#i more mean that people looking in from the outside expect you to become a man or a woman

[lilietsblog]

Ok so first of all there's always going to be BAD ART. Of any art form. Movies feel special because they take so much work, so shouldn't they all come out good because of that? No. That's not how making art and storytelling works.

Well, movies ARE a little bit special. For most/all other forms of art, there's a filter between actually /making/ the thing and /publishing/ the thing. You can draw a picture that doesn't come out right, and you can just put it away in a folder and draw another. You can write a book that you then look at and realize is not up to your standards, and you just don't send it to a publisher or self-publish and nobody needs to know.

Movies? Are way too expensive for that. There's way too much investment from way too many people to just put a movie away without anyone ever knowing it was made. Losses need to be recouped at least partially. It does not, at that point, matter if the movie is good or bad, SOMEONE will hopefully pay to see it.

(Then there's the serially published works that don't have this luxury, and there TV shows have incredibly greater reach and universality than any other serial media. Most works on RoyalRoad, most webcomics etc only get /known/ if they pass the filter of minimal audience engagement. Fanfiction has 0 reach outside of the fandom, short of getting rewritten to have original characters, which puts it into the traditionally published novel category. TV shows are on TV, which means everyone who watches TV has a chance to just stumble on them)

Now I don't know much about filmmaking, maybe I'm off-base with some of this. But I don't think this is a capitalist vs communist problem.

For one, communism as central planning - as you said, committees and government-approved budgets - is an incredibly bad economic system. Like, not morally bad, like bad at being an economy. I can elaborate on that if anyone wants, but tl;dr Do Not Do This. It will not improve art either, for all the reasons noted.

If you want more good movies, proportionally, what you want is a filter that allows bad movies to be made and then /not published/. What would allow this?

a cultural shift towards lower-budget movies. If everyone is more interested in stuff that has theatrical type production with visibly painted cardboard props and dance routines from like ten people as large scale battle choreography, that'll relieve a lot of the financial/organizational pressure, I think;

technological advances! We've already got a whole new short-form video genre on tiktok, including with people who are amazing actors playing multiple roles switching around clothing and angles. Yes, most tiktoks are bad, see again: any and all art, but like my tumblr dash only has the good ones filter to it and I'm quite happy for that;

An economic system where the average person has A LOT more free time and money on their hands. I will refrain from going on a UBI tangent here, but tl;dr the only way to avoid movies needing to recoup losses and therefore going to publication even when they didn't come out good, is to have these losses be genuinely write-off-able. Filmmaking needs to become a plausible hobby, like writing or drawing, something you do without expectation of necessarily making money off it. Communally, meaning a lot of people in the same hobbyist community need to have this ability at the same time in the same place.

(No, the USSR was not this. Everyone involved was a professional that the state was paying to make movies. The state could afford to discard some movies that were being made, yes, but you don't want "the state" to be the decider any more than you want "the corporation" to be the decider. The creatives involved need to be in charge, and that means doing something about budget concerns, as said above)

Yes, you will always need someone to organize production and such. There are people, I know for a fact, who would gladly do that as a hobby /if/ that were logistically possible in their lives. See amateur theatre, a very real thing that is not particularly far from filmmaking.

The key is not "making better movies". The key is "making movies in a way where you can afford to then discard them if you don't like them".

I've been trying to get a good overview of communist art, and it's difficult, partly because of the language barrier, but also partly because I think what I want isn't the art itself, it's a comparison of how the landscape of art-making shifts.

Movie-making, in particular, is a massive undertaking that requires a fair amount of time and money if you want to do it right. You need someone to write it, someone to direct it, someone to act in it, a cinematographer, some lighting, sound and music ... under a communist model, none of this would actually change. You would still need to acquire the personnel and make sure they were housed and fed. You would still need sets to be built and artists to devote their time and energy.

So one of the common criticisms of capitalism is that it produces Bad Art, that everyone is just trying to make a buck and they don't care about the product unless it finds consumers who will pay out cash. Everything is geared for the lowest common denominator. This gets worse as you involve more and more capital.

But I've always wondered: is this not also true under communism?

I don't mean in practice, that question is simple, all you have to do is read up on the film production processes from a number of different communist and formerly communist countries, whose source materials are often not accessible in English, mired in propaganda and disputes, and cover many decades. Easy peasy. I did what I think is a surface skim, but the common threads were that film studios were state-owned, scripts were approved by party officials, there were regular reviews during production, and a final review before release. You usually have to promote socialist values, or at least not criticize the current regime, and you have reviews for "ideological content". In spite of all this, some good movies got made, some bad movies got made, and some movies were banned for lack of ideological conformity or "frivolity". There are different eras to filmmaking in every country, times when the industry was thriving and times that it crashed to the ground in spectacular fashion as the government involved itself. A lot depended on who was in power and what the then-current ideology was. I think it's tempting to say that the widely agreed upon "great films" got made in spite of having ideological overview, but it's hard for me to evaluate that claim, and if someone said "the great American films were made in spite of capitalism" I think that also would be a difficult claim to evaluate, even though I've actually seen a pretty substantial amount of the canon and speak the language most often used in analysis of production processes.

No, what I mean is that in theory there's someone that has to be running the numbers. The film studio is state-run, sure, everyone is in state housing or whatever, they're getting food somehow ... but someone, somewhere, is authorizing all this. You don't make a film without a plan, so those plans have to be submitted to someone, or a committee, and that committee has to decide which films will get made and which will remain a dream. And if they're doing that, then they're either trying to make the film that they think benefits the country the most, or they're applying their own taste and judgment, but probably both.

And if you're under some kind of model where no one runs the numbers, where film-making is entirely volunteer work, then you still have problems, because you need this large volunteer organization, and you need to bring them in on your vision, and if they can just walk away, you need to maintain that energy and vision through the whole process.

I guess what I'm saying is that yes, capitalism presents problems when it comes to this specific artform, but I feel like as soon as you're out from under the yoke of the dollar, you're immediately under some other yoke. And I do wish that when people saw a bad film and said "the problem is capitalism" they would take a moment to consider that maybe there is always necessarily going to be oversight and compromise, just because of the nature of the enterprise.

This does not apply nearly so much to other forms of art, like those that can be done by a single person sitting in a room all alone.

[bulldog-butch]

i sometimes so desperately wish my gender and sexuality were more simple. i wish we weren’t trapped in a world where the binary even within transness weren’t so rigid. i wish i could just say i was trans man or that i never had had the desire to transition and could have just stayed happily as a cis butch lesbian

[blackvahana]

i am really never going to understand why people post "shifting antis dni" in the astral projection tag. "here practice that constantly gets appropriated by us and used as a weird justification for a new set of beliefs that aren't really based in the same reality you work with, and that also gets completely misunderstood by our community because we don't care to understand what you do and just pretend we know it's what we do like christians saying other religions worship the christian god, have a post! Also dni if you don't like our practice that has nothing to do with the one whose tag we just shoved this into"

if you're not astral projecting don't put shit in the ap tag. if you don't even know the difference between AP and RS I dont think your opinion holds enough weight to counter the pushback against flooding a separate practice's tag with "if you dont like the practice I'm talking about in your tags dni"

[draczrys]

Would you write something about Cregan Stark getting married to a reader of a house of your choice and thus sealing alliances and being fluffy?

WINTER ROSE. ❨ cregan stark x tyrell!reader ❩

since your birth, the third child and only daughter of highgarden’s lord, your fate had always been a marriage for political means. your elder brother would inherit the title, the other set for life as a knight of the seven kingdoms. you were a girl and your purpose was to marry well and secure a strong alliance for your family.

it didn’t take long to come to terms with what your life would look like. you would come of age and be sent away to the lord that would benefit you most. for your family, you would do it. but, every night, you would kneel by your pillow and pray that your husband would at least be kind —- it needn’t be true love, like the stories you often read. as long as he wasn’t cruel.

“cregan stark has been named the new lord of winterfell and is in need of a wife,” your father announced one morning, amidst the feasting hall. “i have sent a raven to offer your hand and he has accepted.”

your mother beamed, grasping your shoulders proudly. “my daughter, lady of winterfell.”

“we are in need of his banners and he needs our grain and cloths for the winter,” lord tyrell explains, shrugging as though it were simply a swap of goods and not the life of his daughter. “it is a fair exchange.”

by the next moon, you were departing the green and gold covered fields of highgarden and journeying north on the roseroad. the colder it became, the more you missed the sweet sun and elegant surroundings of your home. northerners were rough and unforgiving to outsiders, each one you met along the way adding to the dreaded image of your husband.

the first time you laid eyes on cregan stark was when you were taken along the path to the godswood. he was handsome, you couldn’t deny that. but his tall build, stoic features and steady gaze made you shiver —- even under the furs you’d been given. he had the look of a northerner, but did he have the heart of one too?

“by the old gods and the new, i name you man and wife,” the septon concluded the ceremony, unbinding the cloth wrapped around your hands. expectant eyes looked on, forcing a blush upon your face as you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to cregan’s cheek.

if you were to confess under the eyes of the godswood, you were afraid of cregan stark. his eyes were unwavering, lips fixed in a permanent frown. other than his vows of marriage, he hadn't said a word. neither of you were elated to be trapped into a marriage of convenience, but you knew you hadn't any choice in the matter. at the least, he could look like he was enduring it.

sat now at the top table in winterfell's great feast hall, your new husband at your side, the celebrations were growing louder the longer the wine was being poured. you sat quietly, barely sipping at your cup. only when the loud, booming voice of cregan's men rang out did you come back to the present.

"a toast, to the new lady of winterfell! may she be as beautiful under our lord as she is beside him."

the laughs that emulated from it made you grimace, so used to being treated as the perfect lady, protected from all things becoming to a man. you knew of sex, the people of the reach having always been open about their bodies and pleasures, but the northern aggression that came with it was foreign to you.

"to the bedding ceremony!"

the ladies at highgarden had warned you of the tradition that came at weddings, the entire party parading around the newlyweds as they stripped and consummated the bond. it was daunting enough to take your new husband to bed, but to be watched by tens of strangers? it had your heart suddenly hammering out of your chest, every muscle tensing in a cold shock.

"enough!" the commanding voice of the man by your side cut through the cheers, silencing the hall in an instant. it was the first time he had spoken since the ceremony, current volume making up for the silence. "there will be no bedding ceremony. anyone who protests will meet the sword at once."

whilst everyone else cowered under the threat, you felt yourself relax with a warm relief. cregan turns to meet your surprise, both his eyes and tongue turning soft as he speaks just to you now.

"you may retire, if you wish."

nodding gratefully, you follow the gentle hand of your lady-in-waiting out of the busy feast and along the strange halls of the cold castle. even your chambers are cold, the climate seeming to cling to the stone around the bed. the silk nightdresses you had brought with you do nothing to shield you from it, so once your lady departs you begin to forage through the chests for something to keep you warm. eventually finding a smaller set of furs amongst the others, you drape it around your shoulders and relish in the heat that comes with it.

"is everything to your liking?"

jumping in shock, you turn on your heels to find cregan stood at the doorway, just about filling the whole space. his eyes flicker down to the furs -- his furs, covering you and a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips.

"i'm sorry," you stumble quickly. "it was cold and it was all i could find."

cregan's head shakes, dismissing your apologies. "it's alright. everything here is as much yours as it is mine, now."

you smile, head falling bashfully to glance at the floor. "i hadn't expected everything to be so... different here. it will take some time to adjust, i think."

nodding in understanding, cregan crosses the room to stand in front of you. you feel yourself shiver under his gaze, watching him study you amongst his territory. hesitantly, his hand slips from under his own furs to reach for your own. you let him, both of you treading new water as your learn each other's touch; the smoothness of your palms, the rough pads of his thumbs, the heat that encompassed your chilled knuckles. the sensation is wonderful, like two puzzle pieces slotting together.

"whatever you need to help you enjoy your new life here, no matter the extent, it will be my honour to find it for you," cregan tells you, the kindness in his voice a pleasant welcome. "you are my wife now, it is my duty to make you comfortable."

feeling your cheeks warm, rounding with the first genuine smile in days. your heart swells and the feeling that this marriage might just be okay fills you, so much so that you find yourself reaching up to kiss cregan's cheek once more. unlike the bonding of the vows, this one is genuine and of your own volition, expressing the gratitude you could not find words for.

"i can sleep elsewhere for the night, if you would wish..." cregan continues, clearing his throat to distract from the small blush that creeps past his skin.

"no, stay," you tell him, squeezing his hand. "perhaps we could talk, learn more about each other."

the suggestion eases you both. cregan agrees, using your hand to guide you towards the bed, only leaving for a moment to fetch you more furs for the night. he potters around, changing for sleep, and the domestic scene lets you relax into the pillows.

it wasn't a marriage for love - yet. but perhaps it could be, with time.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

Are you a Tankie?? Do you think the USSR was a good nation? Do you maybe even defend Stalin somewhat, not just Lenin? Do you support Mao or ''commuist" nations in the modern age like China or North Korea? I think Commuism is a good ideology, but anytime it's been attempted alongside a government, it's been used as an excuse to control and oppress people. I think it can only work feasibly under anarchy because a government will never release control of its citizens.

I used to be an anarchist myself. I'm not going to say there's some magic phrase that will convince you to become a "tankie" like me, but I will say that if you haven't read some of the core works by Marx, Engels, or Lenin, you should give them a try sometime. "State and Revolution" especially. There is no magic "abolish the state" button that can be pressed to do away with all authority in one stroke. The material conditions must be changed first before the state can disappear.

I would also recommend checking out Pat Sloan's "Soviet Democracy", and pretty much anything by Anna Louise Strong but especially The Soviets Expected It, The Stalin Era, and In North Korea. On the subject of North Korea, you should also watch the democracy "Loyal Citizens of Pyongyang in Seoul".

There is a lot of propaganda surrounding actually existing socialism in the West, and it is important to separate truth from fiction. People do not fight in revolutions only to turn around and accept new oppressors. Every currently existing socialist state is democratic, and that includes the DPRK. Democratic does not mean ideal, but it does mean that people have a say in who is running the government. Even more than that, in every existing socialist state the people have the right to recall elected officials at any time, something which is not guaranteed in most bourgeois democracies, including the US.

Can you imagine members of the ruling party meeting with the people directly on a regular basis to discuss and debate the issues that matter most to the people in the US or any other bourgeois democracy? Can you imagine government officials whose top priority is the material welfare of the most disadvantaged citizens? You look at government meetings in China, in Cuba, in Vietnam, in Laos, and in North Korea, and that is what you see time and time again. That is the crux of politics in these countries, the material conditions of the people and how to improve them. They are dictatorships of the proletariat and thus the proletariat are the class for which the state exists to benefit.

Finally, you should read the 1986 paper "Capitalism, socialism, and the physical quality of life" by Cereseto & Waitzkin. While it is nearly 40 years old, it used World Bank data (clearly not a source biased in favor of communism) to demonstrate how on average socialist economies outperformed capitalist ones at similar levels of economic development in terms of actual material conditions for the average citizen. Being 40 years old, it also has the advantage of comparing data at a time when the number of socialist nations was at its highest. If you want to see more recent examinations that take a similar approach, you should read any papers by the economist Jason Hickel, but especially his 2016 paper "The true extent of global poverty and hunger", where he demonstrates that capitalism has by and large failed to improve material conditions outside the imperial core, and that the only nations that buck the trend in the developing world are the ones who have rejected neoliberal economic policy, most notably China, whose socialist economy has been responsible for the vast majority of people lifted out of poverty in the last decades.

[fishnapple]

The purpose of your life, why you're here

This reading is about finding the purpose of your life, why you're here, your current reincarnation (if you believe in reincarnation), or your soul, what you're born into this world to experience. All 6 groups share a similar theme of reaching your highest potential and having the focus on connections.

A similar reading was also done by @claudiafrankie, you can check out their reading here

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ROSE QUARTZ

Keywords: inspiration, leading, expansion, mastery, mental power, innovation, connection to the psyche

I see the theme of big vs small, how we define our life, give meaning to it. Are we just a tiny entity that exists in the sea of existence, or are we the whole universe, embracing everything?

In your life, you will encounter many instances where you're asked to step forward, step outside, go out of your comfort zone. You will be put into experiences that tell you how knotted your life has been and how much it could unravel into something more spontaneous. There's a fight between wanting to focus on the physical plane, doing daily tasks perfectly, concern yourself with details, with what is happening around you and the need to do something bigger, having more impact and influence, to make a change to the world, to live the life you dream about. Confinement vs freedom.

You have a lot to tell, so much to share, so much to experience. At your core, you're an adventurer, a nomad, life is a journey that you need to keep moving. You want to achieve great things, leave a mark in this world and receive adoration from people. But the first step in your journey will be facing your wounds. They are the door that stands between you and the freedom outside. Are you ready to turn the doorknob and push that door? In the past, in your past lives, you might have experienced confinement, mentally, physically, spiritually. You kept standing there and facing the door but didn't decide what to do. So in this life, you're given a choice to choose again.

You might think the components to your success in life are outward actions, ambitions, and material achievements, showing how capable you are. Your mind is buzzing with ideas, with the future, always looking for a new way to do things better, to perfect what you're focusing on, like a windshield wipers working tirelessly on a stormy day. The next piece of information, the exciting new discoveries, the buzzing trends, they busy your mind until it becomes fatigued and obsessed.

Your purpose of this lifetime is to learn how to rest, when to stop, and how to use the information and resources you have gathered to build yourself up effectively. What defines you is not how much you have, how good you are at certain jobs, but how you master yourself and become the highest aspiration of yourself.

To do that takes patience and understanding of yourself. Turning inward, curbing the restless mind and impulses. You might be someone who is quite impatient or impulsive, wanting to execute right away the idea you have in mind, what you think of should be what you have, expecting results and excellence quickly, if things don't go well from the first try, you want to give up and change direction, change the method without giving the old ones enough time to develop. If you are this person, then life will give you many opportunities or challenges to slow you down, the more you try to act, to fix things, tossing ideas everywhere, going around in many directions at once, the more likely you are to be confined and forced to make a clear choice and commit to it. And you will have to choose wisely. How do you do it? By facing that door, those wounds, see how they are projected into your surroundings, your relationships with people, how you go around, anywhere, just to avoid them.

You're given a good pair of eyes (figuratively, or can be literally) to truly see, amidst all those busy movements, a path for yourself. A wide, unexplored path. Pushing the door, stepping out is scary, but you're brave and you will inspire many others to do the same.

LABRADORITE

Keywords: growth, healing, comfort, peace, helping, courage, accepting changes

I see the image of a sword or a cross. Your energy feels young and soft yet resilient and brave. Life gives you many challenges that would forge a sharp and strong blade inside you. The sword here is not for harming or conquest but for protection and striking the lock, through layers of fears that have been imprisoning you for a long time.

Your life is divided or, rather, balanced by two opposing forces and choices. One is the past, the habit, the way you chose to protect your safety. You might have a tendency to go along with other people's wishes or try to avoid direct confrontation for fear of disrupting the peace. This might be one of your defence mechanisms when dealing with life in general. You want to live in peace, quietly go about your way without obstruction and intrusion from outside. This creates a demure aura, in some way, a little submissive or malleable energy. You don't act this way because you want to gain something from other people. You just don't find it necessary to engage in confrontations that lead to dead-end.

The other side is something you're called to embrace more of in this lifetime. Your energy is soft and flowy, like water, but it needs a little solidifying into something more sturdy. It's the hardening of the core self. Hardening here does not have a negative connotation, it's not about building walls around yourself, closing your heart and spirit, acting cold and tough, it's not like that. It's about being more sure of yourself, giving yourself a sturdy and durable foundation, like how a pliable sprout would grow into a robust tree, standing tall and firm on the ground.

Work and career, material achievements will be the ground where you will see yourself grow the most in this lifetime. There will be opportunities and chances for you to break out of your nest and explore. The work environment will be dynamic and full of pleasant surprises. You will find support through the people you work with. A family member might be a crucial figure in your process of becoming the best version of yourself.

I feel a very giving nature, you have so much in yourself, so much to share, that inner abundance, with people, with life. But only when you release the attachments that keep you rooted in constricted safety. There might be hesitancy when trying to think about bigger aspirations, about your life dreams. You might think that those dreams are unrealistic or too far away. Your mind and your heart are going in the opposite direction. Your heart wants to look forward, to the distant, unexplored horizon, while your mind is occupied by anxiety and uncertainty. It's the root of the great divide between your past and your future.

But I think in this lifetime, things will change. Your life is in a great transition period. Events might happen quickly, surprises come more often. What you've been believing in, what you've been doing habitually might suddenly become strange and feel foreign to you. These changes are necessary, you might feel uncomfortable having to depart from what you've been attached to. But if you can muster enough courage to go against the usual, it will be a personal victory for you. You will successfully break the earth above you and shoot up, out of dormancy, to begin a new adventure.

RED JASPER

Keywords: manifestation, beauty, to connect, freedom, commitment, wish vs reality

It feels like you have a starter kit of manifesting love but you haven't learnt how to use them fully yet. Love and other connections will be the focal point of this lifetime for you.

You have a unique power of manifestation. Have you ever had some thoughts and then a few days or some time later, they came true?. Everything could manifest instantly that you might even be scared of your own thoughts, afraid that any "wrong" thought will result in a bad future. If you haven't realised this about yourself, be more mindful and observe how things work around you. Life will feel a lot more magical for you.

One of the reasons why your thoughts are so powerful is because you're given full reign, full freedom to experience this world. It's not something that you can easily realise and put into practise. There's no particular script nor strict rules for you to follow, you just need to experience as many things as possible. The best gift you have in this lifetime is freedom. I think this gift is something hard-earned from countless trials and hardships. The memories of distant pains might still linger somewhere deep inside you, keeping you from fully being free to dream. But no more rules and burdens. This life is meant to be savoured in its vastness. You're a born rebel. Carving your own path, going your own way, never settling, never being fully at ease with the present, always on the lookout for a different future.

And that's where relationships come in. One of the best ways to do that is through relationships and interacting with others. I see a tendency to be hasty or quick to move on when it comes to bonds with other people. With your manifesting ability, combine with your natural charms, you have no problem with meeting and building the connection with someone. But something about commitment might scare you. You might not want to commit because of the fear that your freedom will be lost, or because you put a heavy importance on a commitment that you don't want to step into one too lightly. You might jump, too quickly, into conclusions about some connections. Maybe you would try to find a plausible reason to stop the connection, in the name of practicality and logic, ready to find flaws in the other person, or, on the opposite end, you decide too quickly that this is it, this person is the one and then try to commit, prematurely. It's like you are given something because you wished for it, but then you don't exactly know what to do with it. This will be one of your biggest lessons in this lifetime. To follow through with what you wish for, to commit to something fully and wisely. It's not just romantic relationships but also other relationships, colleagues, friends, families, etc.

There would be two types of people in your life who can guide or lead you into two different directions. They will appear in the form of mentors, someone older or more experienced than you, someone whom you feel you can learn something significant from. One type will encourage you to find your calling, your path. Who will constantly touch your deepest feelings without even trying. They may trigger you, for good or for bad, you would feel their choices of words and actions are dubious and questionable, but there is something undeniably inspiring about them, they push you to be more bold and get in touch with your needs and wishes. While the other type would be someone wanting to dictate every move in your life under the guise of knowing what's good for you. They are powerful, they can make your wishes come true but only if you come under their wings and stay there. You would feel like a child being well taken care of, but your wings will be clipped. Which direction to take is ultimately your choice, you choose whatever to experience, because that's your freedom in this lifetime.

CITRINE

Keywords: uncharted water, discovery, exploration, crossing, in between, balanced, transition

I see your path in this life is going to the unknown, something that you haven't experienced before. You are standing at a gate, a bridge in between two lands. Or, in the vertical sense, you are standing on the dark ground, looking up at the sun, shining bright from above. There are lots of movements, both mentally and physically. In this lifetime, you will constantly move between the two worlds. The inner, dark and cold sea of your private world and the bright, warm air of the outside world. No world is better than other, they need to be their for your life to be in balance, staying in one world for too long and neglecting other will likely result in some events taking place to pull you back into balance.

These two worlds are parallel to each other. The inner world is led chiefly by your mind, they are well organised, block by block, neatly like a library, while the outer world is more dynamic, led by passion and actions. They affect each other in every way, more than you realise. Chaos in the inner thought will likely result in confusion and, in some extreme cases, destruction of the known path. You will stumble upon many paths that are considered strange and out of the norm, but I think you're geared towards them, even unknowingly, your mind has a knack of seeing the unique structure of things, noticing the pattern and the likely outcomes of situations that not many people can. This will help you see more alternatives in life and choose a path that can bring satisfaction to you, in all senses, materially, spiritually, emotionally. This path will likely be an uncharted water, something that not many people have done, there will be many unexplored areas for you to bring in your unique takes.

Another way the two worlds interact with each other is what your inner world needs, the outer world will provide. If you feel anxious and doubtful, haunted by past memories, then you will likely encounter something or someone new who can give you fresh perspectives and encouragement to be brave. If you feel your life is lacking security, you feel low in your self esteem, there will be moments of transformation that bring you closer to what you desire, you will be given opportunities to venture into new territory, meeting new people, getting the support you need to start something. The universe hears your every call and answers back with opportunities, emphasis on the word "opportunities", you won't be given a whole cooked dish, you will be given ingredients to make the dish.

There's an element of settlement. Instead of jumping from place to place, in this lifetime, you need to hold onto something, to make something uniquely yours, something that will be by your side everywhere you go. It could be a legacy, a creation, a lesson, something that lasts. But it's not about stubbornly holding on to something, it has to be integrated into your core being. Throughout life, you will face with many events that will change your perspective drastically, you're not meant to hold on to old beliefs, withered branches that can no longer hold the weight of the birds standing on them. You will constantly meet new people, those that will open your eyes. Foreign people and cultures might fascinate you, somewhere with lots of sunlight, warm hospitality, beautiful scenery and architecture, lots of mountains and flowers. Especially if you're someone who's from a land near the sea, windy and cold, lots of rain and stormy weather. You are a traveller at heart, don't limit yourself to any particular place.

AMETHYST

Keywords: opinion, communication, conflict, to uphold, straightforward, honesty, truth

I don't know why, but upon seeing your spread, the phrase "human comedy" just sprang up in my mind. This life of yours will go through so many ups and downs in regards to connections and relationships. You will experience the full spectrum of them, every facet, every emotion.

You might encounter many situations where you're misunderstood greatly, those will create a very interesting dynamic between you and the world. Interesting might not be the right word, even my choice of word in this reading is muddled up, you might have the tendency to use words that make your intentions seem questionable or odd to people, and they do the same to you. It's like people from different lands from all around the world gathered for a meeting but there's no common language and no one to translate.

Communication will be the point of focus for you. You might struggle to find the right expression, the right words for the things you want to say. Thoughts seem a lot more clear and articulated in your head, but when they are uttered, there's this fog around you that tends to twist and blur the words, making them shift and fuddle. You will need to find a way to clear this fog, to deliver your words in the most direct and straightforward way as much as possible, even at the risk of being blunt and offensive. This might create an obsession or anxiety when communicating. Maybe you want to find the perfect expression, the details, you do notice the tendency of people misunderstanding you so you try so hard to elaborate, which can create the impression of being long winded, rambling or argumentative.

Ideas jump around in your head, constantly born and spread, demand to get out, to be expressed, this forms a rushing energy, impatient tongue. But even with all these misunderstandings, you don't actually offence people. They may perceive you as nitpicking, blunt, or argumentative, but they don't necessarily hate you for it. On the contrary, some even find it amusing and endearing, these people might even intentionally tease or poke at you, it's not malicious, but then again, you also don't read people's intentions too clearly and might perceive these acts of teasing as personal attack. Your reactions would rile those people up even more. Hence, the endless cycles of poking and reacting. The purpose of all of these is to train your resilience of the mind and heart. You should take all of these with good spirit, laugh them off, keep your truth and speak honestly, there's nothing more attractive than that.

On a more serious note, you're reminded to stand firm in your thoughts. I sense that you have so many wisdom to share with the world. Teaching might be a calling for you. Even without actually be in the education field, people can still learn from you, through your unshakable conviction in yourself and the way you speak your truth. It might be intense, it might be difficult to swallow, it might seem strange and outlandish, but nevertheless, it captivates the world through its sincerity.

AVENTURINE

Keywords: artist, bridge, the call, emotional landscape, go with the flow, sensitivity

"Young poet of the moon", "The poet of the soul", those two just appeared in my head upon seeing your spread, so I wanted to write them down. I think those words portrayed you pretty well. Your inner artist heart is beating every moment, it's a force that you can't hide or be ushered into oblivion by some circumstances.

This world needs a lot of people who have a sensitive heart, like you, someone who has the "eyes" to see the beauty in this world, the "ears" to hear its cry and whisper, the "lips" to court it with sweet sweet words. You're here to make people see the world in its naked beauty, helping them realise the small details of living and in the process, elevate their souls.

You offer this world a cup filled with creativity. The way your mind and heart tremble and come alive with all the senses can create striking new creations. The passion for sensuality is there, for the bursting love of life. Sensuality here encompasses a vast spectrum of things, from the aromas of delicious food, the cool and smooth feeling of water lapping over you, the swirling colours of leaves dancing under the sun, the warm and rough feel of someone's hands, ... they are all the materials for you to marvel at, to create, to give back to the world your interpretation of it.

Why did I say "poet" in the beginning? Because you have the gift of gab, your words resonate with people's hearts, because they are spoken from the realm of the unknown inside all of us, we can only be able to catch a glimpse of it here and there, when we allow ourselves to relax and float. You have the ability to connect to that realm , to catch sights of it more often and crystallise those sights into words or messages conveyed by other means. But I sense written words strongly. Even if you do something that isn't related to creativity or the art (but is there anything that truly be detached from creativity?), this gift will still assist you in every endeavour you're in, negotiating, mediating, persuading, counselling, anything that needs these kinds of skills.

Love will play an important role in your life, you're here to experience love in all of its forms, experience all the feelings it can create within us. It won't be an easy journey, heartaches are there, but so is the deepest devotion. You might face delays in love or intense connections that leave lasting marks on your soul. You're not the same person you once were before a connection. These will transform you, plunging you into greater depth and strange waters. But don't be afraid,if you allow yourself to savour the journey, you will arrive at a treasure that many people have been struggling to find. This inexhaustible treasure will provide richness to your life. Also, don't let yourself drowned either, emerge out of the water and share with the world what you've seen. So many people need their hearts touched by a soul such as yours.

[nathaslosthershit]

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time. 

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family. 

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?” 

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Fake it ‘till you make it

Summary: Y/N’s ex-boyfriend will be at the Christmas party she will be attending. Bucky poses as Y/N’s +1.

Pairing:  Modern!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food and alcohol, mention of cheating and ghosting people and breaking Y/N's heart, mention of christmas and the dear corporate world, loads of mention of anxiety/stress, some vulgar language

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This is the 3rd Xmas OS of the series. It was a bit thougher to write than I imagined, but I'm quite happy out it turned out. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N’s hands were so sweaty that she had to wipe them on her black coat every five minutes. The air in the car was warm and cosy, a sharp contrast with the cold and dry weather outside. If it should have relaxed her, it wasn’t enough. Instead, she couldn’t stop her right leg from shaking and her heart was beating so fast that it made her blood ring in her ears. She couldn’t believe that even after all this time he was making her this nervous.

Though, it wasn’t him exactly; it was this whole situation…

The he in question was her ex. An ex that, one night, had decided to throw away a four-year-long relationship with a note left on the kitchen counter of their shared apartment. An apartment from which he had planned to move out without facing her. Too bad for him, that same night, Y/N had gotten back from work earlier than expected and had, of course, walked in on him moving out. In the end, she had been the one to kick him out. Nevertheless, the shock had been real when, one week later, Natasha, her dear friend, had seen him at the supermarket, hands in hands with some other woman.

He had broken her entirely: her heart, her trust in this world, her self-esteem and probably everything else. More than one year later, she was still fixing what he had done to her. So naturally, when she heard that he was going to attend the Christmas party of the firm she was working at, she did the only thing she thought she was capable of… She decided not to go.

That was without counting on Natasha, who was determined not to let this slip that easily. He was the bastard that broke her friend. He would be the one daring to attend the Christmas party of the firm his ex was working on for more than six years now. He was only a small accountant from the accounting company to which finance had started to outsource their activities a couple of weeks ago. He was insignificant, while Y/N was expected to take on the role of head of her department after the retirement of her manager. Y/N couldn’t simply decide to not attend. She was going to be there and showing how much better she was doing without him.

Thanks heaven, she wasn’t going to do this alone. When Natasha had succeeding in convincing her to go to this party, Y/N had admitted she didn't feel like going alone. Sure, there would be her coworkers – she had become good friends with a few of them and all were aware of her romantic situation ship (or lack of, therefore). However, between Gina and her three kids, Maria on maternity leave, and Zach who she knew was going to hit on every waiter present, she needed more support. Y/N had made puppy eyes to Natasha, trying to get her to come with her. A look in her agenda later, the redhead had declared with a huge smile on her lips that she would be in Europe that week, closing the most important deal of the year for her own company. That was how Bucky had offered to be her “+1” for the night.

Ever since, Natasha had made up this fantasy of Bucky posing as Y/N’s fiancé for the night. She wanted Y/N’s ex to know Y/N was doing better, much better indeed, now that he wasn’t in her life anymore. At first, Y/N had embraced this idea, it was only payback for the way he had embarrassed her. However, thinking about it again, it definitely didn’t feel like such a good idea. How pathetic was she to try and make him jealous when the simple thought of him should make her indifferent…

Y/N had gotten cold feet a million times. If it wasn’t for Bucky insisting to call a cab to pick them both up and then have it drive them to the party, she would have spent her Friday evening ordering pizza and watching Netflix or if she would have had the courage to get out in the cold, testing this new winery bar that opened downtown to drink away her sorrow.

Even now, on her way to the party, she was only a second away to ask for the car to turn around and go back home. It would be a shame with all the money she had put in her outfits, make-up and hair, and with how Bucky had dressed up too, but she could still pretend to be not feeling well or be sick, no?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that the car had stopped, and her door was already opening. A wave of panic washed over her.

She did not want to be here.

She wanted to be anywhere, but here.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke, and she was surprised to see that he was the one to have open the door car. She had not realized Bucky had already gotten out and was offering her his hand to help her get out as well. “Just like we said,” he searched for her eyes as he took a deep inspiration. Eyes lost in the blue of his eyes; she copied him instinctively. It was just one night; she reminded herself to try to ease her nerves. As did Bucky, she breathed out. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. She nodded weakly, still hooked to his eyes as if they were buoys.

They continued to breathe together for the time she needed to successfully calm herself and her heartbeat. When she was ready, she grabbed her handbag and took his hand. She couldn’t help but notice how her heart fluttered in her chest and how her cheeks heated up when their skin touched, but she quickly pushed the thought aside.

This was how Bucky was, not only with her, but with everyone. He was very well mannered and always nice; opening the door, pulling out the chair for the person he was with to sit down, offering his coat or jacket were anyone too cold. One smile and everyone would fall for him. Y/N couldn’t lie, Bucky was also very good looking. Tall, but not too tall. Definitely muscly under his button-up shirts. Flashing bright smiles. Piercing blue eyes.

Y/N had met him through Natasha. At that time, she had just moved to New York, and they worked at the same company. Natasha had introduced her to her group of friends; people she had been to university with: Wanda, Clint, Sam, Steve, and Bucky – and she was quick to be a part of the group.

While they had always been in the same group of friends, they had never been particularly close. Bucky being Bucky, he was always eager to know what was going on in her life, always interested in discussing about her hobbies, but they had never hanged out outside of their little group gatherings.

Y/N only really acknowledged him after her break-up. It was as if she had worn blinders for all those years. Suddenly, she realized he had been there all along. He continued being nice to her and much more than that. He became a really good friend, showing up at her place with ice-cream so she could cry her heart out. He listened and dried her tears. More than anything else, he made her feel important.

Like he really cared.

And in this past year, it had been everything to her.

As they walked into the building where the party was happening, Bucky spoke to her about the plans Steve and him had over the weekend. He spoke to her as if they were only going to the supermarket do groceries on a Tuesday night. She realized what he was doing – he was trying to clear her mind – and she was grateful for it. It did stop the easiness in her stomach and thankfully, the cold of the night made her hands dry.

In the hall, Bucky took her coat to leave it in the cloakroom. It was the exact same moment her phone decided to ring.

Natasha, less than one minute ago: Don’t forget to send me a picture of the two of you.

Natasha, less than one minute ago: And have fun!

Smiling, Y/N send her a quick answer, a mix of ‘yes mom’ with a rolling eyes emoji and ‘have a good day’ wherever she was – Natasha’s schedule was so hectic it was a bit difficult to follow sometimes; she could have been in London in the morning and Moscow at night.

Y/N put her phone back in her handbag as Bucky walked back to her. With a motion of his hand, he invited her to lead the way and enter in the reception room. His right hand rested in between her shoulder blades that her backless dress left naked. His palm was barely touching her skin, yet the touch of his fingertips grounded her, made her focus on him rather than what was happening around them.

“Y/N!” Gina called out as soon as they entered the room. She left her husband with her boss and nearly came running in their direction.

To Y/N’s disappointment, Bucky’s hand left her back as he let her go to greet her colleague. Gina didn’t lose time to hug Y/N as if the last time they had seen each other was not in the HR meeting that same morning. From the empty glass in her hands, Y/N assumed she had already started to celebrate the end of the year. Gina had never been one to handle alcohol well.

“Bucky, right?” Gina questioned as she turned to her left, to him.

“And you must be Gina.” Bucky stated in return. Gina giggled like a middle school girl – that was typically Bucky’s effect and even if Y/N knew him for a good decade now, it still amazed her. Gina went for a hug and Bucky happily obliged, barely touching her though.

“Hot,” Gina mouthed not so silently to Y/N, who was standing behind them.

Y/N only gave her a stern look and watched as Gina took her sweet time to let him go. If she had thought for a long time already that she would never let Natasha and Gina meet, she knew now that she was indeed right. The two of them in the same room would be the death of her.

Thankfully, someone going up on the stage in front of the dance floor was enough to put poor Bucky out of his misery. The CEO of the firm was about to give his traditional end-of-year speech, and everyone was invited to listen. Gina’s husband was quick to get her to join the crowd who was quickly gathering around the stage.

Y/N turned to Bucky who still wore his typical soft smile and acting as if the interaction with Gina had never happened. Maybe it happened to him more often than Y/N would know. “She is… something. I’m sorry.”

Bucky chuckled to wave it off and only offered her his arm, “Shall we?”

As they stand next to each other, in the crowd of the firm employees in front of the stage, Y/N only listened to the speech with one ear. She couldn’t help watching around the room. She saw the faces of all the persons in the crowd, some she had never seen before and a few familiar ones. Somewhere in the crowd, her eyes met with Zach who raised his glass to her, and she nodded in return to acknowledge him; considering who he was with, she knew she was most likely not going to see him again tonight. Thankfully, she didn’t see her ex and release a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

When her eyes turned to Bucky, he was already looking at her. For the first time, she saw a very subtle frown on his face. He was worried about her. Even if he had agreed to it – and he did so willingly, she felt bad for having him spend the night with her, attending a Christmas party where he knew nobody even more so. The company he was working at must also have its own Christmas party and everybody knew that one company Christmas party a year was much than enough. She wanted him to have a good time, not remembering this night in a bad way. So, she needed to relax.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Bucky had to nudge her in the ribs so she would applause at the end of the speech.

“Do you want a drink?” Y/N said more for herself than Bucky at her side. Without waiting for him to answer, she continued: “I’ll get us some drinks.”

And just like that, she had left him on the spot and was walking in direction of the bar. One second later, she was turning back and walking to where Bucky was still standing. He looked at her, surprised.

“Thank you so much.”

Bucky smiled, sweetly. That was probably what she liked the most about him, he knew exactly was she was on about. “Doll, pleasure is all mine.”

Doll… Bucky wouldn’t stop calling her by all those sweet nicknames ever since the break-up. It somehow made her stomach fluttered. She wished he was only using those with her, but she knew with how he was, he did it with everyone else.

“No, really,” she insisted. “You didn’t have to do it.” Bucky was going to answer something when she cut him off. “You must think I am pathetic to do this. I swear, I do not have any feeling for him anymore. I just don’t want him to think he won. He can’t be the one to have thrown away a four-years-long relationship and be the one to walk away happy. Not after all he put me through.”

Slowly, Bucky took her chin into his right hand, his eyes meeting hers again. She had not noticed, but they were yet again so close to one another.

“Love, we are going a hell of a time tonight. Screw him. You are much better without him. You would have to be blind not to see it.”

And what a time they were going to have indeed…

After a couple of drinks, Y/N was much comfortable about being here that night. Bucky had somehow managed to get them a full tray of appetizers for them both to share as their dinner. They had been joined by Zach afterwards, who against all odds spent a part of his evening with them. They shared some shots of vodka, took a dozen of silly pictures at the photobooth that was set up, and once the DJ had started to play actual music, they had been quick to join the dance floor. In the crowd of employees, Bucky had made Y/N spun around herself more times than she could count. His hands had been on herself at all times – on her hips, on her arms, on her back, definitely leaving Y/N aching for more.

“I need to take a break.” Y/N announced after a while as she started to walk away from the dance floor. Zach was too busy with some other man to care about her and Bucky was quick to follow her.

“You good?” he asked. As the music was too loud, Y/N only saw his lips moving without hearing what he had said. Bucky stepped closer and had his lips close to her ear to repeat her question.

“Yes,” she nodded, moving her hands in front of herself as a fan to have some air. She had this hotness on her cheeks and nose; her backless dress was now clenched to her features. At this point, she didn’t know anymore if it was from all the dancing or from him being so close to him. She was hot, needed some air and probably also a drink. “I’m thirsty. Do you want something?”

Bucky had to lean in again onto her to let her know what he wanted to drink. Y/N gave him a thumbs-up before walking to the bar. She was wearing a big smile on her lips and was feeling absolutely content. As she walked away from the dance floor, she thought this night couldn’t have gone better… except her feet in those heels and she would have to drink water at some point if she didn’t wish to wake up with a massive headache… And that, as if destiny was playing with her, her eyes landed on the only person that could spoil her night.

Y/N’s smile faded when she was her ex, waiting for his drink at the bar, hand pianoing on the wood of the counter, eyes scanning the room. Bucky’s presence had finally made her totally forget what she had asked him to come for in the first place.

Sighing, she decided she wasn’t going to turn back now. She didn’t have to talk to him, let alone have to look at him. She went to the bar side on her left, at the very opposite of him. Focusing on the barmaid that smiled when she stood against the bar, she repeated Bucky’s whisky order and ordered a soft drink for her. She was about to get back to Bucky with their drinks when a shadow overed on her.

“Y/N, how nice to see you,” his snide voice called her out.

Her two drinks in her hand, she turned to look at him with a stern sight. Still the same charming smile. The same malicious eyes. That same dimple. It had made her heart flattered in the past, though now it only made her want to vomit.

“It has been a long time, how have you been?”

“I am awaited,” was all she answered. Her tone was not rude – though she would have very much like to throw her glass to his face; it was only very firm to pass on the idea that she did not want to talk to him. At all.

“Oh, so you’ve been able to coax someone to come with you?” he said, grabbing on her elbow to keep her from moving away from him.

“Her boyfriend, actually.”

Bucky appeared at her side, out of nowhere. The surprise made him drop his hold on her, making Y/N lose her balance. Thankfully, Bucky firm hand found the exposed skin of her lower back in a second and she gently crashed onto his side.

Unsure of what to do, Y/N looked back at Bucky, who was now getting his drink out of her hands.

“Thank you, doll.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back, loosing herself in his blue eyes, totally forgetting the room around her and the fact that her ex was right in front of them. The physical contact of his skin on hers was started to make her head fizzy. Or was it the multiples drinks of Champagne finally making it to her head?

“Nice to have seen you again, buddy.”

And without waiting for an answer, Bucky brought Y/N with him to a cocktail table, not so far from the dance floor, but a little bit calmer where they could talk. A couple of steps away from her ex, when he knew they weren’t within earshot, he leaned on Y/N to mutter:

“See, wasn’t that bad.”

Y/N smiled weakly and took down the glass of orange juice she had ordered in one go, now wishing she had ordered vodka with it. Her heart in her chest was pounding and she felt his eyes on her back; he was watching them. All her energy seemed to have left her body. Their encounter had been like a wake-up call, and she didn’t want to be here any longer.

Yet, she didn’t want to be the first one to leave, she didn’t want to let him win. So, she tried to calm herself and she stayed at the limit of the dance floor, watching her colleagues dancing the night away before her eyes. Bucky stayed at her side. He did not say a word, probably because he had understood she did not want to talk.

It was only when the DJ played a slow dancing song that Y/N seemed to wake up from her trance and turned to him.

“Would you dance with me?”

Bucky didn’t need much persuading and was quick to grab Y/N’s hand to lead her to the dance floor. He found them an empty space, where he had her turned to him. His hands immediately found a place on her naked back, sending shivers down her spine, and her hands found their way to the back of his neck.

They moved slowly, body pressed against one another. Y/N let her head fall on his chest while he slowly stoked the skin of her back. Her belly tingled in such a strong way that she finally had the courage to look at him in the eyes. When their eyes met, he was already looking at her, a small smile on his lips that inadvertently draw Y/N’s eyes. His lips were so close, so reachable, that she was tempted to just lean in and see what would happen. The fire in her stomach wanted her to do it. After all, she had already lost so many things this year, nothing worse could happen, right?

She bit her own lips and tried to come back to earth. Bucky was a good friend and if it meant losing him, she didn’t want to risk it. He was too precious to ruin everything, even if she wanted him more than anything.

“What would you say of getting out of here?” Bucky asked when the song finished. Even though the next song was not slow-rhythmed, they had stayed in the same position. Body pressed together, moving slowly.

“Yes, please.”

Yet, none of them moved.

They kept eyeing each other, Y/N’s gaze going from his eyes to his lips and back again. Finally, Bucky made a move. Her breath got caught in her throat when Bucky’s hand took a loose string of her hair and put it behind her ear. The air seemed to have thickened and the time to have paused.

His hand hot on her cheek, he leaned in slowly.

“Please,” she begged him to put her out of her misery.

He chuckled deeply and leaned him more, their lips barely touching. Y/N didn’t waste a second more and brought him closer, crashing their lips a bit too brutally together that they could hear their teeth crashing together. Y/N withdrawn, eyes wide, worried she had hurt him.

“I’m so sor-” Bucky was quick to kiss her again, this time much gently. A second first kiss that they would remember. One of those kisses that would electrify their whole body. One of those kisses that would leave their lips swollen and them asking for more.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Once again, Y/N let Bucky grab her hand and lead her to the cloakroom. He asked for their coats with the ticket he had kept in his wallet as Y/N stood her back against the wooden counter, trying to realize what was going on. She was going to go home, with him of all people.

“Well, that was one hell of a show out there,” Zach whispered as he stood next to her. He too was waiting in line to get his coat and go home with the person at his side, a man from the Californian office she had seen twice in her life. “Couldn’t figure out if you were faking it or not.”

Y/N turned to Bucky at her side, whose hand was still holding her hip, as if he was scared, she would slip away. Then, she turned back to Zach, a big smile on her face.

“Definitely not fake.”

[nmakii]

the look of love, the rush of blood

— what it means to date nagi seishiro, but not actually date him

yes this all happened sue me writers are thieves. omfg this id os humiliating to acc write down why is my life like this guys. btw can u guys like… gen tell me what u think ab this dynamic in comments i have to know im so bad at relationships

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means staying up until 2 AM together. it’s finals week, and you’re supposed to be studying. but nagi wanted to play dress to impress with you, and promised he’d help you study after 5 or so rounds.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means everyone at school thinking you’re dating. even reo asked if you have feelings for him, and when you insistently said no, he replied, “alright, alright..! just trying to make sure nagi doesn’t end up hurt.” so that nagi doesn’t end up hurt? what does that even mean?

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means starting volleyball together. you always meant to pick up a sport sooner or later, but you were too old. it’ll be embarrassing to pick one up this late! you told nagi about this, and he said, “i mean… it’s a lot less running than in football, so maybe i’ll try it out with you?”

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him watching your favorite anime for you. nagi always said that it wasn’t his type of show, you never really expected him to actually watch it. but one day you get a message— “finished s1, but i cant find s2… not on netflix? :x” from then on, he practically enabled you to keep ranting about the show, and he even got a little shocked when you had told him a fake spoiler.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him insisting to pay him back, but not actually doing anything about it. occasionally, when nagi isn’t too tired, the two of you meet up for breakfast in the morning. he lives closer to school, so he usually always gets there earlier. you always ask him to buy your order and he agrees, only on the condition you pay him back. you always pay him back with baked goods, and he always eats them up. and, he still insists he wants his cash back! you’ve given him cookies and brownies worth more than 3 orders of pancakes, you’re starting to wonder if he just likes your baking.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means hanging out after school. nagi trains a lot. he has to, apparently, in order to become the best striker in the world. but, it doesn’t mean he likes it. if he had it his way, he’d walk to the mall with you and share a cup noodle everyday after school. he’d love to just sit around the convenience store with you for forever— or at least until he wanted to go home. but unfortunately, that time is only limited to an hour before club training starts.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means telling him about all the people you don’t like. nagi’s a pacifist. he likes to think that he’s a very peaceful and chill guy. there isn’t many people he actually hates. but apparently, you do. you tell him almost every week about at least one person who did you wrong, or a guy who keeps harassing you— it almost makes nagi think, ‘is it actually possible for one person to get harassed this much?’. nonetheless, he still listens and internally rolls his eyes when he sees one of the people you’ve mentioned.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him ditching his hang out to go with you. blue lock just won against the japan U20 team. no one thought they could make it. and as a reward, anri decided that they deserve some free time to themselves in the outside world. isagi had invited nagi, chigiri, bachira, and some others to hang out with him. but because he overslept, he just decided not to go… instead he went to your house. “hey, let’s go to an arcade today?” he asked. the two of you headed into your favorite arcade somewhere in shibuya and since he was so near the café he was gonna originally meet isagi at, he did intend to say hi… but that plan sort of went out the window.

“nagi… let me win for once, would ya?” you grumbled. “but, i’ve already got 15 wins, i don’t wanna lose…” he hums in return. and when he finally K.O.’s your character, you hear a loud gruff voice.

“hey, you pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” it calls out. and by the disgruntled look on his face, it seems nagi already knows who it is. “yer gonna lose yer friends, ya jerk!” the voice suddenly runs in behind nagi and grabs him by the neck. you recognize that face, it was the #6 of last night’s game! “caught him red-handed!” reo laughs.

you’re suddenly a bit shy surrounded by all these new people, not to mention the fact that they’re basically mini-celebrities. “oh? who’s this one you’re hanging out with?” the boy in the beanie asks, walking up to you. you’re suddenly intimidated by the aura that surrounds him. “…wanna see some ninja arts?” he asks.

you’re tempted to say yes, you’ve never seen a ninja before. the choice is taken though when that aforementioned #6 and a boy with pink hair in an updo bun (he looks like a girl, but you’re sure he’s a guy since he was in last night’s game…) yell at him. “don’t go doin’ yer stupid seducing tricks, moron!”

ignoring all of that, nagi finally answered, “…this is s/o, my friend.” isagi nods, and reo almost looks like he wants to scoff at the title, ‘friend’. “so you ditched isagi to hang out with s/o? way to choose your priorities, nagi..!” reo laughs. “well, i haven’t seen s/o in weeks… and i’ve been seeing all of you too much…” he mumbles.

most of them look rightfully offended, most especially isagi, the boy with pink hair, and another boy with a brown and yellow bob cut. the three of them drag nagi over to the dart board as the boy with the bob hums, “let’s party! nya haaa! ♪”

reo grins and encourages you to follow the group, “c’mon, let’s hang! i know nagi especially will be really glad to have you along!” nagi would be glad? …pushing those thoughts aside, you agree to join them. “yeah… sure, i’ll join.”

[wstviewvidal]

goodbye- w. maximoff

pairing: fwb!wanda x reader

summary: wanda tries to mend what was broken

a/n: here is the last installment of my first story, breakfast birthday goodbye! thank you all so much for the support you’ve shown the first two parts as well as the hc’s! it means the world to meeeeeee i love u guys soooo much!

minors do not interact

wanda never meant for everything to go down the way it did. scratch that, she never wanted any of this to happen. the ignored calls, the short texts, you avoiding her at your group’s weekly dinner.

she didn’t want that at all, and it was eating at her insides knowing that you are out there somewhere thinking that she wanted nothing to do with you, that she wasn’t serious about you.

it was the exact opposite, actually. you never leave her mind and she often finds herself texting you with random updates throughout her day just so she can end up calling you and hearing about whatever you have to say.

but now it’s been a week since the party and you’ve yet to actually have a full conversation with her. you don’t text her, only replying to her with a short and simple response when she sends you a message first.

she’s lost countless hours of sleep and finds it hard to make herself eat normal meals. the bags under her eyes have darkened and she’s become a hollow shell of herself, one she can’t even recognize in the mirror. everyone’s noticed it too, and it’s getting hard to ignore.

wanda prides herself on her incredible work ethic and her ability to do her job well beyond expectations, but for the past week even her team at work has noticed that she’s been off her a-game.

wanda hasn’t slept, and you could tell. she’s avoided every every attempt to rest or eat. only throwing herself into her work, which was futile because in the back of her mind was you. the ache of losing you and know you were out there hating her.

it’s gotten to the point where her boss has offered her to take the rest of the week off to recuperate over whatever happened that pushed her down. bad thing is, wanda said no and now she’s stuck thinking about you at her desk.

she turned down the offer, ignoring how badly her body is begging her to take the rest. work is the only thing keeping her mind off of you— or at least trying to.

she can’t get the look on your face out of her mind. the look at showed everything. the way your body looks exhausted, as if it had been fighting. worst of all, she saw every ounce of hurt in your eyes— it confirmed everything.

the look in your eyes, the hurt in your voice, the way you avoided her for the rest of the night at the party.

that’s how she knew you loved her back. and that was meant to be your final act of love— leaving her.

but wanda wouldn’t accept that.

wanda thinks of her future often. how she wants to open up her own firm, how she wants to have a decent sized house— no more than twenty minutes away from the city, the amount of kids she wants to have, you, you, you.

in every different imaginable scenario she’s imagined for herself, in every different future she’s envisioned, you’re always there. there’s no version of herself she can imagine without you.

which is why she’s suddenly found herself outside of your house in the middle of a thunderstorm at 8 at night.

she knew this was inappropriate and a setup for failure but she couldn’t go another hour not at least trying. she’s gone too many days with her anxiety eating away at her.

she knew that you loved her— hell, you basically confessed it to her the night you were drunk in her car. it’s been so long since then and she’s had to watch you date other people despite having confessed your true feelings.

so, logically, wanda had to force herself to ignore the confession and start to date other people as well.

but wanda knew they could never be you. no matter how hard she tried to make herself like the other girls, she always wished it was you she was holding at night— not them

as wanda stood outside your gate, she couldn’t help but recall when she went to go see you at work after you broke up with a fling.

and unfortunately for wanda, this was after you confessed. she had to sit there and console your crying eyes all while knowing the both of you had reciprocating feelings for the other.

wanda parked her car a few spots away from the main entrance and fixed her appearance before grabbing the takeout food she had brought for the two of you to share.

she sat in her car for a few minutes, trying to focus on her breathing and calming the nerves in her body. trying to rehearse things to say to say to you in front of her mirror, she looks over her appearance and fixes her makeup slightly.

i mean, what is she supposed to say to the girl she’s in love with who just broke up with someone she was dating? yay, now let’s get together? no. wanda had to be a supportive friend— no matter how badly she ached for more.

getting out of her car, she slowly walks up to the main entrance. as she walks in, she’s hit with the familiar smell of the air freshener the company uses and it gives her a small boost of confidence.

stopping to say hi to natasha before going into your office, she greets her.

“hey nat,” wanda says softly while peering into natasha’s office.

both wanda and natasha were familiar with each other through you and had no issue having conversations without your company, they were comfortable with each other.

natasha looks up from her work and up to wanda, a slight surprised smile on her face. she had a feeling wanda would show up for you, just unsure of when.

“hey,” she replies, “she’s in her office. she could really use the pick me up.”

wanda nods in understanding, “i know, she’s been down recently. brought her some food in case she needed it.”

natasha smirks softly and whispers lowly, “if you’re going to continue being a girlfriend to her, you need to make it official before somebody else does.”

wanda freezes. did natasha know about you two? surely you wouldn’t tell her anything, but why else would she say that?

wanda gives an awkward chuckle and walks off in the direction of your office, replaying natasha’s words and how she had a knowing look on her face as she said that.

slowly peering into your office, she knocks softly, “hey, pretty girl”

looking away from your desktop, you see wanda dressed in your college t-shirt and a pair of jeans while holding a takeout box from one of your favorite restaurants.

your heart swoons at the pet name, as well as the smile on her face. this isn’t the first time wanda’s shown up to your job unannounced. in fact, she does this at least a few times out of the month.

she insisted that it was her biggest priority to make sure you were taken care of.

she walks over to your desk and gives you a small kiss on the forehead and a rub on the back.

“you feeling okay?” wanda’s voice is laced with concern and love. it filled your stomach with butterflies.

truth is, you were actually feeling content after the break up. you constantly felt a weight on your chest while you were in that relationship. really, you could hardly call it a relationship. it lasted less than a month and you were happy it was over.

everytime you two went out, you always thought about how wanda would be acting if if was her you went out with instead. no matter what, you always had her in the back of your mind and you felt guilty for it.

shrugging softly, you lean into wanda’s side, enjoying how she’s giving you this soft attention. you really should be honest with her and tell her you’re fine but the fact that she’s being so sweet and attentive, it really makes you want to play into this facade just so she can continue being sweet to you. wanda tightened her hold on you and cooed softly.

wanda knew though. normally when you’re down and out of it, you hardly ever do your makeup. the way you speak is a bit more dragged out, the way you even look at her is different when you’re down.

wanda knew you were okay the second she got close to you, but how could she pass up an opportunity like this to hold you? she would take any excuse to touch you and make you feel happy. she knew she was in love with you, has known it for quite some time now. however, acting on it is a whole other story.

“i got you some food,” wanda runs her fingers through your hair softly, “i want to make sure you eat.”

wanda watches you as you nod softly and look up at her with a happy look on your face. yeah, she’s in love with you. no doubt about it.

you can’t help but immediately let out a soft giggle as you see how she looks at you. you two have known each other for years and she never fails to make you feel cared for.

what would it be like if you two stopped dancing around your feelings for each other?

wanda pulls out the food and you can’t help but swoon all over again. wanda knew your order, down to what you want put on the side instead of in the dish, even the sauces and other condiments. no one has ever known you like this.

the two of you ate for the next hour and a half. you asked her how work was going, her brother, what she’s doing for the holidays. the rest of the world ceased to exist for that hour and a half, and it didn’t feel like a lunch break. it felt like something you could get used to doing at home together.

the two of you existed in each others presence for that lunch break. maybe that was when you realized you truly were in love with her. or maybe it was an accumulation of things, but after that day you knew for a fact that wanda could be the one for you.

wanda walked slowly to your front door, her feet feeling heavy. she could hear her heartbeat, she could feel the blood moving around in her body. hell, she swears she can even feel her white blood cells. for the first time since she’s known you, she was terrified of speaking to you.

the rain soaked through her clothes and clung to her body. her usual soft brown hair was now black and matted with all of the rain water in it. she was freezing, but she didn’t care. each drop that fell onto her body only served as a reminder of all the things she’d never said to you.

every instinct in her was telling her to turn around and bolt, to run and not look back.

but the rational side of her told her that it was now or never. this was her last chance. if she ran, she’d never see you again.

she knew that the longer you two went without talking, the more likely it is that you’ll shut down and block out every memory with wanda from your mind. she knew that she needed to talk to you— and it had to be now.

before getting to your house, she stopped by a near by store to get you flowers. this wasn’t the first time she’d done so. in fact, the florist practically knew all about her love for you since it was all wanda could talk about when she went to go pick up your customized bouquet.

this time, however, it was terrifying knowing that there was a chance that this could be the last time she’d be giving you flowers. she knew you were stubborn and once you sat in your thoughts for too long, there was no way of getting you to turn back on it.

had wanda waited too long to speak to you? are you going to turn her away once she gets to your front door? is this going to be the last time she would see you again?

wanda stands in front of your door way, looking disheveled and drenched in rain. the roses she bought for you look worse for wear, but she couldn’t imagine coming to you empty handed. she needed to have something in her hand to help calm her nerves at least.

by the time she’d reached your door, she was shaking. but not out of cold, out of fear and desperation.

knocking on your door, wanda’s heartbeat quickens and for a split second she considers bolting and never coming back.

but the door opens.

and there you are, and somehow in the midst of all the chaos between you two, wanda thinks you look as beautiful as ever.

you look at wanda with an incredulous look, almost telling yourself you’re imagining her here at your doorstep.

you start, “wanda, i don’t think th-“

“no,” wanda says sharply, almost too firm and pushes past you and into your house. her breathing is shallow. it wasn’t from the rain though, it was from the years of unspoken truths, missed opportunities. she needed it out in the air.

wanda’s tone and demeanor momentarily stun you. she has always bent on anything you say and rarely interrupted you when you spoke.

after slowly closing the door behind her, you follow her further into your house. your heart is beating and you can’t help that worry she may get sick being drenched in all the rain.

wanda now is in the middle of your living pacing from one end of the room to the other, clutching drenched and withered red roses in her hands. she looks like she’s on the verge of passing out and you’re immediately worried that she very well could drop on your floor.

“wanda, i think you need to sit down.. let be get you a towel,” you say softly while waking towards her slowly, like she was a cat that could run off at any second.

“no,” she says quickly, now stopping and facing you, “you don’t get to kick me out or walk away this time. you can’t shut me out, not after everything. i know i hurt you— us, but i can’t just walk away without telling you everything.”

wanda rushes her words out, but not faltering once in her firm presence. her voice is laced with desperation and you can literally see her hands shaking.

you can hear a small waver in her voice, one youre not used to. wanda’s body language screams terrified and anxious, but her eyes scream with something much louder: resolve.

you can’t help try to hold back a smile at how you can see the emotion in her eyes. wanda’s eyes speak so much louder than her voice could ever, and you have always loved it so much. it’s how you two could communicate with one another from across the room.

you stand silent and nod, unsure of what to do.

“i understand how it looked. at the party, i mean. the girl there wasn’t anyone i knew, or even want to get to know for that matter. it was just a way to help me pass the time at the party, no matter how nasty that sounds,” wanda begins rambling and you can slowly see the confidence wear off. she pinches the bridge of her nose. this was already off to a bad start.

she had practiced this so many times over the past three hours and none of it was coming out how she wanted it to.

“she wasn’t you,” her voice breaks softly and her words make you freeze.

your heart beat quickens. what does she mean? maybe she’s just trying to make nice and keep the agreement going, it can’t mean that you think it means.

you try to interrupt her, “wanda-“

“i said let me ta-“

you raise your voice and look at her pointedly, “you are in my home and i will speak if i choose.”

wanda feels like a child being scolded.

with a soft and gentle voice, you apologize, “that night, my birthday. seeing you with that girl made me realize we’ve had this whole friends with benefits thing go on too long. it’s gotten in the way of our personal lives and for the sake of our future partners, we need to cut it off.”

you force it out, not sounding confident at all. although you had put much thought into it, it pained you to say it aloud to her. to watch her face drop, to actually see how your words affected her.

tears well in wanda’s eyes, spilling over with a soft, heartbroken cry. this wasn’t what she came here for. she didn’t come here so you could shut her down before even trying to tell you she loved you.

shaking her head and clearing her throat, wanda walks closer to you.

“you don’t get to cut this off without at least having a proper conversation with me,” wanda chokes out through sobs, wiping her tears angrily, “you can’t just throw me away like that.. please”

the silence between the two of you causes the atmosphere in the room to thicken.

hearing her pleading voice, the way she’s gripping onto your shoulders tightly as it’s the last time she’ll touch or see you again— you can’t help but try to fight tears.

in fact, it very well may be the last.

you shake your head, you had thought this over and realized that if wanda didn’t reciprocate the same feelings for you— it’s best if you let her go.

it had become a never ending cycle of stringing you along with no end in sight.

but if it meant nothing to wanda, why would she be here begging and crying for you?

haphazardly, you throw caution to the wind and decide that if this is the last night you’ll see wanda, you may as well lay it all on the table.

you pull away from wanda, raising your voice slightly, “do you have any idea what it took for me to finally accept that this, us, would be a never ending cycle? that it’s only a game of almost? i can’t keep waiting for you, for someone who’s just going to treat me like a place holder for another girl who won’t even last a month and a half?!”

you swallow tears and try your best to sound as firm as possible, “i sat around for all this time just watching you be with other people. giving them the affection i so badly wish you would reserve only for me.”

wanda’s eyebrows furrow at your insinuation that she only every treated you like a pit stop.

anger builds inside and she can’t help but scoff, “are you fucking kidding me? i treated you like a place holder? there’s no way you’re being serious right now.”

her scoff and rough voice cause you to turn back on your heel, defensiveness and frustration seeping through your veins.

“yeah, a goddamn pit stop, wanda. you came around, got me fucking wrapped around your finger and made me fa-,” you almost said it, “you had me wrapped around your finger. i was always there when you called, like a damn fool!”

wanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. you were acting like she was some kind of person who viewed you as a fool. she was helplessly in love with you, and this is what you saw her as.

running a hand through her hair in hopes of helping herself calm down, she exclaims, “do you really think this was one sided?! i had to watch you date other people too! i wasn’t the only one who dated! after that time you got drunk and i had to take care of you, i couldn’t stop thinking about you saying you wished we could be more! and then i had to carry on with my life like you hadn’t told me you wanted something more with me.”

wanda swallows hard before the words spill out—the night you told her you wanted more. she never wanted to tell you about that night, for fear of running you off.

it was now or never, she had to tell you.

you freeze, what night is she talking about? the weight of her words finally hit you, and it feels like the world has shifted. you search her face, like the answer you’re searching for is written on her forehead.

wanda sighs and rubs her face, “i’m sorry. you got drunk a while back and told me you wanted more. i never told you because i knew it would send you running off, and i couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. it was better to have you like this, no matter how much it hurt, than to not have you at all.”

the rain seemed to be the only sound in the house. the soft thuds of the branches outside hitting the side of the roof are all you two can hear. you stare at each other, for the first time with uncertainty as to what’s next for you two.

wanda walks slowly closer, stopping a few feet in front of you, “do you really think i wanted this to be one sided? i thought that by holding back and keeping my feelings to myself, it was the only way i’d still be able to have you in my life.”

you stare at her as you slowly understand what she’s trying to say. she loved you back.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” barely above a whisper, “and i’m so sorry that i made you feel that way. it was never my intention to make you feel like you were anything other than my first priority. i only every wanted you, only you. i found myself looking for you in every person i met because i was afraid that if i told you i loved you, you’d run away. if having you meant keeping my feelings to myself, i would make that sacrifice because i couldn’t fathom the thought of you. no longer being in my life.”

you stay silent, her words echoing in your head. wanda loved you back? you can see her hands shaking and the insecurity in her eyes. her hands are shaking and the petals on the roses are falling off slowly with the weight of the water droplets on them.

following your eyes, wanda remembers she got you roses.

she speaks softly, almost afraid to speak to you, “i brought you these. i’m sorry they’re not that pretty, they got kind of messed up with the rain and me squeezing them so tight.”

wanda speaks nervously, shyly and you can’t help but frown at her demeanor. she’s no longer the confident person you know. right now she looks like an insecure woman who’s been rejected by someone she’s been in love with for years.

you gently reach out for the flowers, still shocked by the revelation wanda’s revealed to you in the matter of fifteen minutes.

you hardly register that she’s leaving your home with a new weight on her chest and an empty feeling in her heart.

wanda took your silence as the final answer she’d been dreading. rejection. wanda thinks you don’t love her back. the silence in the room weighed on her like a death sentence and she was forced to walk away— heartbroken and alone.

the sound of her car door being shut pulls you out of your stupor and you realize what this means— what wanda’s departure means.

this can’t be the end.

with adrenaline coursing through you, you throw the door open. you rush out of your house and just before she leaves your drive way, you call out for her.

wanda, as if hoping you’d chase her, drives her car back into your drive way and parks. wanda looks anywhere but you, as if afraid the next thing you’ll tell her is to never come back. her hands grip at her steering wheel tight enough to the point her knuckles turned white. she’s terrified.

stepping outside of her car, she walks up to you. her hands are shaking and you can see that her eyes are red rimmed from all the crying she’s done tonight.

your voice is hoarse from the yelling and crying as well, “i’m sorry. i’m sorry it took this long to tell you and im sorry for accusing you of treating me like nothing. wanda, i love you too— i always have. i was terrified of you not feeling the same way so i forced myself to ignore it. i was wrong, i was wrong about everything.”

wanda’s breath stops and her eyes well up with tears again, “please don’t lie to me just for the sake of my emotions.”

you shake your head insistently, “i’m being honest, i swear on everything i love. i love you, i have for a while. i was just scared and i didn’t know you felt the same way.”

“you love me?” wanda’s voice is shaking and she can’t tell if she’s dreaming or already getting sick from standing in the rain for too long.

nodding with a nervous smile, you don’t care about the rain soaking your clothes or the lighting in the sky. all that matters is that you tell wanda how you feel. before time runs out and you lose her for good.

wanda inhales sharply, a look of relief washing over and she lets out a soft laugh. a trembling hand cautiously reaches for your face as her eyes flooded with relief.

“i was scared,” she says through a wet laugh, “i thought that you would run if i told you i was in love with you.. but if you’ll let me, i swear i won’t ever make you feel like a second priority again. you’ve always been the most important thing in my life and i never want you to feel like anything else.”

her words hit you like a rush of warmth, contrasting against the cold rain surrounding you two. you smile widely, your heart overjoyed with the fact that wanda did love you as you did her.

you laugh— a genuine laugh, and before she can get another word out, you pull her into you. you couldn’t waste another second before connecting your lips.

when you two meet, it’s like everything clicked. all the chaos, all the flings, every person annoying you two about getting together, it meant nothing now that you two expressed what you’d been hiding.

you rest your forehead against wanda’s and whisper softly, “we’ve got a lot to figure out now, but this means we’ll do it together.”

wanda nods with a small smile as she looks at you, “yeah, together.”

as you two stand there, both laughing at the dramatics of it all, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, one you’ve held for years. wanda was finally yours and you knew then and there that all of the missed opportunities and lack of truths only led you to her.

ignoring the messiness and the lack of perfection, it was real.

[ddodol]

sunkissed — l.cy

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bff!anton, fem!reader, pet names, anton being thick is his biggest crime in this, muscles, unprotected sex, overstimulation. word count⭑.ᐟ 2.2k+

✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ elevator eyes — tove lo ]

when else would you get the chance to apply sunscreen on anton’s broad and muscular back if not now?

your hands trembled miserably as you applied the sticky sunscreen all over anton’s back, an innocent gesture— or at least it should be. friends do it all the time and you were sure it meant nothing. you tell yourself that it doesn’t mean anything, yet anton’s bright red ears made you think otherwise.

you were straddling his hips, sitting comfortably, the thin fabric of your bikini and his shorts being the only thing that's keeping you two from touching skin to skin. you couldn’t help the thoughts your mind would drift off to, wondering if he was thinking the same indecent thoughts as you were. your hands kept traveling lower, stopping by the hem of his shorts, swallowing thickly.

”y/n?” anton’s voice was muffled but you could still hear his soft voice calling out to you, “why did you stop?” you bit your lip at how timid he sounded, you could almost hear the slight quiver in his voice as he asked you.

”do you want me to keep going? make sure i covered everything?” you asked shamelessly, watching as his back muscles flexed with each movement. anton pushed himself off of the towel he was laying down on, rolling over with you still sitting on top of him. as you suspected, his face was red, bright red, in fact.

“i think your face got sunburnt,” you tried joking around, gently cupping his warm cheek with your hand. you expected a small giggle from anton, only for him to stare up at you with glossy eyes, his gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite point out. anton’s breath hitched in his throat as your hand went lower, gently wrapping them around his neck before going down to his bare chest.

“tell me to stop, toni.”

you bit your lip, caressing his firm muscles as if you were hypnotized. you felt him flexing under your hands, trying his hardest to contain himself as he stared up at you, the bright beaming sun creating a halo effect around you. anton made no effort to stop you, his breathing only becoming more ragged the more you touched him.

“do you trust me, y/n?” he asked softly, staring right into your eyes.

your hands stopped moving, swallowing thickly as you nod. anton flashed you a small smile, his huge hands gripping on your hips as he grinds his very prominent bulge up against your thin bikini. anton was thick in all the right ways, his muscles bulging as he held you in place. you could feel him throbbing against your core, head spinning with only a thin fabric separating the two of you.

you sighed softly, brows furrowing with each slight movement. “anton,” you whimpered, body tingling from the stimulation, “we're… we're still outside.” it was mainly a reminder to yourself, but you were too eager to chase after your pleasure to think about stopping.

“i know,” he replied breathlessly, cheeks bright red as he continued to press your hips down. your eyes wandered around, blushing when you noticed the weird looks some people were giving you. anton held your face, keeping your eyes on him, “eyes on me, y/n. only me.”

you shuddered, small, quiet whines escaping your lips. you pressed your body against his, seeking comfort in his warmth. anton held your trembling figure, whispering against your ear. “i'm the only one here, y/n, the only one making you feel this way. focus on me,” he murmured shakily.

anton gripped your thighs, leaving an imprint of his hand before they moved up to your waist. he kept pressing you down onto his clothed cock, bare chest now turning red as he heaved.

you placed your cold hands on his shoulders, shuddering when he thrusted sharply, your body almost bouncing off of him if only he wasn't pressing you down. you let out a quiet cry, gently scratching his skin as you tried to steady yourself.

“anton,” you whimper, eyes filled with tears, “anton, hurry, do something.”

anton chuckled dryly, pulling you close to press a kiss on your lips. it almost flew over your head how you were kissing your best friend, head too fuzzy to think about anything else but him and the way he made you feel.

he broke the kiss, waiting for your eyes to open with a smile on his face. “do you still trust me?”

you nodded, a small yelp escaping your lips when he lifted you up effortlessly. anton carried you in his arms, his lips never leaving your flushed skin even for a moment, soft smooching noises ringing in your ears.

once anton stopped moving, he had your back pressed against a rocky surface. you let your feet down, the cool seawater crashing gently against your legs. anton brought you towards a cove, the chattering from earlier now far away from where you two were.

your head began to cool off, the refreshing ocean breeze starting to fill up your senses. anton smiles at you, playfully tugging at your bikini straps. he leaned in, hot breath fanning over your neck as he pressed hot kisses all over your skin. you could feel your bikini slipping off of you and down the sand, sighing softly when his hands gripped on your tits. anton fondled your softness, brows furrowing as he focused all his attention on them.

“you're not changing your mind, are you?” he asks timidly, the smile on his lips faltering a little. you stared at him, finally noticing the way he's been looking at you. his gaze was filled with a mix of desire and longing, in disbelief that it took you this long to notice.

anton kept trailing kisses all over your shoulder and neck, hands trembling as he lifted you up, supporting your weight and enveloping you in his embrace. “y/n,” he whispered, “please tell me you need me too.”

your breath hitched in your throat, cupping his cheek to tilt his head back. you chuckled at the look on his face, “i need my ride back home, of course i need you.”

anton stared at you in disbelief, making you laugh. “did i ruin the mood?” you asked playfully before your expression finally softened, “i don't do things like this with people i don't like, anton.”

his eyes sparkled, mirroring the glittering ocean waves under the bright sunlight. he smiled widely, leaning in to kiss you passionately. once he was satisfied, he used his hand to push his shorts down, letting out a soft groan as soon as his throbbing length was freed.

he gave his cock a few pumps, his arm muscles bulging with every motion. anton let out shuddering sighs, brows furrowing as he looked at you up and down, as if he was trying to commit your disheveled appearance to memory. you stared at his arms, running your hands over them, too mesmerized by the way it bulged and flexed that you failed to realize just how impossibly thick anton was.

you let out a sharp cry, tears pricking your eyes at how stretched you felt only from his tip slipping inside. “are you fucking kidding me, anton?” you breathed out, eyes darting down to check. you gasped, head spinning when you saw how much more of his length was left.

anton whimpered at your tight walls swallowing him in spite of the pain you were feeling, burying his face against your neck, “it's not my fault— it really isn't. i need you to relax around me, y/n.”

you cried out, nails digging into his shoulder as he continued to push inside your tight walls. “fucking sea cucumber,” you whined, throwing your head back as you heaved. anton giggles tiredly, mumbling an apology as he kissed your neck in a poor attempt to shift your attention someplace else.

“you're all good,” anton whispered softly, “i won't hurt you. you're already taking me so well, y/n.” you felt weak at his praises, glancing down at him to see the smug look on his face. you let out a shaky breath, walls finally relaxing around him.

anton smiled widely, “i'll do anything you want later, okay? just need to feel you around me right now.” you nod, surrendering your body to anton. he chuckled when you relaxed, bucking his hips forward with a quiet groan.

anton thrusted slow, at the same pace as the gentle ocean waves by his feet. you felt every inch of him, the way he throbbed, the way he got impossibly bigger whenever your walls clenched, the way he'd effortlessly hit all your sensitive spots— you could feel all of him. your head began to spin, whimpering from the pleasure that was starting to overwhelm you.

“anton,” you whined, leaving scratches on his back. he hummed in response, wincing whenever your walls clamped down on him. “faster, give it to me faster.” anton panted, body tensing up as he stared at your dazed expression.

“anything you want, baby,” he whispered, taking it as a challenge. anton leaned in to press hot kisses on the crook of your neck, taking you by surprise at how fast he went. anton gave you no time to adjust, hips moving brutally against yours, the sound of your skin slapping against his almost mimicking the waves that would hit the walls of the cove you two were in.

you moaned loudly, crying out as the impact of his thrusts pushed you against the rocky walls. “fuck— not too fast!” you whimper, gripping on him tightly, “anton!”

he ignored your cries, too focused on the way your walls would flutter, drawing him in even deeper. “don’t tell me to go faster and then take it back,” he groaned, brows furrowing, “there's no way i can stop now— you feel too fucking good, y/n.”

you shudder, whimpering at how deep he was reaching. you could feel the thick head of his cock knocking on your deepest walls, stomach almost bulging from the pressure. “toni, toni, please,” you whined, “it's too much for me. i’m— i might—”

“gonna cum for me, y/n? do it, baby. let me see you— let me see how pretty you look for me.” anton was dazed, eyes focusing on the way your face would contort prettily, or the way your tits would bounce with every thrust, or the way your hair fell on your face. he thought you looked the prettiest when you were drowning in pleasure, calling out his name with your swollen lips.

“fuck— you're so fucking close, aren't you? i can feel you— fuck, you're too tight,” anton panted heavily, hips stuttering as your walls convulsed around his thick length.

“anton. anton, i can't— i can't think!” you sobbed, body starting to tense up. your lower back felt hot, both from the friction and your incoming orgasm. you could tell it was going to be big, already trembling as you dug your nails into anton’s back, unintentionally wounding him.

anton winced, burying his face into your neck as his hips snapped upwards, stilling deep inside. you cried sensitively, body spasming as your orgasm washed over you.

“fuck,” anton sighed out, shivers running through his body. he could feel your walls convulsing and tightening around him, eagerly milking his cock. he kissed your neck, “just a bit more, okay?”

before you could ask what he meant, his hips already started to move, setting a brutal pace from the get go without letting you rest. “fuck! fuck, anton!” you sobbed, trembling sensitively.

amidst the brutal pace, you could feel anton’s cock throbbing deep inside you, signaling his own orgasm. you cried out, leaving more scratches on his back, trembling when you felt his cum coating your walls.

anton pressed his cock deep inside, hips stuttering sensitively. you laid your body against his chest, shuddering as a second wave of your orgasm washed over you, this time more intense than earlier. anton looked down from where you two were connected, amused by the sight of you squirting weakly.

he licked his lips, a smug smile on his lips as he brushed hair away from your face. the sun was beaming down on you, perfectly framing your flushed face. anton ran his thumb over your cheek, chuckling when you leaned your head against his hand.

“you're the prettiest, y/n,” anton complimented softly, “the prettiest when you come apart because of me.”

you let out a sigh, body feeling like jelly, too tired to argue back or feel shy. “stupid. you’re so stupid,” you mumble weakly, earning soft laughs from anton.

“i know, i know. you enjoyed it too, huh?” anton coos at you, smiling at how spent you were. he kissed you cheek, lips lingering for a bit before he pulled away, a mischievous smile on his lips.

“need me to put sunscreen on you too? i’d love to return the favor.” you stared into his eyes, knowing that he already has something in mind.

”no thanks,” you frowned, “i’m too sore to play in the sand.” anton chuckles, kissing your skin softly, making you shudder. “besides, there’s something else i wanna do now,” you trailed off, hand sliding up his arm muscles. he flexed as you held his arm, muscles proudly bulging against your hand.

anton smiled widely, “me?” you nod, cheeks turning red when he laughed. “you can do me anytime you want,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “just make sure you’re prepared.”

[syluslnd]

Hello. I just want to say your stories are amazing ❤️🥺 can you please write sylus × y/n where sylus pushes the reader away for some reason and later on regrets it ( full angst to fluff ) thank you 🥺❤️

sylus pushing you away because he’s an idiot

Sylus sat behind his desk, eyes scanning through an endless stream of reports, his brow furrowed in deep frustration. The tension in his body was palpable; nothing seemed to be going right today.

The missions were falling apart, the data was incomplete and the pressure to resolve it all was suffocating. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t rested and every small problem felt like a spark waiting to ignite the fuse.

Then, the door to his office suddenly burst open.

“Hey, Sylus—”

You barely made it past the threshold before Sylus snapped, his sharp gaze lifting from the desk to you in an instant. His voice, usually calm and measured, came out harsh and cutting. “Who do you think you are to be barging in here without knocking?”

You froze in place, the words hitting you like a slap. Sylus rarely ever raised his voice at you and when he did, it was never like this. Shocked, you stammered, trying to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Leave.” The word came out cold and dismissive. His eyes narrowed, his tone biting, leaving no room for argument. “Just go.”

Your heart sank. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him, only to check if he needed anything. You always looked out for him, especially when he was drowning in work.

But now, standing there, your presence felt like an inconvenience. You muttered a quiet apology, backing out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

For a while after you left, Sylus didn’t move. The anger he had let loose still simmered beneath the surface, but it was slowly being replaced by something heavier—guilt. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his silver hair.

Hours passed and Sylus tried to refocus but your absence gnawed at him. You always popped by to bring him food or just to make sure he was okay and now the silence in his office felt suffocating. He hadn’t eaten all day but without you, even the thought of food made him feel sick.

Eventually, he gave in, reaching for his comm to call you. It rang once, twice… but you didn’t pick up. His stomach twisted. He waited a few minutes, trying again but there was still no answer.

“Damn it” he muttered under his breath, tossing the comm onto the desk. The realization hit him harder than he expected: he had pushed you away. Again. He was always doing this, keeping people at arm’s length. But you… you were different. You were the only one who saw through his walls and instead of letting you in, he’d shoved you out.

Days passed and Sylus felt the weight of his mistake grow heavier. Without you around, he was a mess. He hadn’t eaten properly, his sleep was fitful and work had become unbearable. He kept expecting to hear your voice, see you bring him something to eat or just feel your presence nearby. But there was nothing and it was his fault.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt gnawed at him until he finally decided to go to you.

Standing outside your door, Sylus hesitated. He wasn’t good at apologizing, never had been. Words got stuck in his throat, his pride and guilt twisting together in an uncomfortable knot. But he couldn’t leave things like this. He knocked softly and waited, feeling his heart pound in a way he wasn’t used to. When you opened the door, your expression was far from warm.

“Sylus” you said, your voice flat, arms crossed. “What do you want?”

He stared at you, his usual confidence faltering. He hadn’t expected the bitterness, though he probably deserved it. “Kitten…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… came to talk.”

“About what?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly still upset. “Yelling at me and kicking me out of your office?”

He flinched at your words, guilt surging through him. He had hurt you, more than he thought. “I shouldn’t have done that” he mumbled, his voice quieter than usual. “I was… frustrated but that’s not an excuse.”

“Frustrated?” you echoed, clearly unimpressed. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Sylus sighed, his hand falling to his side. Apologizing was harder than he thought it would be. “I know I screwed up, alright? I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just… I wasn’t thinking.”

You frowned, still not satisfied. “You didn’t think to call me either or at least check in after you threw me out like that.”

“I did call” he admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “You didn’t answer.”

You blinked, surprised for a moment but quickly masked it. “Maybe I didn’t want to answer.”

The silence between you stretched, tension thick in the air. Sylus felt like he was sinking deeper into his guilt, unsure how to fix this. He’d never been good at dealing with emotions, especially his own but now, seeing the hurt in your eyes, it was killing him.

“I missed you” he finally muttered, the words almost foreign to him. He looked down, avoiding your gaze, feeling the weight of his own failure press down on him. “You’re… the only one who gives a damn about me and I pushed you away. I haven’t even eaten properly since you stopped coming around, sweetie.”

You bit your lip, torn between being angry and feeling sorry for him. Sylus was always like this—closed off, pushing people away, even when he didn’t want to.

“I didn’t mean it” he added quietly, his voice rough with guilt. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, with a sigh, you stepped aside, letting him into your place. “You’re an idiot, Sylus” you said, though there was a touch of softness to your words now. “But come in. I’m not letting you starve just because you don’t know how to say sorry.”

Sylus walked in, the relief evident in his eyes but the guilt still hung heavily over him. He sat down awkwardly, watching you move around the room, unsure how to make things right. But for now, he was here, with you. It was a start.

[countcvnt]

Experiment

Chapter One: Scrambled

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3

Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.

“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.

“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”

‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.

You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.

A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.

“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.

He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.

Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.

You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.

“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”

“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”

Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.

“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”

That stings. “Who?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”

You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.

The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.

You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.

So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.

Anger.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.

A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”

He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.

“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.

You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.

You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.

“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.

“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”

You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.

“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.

“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.

“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”

You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.

“Why?” You point at it.

“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”

Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”

With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.

“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”

Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”

“No.” Price shakes his head.

“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”

“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”

“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.

“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”

“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”

“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”

They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”

“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.

“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”

“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.

Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.

“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.

Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”

As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.

“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.

“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.

Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.

Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.

“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”

Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.

“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”

“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.

So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?

“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”

“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”

You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”

The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-

Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.

The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”

“What?” Soap is the first to question you.

“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.

“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”

Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.

“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.

You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.

“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”

You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.

“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”

Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”

You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.

Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.

You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”

“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”

“She what…?” Soap tenses.

Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”

“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”

“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”

“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”

It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”

“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”

Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.

“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

[libraford]

I'm not bothered by the conversation so much as I am a growing approach to activism which makes it impossible to interact with other people. Which echoes a lot of that conversation I had with Ginger this week.

He refuses to have friends that are not faithful to Jesus. Like, he can have a productive conversation with a non-believer and nearly connect with them socially, but if he learns that they don't go to church or don't believe in christ, he finds it difficult to take them seriously because their words were not god-inspired.

Ginger was in a cult. I do not mean this colloquially- Xenos/Dwell is a prominent pseudo-christian cult in central Ohio that preys on college students in need of community. There are rules about who you can date, who you can hang with, they practice gay coversion therapy, and will tell you not to visit your family if they're not Christian.

There is a lot of focus on purity. Actions, thoughts, social groups- it's very controlling about what you can and cannot do.

So. When he goes out into the world with us sinners, it becomes difficult to interact with general society.

We were talking about Merve, one of our foremen, and I said: "the first time I was in a car with Merve, he introduced himself as a Democratic Catholic Pervert. And honestly- yeah that's a good summation."

Ginger didn't like that at all. "Well he's not a very good catholic with all that talk of pornography, he should be ashamed of himself- honestly shouldn't even call himself Christian."

Merve is very much a womanizer, but it's all talk. He's gross about it sometimes and it rubs me the wrong way, but in all fairness- he warned me. Outside of that, he's what I expected from a 60-something landscaper.

"Well, I think whether he's a good Christian or not is up to God, not us."

And he got a little pissy over that comment because I caught him judging.

He only hangs out with 'the faithful' at work, which consists of three guys who are religious in a similar way and it's caused a bit of a rift in the culture. It's gotten a little... preachy. It wasn't preachy before.

So I am making... parallels to this behavior and a particular strain of activism that's been affected by purity culture.

Nothing is ever good enough. If it touches racism, it's banned forever and you have to spread the word about how it's racist. Where doing things that are well-intended puts you in the spotlight for the underlying and actually bigoted reason you're doing a nice thing. And prevents you from doing the nice thing in the future.

Because yes you did a nice thing, but it wasn't enough- you could be doing more.

Yes you did a nice thing, but you did this nice thing instead of tackling this bigger issue.

Yes you did a nice thing, but it was through this program that you didn't know was funded somewhat unethically.

Yes you did a nice thing, but your motivation for doing it wasn't the goodness of your heart, it was motivated by guilt.

Yes you did a nice thing, but it took a horrible event to do it when you should have had the morals of goodness ingrained in you and you should have done this from the start.

Yes you did a nice thing, but you only did it when it started impacting your life and you should be thinking of others first.

Yes you did a nice thing but the nice thing doesn't align perfectly with my worldview.

The goalpost is forever moving backwards.

No one likes to be called 'racist.' It's a really easy weapon to use when something does something you don't like. If you look at anything closely enough, you will see it's racist roots. You could say the same for misogyny, homophobia. Our society is built on hatred and inequality. Untangling it and living a morally pure life free of ridicule is impossible.

Recognizing the roots of an action to be bigoted is the first step. The second step is knowing it when you see it. Step three is pointing it out.

But there are more steps.

Pointing it out, or calling it out, and chastising someone for ignoring or not knowing something actually isn't all that helpful. Because it leaves you to wonder- okay, now what? What can I do to remedy this situation?

Which is the next step- actionable items. Yes, I have done something wrong- I am sorry.

I am sorry. Now I will try to make it right.

I will try to make it right by donating, by volunteering time, by listening to the people who have been hurt and lifting their voices.

Part of healing from an oppressive Christian community is realizing that people are going to sin whether you like it or not. And barring harm to themselves and others, you're gonna have to let them.

If my tarot practice is derived from a 15th century racist, then it was derived for a 15th century racist. Refusing to participate in a past-time that helps me connect with my family doesn't make it not racist. It will still be racist. But I'm not sure who it's hurting in 2024 and I don't have a time machine and I'm not being given clear instructions for how to unracist it.

[pedroscurls]

let the world know (one-shot)

summary: you and hugh have been keeping your relationship a secret... until hugh accidentally lets millions of his followers know exactly who he's been dating. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 3.7k warnings/tags: fluff, surprise appearance of ryan reynolds and blake lively, no use of y/n. a/n: i combined two requests (one & two) into this story and i'm sorry that this to take so long to post, so thank you both for waiting so patiently! hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it. as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

You had met Hugh at an after-party for the Oscars, both at the bar waiting for your drinks. He was one of the presenters and ironically, the presenter for your category as best actress. You didn’t win, though, but it still felt like an honor to be nominated. 

Throughout that entire night, you and Hugh didn’t leave each other’s side. There was an obvious attraction that you both felt towards each other, but you had known that he had just been recently divorced from a woman who he had been with for almost thirty years. You certainly weren't expecting anything to come out of that night, but you ended up exchanging numbers. 

Throughout the next few months, you had come to learn that Hugh was a big fan of your work and that you were one of the people he wanted to eventually work with. Though, the more you spent time with him, the more you talked with him, the more you realized that your feelings for him began to grow. 

It was a couple of months after meeting him when you kissed him. It was at a dinner party that he was hosting and you were outside on his patio, leaning over the railing with your glass of wine as you overlooked the city. Everyone was inside, talking and mingling, but you needed a break. You were still getting used to being in the public eye and after your nomination, your fanbase just increased and more people began to reach out to you, wanting to work with you. It was certainly everything you wished for, but it was still overwhelming. 

You can still remember that night, how safe and calming you felt around Hugh. 

“Hey, you,” he says, shutting the door behind him and resting a hand on your lower back. “Needed a breather?” 

You nod and look up at him, smiling in his direction. It had become increasingly difficult to keep your feelings for him at bay so you had slowly begun to distance yourself. You were sure that he wasn’t looking to be in a relationship, especially not after just getting out of one. 

“Yeah, everyone’s great though,” you answer. “But I’m still– I’m still getting used to all of this.” 

Hugh nods, resting his forearms against the railing as he stands next to you. You feel his arm brush against yours and you bite your lower lip, gazing up at him to see his eyes staring out at the city’s skyline. “I think you’re doing great.” 

“Having you here helps,” you blurt out. You’re about to look away, about to go back inside when Hugh turns to face you. 

“Can I be honest?” he asks, a small smile on his lips. 

“You know you can always be honest with me,” you reply. 

“This dinner party… It was originally supposed to just be you.” 

“Me?” you ask, confused.

Hugh nods. “Yeah, I wanted to invite you over to have dinner with me, but then I got in my head and thought maybe you’re not interested, so then I started inviting more people.” You can see the blush appear on his cheeks, the tips of his ears reddening. 

“Why just me?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hugh chuckles. 

You bite your lower lip and shake your head. You know exactly what he’s implying, but you want to hear him say it. “Why just me, Hugh?” you ask again.

Hugh steps closer, hesitantly bringing a hand to cup your cheek. He watches you lean against his touch and he smiles, lowering his head so that his lips hover dangerously close to yours. “Because I like you a whole lot, baby.”

Baby.

You suddenly lean forward to press your lips against his, free hand moving to rest on his arm. You’re about to pull away, about to apologize profusely, but Hugh just pulls you back flush against him with an arm wrapped around your waist. He deepens the kiss almost instantly, relaxing instantly into you. 

You whimper quietly against his lips, which gives him enough access to slide his tongue past your lips. “Mmm,” you mumble, having had to pull away when you realize that the rest of his guests can easily see what’s going on if they just look outside. 

“So…” Hugh grins, looking down at you. “Guessing you like me too?”

You smile, eyes sparkling up at him. “Was the kiss not enough of answer for you?” 

“Hmm. I may need a little more convincing.” 

“You might want to have your guests go home then.” 

And that was more than six months ago. You have kept your relationship with Hugh private, both of you doing your best to keep it a secret from the public eye. But, Hugh had started to post more and more of you, making sure that your face never showed. He confirmed rumors that he was seeing someone, but never said who. 

The more Hugh posted of you, the more people started to speculate who you were. You had learned early on to never read the comments section, but you couldn’t help yourself when Hugh had taken a picture of you on his couch with a book covering your face. You repeatedly saw your name in the comments and realized that it was just a matter of time before your relationship with him would become public. 

Later that night, you’re lying in bed with Hugh after coming home from a party at Ryan and Blake’s house. This is the last weekend you have with him before you leave to start filming your new movie and before he has to leave to begin press for Deadpool & Wolverine. 

“Gonna miss you while you’re away,” Hugh says, arm wrapped around your shoulders as you rest your head on his cheek. 

“Me too. You and Ryan are gonna have so much fun.” 

“Wish you could come with us.” 

“I’ll just go and hang out with Blake,” you smile. “She can keep me company while you’re away.” 

Hugh smiles to himself and kisses the crown of your head, reaching out for his phone when he sees a text from Ryan. He looks down at it and sends him a thumbs up emoji after he sees the two pictures he’s sent. One is a behind the scenes picture of them on set and the other is a photograph of you and him. He stares at that picture a little longer, smiling to himself when he sees the big grin on your face, eyes gazing up at him as his lips press against the side of your temple with his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders. 

“Look at this, baby,” he shows you the picture and sees you smile instantly. 

“We’re cute. Did Ryan take that?” 

“Yeah, just sent it to me.”

“Can you send it to me too? I like it.” 

“Of course.” Hugh sends you the picture and then goes directly to his Instagram to post the behind the scenes picture that Ryan sent, not realizing that he also just added the same photo of the both of you to his story. 

—

The following morning, you groan at the sound of your phone repeatedly buzzing. You rub your eyes and slowly sit up, glancing over at Hugh who is lying on his back with an arm behind his head. You grab your phone and then widen your eyes at the missed calls and unread text messages from your publicist. Furrowing a brow, you open the text thread and click on the link she sent you. 

Once you see the same photograph from last night but on Hugh’s story, your jaw drops. You see the notifications from your own social media continue to rise with comments from your fans and his. You send a text to your publicist to tell her that you’d have to call her later before you gently nudge Hugh’s shoulder. 

“Baby, Hugh, wake up.” you tell him, seeing him stir awake. 

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyes still shut as he turns to face you. “What is it, baby?” 

“What picture did you post last night before we went to bed?” 

Still, Hugh’s eyes remain closed. “The picture that Ryan sent. It was a behind the scenes shot of us on set.”

“Hugh, you also posted the other picture Ryan sent you last night. On your story. For millions of your followers to see.” 

“No, I didn’t,” he says, finally rubbing his own eyes as he gazes up at you. Then, you turn your phone around and show him the same exact picture he sent you last night but it’s obviously posted on his story. He sees his icon on the top left-hand side of your phone as he scrambles to sit up. “I swear, baby, it was an accident.” 

You see him reach for his own phone, which also has an insane amount of notifications from his own publicist. Then, he sees a text from Ryan, who simply just said: Finally. 

“Hugh… Ryan just reposted it. Oh my god,” you drop your phone on the mattress and cover your face. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted to tell the world that you were in a relationship with Hugh. Even though there were a good handful of people who guessed that you were the one he was dating, it still wasn’t what you had in mind. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking over at you. “I’ll make a statement, say that it’s just a misunderstanding and–”

“Hugh, it’s okay.” you interject, letting out a quiet sigh as you face him. “It was bound to come out and it isn’t like we were both being careful anyway. I mean, we were posting without showing each other’s faces.”

“I just–” Hugh sighs. “It’s not how I wanted to announce my relationship with you.” 

You can tell Hugh feels bad; he won’t even look at you. You gently move to straddle his hips, legs resting at either side of him as you bring your hands up his bare chest to rest on his shoulders. “I mean, at least we look good?” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You’re not angry?” He asks seriously. 

You shake your head. “Why would I be angry? It was inevitable, Hugh. I mean, would I have wanted to announce it like that? Probably not, but it is what it is. I’m happy with you and now the rest of the world can see it too.” 

Hugh nods to himself, moving his hands to rest on your hips as he leans up to peck your lips. “So, this means I can start posting more pictures of you?” 

“Oh yeah,” you grin. “And I get to post more of you too.” 

Hugh smiles, relaxing against you. “I suppose it feels freeing now that we don’t have to sneak around. I can take you out to dinner, can hold your hand, can kiss you without having to check if anyone’s around.” 

“Mm, I do like the sound of that,” you reply, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. 

Hugh’s arms tighten around you and lies back down with you on top of him, turning his head to nuzzle against the side of your neck. He begins peppering kisses along your skin, hands dipping to grasp your backside. You gasp quietly, feeling his length harden against your clothed sex. 

But before either of you can continue, his phone rings and he looks over to see Ryan giving him a call. He groans and looks up at you, your eyes also moving over to his phone. 

“Should probably answer that,” you tell him.

“Yeah,” he sighs. Answering the phone, Hugh puts the phone on speaker and immediately hears both Ryan and Blake’s voice. 

“Jesus, thank god, you finally posted her,” Ryan says. 

“And um, first of all, how come I didn’t know?” Blake adds. “I mean, I knew there was something between the two of you, but I didn’t think you were already in a relationship!” 

“You both are on speaker, by the way,” Hugh finally comments. 

“Morning, Blake. Morning, Ryan.”

“Oh, oh, did we interrupt something?” Ryan asks with a suggestive tone. “Should we call later? Maybe after your little morning romp or–”

“Ryan,” Hugh interrupts. 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Ryan chuckles. “I’m just so glad that it’s out in the open. It was really difficult to keep this a secret, you know.”

“Not our fault that you caught us kissing,” you point out.

“What?!” Blake asks. “Where was I?” 

“I think you were in the kitchen, but honestly, I’m surprised Ryan didn’t tell you as soon as he found out,” you laugh quietly, resting against Hugh. 

“Well, Hugh told me not to tell anyone.” 

“That’s right. He promised me he wouldn’t say a word, even to Blake.”

“I’m surprised. Ryan usually tells me everything,” Blake says with a quiet laugh. 

“Yeah, Hugh told me that he didn’t want to ruin things with her and–” Ryan stops, catching his next words before they leave his lips. 

“And that’s our cue,” Hugh says. “We’ll call you both later.” 

“I want details,” Blake adds. 

“I’ll call you and tell you all about it, Blake,” you tell her. “I promise”

—

Luckily, your next film was an independent film so shooting only took about six months. It was so much easier now that your relationship with Hugh was no longer a secret. He’d come and visit you on location for a few weekends and when you had enough downtime, you also flew back home to spend some time with him. You both managed to find a good routine while you were away on set and it only strengthened your bond with him. 

Hugh had surprised you with a week long vacation to Mexico before you had to start press for your new independent film. It was a dream to be able to spend uninterrupted time with him. Most mornings were spent in bed, though, tangled in the sheets, limbs entwined, and moans filtering the room. 

While the week in Mexico passed all too quickly for your liking, you at least had the beginning and end of your press tour in New York. You’re still new in this industry, having taken it by storm with your recent Oscar nomination last year, but as time progressed, you had slowly begun to settle into this new life of yours. 

It also helped a great deal having Hugh by your side. 

You both were initially expecting a lot of hate after your relationship with each other was announced, but surprisingly, the amount of love and support you received from your fans and his and even your fellow colleagues was a relief.

Your first interview on the press tour is with Jimmy Fallon and you asked Hugh to come with you, knowing that the two are really good friends. You’re still slightly nervous, but having Hugh by your side helps calm you down. You’re in your dressing room, the make-up team fixing your hair and make-up before you hear the knock on the door to let you know that you’re up next. 

After a few moments, the make-up team leaves your room and you turn to face Hugh. “Am I gonna be okay?” 

Hugh stands up and walks over to you, hands resting at either side of the arm rests as he leans down to peck your lips lightly. “You’re gonna be amazing. Just be yourself, baby.” 

“What if he asks about us?” 

Hugh shrugs. “Be honest, but not too honest,” he winks. 

“Thanks for coming with me, Hugh.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with you. Now, come on. You’re up.” 

Five minutes later and you’re sitting next to Jimmy Fallon, finding it very easy to talk to him. Knowing that Hugh’s backstage brings you a lot of comfort and as the questions deviate from your career and into your personal life, you bring your hands on your lap, fidgeting with your thumbs. 

“So, you were supposed to be here last week,” Jimmy begins, smiling knowingly in your direction. “What happened?”

“Oh,” you laugh nervously. “I was in Mexico actually. It was a surprise vacation.”

“How was Mexico?” Jimmy asks, a picture of you and Hugh in the background. It’s a silhouette of the both of you, the sunset the main backdrop, but it’s obvious that you both are kissing. You hear the crowd start cheering and you furrow a brow in confusion, turning your head to see the picture on the big screen.

“I probably should have known that was going to come up,” you tell him, shaking your head. “Mexico was amazing, thank you for asking Jimmy.”

“Lots of sunset watching, I presume?” 

You cover your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you both laugh amongst yourselves. Just as you’re about to say something, the crowd becomes louder and you look up to see Hugh walking over to you and Jimmy’s desk.

“Hugh!” Jimmy says, standing up and greeting Hugh with a handshake and hug. 

“You embarrassing my girl, Jimmy?” Hugh smirks, releasing the other man to lean down and kiss the crown of your head. You can hear the aww’s from the audience and despite feeling at ease with Hugh, you’re still so shy. The picture is still up on the screen, so you stand up to peck Hugh’s lips lightly before he sits down on the empty seat next to you. 

You sit back down and then look over at Jimmy, a small smile on your lips. “Careful, you don’t want to get the Wolverine angry,” you tease. 

Jimmy laughs. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Hugh, thanks for joining us.” 

Hugh reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with your own as he nods in Jimmy’s direction. “Thank you, Jimmy. It’s good to see you again.” 

“So, Mexico…” Jimmy continues.

“Oh god,” you laugh. “It was amazing, right honey?” 

Hugh smiles, eyes sparkling down at you. “It was a great time, baby. We had a lot of fun. She works a lot, so I wanted to surprise her with some downtime before she starts this press tour.” 

“He’s literally perfect,” you tell Jimmy.

“You both look incredibly happy,” Jimmy points out. “And I’ve gotta ask because I don’t think either of you have admitted how you two met or how this started, but…” he grins. “I have my assumption that it started about a year ago during the Oscars.” 

Hugh’s eyes narrow slightly, a smile still on his lips. “Oh, come on, Jimmy. You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I was asking her,” he winks, turning his attention on you.

You look over at Hugh and bite your lower lip, then turn to look at Jimmy. “We actually met for the first time that night, but that’s not when all this happened,” you confirm. “We were friends before we took anything to the next level.”

Hugh nods in agreement. “I was too scared to tell her how I felt. Didn’t want to ruin such a good friendship that we built together and then one night, I had some friends over for dinner and she’s just out on my patio, all by herself.” 

“Needed a breather,” you add. “And the view from his place is breathtaking.” 

Hugh chuckles, eyes still locked on yours. “So, I went outside to check on her and one thing led to another and she kissed me.” 

Jimmy chuckles, eyes slightly wide. “Wait, she kissed you?”

“He wasn’t going to make the first move,” you answer. “So, I figured I might as well do it.” 

Hugh grins and then looks out into the crowd with a wink. “Fellas, get a woman who goes after what she wants,” he teases. 

Jimmy smiles, “Well, I think I can speak for everyone here and say that we love the two of you together. You both look so happy.” 

“We are,” Hugh smiles. “I’m really happy.”

“Me too,” you say, seeing him take your joined hands and press a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “The happiest I’ve ever been.” 

After a few minutes, your interview comes to an end and Jimmy cuts to a commercial break to take some time for the next guest to get on stage. You stand up and give him a hug, telling him how much fun you had while on his show as Hugh’s arms remain wrapped around your shoulders. 

Once you both leave the stage and make your way back to your dressing room, you immediately sit on the couch and let out a relieved sigh. 

“You did great,” Hugh says, sitting down next to you as he pulls you into his arms. “I hope it was okay that I crashed your interview.” 

“I loved that you were there with me,” you tell him honestly. “I’ve noticed my life’s better when you’re by my side, Hugh, so thank you.”

“Such a romantic,” he teases, leaning down to kiss your lips. “But I love it. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Hugh,” you grin. “Now, I just need to do this for the next two weeks with multiple appearances a day, huh?” 

Hugh nods. “Yeah, but you don’t have anything to worry about, baby. I’ll be right there with you.”

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[rafedarling]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

pairing: sweet!rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: you and rafe have known each other for years, despite being from opposite sides of the social spectrum on the outer banks. while you’ve always been a pogue and he’s a kook, there’s always been a connection between the two of you, one that has deepened into friendship over the years. but when rafe shows up at your parents’ house one day with a bouquet of your mom’s favorite flowers, asking for permission to take you on a date, it becomes clear his feelings for you run deeper than you ever expected.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, friends-to-lovers, pogue vs. kook tension, supportive parents, a kind and sweet rafe cameron.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated, actually i wrote this for drew but i though oh why not a sweet rafe for this. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday @httpsdrewstarkey

The Outer Banks was always divided—two worlds coexisting on the same stretch of sand and water, yet so far apart. The Pogues, like you, lived on the south side, where hard work, loyalty, and tight-knit community defined your way of life. The Kooks, like Rafe Cameron, lived on the north side, where money, power, and status were everything. Growing up, those lines were clear, and you were taught to stay on your side of them. Yet, as you got older, you began to realize that not all Kooks fit the mold.

Rafe was different.

He wasn’t the Rafe that the rest of the world saw—the Rafe who threw parties at Tannyhill, who had a reputation for getting into fights or drinking too much. With you, he was kind, thoughtful even. You had known each other for years, despite the social divide. It started with brief conversations on the docks or passing each other on the beach. But somehow, over time, those small exchanges turned into something more. Late-night talks when no one was around, shared glances across bonfires, and moments when it felt like the world around you faded away.

Still, you both kept it platonic—safe, avoiding the possibility of crossing a line that might complicate your lives. After all, what would people think? A Pogue and a Kook? No one would understand. But that didn’t stop the quiet tension that always seemed to linger between you two, the way his hand would hover just a little too close to yours, the way his eyes followed you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You had convinced yourself that Rafe was just being a good friend. That his kindness didn’t mean anything more than that. But everything changed the day he showed up at your parents’ house.

It was a warm afternoon, your mom sat at the table with her cup of coffee. Your dad was nearby, flipping through the latest fishing magazine, savoring the rare quiet weekend. The sound of the doorbell suddenly interrupted the peaceful atmosphere, drawing your dad’s attention.

“Who could that be?” your mom mused aloud, glancing toward the door.

Your dad stood up with his usual slow, deliberate pace, not expecting anyone. He made his way to the door and opened it, only to find Rafe Cameron standing on the front porch. Rafe, with his light brown hair and piercing blue eyes, looked as out of place as ever in your Pogue neighborhood. He held a bouquet of gardenias in his hand, the white petals stark against the casual but expensive clothing he wore.

Your dad blinked in surprise, not expecting to see him here. “Rafe?” he asked.

Rafe smiled, but there was a nervous edge to it. He’d been here before, of course—your parents knew him, albeit from a distance. He wasn’t a stranger, but he certainly wasn’t someone they saw frequently outside of the occasional gatherings. Still, Rafe had always been respectful, polite. And today, something in his expression told your dad that this visit wasn’t just a casual drop-by.

“Hey, Mr. Y/L/N,” Rafe greeted, shifting the flowers in his hand. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Your dad tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Not at all. Come on in, son,” he said, stepping aside and holding the door open.

Rafe walked inside, his gaze sweeping over the familiar interior of your home, which was far smaller and cozier than his sprawling family estate, Tannyhill. The warmth of the space, the lived-in feeling, was a sharp contrast to the cold elegance of his house. That’s what he always liked about coming here. It felt real.

Your mom appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a curious look on her face when she saw Rafe standing in the foyer. “Rafe Cameron,” she said, her tone lifting in surprise.

“What brings you here? Is everything alright?”

Rafe smiled politely, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the nervous energy beneath his cool exterior.

“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he assured her. He lifted the bouquet in his hands and offered it to her. “These are for you. Y/N told me once that gardenias were your favorite.”

Your mom blinked in surprise, her lips parting slightly before a smile spread across her face. “Oh, Rafe,” she said softly, reaching for the flowers. “You didn’t have to. They’re beautiful.”

Rafe’s smile relaxed, his nerves easing a bit. “I just wanted to bring something.”

Your mom took the bouquet and inhaled the sweet scent of the gardenias. “You’re too kind, Rafe,” she said, her voice full of warmth.

“I’ll put these in a vase. Y/N’s always telling me how thoughtful you are.”

Rafe chuckled lightly, his eyes softening at the mention of you.

“She talks about you all the time too.”

Your dad, who had been observing the exchange quietly, leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms as he gave Rafe an appraising look. “So, Rafe, what brings you by? You and Y/N got plans today?”

At the question, Rafe’s heart skipped a beat. This was the moment he had been preparing for, the reason his palms were sweating despite his efforts to stay calm. He straightened slightly, taking a deep breath before answering.

“Actually,” he began, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity, “I came here to talk to you both about something. About Y/N.”

Your parents exchanged a look, their curiosity deepening. Your mom set the vase on the counter, her attention fully on Rafe now.

“Go on,” your dad said, his tone neutral but not unkind.

Rafe swallowed, his eyes flicking briefly toward the floor before meeting your dad’s gaze again. He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable like this, but he knew he had to do this. He had to be honest, not just for himself but for you.

“I’ve known Y/N for a long time,” Rafe said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of his emotions.

“And she’s always been important to me. We’ve been friends for years, but over time, I realized that what I feel for her isn’t just friendship anymore.”

Your mom’s expression softened as she listened, her maternal instincts kicking in as she sensed the sincerity in his voice.

Rafe continued, his gaze steady but full of emotion. “I care about her, more than I ever thought I could care about anyone. And I didn’t want to move forward without talking to you first—without getting your permission.”

The room fell into a brief but meaningful silence as your parents processed his words. Rafe stood there, feeling the weight of the moment, knowing that this was more than just asking permission for a date. It was about showing respect—not just to you, but to your family, to the life you had built on the south side of the island, so different from his own.

“I know there’s a lot of history between Pogues and Kooks,” Rafe added, his voice softening, “but I don’t care about any of that. I just care about her. And I promise, if you give me a chance, I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s happy.”

Your mom smiled softly, her eyes shining with affection. She had always liked Rafe, despite his background. She had seen the way he looked at you, the way he treated you with care and respect. And more than that, she knew you cared about him too, even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself yet.

“Rafe,” she said gently, “you’ve always been a good friend to Y/N. And I can see that you’re serious about this.”

Your dad, who had remained quiet for a moment longer, nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t blind to the tension between the Pogues and the Kooks, nor to the complications that could come with crossing those lines. But he also wasn’t blind to the fact that Rafe, despite his wealth and status, had always treated you with kindness. And as a father, that meant more to him than any social divide.

“Rafe,” your dad said, stepping forward, “if you’re sure about this—about her—then you’ve got my permission. But remember, this isn’t just a casual thing. If you’re serious, you’d better be ready to prove it.”

Rafe’s heart swelled with relief and gratitude. He had expected this to be difficult, but the approval in your dad’s voice, the trust in your mom’s eyes—it meant more to him than he could put into words.

“I am,” Rafe said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Your dad extended his hand, and Rafe took it, the handshake firm and full of unspoken understanding. Your mom smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with affection as she watched the exchange.

Just then, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the house. Your parents turned toward the door, and Rafe’s heart skipped a beat as you walked in, the sunlight streaming in behind you. You had just returned from the docks, your hair slightly tousled from the wind and your skin warm from the sun. You kicked off your shoes and set your bag down by the door before looking up.

“Hey, everyone,” you greeted, smiling as you stepped inside. Your eyes landed on Rafe, and your smile faltered slightly in confusion. “Hey, Rafe Cameron? What are you doing here?”

Your mom exchanged a knowing glance with your dad before turning to you with a warm smile. “Oh, nothing, sweetheart. Rafe was just stopping by to chat. Why don’t you two go sit in the living room for a bit?”

Your heart did a little flip in your chest as you looked between Rafe and your parents. Something was definitely up. There was a tension in the air, a kind of nervous energy that made your stomach flutter with anticipation. You had known Rafe long enough to know when he was holding something back.

“Uh, okay,” you said, your voice uncertain as you led Rafe into the living room. You sat down on the couch, motioning for him to join you. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, and your mind raced, trying to figure out what was going on.

Rafe sat beside you, his hands resting on his knees as he took a deep breath. He turned to face you, his blue eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

“Y/N,” Rafe began, his voice soft but steady, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as you watched him. Rafe had always been sweet to you, always treated you differently than the other Kooks, but you had never let yourself believe it could be anything more than friendship. After all, you were a Pogue, and he was a Kook. That was just how it was. But the look in his eyes now—it made you wonder if maybe you had been wrong all along.

“I care about you,” Rafe said, his voice low and full of emotion. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I know we come from different worlds, but that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, your mind reeling. Was this really happening? Rafe Cameron, one of the most popular Kooks on the island, was sitting in your living room, confessing that he had feelings for you.

“I talked to your parents before you got here,” Rafe continued, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. “I asked for their permission to take you out on a date. I wanted to do this the right way.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. Rafe wasn’t just confessing his feelings—he was showing you, in every way possible, that he was serious about this, about you.

“So,” Rafe said softly, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand, “will you go out with me, Y/N? On a real date?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you were smiling, your heart swelling with emotion as you nodded. “Yes, Rafe. I’d love to.”

Rafe’s face lit up with a smile that could have melted your heart on the spot. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours as he let out a soft, contented sigh.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

As you sat there, your hands intertwined and your hearts beating in sync, you realized something: maybe the lines between Kooks and Pogues didn’t matter as much as you had once thought. Maybe love was bigger than the social divide that separated your worlds.

And with Rafe, you were ready to find out.