#i think i am now creating conversations in my mind that never happened to match this dude's account of what happened!!!

[banannabethchase]

Okay so here's the problem.

When you have pretty severe OCD mixed with autism and PTSD and anxiety, you can misinterpret instinct and gut feeling for anxiety and vice versa.

And another problem is that, due to that unfortunate cocktail, it is very easy to gaslight that person and tell them something happened if someone says it in a mean enough, authoritative enough, and urgent enough way.

Anyway, fuck men who take advantage of people.

[feyofmay]

The Oak Door

Laurie x March!Reader (aka "Ducky") Summary: At a gathering in london, hosted by Mister Laurence, Laurie gets drunk & the reader is forced to take care of him. While assisting him, Laurie attempts to propose, & the reader is everything but happy word count: 3.8k Warnings: ANGST, literally that's it just angst, also a lot of self doubt from reader

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3. If you want to know what happens next, you'll find out there ;P

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

To say one’s heart & mind works separately is a lie because the heart is an organ that does not think, nor does it hold any greater understanding of what it is. It has no consciousness, yet is unrightfully given the capability to think & know. Nobody truly thinks with their heart or their throat or their liver or their pancreas. When someone says “thinking with their heart” or “thinking with their mind”, they mean thinking with their intuition or their rationality, or thinking with logic or emotion. They create a great divide in thought that, in all honesty, has & will never exist. A black & white. A right & wrong. A sky & sea. Existing between all of these concepts is a great trench, a lack of understanding, that was dug by the hands of men. 

In thinking with her heart, the middle March finds it best to avoid Laurie, &, in thinking with her head, she agrees with her heart. All of this to say, for the past couple of days, she’s both missed & feared the sight of his face. It’s easy to grow distant from someone when there’s no possible way to close said distance, but, when you’re staying in the same residence per the request of his grandfather, it’s much harder to remain distant, both in a literal & metaphysical sense.

Within the lounge, where she resides now, Miss March distances herself from the greater commotion of the gathering, in the dining hall, without being fully disconnected, like a hand is to the torso. The walls are dressed in a tender maroon wallpaper with an eloquent & detailed moulding of marble & gold, replicating greek columns, which act as a trim that runs across the ceilings. She shares the chaise lounge with other guests as they squeeze next to each other, and their skirts overlap like incoming tides crossing over one another. She’s unsure if she's become overwhelmed by all the stimulus or simply unable to sense anything. The air doesn’t carry any distinct scent. Oddly, the space around her smells of the sound of bustling people & drinks swishing in crystalline glasses. Around her is noise & people, & all of her senses confirm that truth in a monotone wave.  Nursing an empty glass, which she had thrown the contents of into a houseplant & plans to hold for the rest of the evening, she sits within conversation between several men & women, an intellectual hive of people that act more like displays for their attire then beings with bones & blood. For them, knowledge is a sport. It’s a trinket to place on your coffee table to try & impress your inlaws. It’s an accessory to tout & best acknowledge in thoughtful hums & inquisitive gasps. 

A man in a matching set of birdseye patterned, taupe slacks & waist drones on about the recent unification of Germany. While Miss March does find the subject, itself, interesting, she can’t seem to hold intrigue in the conversation. Something about the smoke & the long days warping together in England has led her to misplace the inquisitiveness of the young girl who dreamed of moving to Europe & leaving behind the dreariness of subordinate domesticity. While, with age, she’s gained the emotional intellect necessary to process her emotions beyond simply scraping the shallow tide with her toes, she’s also gained the awareness that, oftentimes, the act of digesting her emotions is tiring. She’s learned that the energy used toward emotions is better spent producing something tangible & of worth. 

Luckily for her, Laurie’s grandfather is a man in the know, which means he knew several associates with daughters of varying ages with varying tastes in clothes who were more than happy to lend a dress to a young lady. Over her crinoline skirt & bodice, a dress in a sweet champagne shade is draped across her. The lacy trim, not wanting to melt into the dress, itself, is a muted purple, almost a grey, that wraps around her puff sleeves & the edges of the champagne tier, with a silk white skirt with a lavender sheen peeks out from underneath. Nothing about the dress is loud. She feels much more at home in the fabric, especially after walking around in the daunting mauve dress like a living, breathing cake topper, a piece of decor for her employer to flaunt. For the first time since leaving New England & Meg & Hannah’s trusted fingers, she’d had her hair done by someone other than her family’s servant. The trusted maid of Mister Laurence had offered & promised to not pull too hard on the March’s hair. As the maid braided & pinned her hair, the middle March almost cried. However, it wasn’t due to any pain inflicted on her scalp, as the maid’s touch was tentative & gentle. It was the simple act of being touched & cared for, a touch Miss March had been subconsciously craving for since leaving her home. A touch she had forgotten until reuniting with Laurie in the crowded foyer. 

Touching her shoulder, a soft hand brushes her & whispers a polite ask for her attention. She flutters her eyelashes, shaking off the weight of the dust that had collected on them, &, with the help of the welcomed touch, swims out of the mental fog she had sunk herself into. Her eyes flitter up & meet with the warm sight of Mister Laurence gazing back at her. Whether the strong scent of candle wax, lingering dust on velvet carpets, & forest breeze eminates from him or the memories of his manor in New England that she spent odd mornings & afternoons in, she’s unsure of. However, it’s another reminder of the young girl she tried to comfort & wish goodbye to before leaving for Lancashire.

“Pardon my forwardness, but, Miss March, I must ask you to join me for a brief moment. I do hate to take away from such wonderful company,” Mister Laurence requests, playing the role of the man wise beyond his years more gracefully than anyone Miss March has ever seen. With a curt nod, not even bothering to bid adieu to the people in the room, she lets curiosity lead her as she rises to her feet & wraps her arms around Mister Laurence’s. Ushering her out of the room at the exact speed that is swift without being suspicious, Mister Laurence guides the young lady to a hallway with no prying eyes or wandering ears. His gaze does not hold the anger of a great man who is weighed down by the hubris of those around him, but in his eyes is something deeply paternal & saddened. Around him, an umber waistcoat & slacks with a herringbone pattern remind her more of a bear then a man of business & wealth. However, her judgement may be heavily clouded from growing up under his watchful eye. While his hair used to be a soft salt & pepper, it has faded to a faint white & grey like the shadow of a tree painted on fresh snow during a cloudy evening. For most, with age comes wrinkles that hide within them their growing envy for the youth that’s being wasted on careless & stupid adolescents. Mister Laurence’s wrinkles are like the rings of a tree, lines that prove that he has lived & seen. They’re a promise that, if one is to ask, he will tell the story preserved in every smile line & crow’s foot. Bending down so his lips hover around her ear, she’s immediately washed in the same sincerity that soaks his demeanour.

“Y/N,” he calls her by her first name, a telltale sign of loyalty & unease from the man, “I do hate to put this upon your shoulders, but my grandson is acting aloof-”.

“In what sense?” she interrupts in the classic March fashion, &, used to this speech pattern, he continues speaking over her. 

“And, while I don’t wish to make you pay for his poor decisions, I have an important associate that I do need to impress,” he explains to her as his hand returns to her shoulder, “And you and I are both well aware that no servant is paid well enough to have to deal with my grandson’s… ”

“Stubbornness?”

“...Tenacity.”

Both finish his sentence at the same time & share a gaze that communicates that neither are completely wrong with their wording. Nodding his head to agree with her, he looks away at the hall ahead. No paternal figure wants to admit their children’s faults. To say a truth is to make it known, but to admit a truth makes it tangible. She can feel the glass ball that rolls up & down his throat, ever so often bobbing at the opening to his stomach. Hiding beneath his heavy wool morning coat, his shoulders tense while trying to protect the rest of his body.

“A servant caught him with several other young women & clearly inebriated,” he reveals to her, & the edges of his lips quiver & twitch as they are tugged by invisible strings into a frown. His words dig a hole into her chest. All that remains is her skin, which caves in & sags where her sternum once was. It leaves a tingling sensation where her muscles & bones used to rest. She feels that Mister Laurence is speaking of a different grandson, which she has never met. What happened to the young boy who would treat her childish fears with utmost sincerity? What happened to the boy who made pinky promises seem like the most honourable pacts a man could make? What monster, what man had stolen the skin from him & now wears it as a costume? 

“I’ll confess. I’m unsure of where I went wrong with him,” Mister Laurence slips out between hushed lips, telling his secret to the wind & Miss March. Pausing to swallow his words, she furrows her brows & purses her lips. Swimming in her mind, she can’t think of any words that can comfort him in this moment of vulnerability. So, rather than speaking, she wraps her arms around the older man & hugs him tightly. Surprise washes him over as she squeezes his ribcage tightly, &, for a moment, he freezes as his eyes dart around to try & catch leering gazes peaking around the corner. But they are hidden in the inky shadows of the hallway. With a long exhale, Mister Laurence allows his tension to escape, & he swallows her in his embrace.. 

“You worry about business, and I’ll worry about Laurie,” she comforts him while pulling away, pausing to fix his bowtie, “He’s very lucky to have a grandfather that’s as kind and loving as you.” Mister Laurence smiles at her reminder as the rosy glow on his cheeks alights the hallway for a moment. Each breath they take in the space that they share feels like it fills each corner of their lungs. Nodding to her, a silent show of gratitude, he leads her to an oak door which lays slightly ajar. Holding the nob, he turns back to her before speaking.

“Thank you for your assistance. He’s in here,” Mister Laurence informs her, & he slowly swings the door open. Immediately, the souring scent of wine hits her face, &, as an instinct, her nose scrunches up & a grimace stains her lips. Splayed out on a couch, dishevelled & basking in his own ruin, she sees more of a strange, unfamiliar man than the boy that she knew. She sees a man that will grow to be discontent with his wife, yet who stays for the kids. A man who never really loved his children but is patiently waiting for the fulfilment that comes from acting in the role that society has told him to. A man who will never be fulfilled. A man that has learned that he must settle for what he has, quietly & miserably. A miniscule part of Miss March relishes at the idea that he’d have to learn how cruel the impartial hand of life can be, but the rest of her is well aware that Laurie will never know “enough”. He’d love his wife, even if she loved another man. He’d work to provide for his kids, &, if the wife was never around, he’d raise them all on his own. He’d move mountains to try to find the better side of “enough”. Laurie will love & love because that is Laurie’s nature. He loves wine & women. He loves trekking through forests & acting a fool, even in public spaces. He loves to engage in conversation while in the company of the March sisters, where no sentence is ever finished & nothing is ever truly said but the quiet “I love you” that rattles around in the pauses between words for a quick draw of breath. Laurie loves Jo. Laurie will continue to love, & love will truly be the cause of his death. Yet, Laurie will find a way to love the silent & cold hand of what lies beyond in a way that no person has ever done before. Miss March cannot even entertain the idea of Laurie living a life that is just “enough” because, to her, his company is more than enough. It is good. It is plenty.

That same man has tossed away his vermillion silk tie & waistcoat, leaving him in a starch white shirt that’s a third of the way unbuttoned & hastily tucked into raven black slacks. Closing the door behind her, the click of the door knob alerts him to her presence. However, his verdant eyes don’t move to meet her as he stares through strands of his messy chocolate hair & up at the silver ring that he often displays on his pointer finger. 

“Are you here to scold me, oh my dear mother?” He asks to the wind, acknowledging her existence. Miss March inhales deeply as the beating of her heart starts to drown out the sound of her breath. Clasping her hands together, she tentatively begins to make her way over to the cobalt ottoman that rests near the matching couch. The room is a demure periwinkle with small etchings of leaves adding a splash of muted emerald to the room.

“No, Laurie. Your grandfather asked me to keep you company,” she tries to ease his nerves as she inches closer.

“No, he told you to keep me away from the guests as I am his greatest failure,” Laurie shoots up at her words, sitting up far too fast for his drunken mind to handle. A warbling groan of pain slips out of his mouth as he rakes his fingers through his hair & clutches his throbbing head. At the sight of his agony, Miss March rushes to him &, readjusting his legs, sits on the edge of the couch cushion, right in front of him. With a tender touch, she gently wraps her fingers around his wrists & rubs small circles with her thumb.

“Oh, shush, you’re as much of a failure as I am a dancer,” She teases him with a sympathetic smile. At her words, a small & raspy chuckle escapes his lips &, tilting his head, his celadon eyes, in which the fields of Elysium hide, gaze up at her. Hiding beneath a smoke of anger, she’s able to see the young boy that she grew up with. The young boy that she once fell in love with. He’s scared & small & all the things a child is never allowed to be. 

In this moment, as much as she despises it, she knows she must admit her faults to him & ask for forgiveness. She was cruel & unjust for bringing up Jo with the intent of spitting in his face. She hurt him with the intention of leaving a mark, & she succeeded in doing so. If he doesn’t ever forgive her, she’ll grow to understand. It won’t be an easy process, but loving Laurie has never been anything close to easy. Taking a deep breath, she shoves the racing thoughts out of her vision & looks him in the eyes.

“I apologise for what I said in the alley, concerning your feelings for Jo. I shouldn’t’ve ever used them to hurt you,” she apologises quickly, &, after speaking, immediately purses her lips together & stares at him. She waits for him to scream. To yell at her to get out. To say he hates her & never wants to see her again. To tell her he always hated her. That he only tolerated her for Jo. To say she’s stupid. She’s vile. She’s not worth Jo or Meg or Beth or Amy’s time. She waits for him to tell her the truth she’s been too scared to say to herself aloud. She waits & waits until, finally, his lips part, & he draws a quick breath.

“It’s alright. I was being mean too, and I, truly, do owe you many apologies, as well, ” he replies with a thin smile, replaying the events in his head. Ducky’s stomach squeezes as relief floods her system, & she sharply inhales while attempting to keep some kind of composure. A tight smile graces her features, slipping past her facade of propriety & decorum. 

“I’ve been spending this past year, & some odd months, wallowing in my own melancholy, but,” Laurie pauses for a moment, slouching forward so his eyes are level with Ducky’s, “but I cannot waste away my life being miserable. If money is truly of the highest concern, then marry me.” His words grab her by the neck, shove their long, spindly fingers down her throat, wrench the breath from her lungs, & pry the air out of her. Her mouth falls agape as she struggles to comb through & fully understand what he’s said.

“Laurie, I refuse-”

“You won’t have to work, nor do you have to love me, & your family will be provided for: Beth, Amy, Marmee, everyone,” he prattles on, afraid of the nearing rejection that comes when he stops to breathe. Ducky can’t hear anything other than her own heartbeat & what, to her, sounds like the faint whisper of Laurie’s voice. She can’t even hear herself think.

“You’ll be happy, I promise. Everyday I will spend in honest devotion to your happiness,” he’s breathless as he finishes his speech, &, feeling the walls begin to collapse in on her, Ducky jumps to her feet. Rushing back & forth, in front of her very eyes, are countless memories of Jo & Laurie, of the way it’s always been. Jo loves her work. Laurie loves Jo. Ducky was left to love the footprints Laurie had left while chasing after Jo. 

“Laurie, I, as a woman, must either enter a marriage for security or for love,” she whispers out as her arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her sides tightly, “while you can marry for any reason under the sun, and I will not be an accomplice in allowing you to waste that privilege.” The room grows smaller, the air between them thinner. It’s hard to breathe & her vision becomes a swirl of blues & greens with a spotty pillar of white & black wiggling around in the centre. Laurie stops, & Ducky stops. Neither move. Neither speak. Neither breathe. The walls stop moving, & everything around them fades into their shadows. They are a boy & a girl. A lady & a man, all grown up & yet the exact same as they were the day that they met. While his previous proclamations were loud & steady, the words he speaks next are a promise meant only for his lips & the spirits that hide in peoples’ breaths. 

“But I can give you both, love and security, if you’d allow me. I’ll inherit my grandfather’s wealth, and we could be happy, all of us.”

Clear on his face is the same sincerity that he’s gifted to her in every moment of embarrassment & shame. His eyes stay glued to hers. After waiting for years for him to say these words to her, she can’t help but feel his admittance is fake. That maybe his words are meant for someone smarter, braver, older, & better then she is. His words are meant for Jo.

“No, no, you don’t get to, this isn’t right,” she bites back, walking backwards & grasping for the door knob yet only finding the air between her fingers, “Stop it, Laurie, please.”. He follows her, &, in his drunken state, collides with the furniture, sending his body awry. 

“Yes, yes I can, and we both know it to be true,” he tries to correct her as he raises his hands to grip her forearms. Her shoulders immediately tense at his touch. His fingers crinkle the poofy champagne fabric that delicately floats around her skin.

“You’re acting a fool, Laurie-”

“I can, I swear on my life Y/N, I am able and I am willing and, and content to do so.”

 “-I won’t allow it, I simply cannot,” she continues to ramble on, & her finger tips brush against the cool metal of the doorknob. Laurie opens his mouth to rebuke her statement, but, before he can, her palm flies up & presses against his lips. Covering his mouth with her hand, she shakes her head as her eyes gleam with tears.

“Please, stop. It hurts, Laurie. Please, Laurie, you’re hurting me,” she pleads to him as her fingers curl around the door knob, “I cannot do it. You broke my heart once already. Is that not enough for you?” 

To watch the boy she admires fall in love with her sister, who she’s loved since the dawn of time, was a constant, real ache that left her sobbing into Beth’s chest as she begged Meg to help her & relieve her of the pain, which was an impossible task. After the middle March had left for Europe & caught word of Jo’s rejection in a letter from Beth, she had a heavy heart knowing that the two people who were connected at the hip for all of her adolescence had now grown cold & distant. It was as if she’d heard that the moon no longer followed the sun, leaving the night cold & bleak. All she has done her entire life is labour & hurt for those she loves without question or complaint. However, she cannot look Laurie in the eyes as he slurs out ideas that would’ve sent her younger self spinning & giggling with a maddening joy. She cannot withstand that pain for him. She doesn’t feel happy or sad. Nor is she angry or scared. All that she can feel is the heavy pounding of her heart & a dull ache emanating through her. The pain swallows her mind, &, while her body still remains, Ducky has clearly fled far from the room. She’s racing down the streets in her dress, seeing how far her legs will take her. 

She yanks the door open just before he can reply & heaves her body through, slamming the door shut after her. Leaning her weight against the slab of carved & varnished oak, a few tears trickle down her cheek as she chokes back a sob, not wanting to alert any guests nearby. In her mind, she’s already ran all the way back to New England. There, back in her home, she lies, hiding her tears in Beth’s dress, as her sisters practically cocoon her, protecting her & the fire from the harsh reality of the world that waits outside their loving embrace & on the other side of the oak door. 

i told you it's literally & only just angst... sorry. please like & repost :)

[didishawn]

Hey bestie!!!! Your works are chef kiss 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 uhm I was wondering if you can write angst w Ferran? Idk like there's an argument n he says something hurtful?? Miss ma'am tbh I have no clue what im requesting😭😭 all ik is that I'd like some angst ending in fluff pls??? N ur writing is amazing so 🤌🏼

Broken souls (Ferran x Reader)

Warnings: angsty with happy ending, mentions of Ferran's insecurities and mental health, mentions of the internet being assholes, Sira mention (not in a truly bad way as the girl is amazing)

Masterlist

You know Ferran adores Barça and loves playing in it, it's where his best friends play and 9ne the best club's out there, but sometimes you can't help but wonder if things would be better had he stayed in Manchester City.

Words can bring down even the happiest of people, that person who everyone knows to be the nicest, the funniest, being broken by people on the Internet feeling the need to comment on all his flaws and creating insecurities.

It's terrible for anyone, brings them down, worsens their mental health and makes them sometimes not be themselves.

Your boyfriend, you know is broken, as months pass by he becomes even more of a shell of his true self, he might pretend everything is alright out there, but you know it isn't.

He overworks himself, training hours not enough for him, locking himself in the gym or using the goalie on your backyard to practice until late night hours, then waking up even before the sun rises.

You know he is exhausted, but he refuses to stop, you are worried about what will happen to him, you have told him so multiple times, and the screaming match you both are having right now is a repetition, already happened.

"I just told you to please come to bed, I don't think there is nothing wrong with it!" you shout at him, trying to get your words through that thick head of his, he shakes his head, a smile that is not truthful, almost cruel.

"You don't fucking understand, don't you? How can I go to bed when I fucking suck! Its almost as if you have fun seeing how terrible I am!"

"How can you say that? You know I am your biggest supporter! I just think you should also keep in mind to take care of yourself!"

He gives a dry laugh, face to face with you as he glares down at you, you are not afraid though, you know he would never hurt you -at least not with his hands that he furiously moves around and points at you.

"Really? Because I think you enjoy it, having all culers hating on me, maybe you like that I have no one by my side to have me all for yourself! Always so fucking clingy" he sighs "Sira understood..."

You both tense, his eyes snap into yours, apologetic, trying to reach out for you.

"Love, I'm-"

"Fuck you, Ferran. If Sira was so much better then she can take care of you so you don't fucking die from exhaustion" you are in tears "I fucking care for you and you just treat me as if I was a parasite, someone you don't actually love, maybe you didn't want a girlfriend -at least not me as its obvious you did want Sira, you wanted someone to keep your house clean and all that shit so meanwhile you repay me like this"

You walk away from his, you don't let him grab you a she wants, picking up your purse and intentionally leaving the house keys behind. You stop, see the promise ring on your finger, and go to take it off, his hands stop you.

"Please, amor, don't do that I promise I will try to do better, ok? You are right, I am sorry for treating you like shit, I promise I will listen to what you say"

You laugh "Only when you are about to lose me do you react, how can I believe your words for a second if maybe this conversation will repeat itself in a week"

"It won't, ok? I swear, y/n, I will do my best so there is no repetition on this, I want you, I love you, I won't be able to do this without you. I know I am an asshole, bit the one good thing I have is you and I will make sure to always remind it"

You think it over for a second, dropping your purse you let his arms wrap around you, taking a moment in them, you then go on to whisper.

"You are still sleeping on the couch after that Sira comment"

"Totally worth it if you stay"

[pandorasword]

what does hongjoong think of how jungkook and chaeri are with eachother now? like what does he think of their current relationship and their past one?

Hii! I felt it might be nice to add a little piece of Chaejoongs' relationship to answer this question. Thank you very much for the ask and I sincerely hope you will appreciate!

I would like to take this opportunity to remind once again that I am always late with answers and requests but slowly they will all be posted! I am always the happiest girl in the world when my inbox is full

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

❒ genre: Angst to fluff

❒ words: 1.7k+

❒ summary: In which Hongjoong cannot help but notice the way Jungkook looks at Chaeri

❒ warnings: Minor argument; Insecure!Hongjoong; Stuck in the traffic

❒ notes: Most of what is written reflects the way Joong sees what is happening around him, so it is not to be taken for granted that it completely reflects reality but rather is the way he perceives it. I think he is one of the healthiest people that could have happened to Chaeri, it was so hard to make him seem upset because to me he is the sweetest, softest guy in the world

Late January, 2023

Jungkook sighed as he handed Hongjoong a small package of pills. "Lately, she's been pretty stubborn about taking her painkillers," he said "Still, I'd like you to carry the pack with you in case she needs some during the day. You'll be gone for a while and she still gets pain when she stress her leg"

Hongjoong had been in the former BTS dormitory's living room for fifteen minutes already. The room was enormous, much bigger than the one he shared with the group. Even with the large space and few pieces of furniture, the curtains filtering in only some of the sun’s rays created a cozy atmosphere.

It was Eden's wedding day — Ateez producer and friend to all of them — and he was there to pick up his girlfriend and go to the celebration together.

Though the band members were on tour, it was a perfect occasion for them to return to Seoul and take a break.

What made that trip especially important for Hongjoong was the fact that it was the second time he could see Chaeri after her snowboard accident from earlier in the year. As her boyfriend, he felt immense guilt for not being able to care for her during her recovery; their tour had kept him away from Korea and prevented him from being there with her.

Meanwhile, Jungkook took it upon himself to help her during that hard time.

Hongjoong had been very thankful for this, knowing that she was not alone dealing with that moment. 

But as it was equally 15 minutes in which he was listening to the BTS' member talk about how he might act during the course of the day to Chaeri's needs, he couldn't help but think about how Jungkook was taking that role far too much personally.

Before he got there and started the conversation with him, he could've said that he had put aside thoughts about Chaeri's past quite confidently. It had been months since he had paid any attention to it. The relationship between them was going well and that was all that mattered, yet the thought kept nagging at him noticing the way he talked about Chaeri with such concern and care.

He drew his mind back to those few conversations they had about it to try to pick up any tiny detail that might deny the growing feeling that the man, whose identity he never wanted to know, was actually the one standing in front of him at that moment.

As Chaeri entered the room, Hongjoong couldn't help but notice the way Jungkook looked at her. It was a mix of tenderness and longing, something he had seen before, but ignored. Now, it was harder to overlook.

She smiled and the room suddenly seemed brighter. Even his "silly" thoughts stopped for a moment, all he could feel was the warmth emanating from being near Chaeri, filling every inch of him.

"Hey" he said, out of breath. She was beautiful.

Her long hair was curled at the ends, half held up by a black ribbon matching the long dress that covered the brace at her leg. He noticed how tightly she was holding onto her crutches and realized how much those tools were becoming a part of her daily routine.

'Hey' she replied, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of him. With a determined stride and unwavering spirit, she moved forward despite her injury to be by his side.

He hugged her tightly, feeling her body against his and the sweet fragrance of her perfume pervade his nose. It was then that he noticed the way Jungkook's eyes were on them, the way his face turned distant and unreadable. It was a moment because he quickly looked away to an undefined point of the room, hands in his pockets "Have fun and give my congratulations to Eden and his wife"

'He is definitely the m-' Jungkook left and Hongjoong's thoughts about him were quickly replaced with the unexpected feel of Chaeri's lips on his own. "I missed you, Joong", she said softly, and there was no room for anything else in his mind but that very instant.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hongjoong had planned to bring up his doubts to Chaeri several times during the ceremony, but every time he tried to, someone would interrupt them.

First, it was alternately one of the members of his group, evidently thrilled by having Chaeri back among them after months apart. Then, it was the photographer who needed to take a few more shots of them with the newlyweds. And then came the time for his group to sing for the couple, then the time for them to sit at the table to have dinner with other guests, then the time for people to come and make sure that Chaeri had recovered from the accident, and then and then and then here it was that the ceremony was over and he had not been able to spend a moment alone with his girlfriend.

Hongjoong was feeling frustrated.

He attempted so many times to have that conversation with her yet equally missed so many opportunities to do that, he even questioned the idea of asking. Perhaps he should have let it go. Maybe it was not the right time. But when the car ride home, planned to take a short 1/2 hour turned into a very long ride that after two and a half hours still kept them completely stopped in traffic, he could not hold back his thoughts.

"It's Jungkook, isn't it?"

The honking of car horns and the shouting of frustrated people from car to car were loud enough to nearly drown out Hongjoong's voice. 

It was just the two of them in the big van that would've take Chaeri home and him straight to the airport to leave Korea again.

The driver, from the back seats, was barely visible through the dark divider panel that separated him from them, and to look at him, it seemed as if there were no indication he was interested in hearing their conversation. Or rather, it was really difficult to hear anything through the thick panel that provided them with privacy, so Hongjoong felt safe enough to talk.

Chaeri looked at him, her expression clouded with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

She had pulled out of her hair the bow that used to keep them tied throughout the day several minutes earlier, trying hard to make that trip as less uncomfortable as possible. Forced into that position for hours, her ankle was beginning to ache and to make her tense, but it was no one's fault. Such traffic could not have been expected.

"You know what I'm talking about. It's Jungkook, isn't it? The one you told me about, the one you were denied to be with"

Chaeri's expression remained neutral, but her eyes flickered with something he couldn't quite read. "What about him?" she asked, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"So it's him." Hongjoong leaned back in his seat and sighed, feeling a weight drop on his chest. Oh, how he'd hoped that his were only paranoid thoughts.

"I didn't know." he remarked quite sourly on the words that came out of his mouth.

"I was going to tell you, but you said it didn't matter and you didn't want to know who it was. Did you forget?" Chaeri's tone was sharp, her frustration evident.

"Well, 'cause I never thought he was someone so close to you."

Chaeri's eyes narrowed, and Hongjoong could see the anger boiling beneath the surface. "What does it matter if he's close to me or not? - It seems to me that I'm with you now, isn't it? I've never brought your old relationships up to you, why does this have to be a reason for us to fight?"

"You are the one who's getting mad"

"No, I'm not"

Hongjoong could see the way her jaw was tense. He knew he had touched a nerve, but he couldn't just let it go.

"Have you noticed how he looks at you? I-I may have been blind not to notice it before, but I'm sure you know well how he pays attention to ... every detail of yours."

"Jungkook and I, as with Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin and all the others, are family. We all pay attention to each other's details."

"He still loves you."

"Stop it." Her voice was low and filled with warning.

"Fine." He said, defeated. "But can you blame me? Can you really blame me for worrying after what you told me about your past relationship? Can you blame me if it makes me anxious that you are living with the person whom you once told me you would probably never love anyone else for again?"

"You don't have to worry about him. He's just a friend, a family member, and that's all he'll ever be."

Chaeri's bold gaze hid a vulnerability that Hongjoong knew all too well. Her eyes darted away when he caught her looking and she turned the moment he met her eye, as if it were a reflex to hide her discomfort from him. Or was he just getting paranoid? He wanted to believe her and for a moment, he did. But then doubt crept in and he couldn't help but wonder if it was all just an act, a way of protecting herself from the truth that she had refused to face before.

Or perhaps talking about the past that had hurt her only reopened a wound that she did not feel like treating again.

Lord, he was so confused. His mind couldn't finish one thought that was already beginning to process the next one.

He bit his lip and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt before finally finding the courage to speak.

Do you still love him? - Instead, the words that came out of his mouth were quite different.

"Is it clear between you two?" 

Chaeri met his gaze head-on and gave a curt nod.

Hongjoong fell into silence once again as he looked out the window of the car. The world outside was dark and foreboding, casting shadows over everything in its wake. After a few moments, he turned towards her

Are you choosing me because you can't have him or because you really want me? - But once again his mind did not connect with his words

"So ... Is it clear between us too?"

"Yes," she said softly. "It's very clear." 

Sometimes she hated herself for being so hotheaded, she knew that the ways she acted sometimes might hurt people's feelings, and that was the last thing she wanted to do to Hongjoong "I'm sorry that I've been so ... rude. I just don't want the past to affect what we have now"

"I just want to make sure that we're both on the same page"

Chaeri looked warmly at Joong and brushed her thumb along the back of his hand "We are," she said, her voice a soft whisper. Despite the darkness that shrouded them, the corner of her lips tugged up into a small smile. "You calm my mind Joong, and that's the most comforting feeling someone can give me. You are the only one who can. Please, just look forward to our future, ok? Don't ever talk about the past again"

Hongjoong felt his tense shoulders soften and his chest expand with a deep breath. He thought about all of the moments that brought them to that place, and decided he wanted more for them - more time to share, more memories to make together. He leaned over and kissed Chaeri's forehead, feeling her warmth and love in every molecule around them.

He cupped her face in his hands "I promise to always look forward to our future together,"

She was about to say something when she felt his lips meet her in a soft kiss.

A wave of emotion flooded through him as he deepened the kiss, wanting to leave her with something that she would remember even after they went their separate ways later that night. He ran his fingers along the back of her neck, "I want you to think of me tonight."

Hongjoong glanced up at the partition barrier separating them from the driver, thankful for its presence.

He wanted to make the remaining time pleasant for both of them, but he could not ask himself if this was really what he wanted at that moment, or was it his attempt to distract Chaeri from her ex-boyfriend and erase these thoughts from her mind?

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr

[kse22chili]

Fedeltà

Now what truly makes me curious is what’s behind those beautiful brown eyes…

It is really hard for me to understand his intentions. Sometimes he’s cold and crude with me but there are also times when he is calm, soft and he even initiates affection towards me. Because of this, exactly I am dubious of his actions.

As in, do you love me or do you not love me?

I don’t want to continue living like this anymore; loving you while I’m trying to understand what’s worth doing and what not. I’m in a conflicting position with insecurities that I never had before but finally you had the urge to make me have them. It’s outrageous to think that I love you but at the same time I hate you. And I’m not particularly talking about that kind of hate that engulfs your very being and claims your soul, plaguing it with negative faith. No, I’m talking about that moment where one’s behaviour is so beautifully wrong, making you infatuated to it in a way that brings you to respectfully hate that person. But make no mistake, dear readers, hating that person doesn’t mean that I’m not burning with a raging fire within my heart and mind, roasting those little rational thoughts that have been remaining in my tiny skull, instead I am suffering in misery while stopping this hate towards this person, because it’s paradoxically sweet of him to have that demeanour with me.

I’m the one to blame. Because I never ceased to live without him in my routine. As in I dived into his lifestyles and matched my own rhythms to his, sacrificing my freedom and empowerment. Isn’t this such a cruel world?

Perfect cruel rational world. That seeks to confine us into narrow roles and expectations, and we defy those limitations. At least that’s what a normal person seeks to proceeding.

Instead, I am doing the opposite. Aren’t I ashamed of my own actions and ambitions? I seek to have a love life and I search for it in every single corner of the streets I walk through. But, I’m absolutely not embarrassed of my intentions, I am exhausted of all the limitations imposed upon me by an outdated script of delusional MEN of an old fashioned world. Now, I come from a quite antique century too, but I never seek to follow these outdated “laws”…

But he is the man of his times, the one that lives in danger and commands his inferiors, putting them to submission and protecting his dear ones.

I am one of his dear ones. His first priority. He has proven it to me. Several times. And I’m not talking about something that happened some years ago… No, I’m talking about two days ago;

We were seated in the back seats of our car, the driver could not particularly listen to our conversation, but we were having a small quarrel about something that had no means to whatsoever… But he was getting angry, not at me but he had been bothered by several affairs that day and he had no patience whatsoever to deal with tiny little stupid issues that I created in the moment just because I wanted a bit of his attention…

He raised his voice at me. He had never done it before.

And at that moment, I turned my head and looked out of the window. He stopped his sentence. And stopped talking.

When we arrived home, I waited for him to open my door and I got out the car. With my head raised, I was headed to the door. He followed behind me. Stayed behind me. Never dared to say something to me.

Once inside our room, I closed the door and only said one word “Out”.

The next morning I woke up, did my usual routine and headed to my kitchen to have breakfast. I saw that he had already prepared breakfast for me. And then, he had went to meet his men.

After that I had gone out for a stroll in my garden.

I had thought I had been all alone. But there was a presence behind me. That person put their hand to my mouth and blocked my arms, locking them behind my back. I didn’t fight.

My husband came. Out of nowhere. He was there. And he shot that other man in the middle of his forehead.

Unbothered, I turned around and got back to clean my hands in the bathroom. He comes behind me too. He cleans his hands after me and he dries them.

I feel his hard and big arms gripping my waist and hugging me to himself. And I melted in his sculpted body. I turned my head to his head and softly pecked him to his lips…

You see? How could I ever hate him? He is my sweet, perfect, dangerous Salvatore.

My only boss and my husband.

[pandasmagorica]

Thai QL Favorites Tag Game

Nobody tagged me but it sounds like fun so I'm not waiting for an invite. Created by @thatgirl4815 as Thai BL Favorites Tag Game and acknowledging @justafriend-ql whose Thai BL Favorites (JustAFriend-QL) post led me to it. If you want context for my answers, I suggest you check out my introduction post where I list what I've seen.

Favorite Thai QL: Not Me. Brilliant, well acted, asks important questions, masterful dual role. Have watched it twice and could watch it several more times and likely will if I can.

Favorite Pairing: ThunMed from He's Coming to Me. Delightful to watch its development and lots of fun. Runner-up at the moment is LimingHeart from Moonlight Chicken.

Most underrated actor: Gawin Caskey after seeing him in Dark Blue Kiss and Not Me. Pleased to see him finally getting a lead role in Be My Favorite. Runner up to Jennie Panhan in 3 Will Be Free, where she totally nailed her role (although people may dispute whether 3WBF is a QL).

Favorite Character: Thun from He's Coming to Me.

Favorite Side Character: Hin from Lovely Writer.

Favorite scene in a QL: Episode 5 rooftop scene in Bad Buddy.

Favorite line in a QL: Oh, gosh, this is so difficult. Not because there's so much to choose from (although there probably is) but because I'm basing it on the subtitles and the microscopic amount of Thai I've picked up from watching QL. Contrary to what Kawi in Be My Favorite thinks of the job, it takes real skill to be both long/brief enough to sync with the original and still be readable, as well as get across the cultural aspects. As much as I'm lukewarm on Nitiman as a series, that series subtitler was great in establishing cultural context, particularly about the insults dog and buffalo. Conversely, subtitles of Thai QL often lack nuance around address/pronouns. Also, in my current watch, Be My Favorite, as well as some other series, I'm particularly annoyed around the falling "um" sound being subtitled so literally, as "Um", where it seems to me, possibly mistakenly, as an unenthusiastic assent - maybe a better subtitle would be "Whatever" and I'm open to being educated about this word.

Given that long introduction to my choice, the thing that comes to mind is a line where I caught on second watch of Bad Buddy that the subtitles didn't match what the characters were saying, and I was feeling pleased with myself. Specifically, in episode 2, part 2, 3:54-4:02. Wai is teasing Pran. The subtitles read "Unless you're starting to fall for his sweet words" but the Thai includes the words "thong yod," the name of the sweet that Pat has anonymously gifted Pran with. The friends then chant "thong yod" multiple times as the subtitles read "sweetie". (See Telomeke-BBS post about thong yod.)

However, that isn't really about a line that's my favorite because of it being a good line (although, as @telomeke-bbs explains, it is a really good line). It's just that it's an ego-centric reason for it to be my favorite.

But the problem is, since I've never heard Thai QL lines in a language that I understand and am dependent on the subtitles, it's hard to feel invested in a particular line or even remember specific lines months or years after I've seen the series, as opposed to lines in English-language films, some of which I remember 10 or more years after having seen them.

There was a line in By My Favorite that I laughed out loud at, but that's something I watched yesterday. It's not good enough to be my all-time favorite.

But actually, now that I think about it, I love Kwan's line in episode 8 part 3/4 of He's Coming to Me. She's just so supportive of her son and his current ghost/her past live boyfriend. At 3:25-3:40, the subtitles read "It's fine, you don't need to talk about it. Feelings are hard to talk about or control. I do believe, though, that whatever happened, it's for the best." and the love really comes through in her voice. Re-watching it so I could transcribe it for this post brought me to tears. Thun's coming-out scene in episode 6 part 3/4, Kwan's monologue at 9:52-10:31 where she makes it clear she accepts her gay son unreservedly, is a close second, although a bit long to be called a favorite "line." Can I just say I love Sine's acting?

For a just-for-fun brief line it would be her line in Secret Crush on You where Sine (as Toh's mother) drops a lime while prepping dinner and reaches for it and the other characters freak out and she jokes that they watch Nang Nak too much. The joke is that Sine played the ghost in Nang Nak (a late 90's Thai horror film, which I've seen) and there's a scene where she drops some food out of her stilt house while fixing dinner for her husband, whereupon her husband, who thought she was still alive, sees her stretch her ghostly arm out through the floor to the ground below to retrieve it, thus discovering that she's actually dead.

Most Anticipated QL (& why): 23.5 (hinges on my editing BL to QL, which I would have done anyway since I prefer the term QL, but so be it) because I think InkPa made a great pair in Bad Buddy, the actors paired well in their Oiishi Zero drama-mercial, and I think they will be great to watch together as the leads for a whole series. If it has to be BL and not GL, then Triage as I'm waiting for a non-gray way to watch it so I'm supporting its production.

Healthiest relationship in a QL: See Favorite Pairing.

Most toxic relationship in a QL: The two leads in Cutie Pie, which led me to drop the series.

Guilty pleasure series: Rak Diao, the situation comedy. It's trash but way fun. Content warning for treating verbal sexual harassment as a running joke.

Most underrated series: (thank you @justafriend-ql for adding this one) 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us. Way more serious and studied than the typical QL, not that there's anything wrong with typical QL, and not to everyone's taste because of the age gap, but I don't think it's gotten the attention it deserves.

Tagging the folks whose writing on QL led me to join Tumblr: @telomeke-bbs, @absolutebl, @miscellar, @waitmyturtles, and @bengiyo (sorry if you've already answered these)

[maaarine]

Suggestions: Matching two-piece (sleeveless?) or suit in a lightweight material like linen. Long top (tunic or jacket) and wide legged pants

lol I'm loving this group project with u guys

so I'll share my overthinking, buckle up:

— yes to linen, that's been my main criterium in my search so far

— yes to high-waisted (straight) pants with wide legs for optimal ventilation, but not too wide because those look off (speaking from experience)

— and shoes will have to be some kind of Converse-like pair of trainers because I don't like a) feminine shoes b) exposed feet

those three points are a given, and aren't what I'm struggling with

it's the upper body that's giving me grief

here are constraints I'm considering:

— layers: because I'm supposed to look somewhat classy, I feel like I can only create that effect with two layers (ex: shirt + blazer), bearing in mind that it's in August and I'm mindful/hateful of heat

— length: now this one's very tricky for me, especially with blazers/jackets, because I have a pear/hourglass curve between my waist and hips

so tops need to be just the perfect length, and to follow my ~lines in just the right way (cinched at the waist), otherwise I look like a total blob

cropped jackets can maybe work, but only if I don't button them, otherwise they hide my waist, and I again look like a blob

another significant trouble is that I'm tall as fuck, so not only are tops (and sleeves!) often too short for me, but their waist line never falls on my actual waist

so while ideally it would be splendid to find a linen two-piece suit in a suitable color, where the pants are long enough for me, and the blazer also happens to be just the right cut and length, I feel like it won't happen

I'll tell you what I've been considering though

instead of wearing a blazer/jacket, I've been thinking of those extremely long and thin shirts that are sold as cover-ups for the beach, like those:

so the idea would be: high-waisted pants + either tucked-in or short blouse + this long shirt as an upper layer to look kinda dressed up (?)

the irony of using beach clothes to look classy is not lost on me, and I am definitely overplaying my hand if I wear Converses as well lol

I don't know if it would work in practice, but in theory I'm thinking:

— not too hot

— the material is so thin that it "flows" and doesn't add "structure" in unfortunate places, minimizing the risk of the blob problem

— could look regal of my tall ass frame

[tryslora]

Hiya! I absolutely love your spreadsheet, it gives me such joy to use and I also delight in seeing it arrive every end of year (one of the best gifts!). I was wondering if you would give us a little behind the scenes? What is your process like in developing it? What makes you decide to add in a new category (love the new addition of time btw!!). I really just love it but wanted to ask about it and find out from the mind behind the magic!

Hey @candybarrnerd!

I swear, I have seen this Ask, I have just been trying to remember enough to say something useful and entertaining! Sadly, my original spreadsheets from 2012 through uhh... 2015... seem to have been lost, although I did just think of another location to check (which I shall do shortly).

HAH I found them. Cool. I do see blank spreadsheets starting immediately with 2013, but do not remember when I started to share them. Through 2016 at least, the blank sheets are dated uhhh early January. So. I feel like mid-December is a definite win now!

In 2012, my base goal was to create something to help me track my writing and tell me that I was moving forward, kind of like NaNo did in November. The spreadsheet looked super different in terms of tabs. I didn’t even have the NaNo style graph then! The Wordcount, Daily Graph, and Monthly Graph tabs look pretty much the same. I had tabs to track things I had posted as well. 

It’s almost identical in 2013--I hadn’t started tracking year to year, yet, either! However, the Monthly Totals tab has a goal, and words to goal, for the first time, along with an average/day. I’d started to notice that ups and downs were good, and started thinking about goals, but hadn’t yet made it to pledges and automating the spreadsheet.

In 2014, with the third year going, I decided I wanted to see how things matched up between the years. Especially since 2013 was such a weirdly productive year (never happened again). The first early Annual Comparison tab came in that year--no totals, just a chart that kind of showed how they matched up, along with an average.

That was also the year that the AO3 stats page first appeared, which I am pretty sure was in response to the meme that goes around. I was like. I have a place to keep that information so I can see how it changes over the years!

2015 brought in pledges! In its first form, I just wanted those NaNo style charts, and the pledges were place on that tab. It pulled numbers from wordcount, but nothing was really automated yet. But I had my pretty charts finally.

I mean seriously. These were why I made the sheet originally back in 2012 and i didn’t actually implement them until 2015!

In 2016 I realized I wanted to see the totals for each year on the Annual Comparison page. Like. that seems obvious? Yet. It took me that long...

In 2017 the spreadsheet as it is, mostly, came into being. The color coding was added due to, I think, a conversation with @froggydarren who had implemented it in their copy and showed me. I may not have shared that until 2018--keep in mind, me using something may predate sharing it by a year.

But in 2017, in my spreadsheet, I brought in the way the Monthly Totals tab looks now (without instructions) so a pledge could be set there, then it carries automagically into the Pledges tab for graphing and calculations. 

Why? I AM LAZY. I wanted it to get easier and easier to use. More instinctive to see what was working and what wasn’t. Easier to put numbers in one place and everything else be automated.

2018 continued as is. In 2019, I started adding more automation with a year end date, and being able to recalculate words to goal on the Monthly Totals page based on where we were in the year and current progress. 2020 brought in the Range/Median on the Annual Comparison tab. All of this was driven by me just... wanting to see more information. I like numbers, but mostly, I like a visual way of knowing I’m okay, even if I feel like I’m not.

Like I say: ZERO DAYS ARE OKAY.

2021 brought a few changes. For one, I started embedding instructions in the spreadsheet itself because y’know, it’s big. And confusing. And I wanted to be helpful as folks were using it! I had realized by that point that it had gained a life of its own, and that is SO AWESOME I also added the Weekly Graph tab based on a conversation in the @weekendwritingmarathon Discover server.

All 2022 brought was a refinement to the instructions provided, and 2023 of course refined those even further by creating documentation on Google Drive so I don’t have to retype everything every year (PHEW).

Time was added this year purely as a reaction to the hell that I went through in 2022. A year ago (today), my mom fell. Everything went haywire after that, taking care of my folks, and I’m just really recovering. There’s been a lot. So much. And I also had a lot of projects that were time intensive but not words.

Remember what I said about feedback? I needed to know I was moving forward. So. TIME. I can now see that hour I spent working on my author site, or critiquing, or the next @welcometophu Kickstarter coming in the summer, or any other publication things (like EDITING jeebus that takes forever).

Pretty much, every enhancement I’ve made comes down to: - it’s pretty - it’s easy to see/visual - I’m lazy and it does it for me - I need to see progress in a new way - I want to make it easier to share

So uhhh that may not have been as entertaining as you’d hoped, but I found it really interesting to look back at my first spreadsheets. I’d have to go really digging to figure out when I first started sharing it... that’s one thing I don’t know. Because I created the blank copy for myself anyway, and I think I started sharing once because I was talking about it, and someone asked, and I was like SURE HERE and posted it. And so. Here we are.

<3 Thanks for asking, and I’m really glad you like it!!!

[electricbluebutterflies]

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

Choice-era Jessica/Leto, PG-ish, also on ao3.

This is all a mistake of world-ending proportions.

Jessica is well aware that her power is matched only by her impulsive streak, the impacts of her training faded by a few years of far less supervision than she knows how to function under, and she knows just as well that she is prone to blowing things out of proportion. But direct defiance is a new one for her, and the disapproving thoughts in her mind these past few months have been endless, and-

This has all been the biggest mistake of her little life. It’s about time for her to at least not be alone in it.

Not completely alone, she reminds herself – she has felt flickers of the other life inside her since she created it, the vague forming energy that is becoming her son. With this, fear; with this, love in a way that overwhelms her. Damned reckless decision, yes, but already the power of it, already-

Her mind keeps secrets; her body keeps more, the slight changes of her shape buried under her usual layers, the preferences she has allowed herself to develop perfectly suited to hide a pregnancy for several months more if she decides to. Only exposed is something different, and even that is indefinite for now, just the slightest redefining of her shape, no obvious explanation and besides she was always just a little too small, and-

If her partner has noticed, he hasn’t said, but the kindness of oblivion will only last so long. Like everything else, she is learning, this will be easier if she takes control and does it on her own terms.

She decides to have the conversation in the quiet of night, as she does all important things – easier to make herself be a person if she’s tired, and that happens easier now than it did before. This is already a defining line in her life, perhaps even more so than her placement, and-

“What am I going to have to pretend I don’t know?”

How thoroughly they have built routines, she thinks, and how little of this will have to change if they survive the year. She is overcome with love for her partner, for how easily he adapted to her behaviors and tendencies – no efforts to change her, just the development of polite euphemisms and an interpersonal dynamic that hinges far too much on plausible deniability. Normally when she goes quiet it’s that sort of thing, some minor bit of damage control that shouldn’t cause fallout but one never knows and it’s always better to be safe, and-

“You always assume the worst,” she replies, hoping she sounds affectionate enough. She has proven herself in these years, she has responded to what has been offered, she has-

“You’re not normally that tense unless you’re up to something.” Reciprocated affection, and not wrong, and-

“We do need to talk,” she says, well aware what meaning those words tend to carry in a feminine voice. “About me. About us. About…”

Skies, there is no good script for this conversation. She’d been half tempted to wait until her new curves are too obvious to politely ignore, there are no good options for this, she’s too tense and far too clothed and-

“Is something wrong?”

She suppresses a blush, suppresses the affection she should know better than to feel at every little kindness. “No, not… nothing wrong, love.”

“Then what-“

This would have been easier with skin visible, she thinks again, and she’s half tempted to strip but that would cause more problems than it would solve. Normal women, she suspects, do not have this much panic about such confessions. Normal women do not-

Jessica is not and will never pass for normal, and she’s winging this as she goes the same way she is learning to do everything else. She moves closer to her partner, perches her body on the edge of a chair, damn how domestically useless he is sometimes, damn-

“I am not alone in my body.”

For a moment there is silence; for a moment it is as if the planet itself has stopped moving. She watches him react, counts the seconds until he realizes what she’s said, the restrained reflex towards closeness, towards her, this moment he will remember with his dying breath because he has never wanted anything more in the world. The certainty of it all, of desire manifested, of-

“How long?”

“Close to two months. I… I have faith in this. In us.”

She sees how it hurts him to hold back, to not know the state of her heart and how much she would tolerate right now and she wants to freeze this moment forever, wants to hide it deep in her own heart where the storms ahead cannot touch it. She will face reality in the morning; for now, in her confession, it is enough to cross the small distance, to melt into her partner’s offered embrace, to be safe, to be-

“I don’t know what to say right now.”

Affection in that, and pride in return. To render that man speechless, to be so overwhelming against his core nature, to do so by accident… this is the depth of what it is to be loved, she suspects. To be, from here until the end of all things, everything because of one decision that was objectively the worst thing she could’ve done but oh how could anything be wrong that gives her such warmth in return, how could anything-

“Your heart is beating so fast right now,” her lover murmurs, bringing her back to this moment, back into her body. His hands have found a place on her abdomen, already protective; he has known about their child for only a few minutes and this is already his deepest loyalty. Even she, important as she is, will not compare to the commitments currently forming in his mind. Even she-

“Is this…”

She wants to be told she is loved, she is perfect, she is completion. She knows she is all of these things, but words would be nice, the warmth with which she responds to her partner’s voice would be nice, she would like-

“I didn’t think you would.” Voice deep with a longing she still does not understand, a set of wounds acquired long before her that she may yet heal. “I didn’t really think-“

“You ask me for so little,” she murmurs, and she would do more, she would do so much more in a heartbeat but it is not in his nature to burden her. “But you wanted this and I-“

Her voice breaks with the fear of it all. To be so reckless, to take such risks, to not know what sort of being their son will actually be and still-

She focuses inward for a moment, on the flickers of half-life assembling themselves in the warm hollows  of her body, and makes her own promises. Whatever happens, she will love as best as her fragile heart can. Whatever happens, she will defer to her partner and otherwise run every bit of damage control she can think of. Whatever happens, this is where life is.

“I still didn’t-“

“Of all times for your confidence to slip,” she laughs, and for a moment she believes they will be alright. “You have made me… you have made me feel safe enough for this. I hope our son always feels that too.”

Perhaps it is too soon to give her partner that weight too, but she feels the wave of emotions come over him, that one little detail making their situation even more perfect. She tries, for a moment, to see it all as he must, the unexpected but hoped-for result of so many tired daydreams, of-

“Our son,” he repeats, and few things have ever sounded so important. “You have truly given me everything.”

More than he’ll ever know, she wants to say. From now on, her personal obligations to protect their family carry risks she will do her best to make sure he never knows. Those precious requests had been made without understanding, and she will keep that innocence, she will-

“I would like to keep quiet a few more weeks,” she murmurs, already thinking ahead to plans turned logistical nightmares turned oh goodness she doesn’t even know the relevant planetside protocols. “If possible. Think through how to-“

“That would be alright.”

She shifts position and takes a kiss, and for the first real moment of her life, Jessica feels safe. Perhaps her rebellion is a false alarm, but even if it isn’t… she knows what she has done, what she has bound herself to by opening her body in this way. Her partner is nothing if not loyal; he made space for her in uncertainty, did not shape them into anything too soon, and… now look at them. Look at the beauty they have become. Look at-

“A few weeks,” she repeats like a promise against his skin. “No more than that. No-“

“I already said yes,” her partner murmurs as one of his hands moves to her hair. “What more do you need?”

Everything, she’d say if she were brave. Vow against her skin that he will choose them above all else. Actually say things instead of just showing her. Be the man everyone outside these walls thinks he is. Be-

For the moment, at least, Jessica is not brave, and she is too tired for a fight or how they tend to each other afterwards.

“I don’t want to be difficult,” she says, even as she knows that means nothing right now.

“Can you stop panicking and let me hold you?”

She is not panicking, she would like to point out, she is having a perfectly rational set of responses to the vivid possible complications and the more realistic but still frustrating administrative work associated with the most spectacularly impulsive thing she has ever done, but…

She does. What else is there?

[incarnateirony]

Wow, wild. I knew I kinda knew she didn't entirely knew how much she knew, but today's conversation really landed it. I think she finally had her own Colin Bridgerton moment she's been tweeting out lately.

Still has a bit of local ego reflex, which I don't disencourage entirely, but it did cause miscommunication where she was reading things about Local Me as about Her, and took offense. Eg, she thought I was calling her a clownhat, until she realized I was only talking of myself, for I am but a cosmic bard, who often changes hats, and am stuck in this very silly dance.

I do think she isn't used to having other genuinely awake people around which has her guarded, which is relatable, and generally how we mess ourselves up. But once we got into Reality Becoming Fake Once You Die A Lot, she realized what was happening, I think. Like oh this is literally a time traveling Magi that got stripped of his resources near his death that just needed some goddamn eyes to ground himself on what Is and Was here in this time, and this place, and this remix we have created. He has absolutely lost his linear mind, but that's fine, pray mercy for us Fools. Time is fake and it's a carnival. Such is the cost of consciously changing the world itself, while seeing past time from Death.

Either way, Herma JeStar understood, actually, that her name needed not the explanation she tried to give, and fell into quiet likes when I said, why do you think the day we met over the lady who drives backwards I said it was nice to have a true queen, hello Starlight? He always called her Starlight. Or Celestia. I called for Nuit, and you came. I see who you are, Starlight. Thank you. Something about unknown friends and cut fingers on alchemists.

No for real guys, I'm not playing about the level of bullshit I manifest throughout this. The reason I utterly went bonkers bananas in January and February was I literally and consciously reshattered my psyche to try to make a new moment that I could be free of her in, and maybe she could even free herself in. Then again in March and April on a different energy and mood, split again through and across the eclipse itself into infinite retroactive updating fractals. I continued to reassemble myself and my world through. You know how I talk about root access, peeling down the parts, god in the back of the game lobby, et al? Yeah, I split myself and erased myself for a moment as an individual to make use of that. And now it's time for all the parts to assemble. But I never left the world, ironically because of her nonconsensual enshrinement of my parts, so she became the anchor to her own long term end by her refusal to release me, and so I returned. Screaming a lot. Because the shadows she's trying to pin down were all there was for a hot minute there.

But when time and mass perception gets bendy around you and everyone's mandela'ed through, it is VERY EASY for everything to feel extremely slippery especially when you're consciously aware of future quantum potentials that are retroacting to you. Having another half like this, who has linear partnered logs with matching signs, even helps remind me whenwhere to look to re-evoke certain things, and it has been a flawless circuit that I have actively felt ripping crackbear's flappy tentacles off of me while reduced under the light of a higher self she has always run from.

Heather is everything She could have been.

Instead, now, I've had to subsume a shadow of a monster as part of myself again under 200M+ eyes and millions of working hands, and will unfortunately have to continue to reduce her, because it is the only way I can live free without being chased across the decades. She will never face this, she will never confess, let go or apologize. She would literally rather expire than release my shadow works and her delusions. A woman without any control of herself, desperate to feel like she has control or leverage to still cage her songbird. She is LOST. I am sorry to the woman that used to exist beneath that skin. I failed her. But I did promise her long ago I would Get Her Out. And I am very good at keeping my promises. Even if that means ending one miserable dream his old goddess trapped herself in, and him with her.

Athena has fallen.

Let man know that he himself is Deathless, for the cause of Death is Love, and Love is All, but I will absolutely cuss a motherfucker out on our way through the door. Out of frustrated love. Clearly.

I deadass told her if she didn't fucking behave and move on and let go, she'd end up in Changing Channels/Cartridges.

Nobody ever fucking takes me seriously.

"Lel he thought he changed the timeline March 7th last year" huh wonder what happened here. Some TV show? Talking about a big alignment of planets that only existed in our modern time and not the actual show timeline? Weird.

Burn my dread, bitch.

She knows. She knows what's real. She knows what is happening.

What she can't process is that she is, in fact, a corrupted fiend that has, in fact, driven me to take these lengths to be free of her. That she is not nor has she ever been the motherfucking victim in this relationship, last solar cycle saying hello while I try to bowl her off a mountain that far back in my shadow rage and she picks her nose wondering what would ever make Ash sound so in pain back then and refuses to connect it to the now.

Higher self and all. The one she confused me with to start this mess even. It's over, girl. Can't stop me now, won't stop, won't ever stop, you can take it to the top as I catch the fallen between us. Fix thou the soul of the world.

Christus de Christi, Mercury de Mercurio, Per viam crucis, Per vitam Lucis Deus te Adjutabitur

[jvstheworld]

Ted Lasso Fan Fiction: One Week

This is my first time posting a fanfic of mine. I used a prompt from a book of 101 Flash Fiction Prompts. The prompt I used was to create a story set over the course of a week. It's a little self-indulgent, as I wrote it while going through some personal shit and I needed to cheer myself up somehow. I hope it's okay.

Monday:

I saw him, standing outside a pub. He seemed friendly, talking to some regulars it looks like. I looked at my phone for a moment and he turned and bumped into me. My phone on the ground. He apologised, American accent coming in thick. Out of Place. But then one look at his soft brown eyes and I forgot everything. He gave me my phone back and asked if I was okay. I nodded. He smiled. Does the rest of the world exist right now? He spoke again:

"Have a nice day now."

Then he left.

What just happened?

Tuesday:

I sat in a local coffee shop. Bored. All Tuesdays are boring. But then he walks in. The man from yesterday. American accent and all. he sees me sitting by the window and says hi. Apparently speech evades me when this man is near. I wave. He asks to sit with me. I am not an idiot. Well, I am in terms of not being being able to speak. I gesture instead. He introduces himself as Ted Lasso. My stepbrother is called Ted. Really brain? There is an attractive man in front of us and you think of your stepbrother? I'm more of an idiot than I thought. Ted asks for my name. Oh shit, I know this one.

'It's Jack.'

Oh hey, words. Two is a good start. He smiles at me. God damn it, he's cute. The cheeks, the eyes, the dimples too! Was he talking? Shit. What did he say?

'I just wanted to apologise again for bumping into you yesterday and making you drop your phone.' `

'It's fine.' Four words, maybe you could manage a whole sentence by the end of the week. He takes his coffee in a to go cup and hopes he'll see me around for more sparkling conversation. so, he's funny too? Then he leaves.

Fuck, I think I like him.

Wednesday:

Ted is there again. In the park. He knows one of the school kids playing football and he's joining in. He's kind of shit at it. He spots me and waves. I wave back.

'Fancy meeting you here. That's like three days in a row we've seen each other.' He's been counting? Yeah, of course he has been, dumbass. It's a pretty unusual situation here.

'Hi Ted.' Three more words and you'll break yesterday's record.

'You live around here, if you don't mind my asking?' I point in the direction of my flat. He asks if I'm from London. Fuck no! I'm a Yorkshire lass through and through... He's laughing... Wait, did I say that out loud?

'Sorry, automatic response.' He laughs again.

'Well, I respect your honesty and your bluntness.' There's that smile again. Oh Lord, I am not your strongest. There's a moment or two of silence.

'Would you like to join me on a walk?' Say yes, say yes, say yes!

'Yes.' Then we walk away.

Thursday:

I got his number! And we text non stop. Gifs, videos, memes, pictures. Anything and everything. We don't stop. He's funny and charming, disarmingly so. I feel like a teenage girl laying on her bed kicking her feet in the air, crushing over a boy. I never did that when I was a teenager, yet here I am doing it as an adult. But he's kind and is curious. He asks questions. He asks questions! Not even my own father gives a shit about my life enough to do that. Ted does, and he remembers it. This man must be a unicorn or something. Is that a Supernatural reference? He asks if I'm free for dinner on Saturday as he has a game tomorrow. Stupid football. I am definitely watching it. I say yes to dinner, 6pm. He'll pick me up...

Is this a date?

Friday:

Of course I watched the football match. For the first time in my life, I watched a football match. And now I have to go buy a team shirt. The things I do for a possible love interest. No, I'm not in love. Lust, most likely. But love? Too early for that. Besides, how would I even know what love is like? I've never been in love before. Sure I have friends and family that I love (very few), but romantic love, that escapes me. What if Ted isn't looking for love? Maybe he just wants a friend. Is tomorrow a date? I'm too scared to ask. What if I ruin things by asking? I don't want to do that. What do I wear?

Saturday:

I was ready by 5pm. Wearing a simple, short, red summer dress, black ankle boots, light black jacket. Good for a casual dinner with a friend or a date. Now I wait. Waiting, waiting, waiting. 5:13... 5:29 Longest hour of my life... 5:56, a knock at the door. He's there. Hair combed back, black suit, white shirt, red tie. It's a date.

We walk, talk, compliments fly. Arm in arm, his touch is gentle against me. We sit, we dine, we never stop talking. The conversation flows as easily as a bird flies on a clear day. He makes jokes, I laugh, even at the worst. I watch his hands in constant motion, even they are perfect. He's sad though. His divorce, his son, parts of his life missing. What's it like to be in love?

'You've never?' Now it's his turn to see what parts I'm missing from my life. I look at him with the same sort of sadness I see in him. We talk more, share more, honesty and understanding. No judgement. Emotional intimacy, that's what we have.

We leave the restaurant, taking the long way home, finding a park bench and sit. How much time has passed? Do I even care? All I want is to be here with him, listening to his voice. Can I hold his hand? Did he read my mind? I know I didn't say that out loud. It's warm, comforting, squeezing mine tightly for just a moment to let me know he is still there. I could cry. I am crying. Stop crying.

'I understand,' He wipes away a tear. 'It's hard being alone, when all you want is someone to see you and love you for who you are.'

He takes me home, walking arm in arm, holding him tight, and savouring every second of touch like it could be our last. His smile is sad when he has to wish me goodnight. I don't want him to leave. I reach out for him to pull him back. There's something I need to know. His lips on mine, his arms around me, my hand in his hair, his gorgeous hair. He's soft and tender, loving and giving. Like magic that makes the world fall away. We break for air and look into each others deep brown eyes.

'Stay?'

Sunday:

My bed has never been comfier. Perhaps that's because of the man I'm sleeping on. So... Last night really did happen. I see him softly dreaming. My fingers ghost over his messed up hair. My fault. Then over his forehead, and down the slope of his nose. Trying to burn this to memory. I trace his lips, how many times did I kiss them? How many times did they kiss me? Anywhere and everywhere they could find. The noises he brought out of me, they excited him, spurred him on. His hands, things of wonder. Holding on to me even in sleep. Oh, how I could worship his hands.

'Never let me go.' That time I meant to say it out loud.

'I won't.' I see his eyes again as they open and I fall for him more. He brings his hand up to my chin and pulls me forward to kiss me again. I could worship those lips. The feel of his mustache adding to the sensation.

'I could get used to this.' I want to get used to this. His thumb brushes over my lips. His smile isn't as sad anymore. My hand continues to ghost over his skin. Down his chest and over his stomach, the dark patch of hair covering him tickles my palm and fingers. I kiss his chest, holding him close. I don't want him to disappear. He holds me tighter, does he feel the same? we stay in bed, holding, touching, loving. Safe. We feel safe.

On Monday, we were strangers, Tuesday too. Wednesday we became friends. Thursday and Friday getting closer. Saturday, I fell for him, he fell for me. By Sunday, we were lovers, holding on to forever.

As I said, it was self-indulgent, but I'm trying to start writing again. So I guess it was kind of an experiment. Look, good or bad, I tried which for me is good start. If you made it to the end, thanks for reading.

[flowerandthesongstress]

TLDR: I have removed FatS from ao3. — I left the carcass in place. — If it was in your bookmarks and you wish to reread (and you're not swaddled in red flags, as in, you aren't an embodiment of the reasons why I deleted it in the first place), then just slide into my DMs. — Yes, my writing is free, always. I am not after monetizing my hobby. — It's not posted anywhere else, so if you see it online: 1) not me 2) please let me know.

The longer version is below. Contains negativity (duh doy). 

After giving it some extensive thought, I have removed FatS from ao3. 

I left the carcass of the work in place because:

hope is the deformed, attic-bound incest monster offspring of entitlement and fear a part of me still hopes that things will change, that the site will change (for starters, by acquiring a number of protective tools meant for authors, including optional tools to prevent mindless, empty consumption of ‘content’; this is naive of me, I know) or that my outlook will change and I will learn to give fewer forks and maybe then reupload it there in the future, to its original location (pun not intended)

I was loath to delete all of the comments, so what remains is actually the epilogue page

FatS already was plagiarized, so if it gets plagiarized again, or if someone reposts it under their name, especially for money, I'd have the aforementioned carcass in place, date-stamped, as some kind of tangible proof of authorship, and I wish I was being ridiculous or needlessly paranoid about it. I truly wish I was. I also wish that plagiarism was the only — or at least the main — reason for my catastrophic disillusionment. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I'm a stickler for rules, but I did not find anything in the faq that forbids users from doing this or merits reporting. 

As I've said before:

—this blog was not created as a promotion or anything of the sort, although the additional irony doesn't escape me. 😔

—I am not and never have been after monetizing my writing; money and ambition are not why I write. I write to Process Things; most of these things are way too personal to monetize them even in theory, it'd be like trying to sell pieces of my soul.

—I shared in search of meaningful interactions and in hopes of making friends with like-minded people.

So yes, you can still read it, completely free. All you have to do is message me and have a conversation with me. Human to human. My contacts are here.

Same with my newer stuff that I didn't share online in the first place. Just please don’t wait for me to share it on ao3; I can't stress this enough. I'm repeating this because I've already had a number of interactions in the vein of ‘I thought I'd wait until you change your mind’. I'm sorry, but it's been two years, and I think by now it's pretty safe to say that ain't happening.

The only things I am more-or-less okay with sharing there nowadays are either gifts or request fills, or impersonal and half-assed things, or some outright goofing around (an example of what I mean), and they comprise no more than 5% of my writing overall. If you want the rest of the new stuff, please slide into my DMs. 

As to why I removed FatS.

The reasons for this decision are numerous, none of them are pleasant or my fault, some of them match the overall reasons for me no longer sharing my writing publicly, and one of these reasons reared its ugly head very recently and became the last straw, I guess.

None of these reasons are rooted in me being ashamed of this novel or thinking that it’s ‘bad writing’. I really like my writing, even the parts from when I was still in the process of switching languages, learning, loving adverbs way too much, possessing a vocabulary of an ardent tourist, and fumbling for ground all over again. Me liking my writing does not stem from self-absorption, hubris, or from believing that I'm some 'god's gift to the world' (I'm just okay) and I know my limitations and my faults too. This fondness stems from mercy and self-compassion, from choosing to forgive myself for having these faults in the first place, to cherish what I create, and to respect the mind and body and well-being of the person who created it. "Love this vessel while you’re aboard".

FatS in particular is a monument to a really good albeit really hard period in our lives. This ‘monument’ is flawed and chipped and lopsided, yet I treasure it greatly — which, yes, is also one of the reasons why I think it should not be on ao3/publicly available.

I'd rather keep it at home. I'd rather keep most of my stuff at home. In this way, mindful and considerate people can still visit and look and poke it if they politely ask to be invited over, but vandals won't have the unrestricted freedom to stain it.

Yes, I am fully aware of every single psychological reason behind this outlook, and I know the reasons behind the reasons, and from there it's turtles all the way down.

And yes, of course I know of the internet archive's existence... Yes, of course I know that a word spoken is past recalling, especially online.

Just let me have this one, please.

Let me cling to the last sliver of this belief: that there are still people out there who would respect me and themselves enough to be kind and considerate and to extend their hand instead of oh you know; people mindful of the fact that I'm a human being with feelings, not a faceless content-churning machine that beeps for their entertainment and should never beep out of line. People who haven’t yet allowed capitalism to take over every single aspect of their lives and mindsets. Friend-shaped people.

→back to the main page

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || we will meet again

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her

proof read: N/A

"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."

Back in the day, when Jujutsu Sorcerers were at their prime, lived a Cursed Spirit who goes by the name Sukuna. Once a human Sorcerer himself, he had somehow managed to create himself into the Jujutsu world's most feared Cursed Spirit. He was dubbed 'the King of Curses' and rained terror over the human and jujutsu world; with super natural powers and a sadistic personality to match the title. Everyone who has crossed him shook in absolute fear.

That was, of course, before he met a particular princess.

She was a beautiful woman; the daughter of one of the then king’s favourite concubines. Born with the alluring beauty of her mother, and a heart of gold, it was hard to ignore her presence when she walked into a room. 

She was brought up in the palace, where she was given the title as princess; but she will never sit on the throne of the kingdom her father rules over. As only the King’s wife is allowed to bear the heir that will sit on the throne. She didn’t mind, she had never desired such power to begin with. Even if she was going to be married off to one of the many foreign princes asking for her hand in marriage, she didn’t care about titles. 

Since she was never destined to sit on the throne, her father had given her quite the freedom to do as she pleases. With all her free time, she tends to use it connect to the people of her kingdom; helping the needy during their time of need, always purchasing things from the local vendors and merchants that have travelled long and far. She is beloved by the people, and shines a light on the royal family that makes them more human instead of the godly image that is projected onto the royal family.

Anyone who meets her would fall in love for her - and apparently not even Cursed Spirits were the exception.

The princess have always love spending her time out in nature - horse back riding with a few of the guards in training, swimming in the river that her brothers love to hunt by, learning about the different plants and herbs from the doctors that go out foraging for medical herbs. So it came to the surprise to no one when Sukuna stumbled onto the princess by accident on the riverbed.

Sukuna had not expected to see any human about as he goes about his walk deep in the woods. It was one of those rare moments to himself where he does not necessarily have anything he needed to do on hand, and also the few rare moments where he does not have a mob of sorcerers up his ass. He was just enjoying the sounds of nature and the soft wind blowing against his kimono when he heard what sounded like a human's laughter coming from the river near by. At first he was curious, since no human usually ventures this deeply into the woods. At the same time, he had wanted to ignore it, since humans are just a pain in the ass to deal with even if they can't see you. However, there was something so alluring about that soft giggle that had him wanting to see just who this annoying brat was. So, without even him realising what was happening, his feet quietly walked towards the river and before he knew it, he had pushed the last branch aside to peek over at the river bed curiously. Sitting before him on a flat rock by the river was a woman with flowing hair, her small feet dipped into the running water below as her hands reached forward to play with a few of the fishes that swam by. The pink fabric of her furisode laid behind her like a pink halo, showcasing the intricate sakura trees and flowers that were sown into the fabric. The aura around her was relaxed and peaceful, and somehow just seeing her brings him a sense of peace. As if she could sense his stare, the woman suddenly pauses before she turns to look over her shoulder curiously; bright and seemingly glowing eyes meeting his red ones head on. Sukusa felt the world around him come to a stop as the eyes of the princess before him trapped him on the spot, causing him to loose all train of thought from before. "Oh - were you wanting to sit here too?"

"Huh?"

The casual way she just asked him that question definitely threw him off. The woman actually just lets out a soft laugh at his dry answer. "It's alright - we can share the space if you don't mind." She commented, a teasing tone taking over her voice as she patted the free spot beside her. "I promise I don't bite."

If she had known just who this man was, she might actually understand how ironic her sentence was. But Sukuna decided not to comment on it as he quietly makes his way towards her, sitting down at the spot beside the princess whose eyes had already returned to the river before her. "The water feels extra nice today. And there is more fishes then usual." She conversed with the man casually, causing Sukuna to wonder if she is pretending to be as dense as she is right now. "How are you so calm right now? I mean, do you see a 10ft tall human with four arms every day or what? Your reaction is sort of dull." 

The princess pauses in thought as she thinks, looking far too relaxed by his side. "I have always been able to see...odd things." She started off with a soft hum, glancing over at the man beside her with a soft smile. "I have asked people around me before, and after realising that I am the only one who can see them, I decided to ignore them." She admitted, running her dry hand through her hair softly. "But if I am being honest, this is the first time one has actually ever spoken to me."

"Well, I'm not the everyday curses." He said with a slightly proud tune in his voice, to which the princess beside him looks up at the taller man with interest. "Every day curses are small things, I am basically what people in my world call a Special Grade Curse." He continued, and for some reason, when he saw how her eyes were staring up at in him awe, he looked away with a light blush on his face. He doesn't even know what was about her that drags out these human-like emotions from him - he had never felt like this ever before.

"Special Grade Curse?" She echoes back with curiosity, to which the man beside her just nods softly as he leans back to rest on the free arms, the other two crossed across his chest. Suddenly she turned to face him, her eyes shining so brightly with excitement that it caused Sukuna to squint a little. "Can you explain just what you are to me a little more?"

One question was all it took to have Sukuna falling, and if he was being honest - he actually didn’t mind spending so much time on this little human. From sharing stolen nights in her bedroom in the royal palace, to sneaking out to just go to the riverbed where the met for the first time; they even spent time just wandering about his domain. It was actually during these small explorations of the world around them that created a special bond between the two.

For her, he was her escape from the restrictive and repetitive routine of royal life. For him, she was his utopia, a person he can turn to whenever he feels like just killing everyone around him. Soon though, these emotions sprouted into something deeper and more personal. It was jarring at first, falling for a human - but he knows that she was worth it all.

He remembers the way her eyes shone brightly with a constant look of innocence in them, yet she is mature and realistic enough to know that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. He remembers the way she carries herself, her warm and loving smile, how content he felt whenever she wrapped her arms around him. He loves the feeing of her soft hair that tumbles around her face in soft waves, how it feels like silk whenever he runs his fingers through them. How with just one glance, she can fill the void in his heart that he didn't know existed.

Yet they were never set to happy ending to begin with.

It was during just what started off like a normal day when the town the princess was in was suddenly invaded by a rival kingdom’s army. Their goal was to conquer and take over the kingdom with any means necessarily; meaning that the royal family had to go.

Uraume had entered his hideout, panting with wide eyes as they told Sukuna of the town now plunging into chaos. Within seconds the Cursed Spirit was up and sprinting towards the royal palace, great fear and anger gripping him from within. Entering through the destroyed doors of the grand palace, he ignored the screams of anguish of the others around him as he ran straight towards one of the buildings - the building where the royal sleeping chambers were located.

When he finally found her room, he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

The once beautifully crafted shoji doors with panels decorated in a beautiful forest scene now laid in tatters, the furniture inside looking as if though a huge scuffle had happened. Rushing deeper into the room, he felt his heart sank to its stomach when he saw the splatters of blood leading towards the small room where the princess would sleep in.

Entering the back room, his red eyes scanned over the many splatters of blood about the room, the red handprints of the princess smeared across the ornate walls whilst the body of the princess laid on her futon; the sheets now soaked in blood. "No, no, no.." Sukuna managed out in horror as he quickly made his way to his lover's side, pulling her bloodied body into his arms immediately. "Flower, open your eyes. Please.."

Slowly her eyelids begin to move, and Sukuna felt his heart break when he saw how her now dull and tired eyes shifted to look up at him, taking a moment to truly process just who he was. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna mumbles out through a small voice as he pulls her closer, trying his hardest to press his hands against the gashing wound on her abdomen. Since the wound was inflicted by a non-sorcerer, there was no trace of cursed magic on her; meaning that there was no way he can save her to begin with. "I-If only I had known..."

"Shh...it's okay.." The princess whispered out in a soft but pained tone, her bloody hand reaching up to cup his tattoo cheek ever so softly. The familiar touch brought another wave of emotion through Sukuna as he tries to blink back his tears, pulling her closer to his chest as he shifted his posture so she was sitting in his lap. He barely even acknowledge his own kimono that was slowly being soaked in blood. "Y-You didn't know this was going to happen...no one did...don't blame yourself..."

With watery red eyes Sukuna marvelled at how even though she was on death's doorstep, she still tried to put on a smile for his sake. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna manages through a pained tone, tears now sliding down his face in thick streams whilst the woman just gave him a loving smile, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't be.." She mumbles softly, forcing the man to look down at her as she gave him the same smile that had him falling for her from the beginning. "You know that...it takes more than this to get rid of me.."

The teasing words caused Sukuna to let out a soft and pained laugh, remembering the times where he would tell her how annoying she was whenever she would cling onto him and tease him relentlessly. He would trade anything to go back to those moments once more. "Brat.." He manages through his silent sobs, to which the woman just lets out a soft laugh as her fingers slowly traced along his features. For a few moments it was just silence, but the next time she spoke, Sukuna knew that the end was coming.

"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."

"I promise, my love." Sukuna mumbles back quietly, resting his forehead against hers when he noticed how much effort it takes for her to blink. "No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you." He told her firmly as he presses a loving kiss on her forehead. "No matter how long it takes.." She echoes quietly, to which Sukuna just press a loving kiss on her head just as he felt her soft hand slowly slide down his chest, falling limply on her side.

For a moment Sukuna just held her against him, quietly crying into her hair. His entire world was in his arms, and just like that she was taken away from him. From that sadness came anger, and he soon found himself with the deep desire to crush whoever took her away from him.

Thus started the true rein of terror under the King of Curses, his anger fueling him to chase for bigger goals. Whilst he strive to rid of this world of dirty humans who took his flower away from her, he kept the vow that they promised one another - that they will wait for the other no matter how long it takes.

Because he had promised you so, and he’d do anything to keep that promise.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter one

people cannot outrun their past, not even the all-powerful darkling. and it so happens that his past just arrived at the palace gates.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.6k

non-english words: durak (a stupid man, a fool) & dorogaya (darling, sweetheart)

note: hope all is well! i was surprised to actually see interactions with the preview, so thank you very much. if you enjoy what you read, a comment goes a long way in terms of encouragement! if you have any questions or see any issues, i welcome pms or asks!

here’s the masterlist

when you arrived at the palace gates, a heavy guard presence and a lengthy line came into your sight. various emotions were scattered amongst the people: anticipation, dread, and hope. the line crept forward, guards tossing out several individuals in the process.

“the palace grounds are not open to visitors! if you do not have official business and papers to vet you, get lost!”

there was a pause followed by a number of sulking ravkans excusing themselves, grumbling about the sun summoner. the guards shook their heads as they continued processing each person.

when it was your turn, the guard gave you a dead look as he scanned your frame. “did you not hear what i said, little one? no papers, no entry.”

you offered him a tight smile. “i may not have any papers, but i think you’ll find the alternative plenty sufficient.”

he raised an eyebrow unconvinced. you rolled your eyes before gathering your hands in front of you. suddenly, he began floating in the air. gasps littered around you. the other guards, seeing their comrade in the air, rushed over and pointed their guns at you. as you lifted your arms in surrender, the floating guard found himself quickly acquainted with the ground again.

you hummed. “a six out of ten on the landing. what d’you think, boys?”

“arrest ‘em!” the guard huffed, straightening himself. “then, alert the king. he’ll want to see this grisha for himself.”

you extended your arms and two guards dragged you with them. “alright, alright. no need to be so rough, lads.” they were unrelenting and marched you right onto the palace grounds.

well, there’s no going back now.

✵ ✵ ✵

you stared up at the ceiling in your cell when footsteps grew closer.

“get up,” commanded a guard.

you lifted your head and gave him a once over. “and for what?”

with the jingle of keys, your cell door creaked open. one of the guards stepped in with wooden shackles. “the king will see you now.”

“oh, lovely.”

a guard pulled you up and yanked your arms behind you, securing them in the shackles.

“you guys certainly like to use force. have you tried talking to someone about it? it’s not good form to treat allies like this,” you chattered.

ignoring you, they pushed you towards the stairwell. you lagged behind them as you took in the nostalgic walls of the grand palace. not much had changed since the last time you laid eyes upon them. it was just as boring as you had remembered.

when you entered the throne room, whispers faded. a guard pushed you onto your knees before presenting you to the king. “this is the grisha we spoke of, your highness.”

the king peered down his nose, expression unchanging.

“is it true you’re grisha?” he questioned.

you looked at him with a small smirk. “would you like a demonstration, moi tsar?”

the guards around you trained their guns on you. you glanced at them unimpressed as you continued, “i mean that with all due respect. i spoke the truth when i said i was grisha. i am only here to help ravka.”

the king rubbed his goatee. “i hear you made a man float. what does that make you?”

“an etherealki.”

“a squaller then?” he speculated.

you shook your head as your smile grew. “a gravity summoner.”

hushed conversations erupted at your words, confusion reflecting in everyone’s faces. the tsar leaned forward in his seat with intrigue.

“i have never heard of such a thing,” he said.

“i do pride myself on being one of a kind,” you drawled. “surely, you would like to see a demonstration.”

he waved an attendant over. “call a heartrender.”

then, he nodded to you. “you understand, don’t you? as king, you can never be too cautious.”

you bowed your head slightly, still maintaining your smile. “i’m honored you’d think of me as a threat.”

“i would be a fool not to,” he snorted.

before the attendant could make it out of the throne room, a dulcet tone spoke from behind you.

“there’s no need, your highness,” it called, sending shivers up your spine. “i came as soon as i caught wind of an unknown grisha.”

you feel the mass of two bodies approaching the king. you tensed as a black ketfa swept past you. met with a familiar silhouette, you held your breath and redirected your attention to the ground.

“though, i am confused, moi tsar. if the issue was about grisha, why did you not call for me?”

the king waved his hand and nonchalantly said, “i wanted you to focus on training the sun summoner. this is a minor issue. no more, no less.”

“i see.” the man nodded to the corporalki who fixed his sight on you. “ivan, listen to their heart and make sure—”

you heard his talking cease once his feet faced you. there was a brief pause. you inhaled deeply before lifting your eyes to meet his. in that moment, your mind raced.

he looks the same as the day i left him... except that cockamamie hair is new. hmph, he’s still stupidly handsome but also plain stupid looking. look at him trying to piece it together.

“general?” the corporalki called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

the darkling cleared his throat and ripped his eyes away from you to look at the guards. “unchain them please. we need to see what kind of grisha they are.”

the guards unlocked your shackles, allowing you to rub your chafed wrists. you pushed yourself up and studied him for a moment. “i should get on with, ya?” you asked.

ivan glanced at his general, concern furrowing his brows at his odd behavior. he returned his focus to you and nodded, raising his hands in front of him. “if you get any ideas… well, i’m sure you’re familiar with what a heartrender can do.”

you let out a mocking laugh. “you’d be surprised at what i could do before you could even start.”

instantly, you felt an intense pressure in your chest, making your knees buckle. the corporalki smirked as blood rushed to your temple. in your struggle, you scowled at kirigan before you centered your hands. you shoved your hands down, increasing gravity’s pull on the heartrender. the pain in your heart let up once he fell to the ground. you gasped for air.

releasing him, you shakily regained your footing and breath. “do not forget, durak, i am not the enemy. you would have already perished if i were.”

slow clapping drew your attention away. the king looked overjoyed.

“that was riveting! general, what do you make of her?”

you raised an eyebrow at his statement. “are you sure? i haven’t even done the fun part. i could do more like make everyone in the room float or...” you trailed.

when you peeked at the shadow summoner, you could see his tense jaw and closed fists. his dark eyes met yours before he turned to the king with a false smile. “i’m sure they will be a valuable asset to ravka with the proper training.”

the king let out a hearty laugh, “i’m sure they will! treat them as though you would treat me, general kirigan. i have a feeling they will win me more than just expeditions across the fold.”

both grisha men bowed and pivoted towards you. kirigan clasped his hand around your forearm before pulling you away from the room. your feet stuttered as you tried to match his pace.

“either slow down or let go of me!”

relentless, he continued to stalk across the courtyard towards the little palace. you tugged away from his grasp and planted yourself with your powers. he circled to face you, rage evident in his glare.

“leave us,” he commanded. without another word, ivan left the two of you.

i suppose he wouldn’t want to do this where there are others.

while he was pacing, you stood there silently and waited for his eventual outburst.

his eyes were closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. a heavy sigh left his lips, “where have you been, [y/n]?”

“shu han, actually. it was quite lovely and the weather was just—”

“saints! [y/n], do i look to be in a gaming mood?” he yelled.

you tilted your head and your lips quirked. “no? then, why act as if you had no idea who i was? were we not playing pretend? you seemed so into the game, general kirigan.”

he closed in on you, his gaze burning. he opened his mouth but no words left it. he gritted his teeth and turned away as his hands clenched and unclenched.

“it has been thirty years, [y/n]. why return at all?”

in a moment of confidence, you inched closer to him. your hands slid up his back, onto his shoulders. you leaned into his ear. “for you, my love.”

you let go and created space between you. he spun slowly, his features riddled with disbelief. “you still have feelings for me?”

breathy laughter escaped you. “feelings for you, darling? don’t be ridiculous. as if any of my past affections for you could bring me back to this over-glorified cage you’ve created. no, aleksander, i’m here to ruin you.”

his body tensed before an arrogant smirk set on his lips. he crept nearer. “ruin me? i’d love to see you try. you forget, dorogaya, i have an army. what do you have?”

“you. or, rather, i know how your mind works. i know your tactics, general. let’s see how you fare when i pick you apart from the inside,” you sang as you brushed past him. “now, come show me to my room.”

continue to chapter two? yes