying as it was to think about being a dad, to think about raising a kid when he was still trying to figure out his own life… the idea of losing this chance—of losing you, or the baby, or both, for good —scared him even more.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt something close to hope, but it was tainted in so much fear and uncertainty, that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The rest of the day, he forced himself to slow down. 

He went back home, cleaned up the disaster of a room he’d been holed up in, and tried to think like a normal guy instead of a walking disaster. He even let Topper come over, though his patience for his relentless commentary wore thin fast.

“You’ve got one shot at this, dude,” Topper said, perched on Rafe’s desk like he owned the place. “If you go in there guns blazing, she’s just gonna think you’re the same old Rafe. And honestly? You can’t blame her.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue, Topper was right, as annoying as it was to admit.

He spent the evening coming up with a plan—just enough to make sure he didn’t go in blind. He practiced what he’d say in his head, pacing the kitchen while the sun sank below the horizon. Every time he started to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was doing this.

By the time 24 hours had passed, he didn’t feel ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of you sitting somewhere, thinking he really didn’t care or that he wouldn’t step up?

That was worse than any fear he had about facing you. So he grabbed his keys, and headed out, this time, he wasn’t running away.

Rafe stood by your door, he’d gotten in the property using the gate’s code, one he’d hoped you had changed to keep him out, but you hadn’t.

He’d never been good at patience, never needed to be—not when he could push his way into anything. But this was different, you were different, always had been.

The wood under his hand was cool, in a way that pissed him off because it reminded him that there was a barrier between you and him, again, always.

He wanted to scream, kick the fucking thing down like the old Rafe would’ve, or instead use the keys you’d given him years ago. Instead, he stood there, swallowing his pride because you were worth it, even if it was tearing himself in half.

His knuckles dragged down the frame, fist clenching as if the pressure would ground him, keep him from losing his shit. He wasn’t here to fight, wasn’t here to make your life harder, no matter how much you thought he was. 

The door rattled slightly when he pressed his forehead against it, eyes squeezing shut. “Five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

His jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, not if he wanted you to open the door. He couldn’t do this anymore—the back-and-forth, the lies. He wasn’t sure what broke first—your resolve or the knot in his throat. 

When you didn’t answer again, he sank to sit on the porch, back against the door like he could still feel you on the other side. You were there—close enough to touch if there wasn’t this fucking door between you.

That was his fault.

He used to be the guy you’d let in without thinking twice, shit, there was a time when he didn’t need to knock.

He was in, part of your life, part of you.

Now, you were holed up, scared of him. Yeah, that ate him alive. He’d earned that fear—every cold shoulder, the slammed door, he deserved it.

He should’ve been different, been better, been someone you didn’t have to lock out. You were scared, and it killed him because it wasn’t just fear, it was him. He was the reason you didn’t feel safe enough to let the secret out, the reason your voice cracked when you told him to leave.

He had put that look in your eyes, the one he couldn’t unsee, no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He could almost hear you breathing, shakily, like you were preparing yourself to outlast him.

He wanted to push. Fuck, he wanted to shove the door open, make you look at him, make you tell him everything—but that was the old Rafe, he took what he wanted, and bulldozed through whatever stood in his way.

Where had that ever gotten him? Nowhere but here: on the wrong side of a door, the wrong side of you.

He exhaled, long and slow, hand falling limp to his side.

What the hell was he doing? Forcing his way in, forcing answers—that wasn’t going to fix this. It never did. You’d push harder, build the walls higher, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of you hating him more than you already did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I get it.”

He didn’t know if you could still hear him, perhaps you were blocking him out completely. Maybe you were curled up with your hands over your ears. He hoped you weren’t crying, though the thought twisted and turned something deep in him.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, hating how defeated he sounded. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He ran a hand down his face, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together.

“I just... I just want you to be okay.” He hesitated, then pressed his palm flat against the door, wishing he could reach you somehow, without scaring you, “Baby or not.”

He waited, hoping for something—a sound, a movement, anything, but the silence was absolute.

His heart clenched as he pushed off the door and took a step back, his shoes scraping against the porch. He didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, almost to himself, "I'm so sorry. I’m sorry it took me this long, okay?”

He stopped halfway, looking back, hoping—praying—for some sign. A light flicking on, the sound of the door creaking open, your voice calling his name, anything.

But the house stayed still, it had already moved on from him. 

He didn’t remember deciding to drive to Poguelandia; he felt it in his gut, in the pit of his chest, this pounding certainty that Sarah knew something he didn’t. You wouldn’t tell him—but Sarah? You’d chosen her to drive you home from the hospital just a few days ago.

She was the only person that could lie to his face properly, he couldn’t fucking figure her out, she was always deflecting shit wherever they talked.

By the time he pulled up to the pogues’ little hideaway, the sky had darkened, the place lit only by the glow of string lights and the hum of voices inside. He sat in the truck for a second, staring at the house, willing himself to calm down.

Barging in—loud, pissed, impulsive—wasn’t going to get him what he needed. But fuck, it was hard not to.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him with just enough force to feel better for half a second. The screen door creaked as he stepped up to the porch, and he could already hear them inside—Sarah’s laugh, JJ cracking some dumbass joke, the rest of them chiming in like they didn’t have a care in the world.

He hated this, hated how they all looked at him, as if he was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. They weren’t wrong.

Rafe knocked, hard and sharp, the laughter inside cut off instantly. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant. A second later, it swung open, and there she was, his sister, looking at him like he was the last person she wanted to see.

“Rafe,” she said, one hand still gripping the door. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Her brows pulled together, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low enough to keep from drawing the others’ attention. “Don’t make me say it in front of them.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the voices in the living room. “Rafe, I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his tone sharper than he meant. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften, to keep it together. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She glanced back again, then sighed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. He was already pacing, hands twitching at his sides, hardly able to contain the energy inside him. 

The way she looked at him—wary, guarded—only made it worse.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, crossing her arms, like she was already bracing for a fight.

“My problem?” he barked out a laugh, sharp. “You really wanna play dumb right now? You’ve been keeping something from me, Sarah. I know you have.”

Her brows knit together, feigning confusion, “Dude. What’s this about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, stepping closer, “Don’t lie to me. I already know, okay? I know about the baby.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t confirm a thing, just stared at him like he was some wild animal.

“Where did you get the idea that she’s pregnant?”

His mouth opened, then closed. It felt wrong to snitch on Topper when he’d been one making him pry a little more.

“Well?” she pressed, “Answer me. How did you come up with that?”

Saying it out loud felt like admitting he’d been just as reckless and intrusive as everyone expected him to be. His hand ran over his face, trying to stall.

“I didn’t just make it up.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her patience waning. “No shit. So where, Rafe?”

He glanced away, then back, his voice defensive. “Topper said something, okay? He heard—he thought—” Rafe stopped, knowing how weak it sounded.

 “Topper? You’re taking life advice from Topper now?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it!” Rafe was quick to defend him, “He just... he mentioned some things, and it got me thinking. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sarah repeated, “You barged over there because Topper mentioned ‘some things’ ? Jesus Christ.”

His hands flew up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t hear it? Ignore it and hope it went away? I needed to know!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sarah shot back. “You wanted to know. There’s a difference, and it’s the difference that keeps getting you into this shit.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe pointed a finger in his direction, “Like I’m crazy or something. I’m not stupid.”

"You’re just not worth the energy right now."

Instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Right. Sure. I can see it all over you, just say it."

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Neither does Topper.”

“Stop lying!” His voice rose, loud enough to echo into the dark yard. “Just stop. You know something.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Rafe thought he’d finally cracked her. Except instead of giving him what he wanted, she just let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made him feel like a child fighting for his favorite toy.

“You want to know the truth?” 

“Yes,” he bit out, his chest heaving.

She stepped forward so they were only inches apart. “The truth is, you don’t deserve to know. Not yet.”

Everyone kept telling him the same thing, couldn’t they see he was already trying?

He staggered back a step. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that whatever you’re looking for, whatever answers you think you deserve, they’re not yours to take. Not until you can handle them without breaking everything you touch."

He flinched, her words striking something inside him, “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, almost desperate.

“I’m not deciding anything,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spent these last few months making everything about you. Your pain, your anger, your needs.”

He glanced away, “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

“You don’t,” he murmured, the realization bitter in his mouth.

"I don’t," she agreed, “You’re still not the person she needs you to be, and until you can prove you can do that—without me, without anyone holding your hand—you’re better off not knowing.”

“I’m trying. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“She’s scared you’re going to hurt her again—whether you mean to or not. You’re dating someone else, for god’s sake.”

“I ended it. This morning.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Doesn’t change the past, Rafe. And it sure as hell doesn’t make everything better overnight.”

Rafe flinched, the words sinking into him like stones. "Why the fuck do you think I’m here? I don’t want to hurt her—I can’t do anything if she won’t even talk to me."

Topper still had that number. 

You hadn’t hidden it well enough, he hadn’t done anything with it, but it was tempting. All he had to do was call, just to confirm, he told himself. Not to pry, simply to know for sure.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. This isn’t something you can force your way into. She would never forgive you, please be smart.”

His first instinct was to lash out, fire back some venom-laced retort that would sting as much as her tone. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” He dragged a hand through his head, “I know that, I know. But I can’t just sit here, doing nothing. I need to... I need to show her I can do better. That I am better.”

“You need to crawl through hell to understand a fraction of what she’s going through; you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about her.”

His hands fell to his sides, limp, the fight suck out of him. She was right—he hated that she was. This wasn’t about him anymore; it never had been.

 “What can I do?”

Her expression softened, not with forgiveness but something sadder—she wanted to believe he could. “You start by fixing yourself, then you wait. Until she’s ready, if she’s ready. You’ve got to mean that, Rafe, you screw this up again..."

"I won’t," he said firmly, cutting her off. "I can’t."

“Okay.”

“What if she’s not ready?”

He had no right to demand more.

“You keep going, keep trying. Not for her, not for anyone else—just for you.”

By the time he got back in his truck, the hurt in his body hadn’t lifted. His mom’s words echoed in his mind one more, “When you find that person, don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

Maybe that started with learning to be the person who deserved to hold on.

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[00valentina-writes00]

Hello! Could you do something about sub space with Ambessa and Sevika?

♡♥︎Subspace with Ambessa and Sevika (separately)♥︎♡

Warnings: rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, subspace, and strap-on use. Sevika/ambessa is in control, and the reader is completely at her mercy.

♡Ambessa♡

The war table is cold beneath your back, a stark contrast to the heat of Ambessa’s body pressing against you, holding you down, owning you.

The room is empty now—save for the two of you. The scent of spiced wine and polished steel lingers in the air, remnants of the meeting that had just concluded, but none of it matters.

Not when she’s inside you.

Not when her cock is stretching you open, slow, deliberate, dragging along every nerve like she wants to carve herself into your body.

And she will.

She already has.

Her grip on your hips is bruising, large hands pinning you down as she thrusts into you, each stroke hitting so fucking deep your breath hitches, eyes rolling back.

She makes you take it.

Every thick, punishing inch.

“You’re shaking,” Ambessa murmurs, amused, dragging her nails up your thigh, feeling the tremble in your muscles. “Poor thing. You can’t even think, can you?”

You can’t

Your mind is nothing but static, pleasure turning your limbs to liquid, your body soft and yielding beneath her.

You try to speak—some desperate attempt at words—but it comes out as nothing more than a broken, breathy moan.

Ambessa smirks.

“Good,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand up your stomach, over your breasts, thumb brushing lazily across your stiff nipple before moving to your throat. “You don’t need to think. Just feel.”

She punctuates the words with a deep, grinding thrust, her cock pressing firm against that perfect, devastating spot inside you, and you fucking keen, your back arching off the table, your fingers clawing at the smooth mahogany surface.

The polished wood offers no grip, no purchase, but you don’t need it—Ambessa holds you steady, her strength keeping you exactly where she wants you.

And gods, you love it.

Love the way she uses you, love the way she pulls you under, drowning you in sensation until you’re nothing but a shaking, desperate mess beneath her.

It’s happening faster than you can control.

That slow, creeping numbness slipping into your limbs, the warmth spreading through your chest, the sharp edges of reality dulling until all that exists is her.

Her touch.

Her voice.

Her cock pushing you deeper, deeper, deeper.

You gasp, whimper, thighs twitching around her waist, but Ambessa doesn’t let up.

She wouldn’t dare.

“You’re slipping,” she murmurs, her voice lower now, firm but steady. “I can feel it.”

Your eyes flutter, mouth opening, but your tongue feels too heavy, your thoughts too slow, caught in that thick, hazy fog where you don’t have to do anything.

Don’t have to think.

Don’t have to move.

Just let her take.

Ambessa watches you, eyes sharp, calculating, studying every twitch of your body.

Then, softer—so fucking gentle—she leans in, lips brushing your temple.

“I’ve got you, little one.”

The words send a shudder through you, something raw and helpless, and you melt, sinking into it completely, body going more pliant that it already was beneath her.

Ambessa hums in approval, lips curling into something dark.

And then she fucks you.

Deep, brutal, unrelenting, forcing pleasure through your veins like fire, burning away every last piece of you until you are nothing but this—nothing but hers.

Time doesn’t exist anymore.

It’s all the same, lost in the haze, in the overwhelming sensation, in the delicious, mind-numbing pleasure of being taken.

You don’t even notice when your own voice starts breaking, when your moans turn high and desperate, when your body starts shaking under her like you can’t take it anymore.

Ambessa notices.

She always fucking notices.

And she only smirks.

Because she isn’t done with you yet.

♡Sevika♡

The edge of the kitchen counter is digging into your back, but you barely feel it.

All you feel is her.

Sevika has you spread open, thighs hooked over her arms as she fucks into you with long, deep strokes, her strap hitting all the right places, making your breath come out in ragged little gasps.

You don’t remember how you got here. One second, you’d been cooking—something simple, something that shouldn’t have ended with you like this, legs spread on the counter, her cock stretching you open, her fingers digging bruises into your hips.

But Sevika? Sevika never asks.

She takes.

And fuck, do you love it when she does.

Her pace is relentless, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filthy in the small space. The kitchen lights cast a dim glow over her face, highlighting the sharpness of her jaw, the furrow of her brows, the way her lips part just slightly as she watches you unravel beneath her.

You can barely think. Barely breathe.

Every thrust sends fire licking up your spine, pleasure so consuming it drowns out everything else—the scent of whatever was on the stove, the hum of the fridge, the distant city noise beyond your window.

There’s only Sevika. Only this.

Her fingers slide down, pressing against your clit, and your whole body fucking twitches, heat flooding your veins so fast it makes your head spin.

“Fuck, look at you,” she mutters, voice thick with amusement. “So fucking gone for me.”

You are. You are.

Your nails dig into her forearms, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And maybe she is, because every time she moves, every time her cock buries deep inside you, it drags you further into that space—that mindless, floating feeling where you don’t have to think, don’t have to do anything but take it.

She tilts your chin up, forcing your hazy gaze to meet hers.

“That’s it,” she murmurs, softer now. “Let go, baby. I got you.”

You whimper, legs trembling around her, the pleasure turning into something too much, too overwhelming, but she doesn’t stop.

She won’t stop.

Not until she’s completely ruined you.

Her pace never falters, cock dragging against that spot inside you over and over, her fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. You’re shaking, your breath coming in broken little pants, your body teetering on the edge of something massive, something that has you slipping further and further into the haze.

Everything else disappears

Time stops.

There’s just sensation—just the push and pull, the dizzying heat, the way your body responds to her every touch like she owns it.

(And she does.)

Your mind barely registers when you start to slip completely, when words become impossible, when all you can do is moan, whimper, take it.

Sevika notices.

Her grip on your hips tightens, her strokes slowing just slightly, her voice lowering into something firm, grounding.

“There you go,” she murmurs. “That’s my girl.”

The words make your stomach flip, heat surging through you so violently you keel into it, your head lolling back as Sevika fucks you through it, her rhythm steady, strong, pushing you deeper.

You don’t know how long she keeps you there.

Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.

You barely notice when she slows, when her thrusts turn gentle, when her lips press against your throat in something softer, grounding.

It takes a moment for you to come back down, your body trembling, muscles weak, breath shuddering in your chest.

Sevika watches you, eyes dark, calculating. Making sure you’re okay.

When she speaks, her voice is low, soothing.

“You with me, baby?”

You blink up at her, dazed. Nodding.

She huffs a quiet laugh, brushing damp hair from your forehead.

“That’s my good girl.”

And fuck—if the words don’t send another shiver down your spine.

[hamable]

I do want to talk quick about the pelicans in The Boy and The Heron. While in the theater, I kept my mind open to symbols and metaphors that could slide into a larger narrative about war and grief, and these fit pretty well. The pelicans can no longer find fish to eat and are recruited and told to eat the Warawara. They don’t want to, and they didn’t know that’s what they’d be eating until they got there. There’s nothing else to eat. Their children are growing up different, they hardly know how to fly anymore.

It reminder me of soldiers drafted for war and sent to defeat whoever they’re pointed towards bc they have no choice. I’m glad Mahito buries the Pelican properly.

I looked up what the pelican symbolizes in Japan, and the first result says they represent parents who sacrifice themselves for their children. Sounds about right.

I think this connects largely to Mahito’s shifting perspective on the war and the people who fight it. He loses his mother to a fire caused by an air raid. She dies in a hospital, filled with children and other patients. I wonder if he possibly resents his father throughout the movie, because he builds aircraft, which will inevitably be used for more destruction (just like Miyazaki and his father). And then the pelicans say they have no choice and fear for the future their children will grow in and he starts redirecting his anger away from his father and heal?

Idk, I’ve only seen the movie once, and this is based off my 2+ day old memory. What do other people think?