#i still remember the look on the face of the mom of one of my classmates. we would later find out that her dad (my friend’s grandpa) died.

[madamechrissy]

Ex Husband Toji

MDNI- NSFW- explicit sex, dirty talk, oral (m and f recieving) lil bit of rough sex, Toji calls you doll and Mama, creampie, breed kink, reader is Megumi's mom and Toji needs another kid lol

Ex Husband Toji who you're so mad at, because he's late picking up Megumi for his day to take him to school again, so you decide to go directly to his house, banging on the door.

Ex Husband Toji who overslept after working all night, and feels awful he's fucked up again, but when he sees your cute little scowl, he's instantly turned on, because fuck he misses you so much.

Ex Husband Toji who smirks, licking his full lower lip as his dark green eyes drink you in. 'still in your pajamas, huh doll?' earning you shoving at his chest now, crossing your arms. 'was supposed to be your day to take Gumi, no I wasn't dressed!' Toji really likes this crop top, the strap hanging off your bare shoulder, your nipples perk up as he stares, earning a smug grin

Ex Husband Toji laughs as he says 'could've just told me you wanted to get off, y'know' earning your smack on his cheek, which really just makes him hard for you as you stomp in his house. He's shirtless and in sweats, you're trying to avoid looking at his chiseled, muscular body because if you stare too long you'll remember how good he fucked you, so you cross your arms, glaring and say 'I actually have a date tonight, Toji'

Ex Husband Toji scowls now, stepping up to you, he's so big he takes over the whole little home it seems, his big rough hands gripping your bare waist, thumbs pressing against your rib cage. 'what's that now, doll? I must've fuckin misheard' you scoff, shoving his hands off 'didn't mishear shit, we're done you know that' he yanks you to him now, and when you're pressed against his body? your brain short circuits as he leans down so close you taste the cigarettes on his breath

Ex Husband Toji slams his lips on yours, you feel that scar rubbing against your mouth, as his tongue devours you, lapping in and out so fucking messy. No one fucking kisses you like that, no one can do this to you, but you can't fuck him again, this keeps happening and you have to move on. You back away then, panting, eyes locked on his, and then he says it 'I fuckin miss you, so much y'know that? miss you cummin on m'face'

Ex Husband Toji may or may not then have your thighs spread on his kitchen table, he may or may not have your sleep shorts yanked to the side, and he may or may not have his face buried between your thighs. He's lapping you up, tasting your sweet arousal all over his mouth, as he looks up under sooty lashes. Your hands yank his inky black hair as you gasp, while he fucks your gummy walls so goddamn well, crying out 'still h-hate you, T-Toji' earning him leaning back with a devious fucking grin, as he smacks your cunt.

Ex Husband Toji who watches you tremble and whimper as he spits on your clit, watching the bubbly liquid drip between your lip, slipping two thick fingers into your tight little hole, cock throbbing under his sweats as he remembers how good you feel clenching him. He's not been with anyone else, how could he? 'T-Toji, f-fuck!' you're screaming his name, eyes rolling back while he scissors those fingers in and out of your soppy little hole, which flutters around them. 'ya gonna cum f'me doll? let me see it... there ya go'

Ex Husband Toji Has you cumming all over his fingers, white hot stars blinding you, as it washes all over, no one could do this to you, and soon he's got you turned and bent over the table, legs dangling pathetic as he slides those slutty grey sweats down, releasing his thick heavy cock, that shoves in your soaking wet cunt, stretching you so good. 'Ah! oh my god!' you have tears in your eyes as he grips your hips, begining to fuck into you, slamming your cervix as his balls smack your little twitching clit

Ex Husband Toji loves how you feel so much, muttering 'f-fuckin missed this, missed your cunt gripping me... cum on doll, cum again lemme feel her' you need no urging, you're pulsing around his cock in the middle of his messy ass kitchen, on his old table scattered with cards and gambling tickets. He shoves your head down as he grips a wrist, pulling it behind your back and bottoming out, stuffing you so full you're soaking him completely, gasping for a breath.

Ex Husband Toji who busts inside you, muttering 'need a lil brother or sister for Gumi, don't we, mama?' and you're just nodding weakly, feeling his load so deep inside you, fucking up your guts as he's still fucking into you, he tilts your chin, slamming his lips on yours as he leans over you, big hands taking over your body, cock twitching in you. 'stop this shit, come home' he whispers, you pull away then, on trembling legs, glaring up at him.

Ex Husband Toji hopes he knocked you up again as you go off on him for being late, as you act like you're going to leave, only for you to be on your knees sucking yourself off him, and as he's fucking your throat he's pretty damn sure you're not going on any date at all

permatag list: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric 🩵

I NEVER write for Toji anymore and I love him!? Lmk if you want more Toji content or more ex husband Toji lol

[hcneymooners]

⋆ heart on a sleeve.

(lowkey toxic!)bsf!vi x bsf!reader. men & minors dni.

pt. i ( you are here. ) / pt. ii.

synopsis: vi is handling her breakup badly, but you refuse to give up on her. it's part of the deal when you're irrevocably in love with your best friend.

cw: vi exhibits toxic behavior but is more complex than toxic, this part is sfw but part ii is going to be explicit, pit fighter!vi, implied alcoholism, emotional hurt/comfort, second chances, implied friend breakups, not actually unrequited love, vi is trying her best and so are you, blk-coded reader but all are welcome to read.

notes: inspired by the beautiful @avonnimimi. adore her. also the raccoon thing actually happened to me, lol. love you.

you've always loved winter in the city. winter is your season. the world grows unnaturally quiet underneath the suffocation of snowfall; you can finally hear yourself think. the heat is cranked up as high as it can go without bothering you and you sit on the floor, hips groaning as you stretch them out.

tonight, the snow falls soft and quiet, less fervent than the day before, catching in the glow of streetlights. you’re in a navy blue sleep set, your silk shorts clinging to your cocoa-buttered thighs. the fabric is covered with detailed illustrations of eopards, their mouths open and demanding. despite it not being your preference, you have your best friend on the phone as you contort yourself into different shapes. she keeps shooting you looks as your joints pop, your bones waking up from their slumber.

“baby, i don’t think you’re supposed to be sounding like this at twenty-one.”

“don’t worry about it, lia. that’s why we stretch.”

dalia rolls her eyes from where she looms across the screen, her skin dark and gleaming post-shower. 

eventually, you settle, loose and limber, and begin scrolling through old photos on your phone. your gold rings catch the light as you swipe past memories – vi teaching you to throw a proper punch, both of you sprawled on the quad during finals week, the night she got that bartending job. you’d celebrated with cheap champagne and a close call (read: climbed right into her lap and almost kissed her.)

your shared apartment feels hollow tonight. vi's combat boots aren’t kicked off by the door, her jacket isn’t thrown over the kitchen chair. her location is turned off and it eats at your stomach, but you try to self-soothe.

traces of her are everywhere – the worn boxing gloves hanging by the entry, the pile of mechanics textbooks on the coffee table, the polaroids magnetted to the fridge. your favorite was from last summer: vi half-asleep on the couch, head in your lap, while you read your sociology textbook. 

dalia took that one, said something about capturing moments that matter.

you remember the night vi moved in, both of you drunk on cheap wine and possibility, sprawled on the empty living room floor.

"mama," she'd said, grinning up at the ceiling, "we're gonna make this place ours." and you did – vi's fight posters next to your framed family photos, her protein shakes beside your san pellegrino, your shared vinyl collection taking over the windowsill.

it was your most desired dream: to have a beautiful life. with her, if you could have everything you truly wanted.

your mom's daily check-in text slides gently over your screen: how's my baby doing? vi still being stubborn?

before you can reply, your phone buzzes with another call.

( three months ago )

vi's sitting on your bathroom floor, knuckles bloody from another underground fight. she's been taking more of those since caitlyn left, each one more reckless than the last. you don't say anything, just kneel beside her with the first aid kit you've kept stocked since freshman year.

"you don't have to keep doing this," she mumbles as you clean her wounds.

"i know." you focus on wrapping her hand, trying not to let your fingers shake. "i want to."

she watches you work, something unreadable on her face. "why?"

you don't answer at first. just keep wrapping, gentle as you can. some questions are too dangerous to answer honestly. still, you try.

“you’re never going to stop doing this to yourself,” you say finally. “this ache, this punishment—it’s going to live inside you for a while.”

you can feel her looking at you, blue eyes following the bend of your neck as you slick the splits of her skin with paste. her gaze is heavy. you refuse to look up.

“when i was younger, i found a racoon in my backyard. it was so sick, but i was so little and tried to save it. i called animal control, because i didn’t understand how they “handled” situations.” you flip her hand over, thumb grazing her palm. “i asked them to come pick it up, to rehabilitate it. he told me to look away, but i still held out hope. he shot it right in front of me. i cried, i think. still think about it.”

you’re still holding her hand, and she takes over the grip. she exerts pressure and tilts your chin up, bringing you back to her. your eyes are wide and luminous, two planets.

“when i see you, it’s like that,” you tell her. “except i know better now. i take care of it, of you, myself. it makes me feel like there’s a better chance at survival.”

you shuffle onto your knees, body tensing as you push yourself up. vi catches you by the ankle, tugs until you stumble against her bandaged chest. she presses a weak kiss to your calf. 

“thank you.”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, thumbing at her brow before leaving. 

(one month ago)

the party's too loud, too crowded. bass thrums through the floor like a second heartbeat. you're watching vi across the room, watching her drink too much, watching her laugh too sharp when someone mentions caitlyn's name.

when she starts another fight – with who? does it even matter anymore? – and ends it with kissing someone else, something in you breaks. you slip away to the bathroom, sink to the floor in your party dress, press your hands against cool tile. you hate crying. hates how it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. but the tears come anyway.

the door opens. dalia's there, sinking down beside you. she doesn't say anything, just pulls you close, lets you hide your face in her shoulder.

"baby girl," she whispers, but you cut her off.

“lia, later. please,” you rasp.

the bass keeps thumping outside. you can’t hear your heart, but you can feel it. you’re always fucking feeling it. you keep crying.

( now )

for years to come, you will always remember this moment. how you paused before hanging up on dalia and picking up for vi.

“violet?” your voice is low, tired.

across the line, somewhere cold and devoid of you, vi shivers. she loves when you say her full name, wants to eat you whole when you let it rasp across your tongue and teeth until it falls free.

“hey, angel. look, i swear m'fine to drive," she slurs before you can continue asking after her. your heart drops. “i just wanted to tell you ‘m on my way home.”

"violet, where are you?" you're already grabbing your keys, oversized park half-falling off of you.

"just... just leaving jinx's. cait was there with her new fucking—“ her voice cracks. "doesn't matter. i got this."

"stay put. i'm coming to get you."

“what? no—“ there’s a sound suspiciously like her dropping her keys. “fuck, ‘m dizzy.”

“violet,” you’re beginning to panic, your voice rising. “vi, listen to me. are you in the car?”

the door slams across the line. you have your answer.

“vi, please listen to me. i’m coming, okay? i’ll be right there. please don’t start the fucking car.” nothing. “violet! i know you can fucking hear me.”

it’s about five minutes of silence, before she speaks again. you’re borderline hyperventilating, hands shaking as you try to locate jinx’s number to get her to go outside and stop her sister.

"nah, you don't gotta—" 

the sound of screeching metal cuts her off. then it’s dead air. you're running to your car before the call ends.

���᭡.

the accident scene is a nightmare made real. you find her car wrapped around a lamppost, driver's side crumpled like paper. your heart nearly stops until you see her stumbling away from the wreck, that familiar shock of pink hair catching the streetlight. she's swaying dangerously on the icy sidewalk. your hands shake as you guide her into your passenger seat, trying not to think about how close—

she reeks of whiskey and wears that same leather jacket she's had since her fighting days. The one with the worn elbows and faded patches. the one you helped pick out years ago, before university, before caitlyn, before everything got so complicated.

"you should've minded your own business," vi mutters, breaking the tense silence. her words have edges, sharp ones meant to cut.

you grip the wheel tighter. "you could have died tonight."

"yeah? maybe that would've been better than—" she cuts herself off, but you both know what she means. better than feeling like this. better than watching caitlyn walk away.

"don't." your voice cracks. "don't you dare. what the actual fuck is wrong with you, violet? why do you say shit like that? you have to stop.”

vi turns to you, eyes blazing with that familiar fight-night fury. "or what? you'll lecture me again? tell me how i'm throwing my life away? save it. i don't need another person telling me how to live my life."

the car comes to a stop at a red light. your layered necklaces catch the glow, throwing golden shadows across the dashboard.

"you think this is about lectures?" the words come out quieter than you meant them to. "vi, i found you in a crashed car. do you have any idea what that felt like?"

"oh, here we go. make it all about you, why don't—"

"yes! for once, let me make it about how i feel!" your voice rises, surprising both of you. you never yell. never let the mask slip. but tonight is different. tonight you almost lost her. "because i love you too much to watch you destroy yourself!"

“you don’t even fucking know me, [name].”

you can feel the heat rising. your throat is growing tight, and you know how this will end. 

“we’re best friends, vi.”

her eyes flicker over the side of your face, and you’re just such an easy target and her mouth is opening and—

“i’m only yours.”

the light turns green. neither of you moves. no one’s behind you, both on the road and in real life.

“you,” you whisper, “are so fucking mean to me sometimes.”

embarrassment rushes through you. your face feels hot, and the ball in your throat is so large you’re struggling to breathe. you’re going to cry. maybe she can tell, because she lurches upward and jerks toward you. you jerk back, staring a hole through your windshield.

“[name]—“

you run the red light.

ᥫ᭡.

a week later, dalia corners vi outside the campus coffee shop. you're not there to see it, but the story spreads fast. the city feeds on scandal and t thrives on the misguided.

"you know what?" dalia gets right in vi's face, fury radiating off her small frame. she looks like a wind-up doll, braids freshly done and her hands balled into fists. “i’m sick of watching you treat her like this. she's been there for every fight, every breakdown, every time you needed someone. and what does she get? you taking her for granted, acting like she's disposable."

vi's jaw tightens. "you don't know what you're talking about."

dalia is yelling now, drawing attention. vi’s pretty sure jinx is observing, bright blue teetering in her peripheral vision. her sister had ripped her a new one after receiving your belated messages.

"don't i? because while you're out here playing self-destruct, she's at home crying over you. she'll never say anything because that's just who she is – she loves too damn much and asks for too damn little. she ain’t one of those weak-ass little bitches you keep messing with, but she was never good at establishing boundaries with you. i don’t know what the fuck she's on, but i'm off it. i'll say it."

something in vi's expression shifts, breaks open.

"she... she cries over me?"

"god, you're dense," dalia spits. "she's been in love with you since sophomore year."

vi stumbles into your empty apartment at 1 am—early for her—, still reeling from dalia's words.

“hey, angel?” she calls out, more habit than hope. only ghosts answer.

she finds your room too neat, closet half-empty. your parka's gone. your heavy jewelry box has left a perfect dust-free silhouette on the top of your vanity. she rummages through your desk and finds your monogrammed passport holder gone. she sinks onto your bed, head in her hands.

her phone's in her hand before she realizes, your number dialing. voicemail. again.

“[name], i... i fucked up. i know i fucked up. i’m sorry. please... please pick up. please." her voice breaks. “please, mama.”

seventeen calls. seventeen voicemails. silence.

finally, desperate, she calls dalia.

“look,” she begs, voice raw. "i need to fix this."

dalia's quiet for a long moment. "you're lucky i love that girl so much," she says finally. “she’s going to see her parents. her flight leaves at 4. terminal c. don't fuck this up again."

ᥫ᭡.

vi misses the flight.

ᥫ᭡.

your parents' house hasn't changed. same bright warm kitchen, same family photos lining the walls, same smell of your mom's cooking. it’s been two weeks post-fight. you’re recentering, need space to breathe, to remember who you are without vi's gravity pulling at you.

your dad keeps giving you those knowing looks over breakfast. you’re his daughter emotionally, your mom’s physically. they always joke that your mama said copy-paste, that you stole her entire face.

"sometimes," your dad says one night, his voice carefully light, "loving someone means letting them figure things out on their own."

you re-adjust one of your rings, a nervous habit. it was a gift from vi—two angel wings set on a thin diamond-speckled bar spread across two of your fingers. she’d fought for it. you were pissed. you never took it off, even though you rarely mixed metals.

“mmm. yeah, i know, daddy."

your dad finds you again in the kitchen at midnight, making tea you won't drink. you look so small in your grief, eyes blinking owlishly at the draft of your introduction to ethics paper. you’re wearing your glasses, the frames thick, and he smiles at the sight. you only used them when your eyes became too dry for contacts. 

"you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head, then nod, then laugh wetly. your screen blurs into a smear of white and blue. 

“i don't know how to stop loving her, daddy." your head drops. “why is this shit always happening to me?”

he pulls you close, kisses your forehead like when you were small. he chooses to let the language slide this one time.

"maybe you're not supposed to, baby. maybe it's not about stopping."

“i know,” you sniff, wiping your face. “i just wish i could pause it when things get bad, take a minute.”

“and that’s fair, baby. nothing wrong with that.”

“love is hard, baby girl.” your head whips up, finds your mother sitting in front of your computer. “you don’t have to pretend otherwise. no one here is going to shame you.”

your heart quakes with so much love that you start blubbering again. your parents only smile, pressing twin kisses to your oil-wet scalp. 

“i’ll finish the draft for you, honey. get some sleep,” your mom says and you try to protest, only to get served with her “keep talking” look.

“‘kay,” you tell her. “thank you.”“mmhmm,” she tugs you into another hug. “finish your tea, baby.”

ᥫ᭡.

at the airport, you're going through security when your phone buzzes again. this time it's dalia.

d. <3: girl, you're not gonna believe this.

you hear her before you see her. vi's voice cuts through the airport chaos: "[name!] wait!"

you turn, lower the volume on your playlist. she's there, pink hair wild, still wearing her leather jacket despite the cold. she's holding a ticket.

“i missed the first flight, so i was gonna go to your parents. i couldn’t get a plane out ’til yesterday but then,” she says, breathless. "dalia told me when you were leaving. i... i couldn't let you go without—" she runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. 

"i'm shit at this. but mama, please listen to me. i need you to know i'm sorry. not just for that night. for everything. for not seeing what was right in front of me."

you hold yourself very still, careful. hope is a dangerous thing, and she’s starting to rumble within you.

"violet…”

her eyes light up at the sound of her full name, and she rocks onto the balls of her feet. 

"i miss you," she says simply. "and not just as my best friend.”

your eyes widen, and vi steps closer. her face is soft and open. somehow, you know she’s aware of your biggest secret. you’re gonna whip dalia’s ass.

“ i think... i think maybe i've been missing you for a long time without knowing it."

the airport bustles around you, but all you can hear is your heart beating too fast. vi takes another step, careful, like you might spook. 

you look so beautiful to her, face bare and glazed with what she knows is a mixture of skincare and vaseline to combat the dry air of the plane. you’re being swallowed by your oversized sweatsuit, the hoodie absolutely massive and bubblegum pink. she focuses on your hands, finds the ring she gifted you. you flex your fingers, and her eyes fall on the small “vi” inked between your thumb and pointer. it’s stylized to look like roman numerals but it’s her name.

yours is tatted on her too, just behind her ear.

“look, vi. i—“ your top teeth worry at your bottom lip, plush and pink like a tulip.

"i know i don't deserve another chance," she says softly. "but if you're willing to give me one i swear to god, i’ll take what i can fucking get.”

you look at her – really look at her. she's a mess, clearly hasn't slept, probably bought the first ticket she could find which meant the airlines had robbed her blind. but her eyes are clear. present. seeing you maybe for the first time.

“i think you still have some things to deal with. like cait.”

“who?” she says, and you know she’s posturing, but it makes you laugh. vi grins, pleased with herself.

“don’t piss me off, violet,” you tell her and she closes the distance, threads her hands along your hips.

your body conforms to the comfort, to the familiarity. you close your eyes, lean your forehead against her chest. she’s so thick, so broad, that she shelters you. the world is so quiet here.

"slow," you say finally. "we’re taking this slow."

her smile breaks like sunrise. "slow," she agrees. "i can do slow."

above, your gate is called over the speaker. vi adjusts your necklace, takes your suitcase and bag. her fingers linger as you transfer them to her hands, sending a pulse down to your stomach. it’ll be hard to be careful. gentle. new.

“c’mon, mama,” she murmurs.

her hand is held out. you take a minute, maybe two, but you still hold it.

bonus:

d <3: so y’all kiss yet, or what?

you: you got one more time.

© hcneymooners.

[demonic0angel]

Jason joins Dani in being forced to have a check up by Frost Bite by Danny and Jazz. They commiserate on having ghost health problems.

(I went in a slightly different direction on this)

Jason sighed. Jazz patted his knee and kissed his forehead before saying, “It’ll be okay, dearest. Sit tight, I’ll go get Frostbite, alright?”

Jason huffed again but nodded. He ignored the scathing glare from the teen next to him. Jazz left and Jason sat in silence in the room next to the seething teen. He felt tired and prickly, like the cold air was getting sucked into his body. After a while of looking around the room and cataloguing everything, he asked, “So… what’re you in here for?”

“Why was Jazz kissing you?” The girl asked angrily. Jason glanced at her and observed her features, noting the heart shaped face, the sharp eyes, and delicate features with a hint of wildness.

He squinted. “Are you Jazz’s sister?”

The girl, Dani or Ellie he realized now, sneered. “Yes. Are you dating Jazz?”

“Yeah,” he said carefully. “We’re dating.”

Dani huffed, crossed her arms, and then answered, “I’m here for a checkup. I got into a fight recently and used too much power, so Danny made me come here so Frostbite could check me over too. What’re you here for?”

“Jazz said that the ectoplasmic rot in my soul was getting better,” he said, trying to recall what Jazz had explained to him before, “but I still need to be looked at because my case is a little uncommon.”

Dani nodded. “Yeah, mine too. My genetic makeup is unstable, so I can’t use my powers too much or for too long. I’m weak, but I have to try.”

Jason blinked. “Weak? You seem pretty strong to me. And that’s not a compliment because you’re my in-law. What do you mean by genetic makeup?”

Dani scowled, but she also looked pleased. She explained softly, “My creator, Danny’s enemy, made me to be an assassin and replacement. But… he messed up when he created me. I was supposed to be Danny’s clone. But I think Vlad didn’t have the heart to kill me using the portal like what happened to himself and Danny… so I’m unstable. He couldn’t stand to hurt me when he made me, but he had no problems trying to erase me later… and he’s the one who made me weak.”

Something dark flashed over her face, something like love and rage and regret and something that Jason related to like two people with holes in their hearts.

He chuckled humorlessly. “I kinda get it. I got killed. I was being stupid. I wanted to find my mom and she sold me out to the Joker.” He smiled, amused, as Dani hissed at the mention of the clown. “I was tortured and then when I tried to save my mom one last time… I was killed in a final explosion. I was forgotten. Almost nobody went to my funeral. I was buried and remembered only as a “good soldier,” and when I woke up in that coffin… I clawed myself out and was basically a zombie. Then I got tossed into a Lazarus Pit and I was trained to be an assassin too.”

He gave Dani a small smile, who just stared at him. “And you know what’s worse? When I came back to my senses, I found out that my dad didn’t even avenge me. The Joker is still alive, just killing other people. Taking other people away from their families. My dad didn’t even care about me. He slit my throat and saved the Joker when I gave him the chance, even though he used to tell me that he would never abandon me. So I kinda get it. Especially about a dad who made you, gave you everything, and when you finally did what you had to and completed your mission, he abandoned you for a better model. That’s what happened to you too, right?”

Dani nodded slowly. She looked at her hands and kicked her feet idly. “And now we’re fucked up because of them.”

Jason snorted. “Fuck dads. That’s what we have siblings for.”

A smile bloomed over her face. “Yeah. Fuck dads! That’s why we have big brothers and sisters!”

“We’ll be okay, squirt,” Jason grinned as he reached over and ruffled her hair. She immediately gave a cry of outrage, batting away his hands, but he continued, “We’ll make it through this. After all, we’re survivors, right?”

Dani gave him a critical look and then nodded. And after that, they sat together in amicable silence until Dani grew him into another conversation. When Frostbite finally entered, Jason didn’t feel so terrible anymore. After all, he had someone here who also related to him.

[mim16s]

Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

•I'm not autistic, but I have a brother and a cousin who are, so I used my experience living with them to write this character. English is not my first language, but I tried my best to write this without spelling errors. This is my first story on this app, so I hope it is good.

This wasn’t what you wanted for your life. Honestly, you didn’t even understand how you had gotten to this point. All you wanted was to take care of your mother, to repay all the effort she had put into you. And you knew how hard it had been for her.

She got pregnant young and raised you on her own, with no support system. Your father? Well, you never knew him. He disappeared as soon as he found out about the pregnancy. Your grandparents, embarrassed that she had gotten pregnant so young and without even getting married, abandoned her too. That’s how your mother faced the world alone, with you in her arms.

And things got even harder. You knew that being autistic made everything more challenging for her. As a child, you didn’t speak, and your first words came only after many therapy sessions, which were expensive. But she never gave up. You remembered seeing her come home, exhausted after a long day of work, but always with a smile.

— Mom is fine. You’re everything I need to have strength, — she would say, trying to hide her exhaustion.

But you knew the truth. You knew how much she fought, how she struggled to meet all your needs, to make sure you never lacked anything. Everything fell apart when she got sick. You were 19. The illness took all her strength, and she could no longer work. That’s when the weight of the world fell on you. You had to find a job, but no matter how hard you tried, no one wanted to give you a chance. When they saw you weren’t neurotypical, they wouldn’t give you a chance.

Life became a daily struggle. You survived doing small jobs here and there, while some kind neighbors helped with food baskets. But the money was never enough, and the debts started piling up. Your mother’s treatments were expensive, and with each unpaid bill, the despair grew.Then he appeared. The man in the suit.He appeared out of nowhere, as if fate had sent him. With a piercing look, holding a briefcase in his hand. He stopped in front of you while you were resting in one of the subway chairs, with a smile that made you just as uncomfortable as it did curious.

— Looks like you need an opportunity, don’t you?—You hesitated, unsure of what to respond. He seemed to know exactly who you were and what you were going through.

— I want to propose something to you.

And that’s when you got a card with geometric symbols and a phone number. You stared at it, your heart racing without fully understanding it.

---

And now, here you were: in a strange hall, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in a place you had never seen before, wearing clothes you didn’t even remember putting on, and the fabric itched. You weren’t the only one confused. Perplexed looks crossed the room, and nervous whispers filled the air.

Then they appeared: masked soldiers, wearing uniforms that seemed more threatening than functional. You couldn’t help but shrink back, a heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.They began to speak, explaining what was happening.

— Excuse me! — A voice echoed. Your eyes followed the sound until they landed on a beautiful woman, who seemed just as indignant as she was confident. — They said it would just be some games, but you kidnapped us. And you still want me to believe this?

— We apologize, — one of the masked soldiers replied, the voice distorted by some sort of modifier. — It was a necessary measure to ensure the confidentiality of the games we are organizing.

Questions started popping up from all sides, but the answers provided no comfort, only more tension. You wanted to understand better, but it was hard to follow. The questions, the sounds around you, the smell of sweat and fear in the hall, everything was pulling you in different directions. You began to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus. It was something that always helped. But the discomfort persisted.

---

You were led to a large open field, surrounded by high fences and cameras that seemed to record every movement. It was announced that the first game would begin soon. When a desperate man screamed that, if anyone was eliminated, they would die, a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be true... right? But when the game began, the illusion of safety shattered. The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the air. Your eyes widened, shock paralyzing you. That sound — loud, deafening to your sensitive hearing — seemed to hammer in your head. You instinctively wanted to cover your ears to block out that deafening noise, but you felt someone hold your hands firmly, preventing any sudden movements.

— Don’t move, it’s dangerous. — The voice came from behind. It was the beautiful woman from before. There was something in the firmness of her tone that managed to cut through your panic, bringing some calm.

— My ears hurt, — you murmured, your voice trembling.

— I know. But you have to hold on. Just a little longer.

Chaos spread around you. People were screaming, some running in desperation, while others were falling to the sound of new gunshots. You felt terror take hold, a heavy knot in your throat. Your legs felt like stone.

— If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you! Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras that scan for motion! But it's not able to detect you if you're behind something! — screamed one of the players, his voice desperate. — So if you short, line up behind someone who's taller than you!

Your body wouldn’t respond. You were frozen, the noise and the fear trapping you in place.The beautiful woman stopped in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the field.

— Keep going. — Her voice was urgent, yet gentle. — You need to keep going. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you. Just follow me, okay?

You couldn’t verbalize, but when the music started again, you followed her. Each step behind her felt like an eternity, but she kept her promise, protecting you as you moved forward.

After the game ended, everyone was taken back to the room. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with fear and despair. Lost looks, uncertain steps — everyone seemed terrified, and you were no different.Sitting on one of the beds, you rocked back and forth, an automatic motion, a desperate attempt to find comfort. But it didn’t help. Your breathing was uneven, the sounds around you seemed amplified, and all you wanted was to leave. Your mind raced in circles, always returning to the same question: Why me? You just wanted to help your mother. Everything you did was for her, and now you were trapped here, too scared to do anything.Then the voice of the masked soldiers echoed through the room, imposing order, the man from before who said he had already participated in this game proposed the vote.At first, the idea of voting seemed like an escape. A chance to get out of that terrible situation.

But then they revealed the amount of money accumulated by the people who had died. The sum gleamed in a giant safe suspended in the room. The shine of the money seemed to hypnotize some. Murmurs started to arise. Many were considering staying. You felt a tightness in your chest.

When the vote began, the sound of buttons being pressed was like a constant drum in your ears. You watched the people go to the ballot box, one by one, pressing their votes. Some hesitated, others went with determination.When it was your turn, your hands trembled as you walked up to the ballot box. The panel blinked in front of you: a circle to stay and an “X” to leave. You could barely see properly, your vision blurred by the tears at the corners of your eyes.Your finger pressed the “X.” You wanted to leave, go home. You needed your mother as much as she needed you. But when the final vote was recorded and the numbers were revealed, your heart sank.The majority had chosen to stay.Panic took over you again. Your fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and you went back to your bed, feeling your whole body tighten. Your mind was in chaos. The rocking movement returned, but this time even more intense, as if your body was trying to compensate for the avalanche of emotions.You felt helpless. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was try to hold onto the little control you still had.

The terror was greater than anything you had ever felt before. And, even worse, it was just the beginning

[crazerk]

I just finished the game, and it’s absolutely amazing! The premise’s got so much potential; with its complex political plot, fascinating world-building, gender disparities, diverse origins that truly shape the protagonist’s story, and even the option to choose the kind of beauty your character has!

Could we get a sneak peek of MC’s first meeting with Kaz? Please! Just a tiny one!

Also, I’m super curious about Captive MC...how would her children process having a mom with such a tragic backstory? The captive origin is easily the most intense. Her whole family was killed, she was imprisoned, and then sold. Would they think about everything she went through? I'm especially curious about the reactions of her two sons. After all, it seems more predictable to guess what the daughter might think

All I can tell you about MC’s meeting with Kaz is that it’s going to be wet 🤫

In regards to the other part, their reactions will largely differ cause their personalities and perspectives are stark opposites almost. I enjoyed imagining the boys reactions so much I had to write it out. Snip under the cut! (By the way Arman and Cyrus are my headcanon names for MC’s sons. In my mind Kaz named them after his brother and grandfather. You can name them in the story!)

The garden air was thick with the scent of roses and the sound of clashing sticks as Arman reenacted the Battle of Seven Rivers, using a fallen branch as his sword. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, dark hair falling in his eyes as he spun and thrust, fighting imaginary enemies.

"And then Shah Saminsar charged through the river!" He splashed through one of the decorative pools, much to your quiet amusement. "The enemy never expected anyone to cross in full armor! But grandfather's grandfather wasn't afraid of anything!"

Cyrus sat cross-legged on a marble bench, watching his brother's performance with a mix of envy and disdain. He'd tried playing these games before, but he always ended up winded and coughing and he disliked how it made you worry. Better to watch and remember the details Arman invariably got wrong, he thought.

"That's not how the story goes," he pointed out. "The chronicles say he had special boats made of—"

"You're ruining it!" Arman brandished his stick-sword. "Besides, my way is better. More exciting." He paused mid-thrust, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

"What about your father, Mother?" Arman asked suddenly, his expression bright with curiosity. "Did he fight in any great battles? Did he fight Shah Saminsar?"

The question hung in the air like suspended glass, fragile and dangerous. Your hands stilled in their embroidery as memories you usually kept carefully locked away began to surface.

"My father," you began slowly, "was a potter. He made the most beautiful vases you've ever seen, with designs so delicate they looked like they might float off the clay."

Both boys were watching you now, sensing something significant in your tone.

"What happened to him?" Cyrus asked softly, his keen eyes studying your face.

You took a deep breath. They were old enough now, you decided. They deserved to know. "He died when raiders came to our village.a"

Arman let the branch-sword fall, his playful demeanor vanishing. "Raiders?"

"They came at dawn," you continued, voice distant with memory. "I remember the smell of smoke, the screaming... My father tried to protect us, but..." you swallowed hard. "They killed the men who resisted. They took the rest of us as captives. I was brought to the capital and sold as a slave."

Silence fell heavily in the gardens.

"A slave?" Arman's voice cracked. "But... but that's impossible! You're not... you're not like them!" His mind flashed to the laborers he'd seen in the streets, bent and dirty and broken. Nothing like his beautiful mother who smelled of roses and knew how to make even the shah smile.

Cyrus said nothing, but his mind was racing, pieces falling into place like tiles in a mosaic. The whispers he sometimes caught in corners, the way certain nobles looked at them when they thought no one was watching. Slave blood, they said. His fingers clenched in his lap.

"Is that why the other consorts look down on us?" Cyrus asked.

"Cyrus," Arman protested, but you held up a hand.

"Yes," you admitted. "Many believe that common blood taints the royal line. That I was unworthy to bear the shah's children."

"They're wrong!" Arman declared fiercely, jumping to his feet. "You're worth ten of them! A hundred!" Cyrus nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't matter what they think," Cyrus said quietly, though his eyes blazed with a cold fury that reminded you startlingly of his father. "We are who we are. The blood of kings and the blood of craftsmen - perhaps that makes us stronger than either alone."

You felt tears prick at your eyes as you looked at your sons. They were taking this better than you had dared to hope.

"Does it..." Cyrus hesitated, then continued, "Does it hurt very much? To remember?"

"Sometimes."

"Don't cry, Mother!" Arman rushed to your side, nearly tripping over his own feet in his distress. "I'll kill them! I'll kill all of them who hurt you! When I'm bigger, I'll—"

Your tears turned to choked laughter as you caught him in your arms. "My fierce protector. Always ready to fight the world's wrongs with your sword."

"It's not funny!" Arman's own eyes were wet now. "They hurt you! They took you from your family!"

"If they hadn't," Cyrus said suddenly, his voice very small, "we wouldn't exist."

You reached out your other arm and Cyrus came to you, burying his face in your shoulder. You held them both close, these sons of hers who carried the blood of slaves and shahs in their veins.

"Listen to me, both of you," you said softly. "What happened to me was wrong. But it did not make me less. Remember that – no matter what anyone whispers, no matter what names they call you behind closed doors. You are the sons of my strength, not my shame."

Arman nodded fiercely against your chest. But Cyrus pulled back slightly, his young face troubled.

"Is that why I'm not strong like Arman?" he asked. "Because of... because we're..."

"No." Your voice turned sharp. "You are exactly who you were meant to be. Both of you."

The revelation would shape them in different ways as they grew. Arman threw himself into his martial training with renewed fury, determined to become strong enough that no one would ever dare hurt his family again. Cyrus retreated further into his books and scrolls, but now he sought out different kinds of knowledge. He learned about power – how to get it, how to keep it, how to use it like a knife in the dark. He collected secrets the way their grandfather had collected clay, shaping them into weapons far deadlier than any sword.

[deliriousbluebird]

I remember seeing this post at the dead of night on the day it was posted and just sobbing my heart out into my mattress because it had been so long since I had been able to look at one of those normally, not counting the calories, or putting it on the food scale. The oil on the pasta, the glaze on the cinnamon rolls, all the sugar in the hot cocoa and just the amount of calories in the bread; It scared me so much that I couldn’t do anything but cry as I thought how my life was before @na. I still remembered the flavors and how beautiful the aroma was. Yet all I could think about was how I could fit it into my omad and how many oz would be less than 300 calories.

I wanted to recover, so fucking bad, but what felt even worse was thinking how much I would have betrayed myself for not getting to my goal. I felt like I had to get to my goal or else all those months going to the doctors to get those fucking tests done, all the lying to the psychiatrist, all those days of fasting and nearly passing out would’ve been for nothing.

But with all the suffering that came with it, there was still a strange comfort and beauty that came with it. Seeing the stars in English after fasting for 3 days with a blanket over me in the warmly lit room, looking at the beautiful reflection in the mirror, 3lbs away from my goal weight knowing how close this was to all ending, the light headed feeling I felt while running, feeling truly free. It made me think it was all worth it. That this small, moment in my life was beautiful, and that there was nothing better than it. There was nothing better than 🌟ving my body from the nutrition it needed, watching my face become gaunt, my ribs more bold and my collarbones stick out.

I felt so happy. But it was killing me.

I could feel myself almost rotting away, starving, laying on my back in my bad, counting away the hours until I could eat again. I had no energy, and my body hurt too much to do anything anyways. My stomach bare, my legs getting weaker and worse. As much as I wanted to be seen as beauty and perfect by everyone, as much as I wanted go be satisfied with myself, I was so scared of leaving earth.

At night, I would go through episodes, seeing everything as too large and too expansive; Incomprehensible by the mind. All I could do was pace around my room hoping that the all too familiar feeling of dread would go away. But the only way I knew it was going to go away was by recovering. By recovering I had the chance to not die young like all the doctors were saying. I hate those doctors. As much as I in my right mind would think that they probably saved my life or whatever, I just wish someone would’ve been kind.

Because in all that time suffering, no one was ever kind about it when they found out. My mom would hold me to the wall while I was hysterical, trying to get me to take the god forsaken pills. My friend told me I was being over dramatic. The psychiatrist told me I would die. I genuinely do think I would’ve began recovery sooner if someone had hugged me, telling me that everything would be okay, that no matter how much it all hurt that I would be okay soon, I would be better. A regular hug though would’ve been nice too though.

When I began to recover, it wasn’t because I wanted to get better and improve myself and my mental health and shit. It was because I was fucking petrified of what would happen to me if I didn’t. I couldn’t bare the thought of ever being admitted to the hospital with a feeding tube, the thought of ever possibly losing control to them. I think would’ve been the very last straw before I gave up on myself.

I genuinely don’t think l’ll ever see food the same again. I still see the calories in the crackers and the sandwiches and the bowls and the soup and the cereal. I just eat it anyways because I don’t want to die yet. Every now and then though, I’ll go without food for 48 hours or so to remember what I once was.

I’ll miss when I was worse.

Hot girls have a healthy relationship with food!!!

[chrisisvbun]

old rogers. young!bucky barnes x older!fem reader.

synopsis: bucky had a crush on you since he was fourteen years old, and now, at twenty-four years old, finally gets a chance to make a move.

cw: riding, unprotected piv mommy kink, a little bit of nudity, masturbation, silly teen crush, Freud mentioned but really bad explanation, flirting, sub!top reader, dom!bottom bucky, age gap, secret relationship, crempie, Bucky cums a lot.

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

Bucky and Steve had been friends since high school, and the connection they had was evident. Bucky adored Steve, he was truly his best friend, he wouldn't change him for anything, he wouldn't ever want to push him away.

But going to the beach with Steve's family was always so freaking hard. His mom and dad were the sweetest, his little brother was so fun too. The problem was you.

You were already in college when Steve introduced Bucky to the family. He was fourteen while you were already twenty, and of course you realized how enamored he was with you. He loved your laugh and your eyes, he could've stared at your face for hours, but he couldn't, you were his best friend's older sister and you even had a boyfriend at the time, and clearly, he wasn't old enough. And also, you hadn't even interacted with him a lot, since you were always studying or in college.

But that year, it was the first beach vacation you shared with your family and Bucky. He was already twenty-four, and you were thirty, two adults, right? But still, you were off range, you were his best friend's older sister.

But still, he couldn't help but stare. You were tanning with a towel and an umbrella, you had undone the knot of your bikini and you were laying on your tummy to tan your back smoothy.

He was almost drooling with his milkshake in hand, he felt like a hormonal teen. He thought this was over, that it was just a stupid crush with the first mature, hot girl he saw when he was fourteen, since he went to a only boys school. But it seemed that it wasn't, because he felt like the first time he laid eyes on you.

"Jamie." You called, lifting your sunglasses, and smiling gently at him.

"Y-yeah?" He swallowed hard.

"Can I have a sip?" You rolled over your back, your bikini top still untied. The top was covering almost all of your breasts. Almost. The curve of your tits was completely on sight.

"Sure..." I said with an enamored sigh, drooling at the sight of your tanned skin.

He approached, sitting next to you and handing you the milkshake. You grabbed the straw in your lips without using your hands, sipping from it as you looked at him in his eyes. Once you swallowed the white beverage, you smiled at him. "Thanks."

He nodded quickly, casually standing back up and running to the bathroom. Once inside, he covered his mouth with his free hand while the other was in charge of stroking his cock tightly. He focused on imagining it was your mouth, or your cunt, whatever you would let him use.

(...)

The second day was even worse, you had another bikini now, a red wine one. The color suited you beautifully, your skin glowing in the sun while you read a book.

He took a breath, preparing himself to approach now.

He, nervously, approached and sat next to you. "H-hey." He swallowed hard.

You turned to him and smiled instantly, he felt his heart flutter, and his cock throb. You removed your glasses and closed your book, the attention was making him even more nervous.

"Hi, Jamie." You smiled, you were the only one who called him that, you did it since you met him and he had fantazised for nights with you moaning that stupid nickname.

"What were you reading?" He tried to make conversation.

"My good friend, Sigmund Freud." You chuckled, showing him the book. "Some psychology thing I remembered I read in college. But let's not talk about me, how are you doing now? Gonna enlist?" You asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm enlisting." He said, smiling stupidly.

"Isn't it kinda scary? I mean, I freak out with just the idea of going."

"Well, it is scary, but it's scarier to think of my loved ones being in danger, you know."

You smiled lovingly, your eyes shining. If he were a dog, he would have started wagging his tail with just that sight.

"You are really brave, Jamie, I like that." You smiled.

He felt his heart skip a bit, his stomach flipping with exciment, he was about to fucking vomit a bouquet of flowers and give it—

That was it. Flowers. He needed to get you flowers, that was it.

He blushed and rubbed the nape of his neck. "Ah, it's nothing, it's just how I feel, I guess."

"I always knew you were kind-hearted."

He felt like you were flirting. Were you flirting with him? He had flirted with women before, but he had totally forgotten how to answer to any compliment. His brain was blank.

"You were always sweet with me, I wouldn't treat you any different." He smiled back, resting on his forearm.

You bit your lip as you smiled, clearly flustered at his comment.

Yes, Barnes, fucking yes. Smart mother fucker. (More like sister fucker.)

"Well, you were worthy of my kindness I guess, you always treated Steve really good, I knew I could trust you that." You shifted a bit to face him better.

"Trust me what?" He furrowed his brows slightly.

"I knew you would take good care of someone you appreciated." You smirked a bit. "So I knew I could trust you my baby bro." You giggled a bit.

He blushed heavily, but tried to act non chalantly.

This is the moment, Bucky, think, think, you gotta give a more explicit sign, come on. Use that stupid head of yours. He thought.

He pretended to think once he had the most risky comment in the tip of his mouth. "You think... I could take good care of you?" He finally looked at you in the eye, his icy blue eyes piercing yours.

You blushed more, your lips parting because of the surprise.

Before you could answer, your younger brother shoot both of you with a water gun.

"Greg! You little shit, I'm gonna kill you!" You said as you grabbed your soaked book.

Greg just laughed and ran away.

"Mom! Greg ruined my book!" You complained, cursing under your breath.

Then, you put a hand on Bucky's right shoulder. Your hand was warm, but the water made it cool down a bit. Still, your touch, even if it was a few seconds, was soft and delicate. His breath hitched as he looked up at you.

"I'll be right back." You said, before going with your parents.

When you came back, Bucky wasn't there. You were confused, but assumed he got bored waiting since you took really long.

Bucky was for his third orgasm already and his cock wouldn't stop getting hard at the memory of the whole interaction.

(...)

The third day, you weren't at the beach at all. Bucky looked around like a lost puppy, trying to get a glance of you, but nothing.

"Hey, your sister didn't come." He said casually to Steve.

"Ah, yeah, she told me to let you know she would stay in her bedroom. I think it's because you were having a chat before Greg got annoying, right?" Steve answered.

Was that it? Could that be the sign he was waiting for?

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He said, casually, trying to ignore the throb of his cock.

Bucky didn't even bother to put a shirt on, he almost jumped all the way to your hotel room. He knocked on the door eagerly, and a few seconds later, you opened the door.

You were in a pair of grey shorts, a wide t-shirt, clearly no bra on, your hair wet and dump, you had just jumped out of the shower, and that just made him more excited.

"I was wondering when you were gonna show up." You smiled, letting him come in.

"Steve told me you wanted to keep chatting with me." He smiled as he sat on your bed. He smiled back, he had more confidence, he could sense that you wanted him back, and he was just getting more and more excited.

"Stupid Greg made me not want to go out today, I loved that book." You huffed before you sat next to him. "But I felt we had a chat pending." You sat sideways, holding your body in your right hand as you looked at him

"Do we?" He smiled a bit, but internally, he was shivering.

"You know I'm a bit too old, right?" You started. He nodded quickly. "And you know I'm your best friend's sister." He nodded again. "Alright."

You sat straight and pushed him to make him lay on his back. Bucky's pupils went wide when you began to crawl on top of him. "So, when Steve asks, we were reading about Freud, right?"

He nodded eagerly, his lips parted as he sighed, your hands ran up his bare torso.

"You got huge this time, you lift a lot?" You asked, squeezing his muscles with a smile.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Yeah, a-about a hundred and fourty pounds."

"Hundred and fourty pounds?" You said impressed. "You could lift any girl you want." You teased with a smile. You leaned down, your lips pressed against his sun-kissed collarbone.

"Y-yeah..."

"Could you lift me?" You asked in whispers as your kisses began to climb their way to his throat.

"I..." He sighed of pleasure. "I would love to."

You giggled, the sound making Bucky shiver. His shaking hands moved to grab your clothed waist.

"Steve can't know about this, okay?" You said, your eyes in his, your hands cupping his cheeks.

He nodded obediently and quickly, he sank his fingertips a bit harder into your waist, while his eyes darted between your soft plump lips and your eyes.

"Gonna be good f'r me?" You ran your fingers through his hair.

"Yes, yes, I'll— I'll do anything for you." He muttered. You smiled, and he noticed how much he loved the way your eyes crinkled. He leaned a bit, and he forced himself to not moan when his lips brushed against yours.

Your hand held the back of his neck and you pressed a soft kiss on his lips. That was it? Right? Just— just a kiss? He thought.

(...)

"Oh, fuck!" You moaned out loud while your hips snapped into his.

His eyes were wide as he had his face buried in the crook of your neck. Moaning, drooling, babbling, he was totally overwhelmed, trying so hard not to come too quick like he already did. Three times.

He felt lime a virgin teen, when he was an adult man and definetly not a virgin.

You were riding him so skillingly, you knew some much, he felt just dumb, he gave in the second you had pushed him in that bed. His hands were gripping your back while his legs shook of overstimulation. You were whining and moaning in his ear as you scratched down his back, using him like the perfect sex toy he was.

"Gimme another one." You mumbled in his ear, making him sob a moan again. "C'mon, I'm so close, make me cum, baby."

He pulled away a second, his hands running through your sides as he got drunk in the sight of you. Your soft tanned tummy, your pretty arms, your pink cunt sucking his cock, and your beautiful, bouncing tits.

He sank his face there, sucking them, biting them, while his hands gripped your middle back.

"You like my tits? Wanna get nursed like a baby?" You teased a bit, between moans.

He looked up at you, glassy blue eyes into yours, he squeezed your body, his cock throb and all for the thought of you taking good care of him. For the thought of being your baby.

You saw his eyes full of hunger and desire and kissed him gently, pulling his hair delicately, you started to ride him slower.

"C'mon..." You said softly. "Take what you want."

He didn't have to think twice, he grabbed your left nipple in his mouth, and sucked like he could get milk from it. Your hand ran through his hair, stroking him, petting him.

"That's a good boy, making mommy feel good."

Something snapped at him, like a rubber band. He moaned, and whined like a hurt dog as he sucked and sucked. He planted his feet on the mattress, and he began to thrust upwards, his tip directly hitting your cervix.

He heard you gasped and moan out loud, your nails sank on his shoulders as you tried to find support.

"Mommy, mommy..." He moaned feraly in your ear. "So good, so good, tell me I'm good, mommy..." He begged in sobs.

Your nails were almost piercing his skin. "S-so good, baby, so f-f-freaking great for mommy."

He moaned with just your words, keeping his pace. "Gonna fill you up so good, lemme fill you up, lemme make you a mommy."

His primal needs made his eyes go blurry, he was so desperate to cum, he needed to fill you nice and good, knock you up, having your round and fat with him.

"Baby, you know you can't..." You said breathless.

"Please, please, please, please..." He begged, his sobs filled the room with the slapping sound of his balls against your skin. "I can't pull out, I can't— I can't, please, let me fill you..." He almost cried in your shoulder.

How could you say no to him? How could you deny him anything if he spoke in that tone?

"C'mon, baby, fill momma up." You mumbled in his ear and he moaned at the permission.

"Thank you, oh, mommy, thank you..." He cried as his thrusts began to get sloppier and sloppier.

You pulled his hair and clenched around his shaft. You moaned loudly, and your back arched in his embrace when your climax almost made you tear up.

With that, the gave a final thrust and came inside, his cum filling and spilling all over your bed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't stop, I just can't—" he sobbed, holding your body against him as he kept coming. He never came this much, but the orgasm he just had... you might have ruined him for the rest of women.

"Shh, it's okay, baby, don't worry about it. You did great." You kissed his face gently, making him purr at the soft aftermath.

(...)

"So, what did you guys do?" Steve asked, when all of his family, including you, were having dinner.

"Ah, she showed me a book he had, one Freud wrote." Bucky said casually.

"Wasn't that the one who fucked his mom?" Steve's dad said.

Bucky nearly chocked with his food.

"Dad! Don't be stupid! He didn't fuck his mom, he had his arguments about the unconscious desire of having sexual relationships with the opposite gender parent, like the myth of Oedipus." You explained. "It's a normal sexual wish that kids have when they are really young, and that feeling disappears once they grow, it's almost biological."

"Well, some dudes still have some of that, am I right?" Your dad chuckled.

"Dad, quit it—"

"You know what I mean, Barnes." He elbowed Bucky, whose face was red as a tomato.

"Y-Yeah, sure."

[miruac]

dating osamu miya - headcanons

masterlist

navigation

warnings: not proofread, extremely self indulgent, minor atsumu cameo, word vomit. disgusting word vomit.

a/n: guys why are we making fun of osamu for liking food...i think its cute...that means hes a chub hub and his love language is probably acts of service also i go feral for slight chub <3

in highschool he acts like he didnt care

the typical stoic guy nonchalant guy

but when it came to you? EHEHEHE HE HAD A LITTLE BLUSH ON HIS FACE

the first time you guys saw each other was after an assembly

you were cleaning up, and coincidentally it was the end of the day

tsumu and osamu were racing to see who enters the gym first and ended up fighting...

tsumu THREW osamu and he landed at your feet...you literally had to nudge him w/ur foot to see if he was still alive

he gave you the nastiest side eye bc he thought you were atsumu 😭

but when he realized you weren't he got up so fast and apologized so quickly

ok moving on i rambled 2 much

during the talking stage he's still a little quiet

like he just listens but he remembers everything

you said you liked how his bento box looked?

he got it for you

you said you use only a certain type of pencil/pen because you like how smooth it is?

he got it for you

everyone writes osamu as if he hogs his lunch but its his lunch!!! he has a right to!!! its his food!!!

he always packs a little extra just for you to have </3

atsumus starts wondering why the food in the house disappears so fast but when he saw you and osamu he immediately understood

you frequented the convenience store down the street, whenever it was during your lunch break of after practice

if osamu had to rank onigiri, it would be his moms and then the convenience store

and that says smth knowing how picky his tastes are...

during games you'd be on the edge of your seat

ok this may be ooc but i literally see him mouthing 'this is for you' before he serves and he winks in your direction

I THINK THATS FUNNY YOU GUYS

surprisingly he didnt miss

atsumu teased the HELL out of him

would always walk you home even if it was out of his way

literally wouldn't leave until he saw you go inside HES SO PROTECTIVE

speaking of protective it deffo helps he's actually six feet not like those posers

will tower over you and any guy who even dares approach you like oh hes behind you? everybody RUNS

his mom LOVES YOU

shes not like those stereotypical boy mothers like she does care for the twins but isnt OVERBEARING

hc that he hugs his mother whenever he comes home after a long day </333 nothing is more comforting than a motherly hug

his mom gives you that same hug WAHHH SHES SO WARM AND CUTE I LOVE MAMA MIYA(hey sounds like mamma mia)

osamu invited you over bc you two had to study and she got so GIDDY LIKE HER SON ISNT BITCHLESS

she cooked up a FEAST that night

and know you know where osamu got his cooking skills from

the entire time atsumu was silent but he was lowk sulking that he got kicked out of his room and no one paid attention to him that night.....

is clingy

he is CLINGY

his love languages are quality time, acts of service, and physical touch

if hes tired or down in the dumps he'll literally slump over on you

he NEEDS to have a hand on you whenever you're together

even if its like as minimal as you guys linking legs when youre sitting on the couch together that satisfies him enough

my shayla....my shayla </3

-----------------------------------------------------------

...guys. GUYS. HI!!! im back!!! sorry its been so long, i've actually been so busy with exams and post secondary stuff 😭😭 just recently started rewatching haikyuu during winter break and im back on my osamu brainrot BUT EHEHHEHE HERE WE GO!!!! I HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS ONE

[fuck1ng-queen]

Linda

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Rating: free for all

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: new feelings, a bit of alcohol, fluffy

Author comments: first of all: happy new year everyone! i'm here to tell none of this is my fault, blame it on @concretejunglefm for making me think about teaching portuguese (my mother language) for Noah! this became a shameless self insertion, i'm sorry, but i also hope you enjoy lol (and if you never tried pão de queijo before, what are you waiting for?)

It had been a while since you moved to the US. Who would tell you that when you started at a São Paulo’s Bureau of Musical Production, your work would take you so far? You remembered well one of your first big jobs, an international one, making you contact the Americans. That was the way you met for the first time some of the legends of musical production behind hits everyone used to listen to. Furthermore, you were so glad to meet people you admired for defying the conservative concept of people who say that rock and roll is dying. 

You showed yourself as a professional, capable person, and soon a proposal was made to you. The payment was way better compared to your job in Brazil, and you had no one there to make you feel forced to stay. Without overthinking, or you would probably give up, you said yes, and now there you were, at the land of Uncle Sam, facing a new language, new habits, and new companions. You missed your job partners and even your difficult boss to deal with, but now you had no one but Bad Omens to work with. Their vocal, Noah Sebastian, was relentless at his work, focused, and with the gift of the gab to conquer what he wanted. And, face the fact, he conquered you too. He was a great work partner, making you feel welcome and accepted. 

It was a hot summer night, although the autumn was already on the corner. Every time you and your partners were successful, you celebrated at the same pub, and tonight it wasn’t going to be different. After weeks of crossing nights wide awake, the team could finally show the new project with efficiency. 

You were already drinking your third beer and everyone wasn’t there yet. The weirdest thing was that everyone was always very punctual and once you worked in a stressful job, when they were late you just couldn’t help feeling worried. Impatiently you stood up. The only one there besides you was Noah. 

“Gotta call’em, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Noah nodded, agreeing. It didn’t take too long for you to come back, with a way better gaze than you were before. 

“They're not coming yet, still have some things to sort out in the studio. I’ve no idea what.” 

“Neither. Want to let it go for another day?” 

You sat taking the glass with your beer and looking at the lipstick mark you had left on it. 

“No, we can wait for them a little. For now, it seems like it’s just the two of us tonight, Noah Sebastian.” 

“Just the two of us, babe.” He winked at you. 

You remembered the moment you started working with him… Damn, he was good with words. Noah’s answer wasn’t a big thing, but he always knew how to use the right, and sharp, words, in the most opportune moments. The way Noah used to choose his words lit something up inside you, and that wasn’t the first time. Every time it happened you made sure to hide it the most quickly you could from him, and from you too. Lucky you, even before you could feel ashamed to think something different from literal, you jumped on the chair, remembering something. You took a tiny notebook that used to live in your pocket and wrote “ligar para a mamãe ainda hoje!” On the page there were also other things written, all in Portuguese, catching Noah’s attention. 

“Your English is so good I always forget you’re not from here.” He gave a muffled chuckle. 

“Just remembered I have to call my mom so I wrote to not forget. Did you know even I forget it sometimes? But always happens something who remembers me I’m not from here. For example, every time I go to the bakery to buy us some donuts, I wish I could buy a huge bag of pão de queijo or a few coxinhas.” You made a pause. “I miss home sometimes.” 

Noah's eyes sparkled with interest. It was fascinating to see the way you talked about your country every time. About food, about people… Noah couldn’t even imagine how somebody could spend Christmas Eve in a more than 86ºF heat. But the thing he liked the most was seeing you when you were by yourself at your table at the office, concentrated and grumbling something in Portuguese. He knew that merda was something bad and arrasei was when you were proud of something you had done well, but maybe only now, by the effect of a few alcohols, or by being alone with you, he figured out he just knew all of that because he noticed you more than he should when you were speaking your mother language. He sipped his beer and looked deeply at you with that warm pair of brown eyes. 

“You could teach me a few Portuguese, what do you think?” 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to act the most normal you could, but on the inside, you were in a mix of feelings and thoughts. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was because you were alone with him, but you never felt so into him like this moment. 

“I think it’s great. What do you want to learn?” 

“I don’t know… Maybe you could translate what you see now.” 

You looked around, thinking about what to choose. 

“Let’s see… We’re drinking cerveja, we’re in a bar, just like in English, I'm a produtora, and… I don’t know what to say anymore” you laughed. 

Noah listened to all your words with attention, hypnotized. 

“And how do I say you’re beautiful?” When he figured out, it was too late, he had already asked. 

“Você é lindo” you answered, with an accomplishment tone. 

“So… Did you know você é lindo?” Noah told you, seeming more serious than before. 

“No” you giggled, that was really cute. “When you talk to a girl you have to say linda. Lindo is for the boys.” 

“So you told me I’m lindo?” 

“Maybe…” You winked an eye at him. 

“Oh, thank you, I wasn’t expecting that. You’re linda too.” He got closer, putting his elbow on the table and resting his cheeks on his hand, without taking his eyes off of yours. 

“Hm, obrigada…” You thanked. That was starting to be funny. 

“De nada…?” Noah tried to respond to you. 

“Yes! You remembered!” You answered excitedly, putting your hand on his arm. 

It took a second for you to figure out where your hand was, and instead of removing it, it just felt right not to take it off. You looked at each other in a moment that looked like an eternity. His eyes didn’t help looking at yours, and then at your lips, returning to your eyes again. 

“Can I ask you something?” he finally answered. 

“Yes.” 

“How can I say can I kiss you?” 

He was too serious to be joking, and you felt your stomach trembling with anxiety. You were nervous, but damn… You wanted to kiss him right now. 

“Posso te beijar?” You finally translated. 

“Yes, you can.” He answered. 

And then it happened. When you realized, you were already lost on his lips, feeling tickles on your mouth because of a few stubble on his face, and letting your body heat up. 

(…) 

You showed up at the bureau the day after feeling kind of weird. You didn’t know why the others didn’t show up but to be honest, you were glad they didn’t. You and Noah spent an incredible night at the bar the day before, sharing kisses and caresses, talking and flirting with each other. Both of you agreed not to spend the night together, you were kind of drunk and you wanted to enjoy, and discover, each other as you deserved. But now you thought it was just a drunk conversation between the two of you, he would probably not even remember anything that happened the night before anymore. 

You entered the corridor of your level and noticed a package on your table. You approached, smelling a nostalgic scent. On the package it had a small post-it, saying “Good morning, linda.” 

You opened the paper bag, finding a lot of fresh pão de queijo inside. You smelled those tiny breads and felt at home again, smiling. You lifted your eyes excitedly, looking for him. He was in front of the coffee machine, trying to disguise himself, but you knew he was paying attention to you when he looked at you and winked one eye, smiling. You smiled back, feeling your heart heating up. 

He remembered the night before, after all. And you couldn’t wait for the two of you to have other nights to remember. 

.

.

.

masterlist | taglist: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | send me an ask to join my taglist <3

.

for those who are curious: this is pão de queijo, and this is coxinha

[cjsmalley]

Chat Blanc:

A/N I go back to school 1/13. Updates will become sporadic again as this time I face down math class. But the story is not abandoned!

Sam sat up abruptly, struggling out of her twisted bedsheets she nearly went face first into the floor as she tripped because of her tangled ankle. Dressed only in her nightgown and nothing else, she flat-out ran to the room where she kept her own personal portal to the Realms.

As she ran she pulled out her phone and dialed for Danny, “Paris. Now.”

Instantly, he knew she didn’t mean their Paris, “Okay.”

“Mom?” Danielle came from her room, rubbing her eyes.

“Think something happened to Adrien,” Sam didn’t slow down but Danielle gasped, lifted off, and followed her.

They kept the Manson Portal, an upgraded version of the Fenton one built by Danny and Clockwork, in the deepest basement of the mansion, behind all sorts of security measures both mundane and magical.

“Samantha? Danielle?” Pamela came from the room she shared with Jeremy.

“Bad dream,” Sam shouted as she moved, “gotta get to Adrien!”

Down into the deepest basement they went and Sam only paused long enough to deactivate the security measures as they went before she dove into the swirling vortex of the portal to the Palace.

Sam didn’t even slow down as she exited the Portal to find Danny and Adrien waiting with Clockwork; she slammed into her son, grabbing him tightly to her.

He clung back.

“What happened?” she demanded, pushing him to arms’ length to check him over with an eye trained for hidden injuries and other problems.

“I had a…dream,” Adrien whined lowly, “I was…Mama, I never would but…”

“Chat Blanc,” she murmured, again hugging him, remembering that awful, awful dream that still plagued her.

Clockwork made a coughing sound and spoke, “My Lieges, Your Highnesses—”

“Not Queen yet,” Sam murmured a token protest.

“It was…hm…” Clockwork thought over his words, before settling on something; he remained an old man as he spoke, tired and ancient, “Timelines are not straight things, running in parallel…at least not always. Some will overlap. Even just proximity can cause…Bleed Throughs.”

“Explain,” Danielle demanded, having taken up a defensive stance in front of her mother and brother.

Clockwork became frustrated, “I am attempting to, Your Highness. It is difficult to put to words something I understand so instinctually. Especially since no one here has even the barest notion of the lowest concepts needed to understand completely.”

“Do your best, Clockwork,” Danny soothed everyone present, “please, dumb it down for us. I’m only a C+ student after all.”

Clockwork flashed the young king a disapproving look but began, “Bleed Throughs are when one timeline receives echoes of another. These Bleed Throughs can manifest in many ways. Most commonly visions or dreams…the dreams suffered by the Royal family this night are Bleed Throughs of a horrid timeline where His Highness was taken by the villainous Hawkmoth, twisted into a villain in his own right. Thus the Balance of that universe was destroyed as Creation battled her opposite and equal, Destruction. I do not know the particulars of these Kwami creatures but I do know that the paired Ladybug and Black Cat must always be active at the same time and be on the same side—”

“I killed so many,” Adrien whimpered, “All of Paris, all of Earth…My Lady—” he gasped and opened a portal with Clockwork’s help to Marinette’s room.

She came flying through, eyes red-rimmed and tears on her cheeks, on her nightshirt, and into his arms.

Adrien began frantically purring, hoping to calm her and himself down, even as he spoke lowly, “My Lady, my Marinette—”

“It was so real!” she cried into his shoulder, her arms and legs wrapped around him, “Chaton, Adrien, please…”

He crooned a purr as he took her by the thighs and lifted her slightly, so that he could walk, and moved both of them to a couch. As soon as they were sitting, her in his lap, still crying and holding him with a near strangling grip, Adrien explained what Clockwork had said.

The Parisian teens slowly calmed, basking in each other, the fact that they were both there, together, and of their own free will.

It was this incident that got Marinette into therapy for her blossoming PTSD; Adrien had already been diagnosed with it due to literally dying several times.

Wished Away 9

Tylers meet Phantoms:

“Christ, Mum,” Rose said as she took in how Jackie, Pete, and Tony were dressed, “we’re just meetin’—”

“Royalty!” Jackie squeaked. They were all done up like they were meeting the Queen at Buckingham Palace itself!

“Honestly, Mum, they don’t care,” Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing her mother’s wrist and tugging her through the console room and to the wardrobe room, “I told ya ta dress casually. Let’s just hope the Ol’ Girl has clothes fer ya.”

It took about an hour to get everyone redressed, in things much more casual but still nice, before Rose led them back to the console room.

Jackie was clearly anxious, “Are ya—”

“’m sure, Mum. Danny an’ Sam don’t do formal unless they have ta. Unless you’re an annoying subject or someone threatenin’ war, ya don’t even have ta call ‘em by their titles. They’re just Danny an’ Sam ta family.”

“Lookie what I found,” Jenny bounded from the innards of the TARDIS, holding a tiny bike helmet.

She went to her toddler uncle and put it on him, making sure it fit right, “Landings in the Realms are worse than normal ones. The TARDIS does Her best but the Realms give her…nausea? A headache? She just doesn’t do good.”

“Oh, goody,” Jackie said lowly, hugging a strut for dear life already.

“Let me protect Anthony,” Bad Wolf came out, holding out her arms; without hesitation, Pete handed his son over.

Bad Wolf settled Tony in her arms, against her chest and shoulder, and then spread her feet and crouched slightly, clearly bracing for impact; she stayed steady even as the TARDIS began Her flight.

Everyone else was thrown about the console room, the Doctor and Jenny barely holding on to work the console, but Bad Wolf and Tony did not move an inch.

The landing was rough, just as Jenny said it would be, throwing even the Time Lords to the grated floor before the TARDIS stopped quaking.

Jenny recovered first and stood up, rubbing her shoulder, to peek out the doors, “We’re in the Palace. Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam are waiting…”

Slowly, everyone picked themselves up and Rose reemerged, straightening with some popping from her knees.

Jenny led the procession out, racing to hug a man and a woman, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam! How’re you?”

Danny and Sam chuckled and hugged her as one, “Good, doing good. You?”

“Perfect!”

She let go of them to drag Jackie, who was hesitant, forward, “This’s my Gran, Jackie. Mum’s side, duh. Completely human. He’s my step-granddad, Pete, and Mum’s holding my uncle, Tony.”

“Yer Majesties,” Jackie tried to curtsy even though she was in trousers, “an honor ta—”

“Oh, enough,” Sam chuckled, “didn’t they tell you? We don’t do formalities with family.”

“Family?” Jackie’s eyes were wide, “I know Rose said—but—”

“We count Clockwork as family,” Danny explained, “and he’s claimed the Doctor as family. The Doctor and Jenny. Rose’s basically married in by this point. Common-law, you understand. That makes her family our family. Welcome to the Palace, your home in the Infinite Realms.”

“My god,” Pete muttered, somewhat disbelieving.

“Not a god, not yet anyways,” Danny winked.

“Where’s Dani?” Jenny burst out, “Is she still in school?”

Sam grinned, “With Anakin, in the nursery. We let her stay home today.”

“Oh, Gran! Can I introduce Tony to Anakin? Please!” Jenny nearly begged.

“Anakin’s our youngest,” Danny explained kindly, “around Tony’s age, actually. We also have a nanny looking after them, Nanny Clara. He’d be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Jackie looked to her husband, who nodded, “if you’re sure.”

Jenny cheered and took Tony from Rose, dashing off with him deeper into the Palace.

“Jenny knows the Palace as well as anyone,” Sam assured, “and if she gets lost, she can flag down a servant for help. She’s heading directly for the nursery. It’s the most defensible part of the Palace.

Danny stood up, helping Sam, “C’mon, we can talk over food; stay close, Tylers. Doctor?”

“Rose and I can bring up the rear,” the Doctor agreed, taking Rose’s hand as they began walking.

The Palace was a gothic masterpiece, in a very literal sense, though even Sam had wearied of all the gloom and had sought artists and artwork to fill the halls, soft, plush carpets and tapestries to keep the warmth, glassworks to fill the once barred windows. Statues and busts dotted the hallways, some classical, some avant garde

Masters had given their masterpieces, their magnum opuses; they were paid handsomely of course, in either coin or material.

Oils, watercolors, acrylics, textiles, glass, all created for Her Majesty the Ghost Queen. For His Majesty the Ghost King.

It wasn’t yet a riot of color, nor would it ever be, but it was more alive.

Jackie gasped and the group stopped, turning as one to see what had captured her attention.

“When they said the family was huge…”

Ah, it was the most recent family portrait; all the children were gathered around Danny and Sam, all in formal wear.

“We…sometimes people sell the souls of children to me,” Danny started, causing her and Pete to whip around to him in horror, “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? But anyways, we adopt the kids. Only Dani—Danielle—isn’t adopted.”

He pointed out each child and gave their backstory.

“Good Lord, you were young!” Pete said at Damian’s story.

“Old enough to be king,” Danny shrugged helplessly, “it…it wasn’t easy, we had help, so much help, and we made mistakes…”

“All parents do,” Jackie told him softly.

“So we’ve been told,” Sam smiled just as softly, “and we’ve learned and made new ones with each kid.”

Danny coughed and continued to point out kids and tell stories, until all had been covered and then they moved on.

As they neared the dining room, Danielle and Jenny joined them with each holding a toddler.

“Oh my,” Jackie said, taking in the Anakin Skywalker; she knew who he grew up to be, or would have if he had not been adopted.

“We’re hungry, Dad,” Danielle said.

Danny waved them into the dining room where the smaller table was already set for a meal; there were two chairs with booster seats and Jenny and Danielle put Tony and Anakin in them before sitting beside them and helping them get food.

The group chatted over the meal, Jackie and Pete slowly relaxing at how easy going the Royals were, and generally had good cheer.

After the meal was done, Jenny asked, “Do we put their photo up on the family wall now? I know you’ve got me, Dad, and Mum…”

Danny chuckled, “We can, if they’re okay with it.”

“Family wall?” Pete questioned.

“We keep walls of pictures of the extended family,” Sam explained easily, “you know, like Rose, the Doctor, and Jenny. Harry’s and Neville’s parents. Damian’s paternal birth-family. The Royal Portrait is just the immediate royal family. The walls are for everyone and everything else.”

Danny and Sam led the group out of the dining room and down another hallway; the walls were plastered with photographs. Some were professional, most were candid and amateur.

A common camera sat on a small round table; a high-end camera but nothing too expensive or professional.

Danny picked it up, saying, “If Jackie, Pete, and Tony don’t mind—”

Jackie decided it would be a family photograph and dragged the Doctor in; Rose and Jenny came without complaint.

Danny took a set of pictures.

After that was done, it was decided it was time for the Tylers to leave, taking pity on the still disgruntled TARDIS.

They were, however, invited to the next family gathering.

[hunterofartemis7]

Adopted by the gods AU pt.16

*2 years after the events of the dinner Zeus planned, Hera comes up to Athena while she’s training Ody and Dio*

Hera: *smirking*

Athena: can I help you? I’m kinda in the middle of something

Hera: remember that deal that Odysseus would go back to Ithaca when he’s 18 or when he becomes king?

Athena: yeah? Why?

Ody: mom what’s going on?

Hera: well that time is now.

Athena: Odysseus is only 13, what are you on about?

Hera: the king has fallen ill and can no longer rule over Ithaca. And since he can’t, it’s up to the heir to take the thrown.

Athena:….

Odysseus: mom….?

Athena: boys go to your room

Diomedes: but-

Athena: now!

Ody and Dio: *runs off to their rooms*

Hera: *still smirking*

Athena: *slaps her across the face* WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?

Hera: *shocked* how fucking dare you!? Raising your hand to your queen!?

Athena: start acting like a queen and maybe I’ll treat you like one, now what did you do!!?

Hera: I did nothing! This is pure coincidence! I’m just happy about it.

Athena: why!? What have my sons ever done to you in the 13 years they’ve been here that makes you want them off Olympus so badly!?

Hera: they aren’t gods Athena! They aren’t supposed to be here!!!

Athena: it’s not like they’ve caused any problems for us!

Hera: it doesn’t matter!! You shouldn’t have ever brought Odysseus here in the first place, much less Diomedes! It’s time for both to go!

Athena; I am not sending my 13 year old sons to the mortal realm to run a kingdom that they barely know anything about!

Hera: I thought you were teaching them?

Athena: there is only so much I can get those two to pay attention to.

Hera: doesn’t Odysseus have friends in Ithaca?

Athena: that’s two people out of the thousands in that kingdom! And he’s fucking 13!! What 13 year old can run a kingdom!?

Hera: he won’t be alone while doing it. His mother will help him

Athena; THAT FUCKING WOMAN IS NOT HIS MOTHER!!

Hera: whatever 🙄. The boy has no choice. He’s the heir and Ithaca needs a king.

Athena; they don’t need a 13 year old who doesn’t know what he’s doing yet and doesn’t want to be there!

Hera: argue with me all you want, Zeus already approved this for both boys

Athena: WHAT!? He can’t do that!!

Hera: well he did. Go ask if you don’t believe me.😈

Athena:….*runs off to find Zeus* Father!!

Zeus: *flirting with a nymph* huh wha- oh hellos daughter

Athena: did you already approve my sons going back to their birth kingdoms!?

Zeus: yes I did

Athena: why!? They aren’t 18 nor are they near ready to rule a kingdom!!

Zeus: Athena Ithaca needs a king—

Athena: they have a king! And queen, and a fucking princess!

Zeus: the king is sick and you know this. The queen can’t rule alone and their daughter is far too young.

Athena: and 13 isn’t!? They aren’t going!

Zeus; you don’t have a choice Daughter.

Athena: I am their mother—

Zeus: and I am your king and father!! You will obey my orders! If you don’t I will make so you will never see your sons again! Do you understand!?

Athena:………*looks away* yes father..

Zeus; good girl.

Athena: *leaves to tell Odysseus and Diomedes*

Ody and Dio: *play sword fight in their room*

Athena: *stands their watching them from a minute, not being able to bring herself to tell them*

Dio: *notices her* mother! *drops his sword and hugs her*

Ody: mama! *does the same and hugs her*

Athena: *hugs them both*

Ody: mama please tell us you convinced grandmother to not make us go..🥺

Athena:….. *looks away, can’t meet his eyes* I’m sorry..

Dio:..what..?

Athena: I’m sorry….i tried to argue with her but lord Zeus already approved this.

Ody:…mama..

Athena:..you both are going back to your birth kingdoms of Ithaca and Argo. I’m sorry..

Ody: no! No I’m not going!!

Dio: me either! You can’t make us!

Athena: I don’t want to! I would love if you both could stay here but father already made up his mind. If you don’t go willingly than he’ll force you both to go and make it where none of us will ever see each other again.

Ody: *starts crying* mama please don’t make us go! We don’t want to leave!

Athena: I don’t want you two to leave either.,.but we don’t have a choice.

Dio: how do they even expect us to run a kingdom!?

Athena:….i don’t know. Look just because you both are going to the mortal realm doesn’t mean I’m leaving either of you. I will still be there guiding and helping you as much as I can.

Odysseus: it won’t be the same! Me and Diomedes are going to be in completely different kingdoms and you’ll be on Olympus!

Athena: and you think that’s gonna stop me from seeing either of you?

Diomedes: will we still be able to see each other?

Athena: yes. Maybe not as often as you’d both like but yes.

Ody: I still don’t want to go! I don’t want live there with those people!

Athena: you think I do? I fucking hate everything about this but we can’t disobey Zeus’s orders.

Ody:….*clings to her and cries*

Diomedes: *does the same*

Athena; *hugs them both close, trying not to cry*

[gothamite-rambler]

Rose asks her crazy father for a favor to help her secret boyfriend (future ao3 fic)

Rose sat on the couch in her duplex apartment, her mouth agape in disbelief as she listened to the story of how Jason had died and then been revived.

She had always been curious about the details but was hesitant to ask, worried about stepping on a landmine. Their relationship was still new, and she wanted to ensure Jason didn’t feel pressured to share anything he wasn’t ready to discuss.

Yet, as he recounted everything he remembered, she could see that, despite the pain of the experience, he didn’t resent reliving it. He seemed to find a certain catharsis in sharing his story, and she felt honored that he chose to open up to her.

Rose (stunned): That's… how you died?

Jason nodded quickly recovering from retelling the story by chuckling.

Jason: The craziest part was stepping out of the Lazarus Pit covered in—wait, why do you look mad?

Rose (fixating on one detail): That bitch egg donor sold you out to the Joker to save her own skin?!

Jason (laughing dryly): Yeah, pretty much. She’s not around anymore. She wasn’t exactly the best mom to the bitter end. Honestly, it was stupid of me to even go see her that night.

Rose frowned softly, covering her mouth in disbelief.

Rose (reassuringly): Jace, it’s not your fault you were deceived by someone so terrible. I’m sorry for insulting her, but that infuriates me—along with the fact of your death itself. The whole situation makes me so mad.

Jason chuckled, rubbing his forehead.

Jason: You’re fine, trust me. It’s crazy to think about dying, but I’ve managed to adjust to this new life pretty well.

Rose (sincerly): You really have.

She exhaled, gently rubbing the top of Jason’s hand. He smiled in response.

Rose (holding back her anger): But the Joker is still… alive and walking? Not okay with that.

Jason: That’s a whole different mess. I don’t want to think about him right now; sorry for unloading so much on you.

Rose (smiling softly): It’s fine, I asked. I showed you my missing eye, and in return, you gave me a detailed account of your death. And if you want, I can take care of him for you since Batman won’t.

Jason chuckled, quickly pressing a kiss to Rose's cheek.

Jason: Nah, his misery is enough for me.

Rose (with a mischievous glint in her eyes): His misery is enough? I like the way you think.

She leaned in closer, kissing him passionately as she pushed him down onto the couch.

Jason (sly smile): That turned you on?

Rose (whispering near his ear): Are you turned on?

Jason (blushing): I definitely am now.

Rose smiled, deepening the kiss as she felt the chemistry between them simmer. With a carefree motion, she tossed aside his shirt and kissed him again, all while her mind began weaving a plot for revenge against the Joker.

Later That Night

Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke, sat in his prison cell, engrossed in Shawshank Redemption.

Slade (towards the end of the book): Huh, he dug a hole in the wall? Amateur.

He chuckled softly, continuing to read when his prison cell phone rang. Without bothering to check the caller ID, he answered.

Slade: Go for Deathstroke.

Rose (whispering): Death—Sla—Da—Nope… Father, yeah, that works. Father, I have a request that you definitely won’t turn down.

Slade's interest piqued as he continued to read.

Slade: I’m listening.

Rose: The Joker’s in Arkham with you. I need you to beat him to a bloody pulp. He probably won’t die easily, but avoid killing him. I want him to suffer, but live. I’ll bring you muffins when I visit next week.

Slade snapped the book shut, excitement coursing through him as he stood up.

Slade (pumped up): I’d do that regardless of a reward! Regardless! You’re not joking about him not dying, either. I saw someone push him off the railing near the stairs, and that clown jumped to his feet while laughing. I will smash his face to a pulp regardless! Guard! Bring me my brass knuckles! Code J!

Rose (sighing happily): Thank you.

Slade: No problem, Jeri— No wait, he can't talk. Which child are you?

Rose paused, recalling who her father was and recognizing that this behavior was just typical of him—even during her time as his loyal, brainwashed agent. She mentally noted to bring this up during her "sucky dad" contest with Raven later.

Rose: It's Rose.

Slade fell silent as he slipped on his brass knuckles, genuinely unsure who this was, even though this was his other child that was alive.

Rose (pinching the bridge of her nose): I cut my working eye out for you.

Slade: Oh! The one who proved her loyalty to me. Got it… Daughter? Right, Rose is my daughter. Just remember to bring me blueberry muffins on visitors' day.

Rose: You don’t want to hear the reason behind—

Slade (with a hint of hatred for the Joker in his tone): Rose, regardless!

Rose: Cool, thanks. Loyal to ya.

Slade (with a cocky grin): I know you are.

With that, he abruptly ended the call and strode out of his cell.

Slade: Hey, jester man! Get over here!

Meanwhile at Rose's House

Rose ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Rose (whispering to herself): Thank God he hasn’t realized I hate his guts. I really am such a good person.

Jason: You done with the call? I’m getting cold in here; come back to bed.

Rose smiled as she let her robe fall to the floor and headed back to her room. She closed the door quietly behind her, determined to keep her plan to punish the Joker in prison a secret from Jason—until the moment felt just right to reveal it.

[signfromeywa]

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGN FROM EYWA)

Chapter 07: Back in the enclosure

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 3439 

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❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I’m a German author and this is the first time I’ve tried to translate a story I’m working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

The airlock opened and Ana stepped into his old enclosure with Ean'tu by the hand. After a few more weeks, the cultivation of the new plants had finally been completed and Ean'tu was able to move back into the old enclosure. Ana had been eagerly waiting for this, it gave them more privacy but also more space and comfort for the Na'vi. Thanks to the great trust Ean'tu already had in Ana, they were once again able to move on foot. There had been no need to sedate him or use other heavy measures. He trusted her and had walked calmly by her side back to his enclosure. It was always a big risk, Ana was aware of that. He could try to escape at any time, which she would even understand. The desire for freedom certainly burned deep in his heart and Ana felt the same way. This thought was also growing in her mind. The Na'vi could not stay here forever. That wasn't right.

Turner called over the radio: "Novak, everything okay so far?"

"Yes, we arrived safely at the enclosure, you can give the all-clear." Ana replied and Ean'tu looked at her. By now his English wasn't bad at all, she could hardly believe how incredibly quickly he was learning. Communicating with him had become so much easier but also more intimate.

"Was that the other minder of mine?" he asked quietly, still with a strong accent despite his good English.

"Yes, that was Turner, he wanted to know if everything had worked out." Ana looked up at Ean'tu, he hadn't been able to hear the radio because she had a small headset in her ear.

"I'm sure he just wanted to know if I'd done something to you." He still didn't trust Turner and obviously didn't like him. So far, he had also refused any contact with Turner.

"No, he knows you won't hurt me, he's on our side, even if it's hard to believe." Ana stroked Ean'tu's hand and then led the way. "Look, they really did grow the plants in question."

Ana tried to lighten the mood a little. She knew they were still in a prison, but they had to make the best of it. Ean'tu walked past Ana, over to the plants and stroked the leaves. She could see a slight smile on his face, which then gave way to a dull, sad look. Did he remember his home? Should Ana perhaps ask or was that inappropriate and would only open old wounds?

To her surprise, Ean'tu herself began to tell the story, "Sa'nu and I used to go out a lot to collect these leaves. She was a good teacher, she taught me how to weave."

"Your mom?" Ana came over to him and also touched a leaf. He nodded sadly. "Where's your mom now?"

"I hope with Eywa..." it was almost a whisper from Ean'tu, his words sounded sad and heavy. Ana didn't know what exactly they meant, but she thought it had a similar meaning to when people wished their loved ones were in heaven. She would not realize how serious the words really were until much later.

Ean'tu seemed to be grieving. Ana would have liked to know so much more about his childhood, but she didn't dare ask. It just didn't seem to be the right moment. The Na'vi closed his beautiful eyes for a moment and seemed to pause. Then he took a deep breath and turned to face her again.

"I can show you how we weave ribbons." he struggled to smile to hide his sadness.

"I'd love to learn from you." Ana was excited by the idea. So far, Ean'tu had only learned from her and she had felt bad about imposing her culture on him. It was only appropriate that she also learned to understand the Na'vi and their way of life.

Ean'tu nodded. "Okay, I'll look for some nice leaves later so we can start tomorrow. Today I would like to ask you for something."

Ana listened with interest. "Yes?"

"My hair is soft and beautiful again thanks to you, I wonder if you can put it back together for me?" he took his hair and held it together in a half-up hairstyle.

"Yes, I can do that if you like. Tell me how you want it, I'll help you." Ana was proud and honored. It was the first time Ean'tu had actively asked her for help. "I have to get out of the enclosure in a minute, we've got a delivery. I'm sure I'll find everything I need there."

These were the things Ana had asked for. They included all sorts of things. From fabrics and materials to clothing. She didn't know what the Na'vi normally wore, so she had asked her secret contact. They gave her a rough description and Ana had to choose things based on this rough information. She hoped he wouldn't hate the things she had chosen.

"Okay, I'll wait for you at the tree." He smiled at her again, with that warm, friendly smile. Every time he did, her heart leapt for joy. He touched her on the head, almost as if he wanted to stroke her cheek, which was unfortunately not possible thanks to the mask. Instead, he stroked her neck and turned away to go to the tree. His only place of retreat.

Ana breathed a heavy sigh and tried to ignore the longing tugging at her heart. It was wrong, she kept telling herself so as not to lose her reason. Then she too made her way through the airlock to accept the delivery she had ordered.

When she arrived at the top of her department, Turner was already waiting for her among a pile of delivery boxes. He had a digital clipboard in his hand and seemed to be checking that everything was there.

When Ana came into the room, he looked up from his work. "Out of the enclosure so soon?"

"I want to get some things out of the boxes, I hope everything I asked for is there." Ana walked over to the boxes, put her hands on her hips and looked at the mountain of boxes. With a bit of bad luck, it would be a while before she found what she was looking for.

" Have you seen, the plants have settled in well in the enclosure, they look great."

"Yes, Sky has already had a closer look at them too. They were very satisfactory. The responsible staff have done a good job." Ana took the first box, opened it and looked through the contents. "You could take the other boxes from the pile and put them in a row."

Turner nodded and set to work. She was grateful for his help, the boxes looked heavy. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"I requested hair accessories for Sky and some clothes." Ana stuck her head up to her shoulders in one of the boxes and rummaged around.

"I'll help you find it." Turner also opened one and rummaged through the contents.

After what felt like a while and three boxes later, Ana emerged triumphantly. "I've got it!" she pulled the hair ornament out of the box and held it up solemnly. Then she turned to Turner? "So, have you had any luck yet?"

He also straightened up, but shook his head. "No, not yet. I'll try the last box." He opened it and began to search. "I have to say Novak, that's a lot of stuff I don't know what you want to do with."

Ana grinned and came over to Turner. "I won't be able to do anything with it either, but I'm sure Sky knows exactly how to process all the materials. Otherwise, he and I will figure it out together."

Turner paused. "I think that's what you were looking for. At least that's my guess."

He pulled out a pair of pants, they were made of light beige fabric and were very breathable. On Ean'tu they would fit loosely, comfortably and give him enough leg room.

"Yes, exactly, then the other parts should be in there too." she leaned over to the box and picked out the second part of the set. It was also a loose fabric that was wrapped around the chest and fastened at the neck. "I hope he likes it, definitely better than the old leather rag he's wearing now." Ana stroked the fabric.

Turner nodded in agreement. "I think he'll be pleased, at least you've put some thought into it and I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Good, then I won't keep him waiting any longer. Take a break, you've done a lot of work. The break will do you good." She smiled gratefully at Turner. Ana knew that he organized and worked a lot for Ana and Ean'tu. Without him, she wouldn't know how she could manage it all, he was a good ally.

Turner looked at her hesitantly for a moment. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he still seemed slightly worried.

"Yes, you can trust Sky. Just like I do." Ana assured him.

He sighed. "All right, but be careful. I'll be in the canteen."

Ana nodded and grabbed all her things and her laptop, then went back into the enclosure. She had put the clothes and hair accessories in a smaller cardboard box to make them easier to transport.

Packed full, she arrived at the tree in the enclosure, where Ean'tu had said Ana would find him. Before she had walked the last few meters, however, someone grabbed the box. Ana looked up and saw Ean'tu standing behind her. She hadn't even heard him approach her. He was always so gentle and quiet.

"I'll take something for you." he said kindly and smiled.

"That's sweet, thank you." Together they walked to the large trunk of the tree and set the things down. Ana sat down on a raised root while Ean'tu looked curiously into the box.

"What did you bring?"

"Clothes." Ana answered him and he looked at her questioningly. "For you, I think it's time you get rid of that old leather rag and get something new."

Ana pointed to the old loincloth Ean'tu was wearing. It seemed to be made of leather, was very old and looked torn. It must have been long at some point, but now it didn't even go down to his knees. The shred of leather just about did the job.

"That's thoughtful of you, what did you bring me?" Ean'tu squatted down in front of the box and was very curious.

"Go ahead and take it out. It's yours anyway..." Ana squatted down in front of it and watched as the Na'vi carefully took out the fabric. First the pants. "I don't know if you like it, it's certainly not the same as what you wore back then." Ana sounded uncertain.

Ean'tu noticed this. "Let me put it on right now." He smiled at her happily. "Wait here."

He stood up and disappeared behind the tree. It was so wide that he could easily hide behind it to change his clothes. When he had his pants on, he came out. "There's a hole missing for my tail." He turned around to show the problem. The waistband of the pants was still below his tail and he held the pants tight.

Ana took a pair of scissors out of the box and approached him. "I'm cutting a hole, please don't move."

The Na'vi was nervous about having a sharp object so close to his tail, so to be on the safe side he held on to it as well.

Ana quickly made a small cut, "Try it now and if it's too small, carefully tear the fabric a little."

Ean'tu nodded and put his tail through the new hole, it fit well and he was finally able to pull his pants up properly.

"Sorry, I didn't know exactly where the hole needed to be, so I didn't include that, now at least we have it just right." she smiled at him. "So... what do you think?"

The Nave squatted a few times with the pants. The pants were very loose and airy and followed his every movement without any problems. "The fabric is very soft and I can move around easily. I like it a lot."

Ana was relieved. She had been worried that it might come across as insulting if she simply brought him human clothing instead of his traditional clothes, but he seemed to take it positively. He went to the box and pulled out the fluffy top. "What's this?"

"Oh you don't have to wear it if you don't like it, but you wear it sort of like this." Ana indicated how to wear it on herself.

"That's unusual for us, but I'll try it on." With Ana's guidance, he skillfully wrapped the top and tied it around his neck.

Ana smiled at him a little more dreamily than planned. "It looks really good on you, you look very pretty in it."

Ean'tu looked down at himself and stroked the soft fabric. "It's definitely something different." Then he looked at Ana. "Thank you for thinking of me." he returned her gentle smile.

They both blushed and Ana sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's the least I can do for you."

Ean'tu came to her and knelt in front of her to look into her eyes. "I know you feel guilty about what the sky people are doing to me... but you're not like them."

Ana held her breath and returned his gaze. He had seen through her. In fact, she felt terribly guilty that Ean'tu was trapped here. It wasn't right, but she felt so powerless.

She pressed her lips together in dismay and smiled wanly. "That's sweet of you to say... but I work for those monsters..."

Ean'tu did not take his eyes off her. His reddish eyes were still on her, with all gentleness in his gaze. "Ana..."

The way he pronounced her name, only he had that certain sound with his accent. It made a pleasant warmth rise in her.

"If it wasn't for you, I might have already given up all hope. Eywa... my home... everything is so far away and out of my reach. But your big heart has given me hope again. I will not give up." He then said and touched her chest again, where her heart was.

Ean'tu was such a good soul. Ana didn't deserve that and yet she was happy about his words. She was glad that he hadn't given up yet, even though the situation was so hopeless.

"Would you like to... do my hair? I'd be delighted." He smiled at her encouragingly.

Ana felt ridiculous for moping around like this, even though he was the prisoner here. So she finally shook off the gray clouds that were clouding her mind. "But of course. Sit down, I've brought a few things especially for this."

Ean'tu sat down expectantly and happily. Ana took all the things out of the box that she would need to fix Ean'tu's hair.

He patiently held still, using his hands to gently instruct her where he wanted the half-open plait and what he would like to have braided. Ana did her best. His hair was a little rougher than hers, if only because it was curly and therefore much harder to tame. But after a few attempts and some back and forth, she had the hairstyle done. Finally, she fetched two more things. One was a tablet, from which she used the inside camera so that Ean'tu could look at herself.

"What do you think? Did it turn out right?" Ana watched as the Na'vi looked at himself in the tablet.

He turned his head from right to left and looked very satisfied. "Yes, it's perfect, thank you very much." he breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently it was a great relief to have his hair out of his face in a proper hairstyle. Before he could stand up, Ana held him by the shoulder.

"Wait, I have something else for you, close your eyes for a moment." She had hidden something behind her back.

Surprised, Ean'tu remained seated and closed his eyes. His tail twitched back and forth excitedly. Ana approached him and pulled out a small pearl necklace for his hair. It had a drop-shaped pearl in the middle, which was meant to lie in the middle of his forehead. It was a hair ornament she had made herself. When the secret contact told her that Na'vi liked to wear homemade jewelry, the idea came to her.

When she had attached the pearl necklace to his hairstyle and the pearl was perfectly centered on his forehead, she allowed him to open his eyes. "You can look now."

He opened his eyes and looked at himself in the tablet. His mouth was slightly open and he looked enthusiastically at the pearls on his forehead. "Pearls..." he said, amazed and delighted at the same time. "How beautiful." He touched them carefully.

"Do you like it? I made it myself." Ana came to his side and looked at his reflection in the tray with him.

" If I like it?" he turned to her, "Of course! I love it!" he beamed happily at Ana's face, which now made her beam with delight too.

"I'm glad, I wasn't so sure it was the right thing. I'm glad I could make you happy." She was just about to turn away to put away the rest of the utensils she had used for Ean'tu's hair when he held her by the wrist and turned her to face him again. Then he took her in his arms. He wrapped both his arms tightly around her and snuggled up to Ana.

Ana was a little taken by surprise at first, but then she also put her arms around him as best she could and pressed herself into the embrace.

"Thank you..." Ean'tu murmured into the hug and Ana's heart began to beat excitedly again. A hot blush rose to her cheeks. She had never been this close to the Na'vi in all this time, but it felt great. He was warm and his skin was soft. Even though he was so much bigger and stronger than her, his embrace was cautious, though not lacking in intimacy. Their bodies snuggled together seamlessly.

She felt the Na'vi breathe a sigh of relief beneath her hug. As if it was exactly what he had been longing for. Ana allowed the hug for as long as he needed it, because apparently he really needed it. She wanted to give him the closeness he had apparently missed so much.

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, he released Ana from the hug. "..." he wanted to say something but seemed to swallow it.

He still had his hands on her hips. Ana stroked his cheek lovingly. "What is it Ean'tu, tell me."

He lifted his eyes and looked at her, slightly embarrassed but also a little sad. "I was just thinking... it would be nice... if we could do this more often."

As soon as he said it, a blush crept onto his cheeks. Ana was also surprised by what he had said and her heart reacted strongly to it. Why did she react so strongly to Ean'tu? Why couldn't she turn off this feeling in her heart? What they were doing here was no longer professional. It no longer had anything to do with her work, but she couldn't escape it either. She was spellbound by the Na'vi.

She lowered her eyelids sheepishly, "If that's what you want."

Ean'tu reached for her hand and gently stroked her fingers. "Is that what you want? I don't want you to be uncomfortable... because... I'm not human."

Now Ana suddenly looked him in the eye. "That's not it! I don't care if you're human or Na'vi!" She put her hand on his chest and could feel his strong heart beating. "What matters is what's here Ean'tu. I like who you are."

Moved by her statement, he bit his lower lip and suppressed tears, she could see it in his eyes. He was very emotional. How could she have ever believed he was aggressive? He was probably the exact opposite.

"I see you, Ana." he said softly, his voice quivering slightly, as emotional as he was at the moment.

Now Ana felt a heavy emotional sigh, which she suppressed. There was no way she was going to come close to tears now. She had to pull herself together. But her heart was heavy and the longing pulled at her more and more. Almost whispering, she answered him, "I see you too, Ean'tu..."

Tag list: @twisteduniverse5 @yukilaaw @mooniequeen @anemonelovesfiction @talialobi @gimmebones715 (If you want to get added, comment it under the post)

[zoesshortstories]

The Party (Fancy Pants chapter one)

Words: 2.3k

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x actress!fem!oc Ava Radmall

Thanks to Cam, Paige and Ava meet and have an instant connection. Slow burn and rising tension, mutual pining but idiots who won't admit feelings.

TW: discussion of religion (Christianity)

Paige

I answer the knock at the door since Cam is busy with other hostess duties. It’s 8:15 pm and her house and yard is already bustling with people. Her holiday parties are always a hit. 

On the other side is a woman with big beautiful brown eyes and long swooping brown hair partially held back in a clip. Her face is practically glowing in the light, but I’m sure she’d look angelic in the dark too. 

“Hi, I’m Ava” she says and reveals almost perfectly straight and white teeth with a smile. She reaches her right hand out to shake mine. It makes my fingertips buzz. 

“I’m Paige.” I muster and return her smile, coming to my senses. I step to the side so she can come in and try not to stare as she slips off her big black scarf shawl to reveal that her long red longsleeve dress she’s wearing has an open back. I can’t help that my eyes linger on the curve of her spine that practically points down to the way the fabric gracefully gathers at her hips before flowing to her ankles. 

She must notice me staring because she says, “It’s from Reformation.” 

“Uh, what?” I say, feeling caught in the act.

“My dress, silly.” She says with a smile and then Cam comes up to hug her from behind. Cam is still a good height taller than her despite Ava’s sleek black heels. 

“Ugh it’s so good to see you!” Cam squeals when she releases Ava from her grasp. 

“Oh my gosh I know! I’m so glad I made it back from Montana in time. It was snowing so bad that when they delayed my flight I thought they were gonna cancel it and I was so worried!” 

She goes to hug Cam again and they sway back and forth. 

Eventually Cam seems to remember I’m here too and introduces us, despite remarking it looks like we’ve already met. 

“We were roommates at Stanford,” Cam mentions. That helps me bridge the gap as to why the Ava Radmall was here. An on the rise star currently in the middle of her huge rise to fame. I don’t know how she has enough hours in a day or days in a year to be the love interest in the next Marvel movie and the funniest character in the latest season of Wednesday. Not that I was paying too much attention to what she was doing, it’s just hard not to hear her name thrown around. 

“You already know Paige’s a rookie on the team, but come and I’ll introduce you to the rest of them out back!” Cam exclaims and they walk through the party arm in arm. I decide to walk behind them. 

We reach her backyard with the pool and the high top standing tables. Ava gracefully shakes everyone’s hand and then Cam points her to the open bar. 

“I’ll have a dirty Shirley, please.” She asks the bartender as I stand next to her. 

“Ooh make that two please.” I add. “Another dirty Shirley fan, that’s kind of rare.” 

“Yeah well I had a 24-48 rule and Cam’s season didn’t align with mine so I figured why not just add alcohol to my go-to?” 

“Oh what sport did you play?” I ask. This makes her even more interesting. An athlete? 

“Soccer. Midfield.” She answers as our drinks are placed. We thank the bartender and head back to the team, continuing our small talk. 

Ava

When I step into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water (and maybe to check out the snacks Cam didn’t put out for the party), I can feel Paige following behind me.

It brought me this warm feeling. I’m excited to talk to her again, especially outside of the group setting. There’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on but that’s so compelling to me. 

“I like your necklace,” she nods towards the pearly white cross outlined in shiny gold that has hung from my neck everyday since my mom gave me the it when I was sixteen. Some days I wore it more for her than for its meaning. 

Then I get to watch unabashedly as her slender fingers dip into her crisp white dress shirt. She pulls out a plain silver cross of her own to show me, like it’s our little secret. 

“How long have you been a Christian?” She asks, looking like she’s burning this memory into her brain. 

“I was raised Presbyterian but had a bit of a hard time in high school before coming back to it.” I responded. The alcohol flowing through my veins seemed to have made me extra talkative since I normally wouldn’t even say that much to someone I just met. It took me two years to tell Cam that and we were roommates practically glued to the hip. 

Paige doesn’t say anything but her face looks like she understands. Before my mind convinces me not to, I open my mouth to speak again. 

“Can you keep a secret?” I ask and she says yes both quietly and with her full chest. We both lean slightly closer and I drop my voice. “Well it’s not really a secret, most real people in my life know, but I’m not like out out. But I’m not really in either. So just like please don’t go running right to the media about it.” 

Her blue eyes bore into mine and she crosses her heart, zips her lips, and throws the key behind her back. The gesture of it all makes me giggle.

For some reason it makes me suddenly shy about telling her my “secret.” I take a sip of my drink. She quirks her eyebrow asking if I’m going to just finally tell her. 

“I’m gay or something,” I say and wave my hands around.

“Or something?” 

“Not really or something, I’m just gay got nervous.”

She laughs. The sound does something to me that’s more intoxicating than any drink a bartender could make.

“Well can I tell you a secret that’s also not really a secret?” 

I nod.

“I’m gay too.” 

For some reason when she says this it makes me smile. She’s trying to ease my nerves and relate. Although she hasn’t spoken on it publicly, it definitely did not seem like a secret. Especially considering how hot she looked in her dress shirt and navy pants, it would be a shame if she wasn’t at least a little bit gay. 

For another (maybe related) reason it makes my whole body feel warmer than it normally does when I drink. It’s like my Asian flush acting double.

“And what about your faith?” I ask. Now it’s her turn to take a sip of her own drink, but she finds it empty and I don’t stop her when she reaches for mine. I’m either way past my limit or there’s something about Paige that’s knocking all my walls down. I don’t want to tell her my classic charming stories, I want to tell her the truth.

“Also raised in the church.” She nods her head down but brings her eyes back up to you. “Never had a problem with my faith and sexuality though. I pretty much knew I liked women since I knew what a woman was.” 

“How?” I ask. 

“How did I know I was gay?” She asks, although it’s clear she knows what I’m asking about. I purse my lips and she leans back from the counter to hold her hands up in fake surrender. “Aight I’m just playing. My parents probably knew before I did but definitely before I told them, and I think because of that they were always very strong on teaching me my faith is between me and God and that He made me in His image as His child just the way I am.” 

“That’s beautiful, Paige.” I say and my eyes start to feel a little more teary than when our conversation started. 

“You alright, Ma?” She asks and places a warm hand on my shoulder, her pinky finger falling off the fabric of my dress and making contact with my skin. Her hand is warm and yet it still sends a shiver through my body that I try my best to resist.

“Oh yeah sorry that’s embarrassing,” I gush. “I think it’s just a sign I’m reaching the end of my night.” 

I place my glass in the sink and make my way towards the hidden stairwell in the side of the kitchen. 

“Where are you going, Ava?” Paige asks and I turn on the second step to look at her. 

“I always crash in Cam’s guest room after these parties.” I notice the crinkle in Paige’s brow this seems to cause so I keep going. “don’t worry I always do this so she knows, we like to debrief in the morning. What’s a night out without a roomie debrief?” 

“No it’s not that, it’s just I thought I was staying in her guest room.” 

I pause for a second before turning back to the stairs. “Don’t worry, I’m not a cuddler.” I tell her and continue unbothered on my way. 

Paige

When Cam knocks on the door the next morning I feel like she’s hitting me directly in the head. I roll back over and ignore it, glad we’re in the off season.

But when the door opens I hear the covers shift next to me as someone sits up. 

Ava. 

I fully lean into this whole fake sleeping thing as I eavesdrop on their conversation. But some nagging questions are coming back to me. Did I sleep with Ava Radmall? In Cameron’s guest room? At her holiday party? No. I must have more class than that, right? And I sure hope I would remember if that ever did happen.

“So are you gonna let me in bed so we can debrief?” Cam asks. 

“Just a second let me sit up.” Ava says and I hear her yawn. “Wait a second. If you’re wearing your Sparks sweatshirt, then whose am I wearing?” 

So that’s where my sweatshirt went. I had come back a few hours later than Ava had and patted down the armchair I thought I tossed it on but couldn’t find it. I was drunk enough to leave it to the morning, I guess. 

Cam gasps and I can only imagine her eyes going wide with it. 

“Paige!” 

“Huh?” I mumble and turn over to face them. 

Somehow this sends Cam into a fit of laughter and she’s leaning her hands against her knees with tears in her eyes before she speaks again. 

“I totally forgot that I said you could stay in my guest room and that Ava was coming! I’m so sorry guys,” she says. 

Ava pokes me in the arm. “Scoot over so Cam can cuddle up for the debrief.” She commands and so I listen. 

She props her pillow against the headboard and sits up, lifting up the comforter so Cam can get in too. I scoot to the edge and turn on my stomach to face them, remaining horizontal. 

I let the two of them chit chat away about Cam’s last few weeks of off season and her wedding planning, followed by Ava’s two weeks shooting in Montana and her plans for flying her mom out here for Christmas. Then they get around to debriefing what happened at the party. At multiple points in Cam’s story about one of her fiancé’s friends jumping fully clothed into the pool, Ava’s jaw drops. At the punchline she throws her head back and lets out a deep belly laugh that gets Cam laughing too. 

I smile at the sight of Ava and her laugh instead of laughing at Cam’s story that I wasn’t listening to in the first place. In the morning LA light her hair looks more golden bronze than the brown it was last night. It’s barely messed up from sleeping because she didn’t move once. Her bare skin was bright without her makeup, and I could see the tiny marks on her face that only made it more interesting. I want to memorize them. Then she tucks her hair behind her ears, exposing her neck, and against my better judgement I allow myself to imagine the sweet taste of her skin and what it would be like if she let me leave a mark. 

Ava leans into Cam’s shoulder and sighs. 

“I missed you. We need to hang out more.” 

“I so agree.” Cam says. “It’s both terrible and great we tend to be busy at the same time.”

“I’m pretty free in January. Not even press outside of LA.” Ava says and Cam seems to squeal again. 

“I better get back,” She says and peels out from under the covers. Cam starts talking to me as I try not to look at Ava’s pretty long legs as she looks for her dress on the ground. Her black seamless underwear has lacy sides that hug her hips just right. It looks so effortless, because of course Ava Radmall would look so fucking fantastic in her underwear, but I have this sneaking suspicion she worked to find the fit because it’s almost too good. 

She finds the dress and pulls it over her hips and then up under the sweatshirt, which she tosses off and onto me. 

Then the three of us make our way downstairs, hug Cam goodbye, and make our ways to our cars parked next to each other somehow on the curb. 

“Hey, thanks for letting me borrow your sweatshirt. And sorry for borrowing your sweatshirt.” Ava says as she opens the door, standing in the crease. I unlock my own car and turn to her.

“Hey anytime. See ya around, Ava.” 

“Goodbye, Paige.” 

[marisatomay]

online buddy of mine (born in 2004) said “i strongly suspect the vast majority of ‘I'll always remember where I was on 9/11’ stories are not true. I simply don't believe that 75% of people were watching the news live at 8:45 in the morning on a Tuesday when the strangest thing happened.” and like. okay. we can talk about the aftermath in the 22 years since 9/11 and the horrific and evil jingoism that ruined countless lives in decades-long wars all we want. but i cannot overstate enough that 1) we still very much had a monoculture in 2001. most americans would watch either the today show or GMA. 2) as soon as that first plane hit every news station in the country was covering it. schools and businesses and break rooms turned on every tv. every radio. anything that had the ability to broadcast the news. (smartphones weren’t a thing. cell phones and the internet existed but they were new and fragile. unreliable. your best bet was still to sit there and watch. or listen.) and we all sat there and watched the second plane hit and the pentagon hit and the towers collapse and flight 93. so, yes: basically everyone who was alive and old enough to form lasting memories in 2001 remembers that day and the coverage. even people who weren’t near a tv or radio in real time remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. they probably even remember the reason why they didn’t hear about it in real time. i was 5 years old in my first week of first grade and i remember it. it was like. the biggest thing to happen in this country since fucking. pearl harbor. bigger. there’s no need to downplay that.

[hauntingblue]

Oden's prophecy of young pirates coming to save wano becoming yamato's hope for his freedom.... and him becoming oden because of it.... it's just so good... on the other side luffy taking ace's spot for liberating yamato... I think I hauve covid