#its a little different that what I usually do but I like it!
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imsobadatnicknames2 · 2 days ago
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Not trying to be mean but I don't see how bringing that up is "being fair" when most of the countries under the USA's imperialist yoke have to deal with the same issues, often as a direct result of american intervention.
The US government has an extensively documented history of using its political and military influence to prevent minimum wage and healthcare reforms from passing in countries that american corporations outsource production to, because these countries choosing to do stuff like increasing their minimum wage or forcing employers to provide good healthcare plans for their employees increases production costs for american companies. And often, due to differences in the respective currencies' purchasing power, what constitutes a comically low salary in the US passes for a king's bounty in these countries (at my last job I was making a little over 3x my country's minimum wage, and someone earning minimum wage and not a cent more in the US still makes roughly 25% more than I was making. And my country is towards the less affected end of the "US government directly sabotaging our labor reforms" spectrum compared to places like Haiti)
Like. Responding to a post about how it's silly for americans to act like they're uniquely victimized by the actions of the US government compared to the people living under US imperialism with "well to be fair americans have to deal with low wages and no healthcare" presupposes that this is something that americans uniquely have to deal with, when in actuality people in the imperial periphery have to deal with them, often to a greater degree, and usually as a direct result of the US government's actions.
Truly the most arrogant americanism is how "leftist" yanks are utterly convinced that living in the US makes them privvy to the true depths of evil, cruelty and depravity that the US government is capable of, which the silly foreigners who keep talking about imperialism and US foreign policy could never even begin to imagine, when it's actually almost universally the other way around.
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kaiser1ns · 2 days ago
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#. GIVE ME WHAT I WANT
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featuring 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
fluff. he allowed himself to feel something he rarely did, peace and love because with you he got everything he wants.
happy birthday to my lover boy kaiser !! and happy christmas everyone !!
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More awake inside of his dreams, the loneliness suits him better as he remains the only star in this cruel world. He doesn’t know what he wants but it’s not this, these sugar-coated words don't mean anything when he says them with his lips, tongue rolling with venom when he sees the faces of despair, experiencing the depth of a person’s soul when they have been put in their place. The moment people give up and are left hopeless, desperate for salvation, sacrificing their talent for more tedious lives — they are weak, more or less dead.
Impossible. He hates and loathes upon hearing that word coming out of someone's mouth, which makes him want to prove himself even more. Nothing is impossible. He was the weak person who gave up at any given chance, curling up into a ball to disappear and become invisible, embracing what is dearest to him in all the vast space, a planet that shines brighter than any star, emitting its own light basking in the gravity of football.
I don't know what I want but I know it's not this… A blue rose on his neck traced down with chain-like intertwined thorns that made their way to the crown on his left hand. To remind himself, to never again fall into that weak mindset, a dark and deep rabbit hole that won’t lead you to Wonderland but straight to execution, and it's ‘Off with your head!’. A symbol that shows the impossible, he is the symbol itself, not the tattoo.
Was that really you next to me? It’s cold even under the blanket, it's cold because it's winter … But it’s warm when you kiss him, it’s warm when you love him. Sometimes it makes him sad when he receives a gift because he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react. It’s his birthday and he doesn’t like it. Christmas lights, a decorated apartment, food on the table, and a woman full of love. Giving him what he wants, then again who is he supposed to please?
“Don't you like it, my love? I-I can always return it if you don't…” Kaiser tried to play it off, masking his emotions behind his usual arrogance. But with you, he was different—less rude, less cold. His eyes lingered on the gift he had just unwrapped: golden rings. Promise rings, you had said with a soft smile, assuring him that nothing could ever tear you apart. Yet, your expression betrayed you—your face was full of sadness and regret. It hurt him more than he cared to admit, more than anything else ever could.
He watched as you looked down, fidgeting with your hands, retreating into yourself. You had given him so much more than he deserved. You gave him what he needed the most: a dream to hold on to.
Then, you felt it—his colder, larger hands settling gently atop yours. For someone usually so brash, the touch was rather gentle and tender. He turned your hand palm up, brushing his thumb over your knuckles before sliding the ring onto your ring finger. An arrogant young man with a superiority complex, Kaiser had always been a fortress of pride and self-importance. But beneath it all, he was just a boy yearning to be loved. “I never said anything like that, Engel,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "I’m just… not good at this stuff, okay? Birthdays and gifts, they’re not my thing. Never have been."
He tilted his head, studying your face. His usual smirk returned, but it was softer now, almost boyish. Kaiser knows you are doing this with pure intentions, he knows he has ben truly blessed not on this day, but the day he met you. And even if he hides it, you can see the little boy's eyes waiting to hear those three words.
“I love you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips met his, the warmth of your touch seemed to catch him off guard, and he instinctively stepped back. You both paused, glancing up—mistletoe. A sweet kiss for the birthday boy. A loving kiss for the gift you’d received from the universe. His lips were softer than you expected, and he tasted faintly of your lipstick, a reminder of just how sweet your kisses were. He loves you too. You are everything he could ask for: pretty, smart, loving, and caring. You are his.
As he kissed you back, his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. The motion brought him off balance as he hit the edge of the bed, pulling you down with him. You landed on top of him, both breathless, laughter spilling into the space between your lips.
“Time to unwrap your other present~” you teased as you caressed his face, and he felt the golden ring pressing to his cheek.
On days like this, angels are said to come alive. But you were born one—his angel, his most precious treasure. For someone who believed the world to be cruel, who found pleasure in proving everyone else wrong, you were the exception to all his rules. You made him want to be better, not for the world, but for you. Who am I supposed to please? He asked, more to himself than to you, repeating the question that haunted him. His answer was clear now. It wasn’t about the world, the people who doubted him, or even his old self. It was you. It had always been you.
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©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.
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libingan · 2 days ago
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merry christmas! 🎁🎄
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here it is, people… the christmas fic!!!!! sorry if its so fucking corny it was funnier in my head
can someone please draw them wearing ugly sweaters i need it
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the holidays were finally here, and you were determined to make this christmas with task force 141 one that none of you would ever forget. while most people spent the season relaxing and enjoying family time, you knew your family was a little different. the bond you shared with the team was unspoken, but it was there, and it had to be celebrated. and what better way to celebrate than with some over-the-top christmas sweaters?
for weeks, you worked tirelessly to create the most garish, ridiculous sweaters you could think of. your needles clicked, glittered buttons and pom-poms strewn across your workspace, and christmas music blared in the background as you tried your best to make something that was both fun and festive. but in all honesty? the result was so catastrophically ugly that it could only be described as an art form.
soap’s sweater was a brilliant lime green, decorated with a mismatched, wonky santa face, complete with googly eyes that jiggled and wobbled as he moved. ghost’s sweater was black, of course, in keeping with his usual aesthetic, but it was covered in neon-red snowflakes and the words “silent night, deadly night” in garish gold lettering. price’s sweater was navy blue, with a slightly crooked reindeer stitched onto the front, its antlers weighted down by jingly plastic bells that rang with every move he made. gaz’s was a bright red abomination, with a patchwork christmas tree that looked like it had been made by a blindfolded toddler. the tree was adorned with buttons, glitter, and tiny battery-powered fairy lights that blinked in a chaotic, seizure-inducing pattern. and yours? well, yours was a glittery train wreck—candy-cane stripes, mismatched pom-poms, and snowflakes that you’d glued on so haphazardly that some were already starting to peel off.
you waited anxiously, a grin spread wide across your face, as you handed the sweaters out to the team. soap was the first to laugh, an obnoxious, joyful sound that filled the room. “bloody brilliant!” he declared, already slipping it over his head. gaz eagerly followed, adjusting the blinking lights on his sweater with a wide grin. “it’s ugly as hell, but it’s festive!” he cheered, playfully tugging on his sleeves.
but when price looked at the sweater you handed him, his brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered. ghost was even more nonchalant, barely even looking at his sweater. “i’m not wearing that,” he stated simply, his mask hiding any trace of emotion.
you felt your heart sink at their disapproval. you had spent so much time making these sweaters, and now it seemed like your grand idea was going to fall flat. you tried to hide your disappointment, but it was impossible to mask the way your shoulders slumped and the way the grin on your face faded into a frown.
soap, ever the optimist, was quick to notice. “c’mon, lads,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “it’s christmas. don’t leave her hanging like that.” gaz nodded along, nudging ghost’s side. “yeah, don’t be such buzzkills. we’re doing this for fun.”
price sighed, rubbing his temple. “fine,” he said, clearly resigned to the idea, though you could see he wasn’t thrilled about it. ghost, after a long moment of silent contemplation, muttered a low curse and finally relented. “fine,” he growled, pulling the sweater over his head with a scowl. “but don’t expect me to smile for any damn photos.”
you couldn’t help but beam as the team finally agreed. “thank you,” you whispered, relieved and a little giddy. the fact that they were willing to humor you meant more than you could put into words.
-
the photo shoot began with a sense of awkwardness, but it quickly turned into something far more ridiculous than anyone had imagined. you set up a makeshift photo booth in the corner of the common area. christmas lights twinkled in every direction, and a small, crooked tree stood beside you, barely hanging onto its plastic glory. soap insisted on decorating it with tinsel and a few odd-looking ornaments he’d found lying around the base, including a couple of empty bullet casings.
the first shot was a classic group pose. soap threw an arm around your shoulder, his face lit up with a grin that could rival the sun. gaz stood beside you, striking a finger-gun pose with a cocky smirk, his sweater lights flashing erratically. price and ghost stood behind you, stiff and reluctant, but still part of the scene. price gave a half-smile that was more out of politeness than enjoyment, while ghost’s body language screamed discomfort, but he didn’t look entirely miserable.
the second shot was even more chaotic. soap, in a moment of pure genius, turned his sweater around so santa’s googly eyes stared blankly at the camera. ghost, ever the minimalist, crossed his arms, giving a deadpan expression as he tilted his head, pretending to be menacing. gaz tangled himself in his sweater lights as if they were trying to strangle him, and you knelt in front of him, holding a candy cane like it was an ancient weapon.
for the third photo, you decided to switch it up. this time, you all got creative with silly props you’d found around the base. soap grabbed a small santa hat and dramatically placed it on your head, pulling you into a ridiculous pose where he pretended to be your personal bodyguard. gaz stood beside you, holding an oversized candy cane like it was a weapon, while you struck a playful pose, holding up a mug filled with what was definitely not eggnog but still looked festive. ghost and price, unable to resist the chaos any longer, found themselves joining in as well. ghost raised a plastic cup as if toasting to the absurdity of it all, and price, ever the soldier, saluted with his mug.
and then came the final shot, the crowning glory of the evening. soap and gaz carefully lifted your legs while price took the middle, and ghost reluctantly held your shoulders. you struck a triumphant pose, arms thrown in the air like you’d just conquered the world. soap joked, “light as a feather, lass. guess we’ve been lifting too much.”
you couldn’t help but laugh. this was the moment you had dreamed of—a memory you would cherish forever.
-
the photo session finally came to a close, but you weren’t quite done yet. you stepped forward, cupping each of their faces gently as you planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. soap, never one to shy away from affection, let out a loud laugh and gave you a playful wink. gaz blushed, his smile turning sheepish as he muttered a quiet thank you. price gave you a resigned but soft look, and ghost—stoic as ever—simply leaned into the kiss, his body language telling you more than his words ever could.
“merry christmas,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with warmth.
“merry christmas,” soap said, grinning widely. gaz and price both offered quiet chuckles, and even ghost nodded slightly, his mask hiding the faintest hint of a smile.
it wasn’t a picture-perfect holiday—far from it—but in that moment, surrounded by your favorite people in the ugliest sweaters ever created, it was exactly what christmas should be: fun, silly, and filled with love.
after the photos were taken, you couldn’t bear for them to be tucked away somewhere forgotten. instead, you had one framed—the last photo, the one where they were all carrying you in their arms like a queen. you decided it would be perfect to hang it somewhere everyone could see, so you found a spot in the mess hall. it wasn’t glamorous, but it was home, and it was filled with laughter and memories. and now, every time the team passed by that spot, they’d see the ridiculous photo—and remember the holiday you all shared.
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aventurineswife · 3 days ago
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I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA
AVENTURINE X READER THEY MARRIED THEY HAVE A CHILD (or children idk) AND LIKE YEAH ITS CHRISTMAS AS A FAMILY AND AVENTURINE GETS EMOTIONAL
A Family of Our Own
Summary: You and Aventurine, now married, are celebrating Christmas as a family. Your life together has evolved beyond the high-stakes gambles and manipulative games that once defined Aventurine’s world. As you enjoy the holiday with your child, Aventurine becomes unexpectedly emotional. He reflects on his past, his trauma, and the family he never thought he'd have. In the warmth of the holiday and the love of his family, he grapples with feelings of gratitude, guilt, and the realization that happiness may finally be within his reach.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Winter Special, Family Fluff, Christmas Celebration, Emotional Vulnerability, Hurt/Comfort, Character Development, Domestic Life, Love and Healing.
Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Emotional moments, Brief references to violence in Aventurine’s past, Light angst (in Aventurine’s emotional struggles).
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The flicker of golden lights from the Christmas tree cast a warm glow across the room, reflecting off the delicate glass ornaments. The soft hum of holiday music played in the background as your child giggled, unwrapping presents under the tree. Aventurine, dressed in a velvet green robe that matched the festive decor, sat on the couch, his usual confident smirk softened into a serene smile.
The air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and pine, a reminder that you had finally managed to convince Aventurine to let the holidays be about more than just the game of life he so often played. This year, it was different.
He leaned back, watching the scene unfold before him: your child holding up a glittering card-shaped ornament, exclaiming about how it was "just like Papa's lucky charm," and you, laughing softly as you adjusted the tree's golden star.
"Careful with that," he teased, his tone light but carrying a flicker of concern. "That ornament's as fragile as the odds in my favor when I first gambled on you."
You turned, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you mean the safest bet you ever made?"
He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, far removed from the sharp laugh he often wielded to mask his emotions. "Safe? Hardly. I was convinced I'd lose you the moment you realized what a mess I am."
Your child, curious and full of energy, interrupted with a wide-eyed question. "Papa, what's a gamble?"
Aventurine's eyes sparkled with amusement. "It's a game of chance, little one. Like when you open a present—you never know if it'll be something you love or something silly."
"Like socks?" they asked innocently.
"Exactly," he replied, his grin widening. "Except I don’t gamble on socks. I gamble on life. And your parent," he added, glancing at you, "was the highest-stakes game I've ever played."
You rolled your eyes playfully, settling beside him on the couch as your child became engrossed in their new toy. "And yet, you always seem to win."
His smile faltered for just a moment, his gaze growing distant as he reached for your hand. The weight of his past—the lies, the betrayals, the scars—lingered in the unspoken spaces between his words. "Not always," he murmured, his voice quieter now. "But this… this is a victory I never thought I'd have."
You squeezed his hand, grounding him. "You're here, Aventurine. With us. That's all that matters."
He exhaled slowly, his usual mask slipping away completely. "Do you know how terrifying it is? To love something so much, to have something to lose?"
Your child’s laughter filled the room again, and his eyes flickered toward them, shimmering with unshed tears. "I never thought I’d have this—a family, a home. It scares me, because it feels… fragile. Like if I blink, it’ll all disappear."
You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice steady and sure. "It’s real, Kakavasha. You’ve built this. We’ve built this. Together."
His name—his true name—spoken in your voice always unraveled him. He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You’re too good to me," he whispered.
"And yet, here we are," you replied, smiling. "Aventurine, the great gambler, finally learning that not every win comes with a price."
The night unfolded with warmth and laughter, the three of you sharing stories, unwrapping gifts, and basking in the glow of the season. When your child finally fell asleep under the twinkling lights, Aventurine carried them to their room, his steps careful, his expression softer than you’d ever seen.
Later, as you sat together by the fireplace, his arm draped around your shoulders, he spoke again, his voice thick with emotion.
"Thank you," he said simply, his eyes meeting yours.
"For what?" you asked, leaning into him.
"For showing me that some gambles aren’t about winning or losing," he replied, his smile small but genuine. "They’re about what you’re willing to risk. And for this—for you, for them—I’d risk everything a thousand times over."
You smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. "Merry Christmas, Aventurine."
He kissed your hand, his voice soft but steady. "Merry Christmas, my love."
For once, Aventurine didn’t feel the need to chase the thrill of the unknown. This was enough. This was everything.
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justiceforvillains · 2 days ago
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Misunderstood
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The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into the little coffee shop inside your company, the warm air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the rustic wooden tables and the eclectic mix of mismatched chairs. You loved this place; it was your escape, a perfect spot to unwind with a book or catch up with friends.
After ordering your usual, you settled into a corner table, your laptop open in front of you. Gripping your coffee, you attempted to concentrate on your work, but your mind kept wandering back to the whispers surrounding Hyunjin.
He had joined just last week, but already, suspicions clung to him like shadows, swirling in the air like the steam from the espresso machine. With his tall frame and striking features, he emanated an intensity that made people step back. The rumors—some claiming he had served time in prison, others hinting at a troubled past—buzzed around the café, igniting both fear and curiosity.
Despite the opinions swirling around you, you didn’t buy into the gossip. Your company was known for its integrity; they wouldn’t hire someone who didn’t deserve a chance. Yes, Hyunjin had an almost intimidating presence, with his buzz cut and fire-like eyes, but the truth was, judging someone by appearances was a simple mistake.
Sitting at your usual spot, fingers nervously tapping the table, you found yourself stealing glances at the new intern. There was something captivating about him, an unintentional allure thanks to a tattoo peeking from beneath his sleeve, only adding to an aura of mystery.
Today, your heart skipped a beat as you noticed Hyunjin stepping out from behind the counter, his eyes scanning the room with an intensity that sent a thrill through you. As he caught your gaze, a spark of connection ignited between you. You quickly returned to your screen, but it was too late; he was already approaching your table, energy crackling in the air around him.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice low and surprisingly soft, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.
“Of course,” you stammered, doing your best to appear casual, even as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.
Settling into the chair across from you, he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “You look deep in thought. Working on a grand mystery?”
“Just… some projects,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to hold his gaze for long as the weight of the rumors lingered between you.
He studied you for a moment, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “You know, people talk. I hear things,” he said, leaning back slightly.
Your breath caught in your throat at his directness. “Yeah, I’ve heard a few things.”
“Like what, exactly?” he pressed, curiosity shining in his gaze, the vulnerability of his tone pulling you in.
You hesitated, the rumors whirling in your mind. “Um… that you spent time in prison?”
He let out a soft chuckle, yet it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which held a flicker of something deeper. “That’s one of the nicer things people say about me.”
“Is it true?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, drawn in by the layers of mystery surrounding him.
“Does it matter?” He leaned forward, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. “I’m here now; what I did before doesn’t define me.”
Your heart raced, understanding dawning on you. “But… people find it hard not to be scared when those kinds of rumors are flying around.”
His expression softened, like clouds parting to let sunlight break through. “I get it. Sometimes, when you look a certain way and carry a past, people jump to conclusions. But what if the true story is something entirely different?” His vulnerability swept over you like a gentle wave.
The weight of his words hung between you, pulling at your heartstrings. “Then I want to know,” you said softly, your heart steadying. “I want to see the real you, beyond the rumors.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes, and he leaned back, crossing his arms with a hint of amusement. “Not many people are willing to do that. Most would rather keep their distance.”
“Maybe they’re simply scared of what they don’t understand,” you suggested, feeling a surge of courage. “But I want to dig deeper. Sometimes, the most beautiful truths lie buried beneath the scariest stories.”
He smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth that made your heart flutter. “You really think there’s beauty in my past?”
“Perhaps,” you replied, newfound strength coursing through your veins. “We all have our shadows, but it’s how we choose to embrace them that defines us.”
Hyunjin regarded you thoughtfully, and you sensed the atmosphere shift; the tension dissipated, replaced by an unspoken understanding. “That’s a refreshing perspective,” he remarked, the admiration in his tone making you blush. “Most people don’t think like that.”
“Maybe they should,” you said, a slow smile spreading across your face, finding comfort in the connection that was blossoming between you. “You’re not who they think you are, and I can’t wait to uncover the layers of the real you.”
As the minutes passed, the initial fear that had surrounded him melted away, replaced by a warmth that radiated between you. Suddenly, Hyunjin laughed, breaking the moment. “What’s so funny?” he teased, his grin infectious. “The idea that a company like this would hire someone fresh out of prison?”
You felt heat rise to your cheeks, the jovial atmosphere engulfing you. “I thought the same! I knew it couldn’t possibly be true,” you admitted, unable to hide your embarrassment.
He chuckled again, his playful energy making your heart race. “The way you reacted when I sat down, though—I almost thought you agreed.”
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✦ Masterlist ✦
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cthulhus-curse · 21 hours ago
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Extra Credit
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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Word Count: 6,020
Warnings: Age Difference, Alluded CSA, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship | 18+ Minors DNI
A/N: Hopefully I scheduled this & the other fics correctly and not for the following year because I may no longer be around to fix it.
Summary: A series of snapshots of loving months alongside your professor which lead up to one of the most difficult decisions you’ve made in your life.
“Good morning, sunshine. Ready for another day of work?”
Although exhaustion ripped through your body, the sound of the woman’s voice made you smile. You learned to enjoy it through the past few weeks. Each day you woke up at what felt like the crack of dawn and went straight to work. Although it was right on campus, an office not too far from your dormitory, you weren’t used to being awake at such early hours. At least the pay was good and your boss was even better, you mused. 
“I can’t wait,” you replied flatly. Your boss, Professor Romanoff, came up to the desk you called a home ever since being hired. She held up two cups – one was her usual morning coffee and the other scalding hot chocolate topped off by a mountain of whipped cream. As always, she called you a child for picking that over anything caffeine-heavy. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem, sweetheart. Gotta keep my little assistant awake enough to get through the day,” Natasha chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy for you. We just have to get through grading some papers and then the rest of the shift is yours.”
The smirk remained plastered over your features as she handed you the hot chocolate before moving further in her office. Being the head of the English department at your university, Natasha got her privacy intact. It’s not like she was thrilled to work with her fellow professors anyway. 
“I heard there was a big party being hosted by your friends in the girl’s soccer team. I assume you’re planning on going?” Natasha’s tone was filled with curiosity, but never anger when she so much as alluded to your private life, specifically that having to do with one Wanda Maximoff. “I can let you go a few hours early if you need to get ready. Classes are done for the semester and you need to enjoy your college years. I’m sure Miss Maximoff would be happy to see you again. I know she means a lot to you.”
Ever since you had accepted the job as Natasha’s assistant, Wanda had given you the cold shoulder. You had spoken to her from time to time, but only when she came back to the dorm after days of being away, only to leave once again. At first you blame yourself for causing a rift in your relationship, if one could even call it that, but eventually you came to realize just how immature she was – taking a simple job offer did not mean your feelings for her changed in any way. 
“I actually haven’t seen her in awhile. She’s staying at Carol and Val’s place I think,” you shrugged while taking a sip of your drink. The way it burned its way onto your tongue and down your throat caused you to hum happily. 
“Oh? And how are you feeling about that?”
“I’m taking it pretty well. You know she’s not very fond of you and I think I pissed her off by agreeing to work for who she deems as ‘a fucking witch bitch’. It’s just childish and stupid,” you rolled your eyes at the mere idea of it. “I hate being someone’s second choice like that. She doesn’t even see how much I love her.”
Just like Wanda didn’t see you, you didn’t see Natasha. Your professor was crestfallen at the voices you threw at her. She hated seeing you in such pain, not being able to do anything about the mistreatment you received from your casual fling. The older woman cared for you, perhaps more than she led on – the mere image of seeing you in pain made bile rise up your throat before it was maintained in place. 
“Then it’s her loss. You deserve better than that, honey. You’re an amazing, beautiful, and smart woman. You don’t need to be sitting around waiting for someone to notice you. If she doesn’t like you the same way you like her, then it’s time to move on,” Natasha explained as she attempted to keep her own emotions at bay. She threw a sympathetic look your way even if you didn’t notice it. “Listen Y/N, I know we aren’t as close as you are with Miss Maximoff, but I care about you. You are by far my brightest student yet and I see so much potential in you. You don’t deserve to be thrown around like trash, only used when she gets bored with someone else. You deserve the world.”
“Yeah? And who’s gonna give me that?”
The ‘me’ went unspoken from Natasha. She simply sagged her head and stared down at the mountain of paperwork laying in her desk. It would be to no avail if she decided to work – with a brain oozing with thoughts of you, her focus disrupted. 
“How about we try something different today? We can work for a bit and then I can take you out for lunch. My treat,” Natasha said. “How does that sound? I just hate seeing you like this, sweetie.”
You thought about it for a second. There was something awfully safe about Natasha. As much as you wished to spend countless hours obsessing over Wanda, sometimes you found yourself humoring the idea of your professor. She was sweet, always protective as she huffed at the idea of you being hurt. At first you assumed it was some sort of motherly instinct, but after having caught yourself staring down her cleavage from time to time, the top buttons of her blouse always open, and she stared back with a smile, you knew something much more intimate lay beneath. 
“I’d like that,” you replied, suddenly drunk on Natasha’s presence as Wanda was left behind. 
“Good! Now time to work, hon. You don’t get paid to sit all day and look pretty,” the redhead chuckled at her own joke, suddenly feeling much more rejuvenated. “If you finish quickly, maybe we can grab some dessert as well.”
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
A shudder ran down your body as hands traveled across your back. Fingernails left heavy trails in their wake, surely to be worn with the utmost pride. You hummed, eyes closed while holding still, standing there naked as the day you were born. In the dusk of the room, you let yourself be the center of attention; the center of her attention. 
“What did she do this time?” Natasha asked from behind. Her mouth was quickly upon your upper back, kissing its way along your shoulder blades. Never did she lose her tenderness when touching you. “Tell me, darling girl. Use your words.”
You didn’t know when it had begun. One day you were at work standing in front of your boss’s desk before you became trapped against it. The first time Natasha kissed you was then and there. Neither could hold back the attraction you shared for one another. No longer did you prioritize Wanda as you allowed your professor to take you. 
“I found her sleeping with Kate. She was…she was laying in my bed, Nat. I saw them and just ran away. She fucked her in my bed!” You sobbed, but didn’t allow yourself to shed tears. Not long before you had promised yourself never to cry over Wanda again. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I just thought of you and ran.”
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I hate that she keeps hurting you,” Natasha mumbled back as she hugged you from behind. “Don’t you dare run away this late at night again. You know how much I worry about you. I’m just a phone call away, malyshka. Always.” 
“I’m sorry,” you responded before biting down on your lip. “I promise I’ll be good from now on. Your good girl, right?”
“Darling, you are always my good girl.”
Natasha motioned you to get on the bed, your head against a pillow as your ass remained up in the air. She allowed her hands to roam over your backside, smirking as a hand went down against a cheek. It was only a soft hit. Never did Natasha wish to inflict any horrid pain over you. As her eyes noticed the faint bruises Wanda left along your skin, she huffed. 
The redhead stood over you. She carried a dildo between her legs that was attached to a harness. Similar to you, she was fully nude minus for the red briefs she wore. Strong arms reeking with muscles held you close. As she inched the toy between your legs, you let out a loud moan. 
“I don’t like how she hurts you. I know you like it, Y/N, but she leaves you looking like a piece of meat. Does she even take care of your wounds, baby? Or does she leave you like that after hitting you until you’re crying out for her to stop?” Natasha questioned, already knowing what the answer was. Ever since first seeing your body, she was the one who took care of you as a surrogate for Wanda. “I know I can’t control what you do, but honey, this isn’t right. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
Rather than vocalize your response, you hid your face against the pillow. Natasha slid inside you softly, allowing the dildo to fill you with ease. There was a grunt that you basked upon – it was low and throaty filled with your professor’s longing desire. She used all her force to drag you into a makeshift sitting position. From then on, Natasha allowed herself to, only gently, give you the pleasure Wanda failed to gift you with. 
“I want more,” you begged, eyes rolled to the back of your head the further Nat moved inside of you. Movements were languid and sloppy. All the older woman focused on was your own pleasure, not speed or roughness. Unlike Wanda, she took her time getting to know exactly what to do and how to touch you. “Please, mommy, I need more!”
“Whatever you want, my little angel.”
Natasha did not spend time rummaging through the newfound honorific. She beamed at it, but didn’t comment on anything. Instead, she thrust her hips forth fucking you with love that Wanda never gave you. Kisses were spread all across your back. Each grunt, each little noise she made mixed with your own, made you feel in heaven. 
Hands gripped your breasts from behind. They squeezed the mounds tightly, rolling erect nipples through the fingers. As Natasha pumped the strap-on in you, your cunt dripping with juices while velvety walls hugged her tight, she brought a hand down your body. Fingertips pressed against your clit and began teasing it, flicking the bud as you screamed loudly – surely her neighbors would hear. 
“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Just look at how you’re taking my cock. My pretty, little girl,” Natasha moaned when hugging you tight. She nuzzled her face against your shoulder before nipping your skin. There were various hickeys left upon you, signs for Wanda to see if you ever dared return to her. Natasha knew you weren’t hers, but each second she spent with you made her crave you even more. “I bet she can’t fuck you like this, can she? That little…she can’t make you feel this good. Only I can make it better. I’m the only one that will ever keep you safe and you know this.”
When you finally came, Natasha was there to keep you close. She remained frozen in place as your orgasm shot through your body. Not even a second passed before she inched you on the bed, allowing you to rest upon the soft mattress with the dildo still inside you. 
“I never want to see you hurt again. If she ever does this to you, if you end up going back, I want you to call me when you need me. I never break a promise,” Natahsa muttered as she placed a kiss over the back of your head. “I’ll always keep you safe.”
From then on, you found yourself hesitating each time you merely humored the idea of going back to Wanda. Even if you told yourself that the relationship with Natasha was nothing more than platonic, you questioned the validity of such a statement. Every second you spend with her, you fall further for your professor. 
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
“Tell me about your family.”
The two of you had escaped the cruel Bostonian summer filled with never-ending traffic and burning skyscrapers. It was the dead-center of the season and the entire city was plagued by a mix of potential commuters for the various academic institutions or those who, for some reason, decided for it to be her vacation destination.
Natasha had taken you away to a small town across the state. It was remote, small enough so that the two of you could enjoy your life in public without the student body of the university to find you. All you had done was pack all the bags you could muster for the weekend getaway. It was peace which became well-deserved. 
You weren’t much of a fan of them, but Nat had always spoken highly of the times she took her sister to pick out peaches ever since she first learned how to drive. The two of them would escape into an orchard in the depths of Ohio and come out with their hands full with fruits. The mere memory she shared with you was enough to get you to agree to her plans. 
“Well, there’s really not much to talk about. I was adopted by Melina and Alexei,” Natasha began as though it was the most casual thing in the world to refer to her parents by their given names. “I have a sister, also adopted, named Yelena. She’s the light of my life. A bit of an asshole I must say, but she’s the one I care about most.”
“Yelena Belova? That’s your sister?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows; it was a name similar to that of a member of Wanda’s team. 
“Yes. I realize she’s friends with Miss Maximoff,” Natasha replied with apparent dismay. “As hard as I’ve tried to keep her away from that girl, the two are almost inseparable. I trust her enough to not do anything overly stupid though. Lena has always been a bit of a firecracker.”
The two of you walked hand in hand along the orchard. There was not a label to whatever you had yet, but it didn’t care. Natasha was clear when she said she would never pressure you into it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be a free agent who, at times, found yourself wishing to have something more with your professor. 
Eyes roamed over the woman’s body. Usually you saw her in professional clothes or the occasional nightgown when you stayed over at her place, but never with a pair of shorts and a loose camisole. There were sunglasses shielding Natasha’s viridescent eyes from the sun, but you had looked into them for long enough to memorize their beauty. 
You noticed how she covered her body from time to time, hands over her thighs, cowering away from the nonexistent public that dared gawk in her general direction. It hurt to see. She was the perfect image of beauty to you, but a disgusting void to herself. 
There were rare moments in which Natasha allowed you to touch her. She was a fan of studying each and every one of your favorite sweet spots, running hands across your skin before making you giggle under the drunkenness of arousal. The few times you had placed your palms upon her frame you did so in a tender manner – Nat was a porcelain doll under your touch who could break at any seconds. It merely lasted a few seconds before she pushed you off and rushed to apologize for acting out, only for you to shoot her a warm smirk and tell her there was nothing wrong with that. 
Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present and carried on. 
“Yeah, your sister’s always been nice to me though. She’s not as close with Wanda if that makes you feel better. I’ve mostly seen her chasing around that Kate girl. Maybe it’s an underclassmen thing,” you shrugged. “What about your parents?”
There was a pregnant pause, clear hesitation, before Natasha continued.
“Well, I never met my biological family nor did I care about seeking them out. My mom has always been amazing,” Natasha stopped for a second, her hands gliding across the peaches that she carefully eyed. “My father…not so much.”
“Why do you refer to her as mom and him as father?” came your question before you could help yourself.
It was clear her demeanor had changed. Natasha stood with her back straight, hands clasped in front of her as a means to shield herself. She only stared forth into nothingness. Her body was with you in the orchard while her mind went back to when she was a child – to when she was alone with him. 
“It makes it less personal,” she finally answered. “It’s also easier than calling him ‘the man whose wife wanted to adopt two kids he never wanted’ and then turned my childhood to shit. I grew up way too fast because of that…that durak!”
The yelp she let out was fueled with emotions you had yet to see. Natasha was rarely angry, let alone emotionally vulnerable to let you peek through her walls. Her body sagged after fighting so long being tense. You could see tears rushing down her face even with sunglasses that covered them, but knew not to make a comment.
“Nat, has he ever…?”
You didn’t want to humor such a thing. Even then, you already knew the answer given her body language and unspoken words. While you fought with the idea of potentially driving to her father’s house and beating him to a pulp, Natasha found herself glad it had been her over Yelena. If something were to happen to her sister, she would never forgive herself. Each time he came at night, the woman sacrificed herself. It was a small price to pay for her beloved sibling’s safety. 
“I don’t want to talk about it, baby,” Natasha said with a cracked voice, turning the other way to move further into the orchard. You gave her space knowing that whenever she felt comfortable enough to talk, she would. All you could do was follow along as the professor whispered again. “I’m sorry.”
But behind her broken tone, deep down, you could hear a younger Nat’s faint cry of ‘yes’. 
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
There were moments in which exhaustion overtook you during long tedious days. You could barely move a muscle and still feel as though life had been sucked out of you. Most of your summer was spent chasing around Natasha, who you remained working for throughout the following months with little to no workload. Being around the woman, doing mere iced coffee runs and chatting without a care in the world while in the office made you feel free for once in a lifetime – for the first time since you met Wanda, she was an afterthought. 
Natasha was quick to jump in and take care of you through those moments. She always acted out in small, loving ways when paying for your food, giving you rides, or merely holding your hand as the two of you walked into your next adventure. Her desperation to hold you in her arms and promise you all would be well was intense. There was love radiating from her a mile away which you were far too shortsighted to see. 
“Tell me what you need, malyshka. Come on, little darling, use your words.”
After a particularly difficult day, you found yourself safe in Natasha’s lap. There had been no overexertion of your being during that day. It had mostly been relaxing as you worked alongside your professor on a Friday, but when you received a call from Wanda midday, the woman asking you to meet up, you merely froze and broke down in the office – your ‘friend’ only reached out when she needed something from you and it had been nearly a month since you last spoke amicably. After you only hummed as a reply and ended the call, Natasha was there to break your fall. 
“Mommy’s here for you. I know today has been a really difficult day and that you’ve felt really stressed, but I don’t want you focusing on those icky thoughts. I just wish she didn’t hurt you like this,” came the older woman’s whisper as she pulled you close. The two of you had rushed out of the office even hours before Natasha liked calling it quits. Even as behind as she was with her future lesson planning, she still prioritized you before anything else. “Use your words, detka. Tell mommy how she can help.”
“I don’t even want to think,” you flatly mumbled with tears threatening to fall down your eyes. Hands gripped the professor’s clothes while your forehead lay frozen in her shoulder. With arms wrapped around your body you finally felt safe. “Please help me forget, Nat. I never want to think about her again. I just-” your words were cut short by a short while your voice was left cracked. 
“Shh it’s alright, my darling girl. Mommy’s here to make it all better.”
While holding you tight, Natasha allowed a hand to slip down your body. It snuck to your lap then between your legs. No teasing was found – she knew you how overwhelmed you were and was ready to give you whatever you wished for without question. When naked fingers went past the waistline of your sweats and underwear, landing upon your already throbbing sex, you couldn’t hold back a throaty moan. 
You quickly realized Natasha wanted to separate herself from the man who agreed to adopt her. He was rough, violent, and torturous much like how she saw Wanda, whereas your professor never failed to bring a smile to your face even as she smacked your backside harshly — she always soothed the skin with the palm of her hand before carrying on. She wanted, no, needed to break away from his grasp over her mind. Otherwise she’d end up as a battered slave of his once again. 
Fingertips brushed against your clit then studied the entirety of your slit while coating themselves in your everlasting slick. Natasha peppered your wet cheeks, filled with desolate tears, with kisses. She mumbled only the sweetest words while easing herself in you. You cried out about your sorrows, about Wanda’s mistreatment over you, while the older woman simply sat there and held you through it. 
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Anyone who dares make you feel this bad is an idiot. Y/N, my love, you deserve the world,” Natasha said lovingly. She nuzzled her face against your own, foreheads pressed together with fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt. You couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to grind on them. Instead, you remained shaking as Natasha made it all better. “You never let yourself be treated like that by anyone, alright? Whether it’s Miss Maximoff or me, or anyone else. My darling angel should be treated as the princess she is. You’re one of a kind, honey, a perfect little bear. I never want you to forget just how valuable your existence is.”
Tears of joy were mixed with your gloomy ones. There were cries of pleasure and internal pain that Natasha never stopped supporting you through. She allowed her lips to touch down upon your own. With your orgasm approaching soon and her tender care, you were elated. 
“My sweet baby,” came Natasha’s hushed whisper. She made you come, your back arching while fingernails dug deep into the redhead’s outfit. There was a loud moan, though distant, that boomed across the room. Even as you fell apart, strong arms held you in place. Such a wondrous creature such as yourself, according to your boss, deserved to see the stars. “You did such a good job for mommy. Always my perfect girl,” she breathed out with fingers still deep inside you. “All mine.”
You swore there was a muttered ‘I love you’ thrown somewhere, but with the mix of mental and physical exhaustion raining down upon your body, you merely shrugged your shoulders and fell limp against Natasha. Although you wouldn’t admit it, your heart longed to say the words back – out of everyone in your life, you never expected to fall into the depths of love with your professor. 
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
“I don’t know why you like this show so much. It’s just senseless killing and at the end they solve everything and go home.”
Although it was supposed to be a relaxing weekend towards the start of the Fall semester, you found the mind boggling statement to fill you with feigned rage. Even as classes began, the arrangement between you and the professor carried on. You still worked for her even if there were no classes in said semester you took with you. As disappointing as that was, you began seeing more of Natasha regardless in more ways than one. 
The two of you were sitting on the couch late one Friday night. You were exhausted with your course load and Natasha cursed off the new freshmen she had to teach; they always pretended to still be in high school. A bowl of popcorn was nestled between your legs. While you watched Criminal Minds, Natasha settled for insulting it. 
“It’s fun, Romanoff. Entertaining at the very least.” you shot back with a knowing smirk. You had been the one to introduce her to various shows. Who would’ve thought that the great Professor Romanoff was living underneath a rock her whole life? 
“Wow I’ve been demoted from mommy to Romanoff. That’s sad,” Natasha laughed before grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Who’s your favorite character?”
“Probably Rossi,” came your shrug. “He’s the guy with the beard.”
“Really?” At the surprised tone your lover let out, you feigned offense. “I thought you’d like one of the girls. What about that brunette with the bangs?”
“Oh, Emily left for the Interpol. I would like JJ, but I don’t know. There’s just something cool about Rossi in this season.”
The two of you remained silent for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, but then again, nothing was with Natasha by your side. Even if you slipped and fell in front of her, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. The woman never judged you, instead supporting your every decision while also guiding you through life. You felt comfortable enough with her to be yourself. At times it felt as though it was you and Nat against the world. 
“Maybe you just have daddy issues,” Natasha casually offered. Moment passed before the two of you burst out laughing. Tears sprinkled in your eyes while your breath left your body. With the amusement that basked in the room, you both were giggling messes. 
“Hey!” you huffed when gaining some of your composure back and lightly slapping Natasha’s shoulder. “We both have daddy issues.”
“Fine, but I have more than you. Mostly because I’ve never actually met my real dad. Maybe he’s an asshole like Alexei,” Natasha giggled. She never failed to look radiant as ever, especially when laughing and seemingly worry-free. You had to do several double takes because the beauty that exuded from your professor was far too enthralling to break away from. As the laughter died down and you were left holding one another, her head on your shoulder while you leaned back against the couch, she spoke. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N.” 
You had both agreed to keep things unofficial and yet there was that unmistakable skip of a beat your heart underwent when Natasha spoke her words. Teeth gnawed at your bottom lip nervously. There were striking green eyes which made it difficult for you to ignore the pegged comment. While your heart longed you to reply with a ‘yes’, to finally be Natasha’s forever, your mouth reacted differently. 
For the rest of the evening the two of you sat by and finished watching the show. Natasha was silent as she ghosted over her house, leaving you alone in the living room before hiding out in her bedroom. It was the first night in months that you slept in the guest room by yourself. And to your dismay, you went to sleep listening to Natasha’s quiet sobs that escaped the privacy of her bedroom. You had felt bad for Wanda when she got sad about you seeing your professor casually, but listening to the redhead’s woes was synonymous with your heart being squeezed to death. 
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
It was October when you fell in love. 
You returned to your dorm room days later behind the guise of assuming Natasha wished for you to be far away. She had barely spoken a word to you at work. Most of the time she sat by her desk with sagged shoulders, glasses perched at the edge of her nose, and glossy eyes hiding behind the frames. You desperately wished to say something, but when Wanda sweeped back into your life, the guilt ate at you until nothing was left behind. 
The Fall semester quickly rolled by. You were at the end of the month and still couldn’t sleep without seeing Natasha’s face tainted in your mind. At times when Wanda lay above you, hips thrusting with straps wrapped around them and letting out low grunts, you closed your eyes and imagined it was the older woman. The memories of her doing the same were soaked with humiliation. You had broken her heart, you knew. Never would you dare forgive yourself for having caused so much pain upon the frail, angelic woman. 
“I hate her so much,” Wanda had grumbled when you walked through campus hand-in-hand passing by a certain professor whose sight was solemnly trained on the floor. Your hand was squeezed as your eyes drifted to Natasha. As much as she seemingly hated you, all you wanted to do was run up to her, wrap her in your arms, and bed for forgiveness. Even if it would take ages, she was worth it. “Fucking bitch.”
Perhaps it was Wanda’s comment or the fact that you finally gained enough confidence through your depressive episode to take action, but that night you found yourself standing in front of Natasha’s house. Your roommate was long forgotten and for the first time in your life, you couldn’t care less about who she was fucking. All that mattered was the woman you, without admitting it, had fallen for. 
There was a desperate knock upon the hardwood door. There was furious rain which fell down upon your body. That along with the cool breeze of the night made you freeze in place. Still, you felt as though you deserved it. Even then, you’d do whatever it took for Natasha. 
“It’s 10pm on a Wednesday, Y/N. Someone better be dying,” were the first words Natasha spoke to you once the door swung open in a low grumbled voice you knew to be from when she awoke. “To what do I owe the displeasure? Did you come here to tell me how great Miss Maximoff is compared to-”
You cut her off by practically tackling Natasha into the house. Even if your body was dripping with the tears of the sky, you clung to the woman as though your life depended on it. She was clearly taken aback and yet never moved away. Instead her arms were left unmoving as you embraced her. That was good enough for you, you assumed. 
Putting your heart on the line has never been easy. You were the person who shoved her emotions so deep down that you somehow told yourself Wanda was the one for you. Although she hurt you so much, you still remained by her side. It wasn’t difficult to assume Natasha had felt something similar when you rejected her. She had spent countless months giving you the utmost love and never daring to ask for anything in return. You were always protected by her mere presence until one day you decided to throw it all away. Going to her house, you were without hope of being taken back. There was slight hesitation reeking in your chest, but as soon as you saw your former lover, you swore you fell for her once again – she would forever be worth it. 
“I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot and I admit it. I should’ve said yes to you,” you began. Life had been tedious without Natasha even if only for a few weeks. You hated how only a cold slap in the face in the shape of one Wanda Maximoff could awaken you from such a dismal nightmare. “I hurt you so badly and I never, ever expect for you to take me back. I was an asshole. A svo-lach' if you will,” you could practically feel Natasha’s slight smirk at the mention of a Russian word she had taught you. “I miss you and I don’t think I can do this without you. It’s probably stupid since we weren’t with each other for ages. It wasn’t official and yet I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my girlfriend. It’s always been you, Nat and it always will be.”
No words were spoken as the door was locked and you were dragged to the bedroom. Even if dripping with water, Natasha helped undress you. She threw you against the bed, viridescent eyes twinkling under the dead of the night before taking her rightful position over your body. There was not an area of your freezing body that she didn’t kiss her way through as sudden warmth radiated from her skin and onto yours. 
When you first kissed her after weeks of being away, you swore there were fireworks going off. Never had kissing Wanda felt even remotely good or similar. You were enthralled by the way Natasha was seemingly everywhere. Her hands drifted up your body before taking your breasts into her palms and squeezing them, nipples rolling through her fingers before being pinched – she did always have an adorable fixation on your chest. There was a sense of longing within her. The two of you hadn’t been together for far too long. During the rest of the night, you explored what was missed, holding one another as cries of pleasure were let out. 
Positions were switched from time to time. Natasha would be on top before you pushed her against the mattress and had your head disappear between her legs. There was nothing to be said. You two communicated through sweet and rough touches, connecting as one without the need for words. There was a moment when you made her squirt, legs shaking as your fingers were dug deep inside her cunt. Natasha was left wide-eyed and suddenly droopy while you lapped at the mess – even when a spent mess, she was the most beautiful woman in the universe. 
When neither of you could keep going it was already the early hours of the morning. Your bodies were sore and marked with the reddened tracks of fingernails. It was the first time in ages that you finally felt as though you belonged. Natasha was your person, she was safe, and she was home. It was then that you, while fingers trailed across the back of the woman’s hand, decided never to dare leave her again. 
“I love you,” she muttered once you were breathing raggedly, laying back on the bed with bodies intertwined and hearts aligned. You felt yourself crawl out of your skin, frowning as the words were spoken. Without even daring to turn around, you went to grab Natasha’s hand. When squeezing it, you gave her your response. 
You couldn’t say it out loud, but she knew then you loved her too.
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The Last Drop
|| Sevika x fem!reader
|| Warnings; bar settings, drunk reader, reader gets in a scuffle with Sevika, gambling mentions, drunk flirting, struggles with feelings, short drabble, maybe a series if the people want it
|| Summary; when reader's well into her drinks, she decides to mess with Sevika. Just a little more.
Requests open!!
Started; December 24th
Finished; December 24th
HurtCember2024; Day 21, Afraid
Request; i NEED an enemies to lovers
~~~
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The bar was filled with various conversations, loud laughter, and the occasional scuffle.
You were sat down in a booth not too far from the counter. Well into your fourth drink and definitely starting to feel the effects of it. You'd been to The Last Drop enough times to be considered a regular by this point. The bartender knew you by name and your usual go to orders. You'd even been around enough to make some enemies.
The main one was definitely not someone you should have pissed off. Silco's right hand, Sevika. You'd been really drunk one night and after losing to her in a gamble, you'd thrown your drink at her. She did not take well to that. The two of you have kept at a distance ever since. You'd be on one side of The Last Drop while she'd go to the complete opposite end.
Today was no different. You were in your usual spot, while Sevika was far off in the corner. Playing a game of cards. Finishing your fourth drink, you went to the bartender and ordered another. This time going with something a little lighter. As he was mixing the drink, your drunken mind got a brilliant idea.
A grin slid its way across your lips and you marched right over to Sevika, reading off her cards out loud for the rest of the players. They shared confused glances while Sevika's hand crushed the cards she was holding. Turning to you with a glare so sharp that if looks could kill... you'd be a goner.
"You think you're funny?" Sevika asked. Though, you knew it was a rhetorical question. Not that that stopped you from answering, of course. Anything to push Sevika's gears a little further.
"Yeah, I do. Some other people here would agree too," you shrugged. Next thing you knew you were pinned up against the wall. Your heart raced as her prosthetic crossed your face. Keeping your mouth shut. The metal sending a shiver through your body.
There was a part of your feelings towards Sevika you'd always ignored. Being afraid to say anything about them. Probably a smart choice too because you could almost guarantee that Sevika didn't see you the same. Unless pissing each other off was also her way of flirting and honestly, you could see that for her. But you played it safe. For the most part... when you were drunk like this it was a different story.
"We gonna kiss or what?" You asked with a teasing smirk, after squirming your way up just enough to free your mouth. Sevika's eyes narrowed and she shoved you to the floor.
You hit the ground with a thud, a bouncer making his way over to separate the two of you.
Sevika just huffed and sat back down where she had been before. A deeper part of her felt a little flustered by your comment. A fluster she masked with anger. However, she wasn't sure if that was just the alcohol or if a dumb part of her was starting to feel things for you...
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midnight-mourning · 3 days ago
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Christmas Spirit
❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 12❄️❄️
woof, now we're REAL behind chat, apologies was busy but also like, feeling unwell, but here we are! hope you enjoy :)
Prompt: christmas request! Reader doesn't care for christmas since their relationship with their family isnt great and nearly ever christmas since they moved out included multiple fights or screaming matches; they just want to have a positive association with christmas and don't mind working on a holiday at their crazy but chill job with their favorite animatronic coworkers. And these fellow coworkers intend to make sure this christmas is a postive one even if theres silly mishaps here and there.
Word Count: 2048
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
When you realized the date this morning, to say your heart sunk into your chest was an understatement. Sure, maybe it was a bit dramatic to go from chipper and ready for the day, to dragging your feet out the door, but to be fair, this wasn't exactly your favorite time of year. So, you think you had a little bit of a pass. 
Though, as you slam open the door to the Daycare just a tad too harshly, spooking Sun whilst he was mid-decorating, you cringe. Maybe not too much of a pass. 
He shakes it off, however, bounding over to you as happily as ever. "Good morning Sunshine! And how are we today?"
You decide to brush off your mistake. Based on the current state of things, he's very excited about the coming holiday, and you'd hate to ruin that for him. 
"I'm doing well, Sunny. And what about you? The place looks great!" You motion to how already, the Daycare is already well on its way to being totally decorated. It's impressive, to say the least. You left less than 24 hours ago, though he probably has a lot more time on his hands than you. 
He puts a hand to his faceplate, waving the other bashfully. "Oh, we're just getting started! Would you like to help?"
"Ah, I don't want to um, get in your way at all." Not to mention even the idea of touching a decoration makes you want to fling it across the room. Despite how ridiculous a notion that is. You shake your head. "I'll just get stuff set up for the day as usual!"
Sun hesitates a moment, rays shrinking. "Oh, okay then! Well, if you change your mind, just let me know! Always happy to have your touch with these things."
You're too distracted by your own discomfort to acknowledge the compliment. Instead only offering a quick nod and a smile as you march over to the craft station and start preparing. 
You'd hope that would be the end of things, but you weren't so lucky. All throughout the day, both sides of the Attendant seem to be ever curious about your thoughts on different holiday plans they have, asking your opinion on this or that. Whether they realize it or not, you can feel your weariness about the topic growing worse, and paitence wearing thin. 
It was only a matter of time before you cracked, and it happens at probably the worst moment to do so; puppet time. 
Sun decided to put on a Christmas themed show—of course—and had all but insisted for your help. Again, not wanting to cause issues, you agree. However, it's easier said than done. 
"—And we all just enjoy the holidays so much, don't we friend?" Sun asks, ever in character with his hand puppet.
You chuckle, awkward. "We sure do!"
"What's your favorite part of the season?" His little character does a spin on the mini stage. "Mine is making cookies, oh oh! And playing out in the snow, and wrapping presents for my friends!"
For some reason the question—which should have been expected—throws you for a loop. "Oh, well, I don't really have anything in particular. But I'd love to hear more about your favorite activities!"
"Oh come on, everyone has something that's their favorite." He presses, unintentionally pushing your buttons. 
At that moment all you can think about is all the years of arguing, fights, yelling. Family members bickering about things that don't matter, and yet, won't talk to each other for weeks afterward because of some minor slip of the tongue. Feelings of being isolated, alone, and utterly miserable creep in. 
You can't help the words that slip out then. "Well, some of us don't like Christmas very much at all!" You say, voice over the top with fake cheer.
Sun seems to take the hint then and thankfully, recovers the show from there. You're a bit embarrassed to need the save. You didn't think you'd lose your composure over a silly puppet show, but apparently, you were wrong. 
It's when you're packing things up to get ready for naptime that Sun broaches the topic once more.
"You, you don't like Christmas, Starshine?" Sun asks, voice soft. 
You take a deep breath, then shake your head. "I, no, not really. No." You see Sun's rays shrink, and put your puppet-free hand up. "But it's okay! Really don't let me bum you out any. I'm sorry I lost my cool for a moment there. It won't, won't happen again."
Before you can speak on it any further, you turn away, heading to start getting naptime mats out and such. Had you not, you would have seen Sun's hand reaching out for you, concern and care clearly evident on his features. 
After that little incident, neither Attendant talks to you about the holiday in detail again. You still discuss activities as usual, but they don't ask specifics of you anymore. You're relieved, but you do feel bad. You hope to make it up to them by having an easy day of work on Christmas itself. 
Get some organization done, clean up some things that you've been putting off, that kind of thing. Hell, maybe you'll even tolerate some holiday music while you work too. 
When you walk inside bright and early on Christmas morning however, Sun nearly jumps out of his skin upon seeing you. At least, you think he would have if he did have skin, that is. 
"Sunbeam! Wha—what are you doing here today?" He rushes over to you. 
You smile and start taking off your coat. "I work today, Sun. Obviously."
After removing your hat and scarf, you grab your apron, brushing it off once or twice before clapping. "So, I was thinking we tackle the craft closet first and foremost, and then go from there with all our usual stuff, that sound good?"
When he doesn't answer you turn, only to jump when you realize he's right behind you, rays flicking side to side. He takes hold of your shoulders and bends to your level. 
"Starshine."
"Sun." You nod. 
His grip tightens for a moment, then loosens. He narrows his eyes. "We, are not. Working. On. Christmas."
"Well I'm already here—"
He shakes his head, picking you up suddenly. "Nope. Absolutely not. I won't allow it. If you're going to be here then we're going to make this right."
"Hey! Put me down! Where are you even taking me?" You kick your legs in vein, now slightly annoyed. Before you thought he was just joking, but now you realize he's dead serious. 
You get your answer when he sets you down in a bean bag. Taking a moment to snatch up a blanket with one hand and untie your apron with the other. Before you can blink, the blanket is laid across you, you have several Christmas themed stuffed animals surrounding you, there's a set of antlers on your head, along with a coloring book in your lap. 
Sun nods once down at you, hands on his hips. "Now, you get started on that and I'll get you some hot coco. Okay?"
"What, but—"
But he's already off again, "Don't move~ I'll be just a moment!"
Deciding that you're better off to indulge for a little bit, as opposed to outright protesting, you do as he asks. And, while not your favorite thing in the world, sitting and coloring in the peace of the Daycare, holiday music playing softly around you, is nice. 
Sun's gone for longer than you would have expected. Especially for just a cup of premade hot chocolate. But, when he eventually returns you do take the time to thank him for the quick break, that you appreciate the thought, and that you're ready to actually get started for the day. 
Surprisingly—suspiciously—he agrees. 
You won't admit to longing for the warmth of the cozy nest you leave as you stand, but the longing isn't allowed to last for long. Sun's hand is tightly wound with yours as he leads you out of the Daycare and towards the theater. 
You take a sip of your drink, confused but still following. "Um, did you want to start with the theater's supply closet then?"
"Friend, when I said no work on Christmas, I wasn't kidding." He stops just short of the entrance, energy now becoming more antsy. 
He lets go of your hand and you frown. "I told you it's alright, Sunny. I don't mind, honestly."
"I know! We know, but,"—he shakes his head—"We want to, change that. Make it up to you! If, you'll let us?"
He's looking to you now. You're hesitant, of course you are, but you can at least hear him out. "Sure, bud."
"If you don't like it, that's okay too! We just, wanted to try." He turns slightly and starts to open the door.
You open your mouth to respond but are instead taken aback by how pretty the theater looks. There's warm lights strung across the ceiling, decorations of red and green that sparkle. A medium sized tree with decorations laying nearby sits near the middle of the room. Snowflakes in all intricate patterns litter the space. There's a video of a yule log playing on the screen, and music softly twinkles around you. 
While not as intense as the Daycare in terms of the level of Christmas-vibes, there's something more, comforting, about it. Something maybe a bit more familiar, that unlocks a memory you'd left behind back when you were much smaller. 
"When did you find the time for all of this?" You ask quietly. You'd been in here just yesterday and it looked nothing like this. 
Sun comes up behind you, hand on your shoulder. "Just now. We just thought that maybe something a bit more relaxed, but still festive, could be fun for you? We can decorate the tree, or, or watch movies, or dance. Whatever you would like, honestly. Whatever you want." 
"Whatever I want?" You look up to him, almost unable to speak.
He looks down to you and after a pause, wraps his arms around you with a nod. "No one should be sad during the holidays, Star. And it's, it's not our business why but, well, we just want to try and change that for a little bit. To try and make you a little happier."
The tears well up before you can stop them. 
Sun starts panicking. "Oh! Don't cry. It's okay, we can just go back to the Daycare—"
"No, no it's okay, really." You sniff. Your reaches up to his faceplate, halting his fretting. "They're happy tears. I'm very grateful. And emotional."
He relaxes into your touch, but his tone is still concerned. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah I,"—you shake your head—"You know what? Let me just show you."
Without thinking further, you raise your other hand and pull his faceplate down to your lips. You release him again after a moment, giggling. 
Sun's rays click, then—"Just to be sure, Moon would also like you to show him."
This causes you to laugh outright, and soon enough you're in the naptime attendant's arms instead. 
You spend the rest of your day in higher spirits than you would have otherwise expected for the holiday. The attendant takes turns doing the various activities they planned with you. And maybe it's only because it's with them, or because of the new relationship you've found yourself in, but you find it all to be so much more bearable than before. More than bearable really, enjoyable. Truly and completely, enjoyable. For the first time in a long time. 
"What are you thinking of, Star?" Moon asks as the two of you dance across the room. 
You shake your head, smiling. "Just about how much I appreciate the two of you, is all."
"Just appreciate?"
You scoff. "I think you know by now it's more than that. Don't even think of trying to scam me out of more kisses."
He snickers in response. 
Just the music for a moment. 
"Thank you, guys. It means a lot."
Moon bends you for a dip, leaning in. "Merry Christmas, Starlight."
"Merry Christmas, Moon."
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
Thank you for the request @pip-plz!! Was fun to take this and make something wholesome, esp as someone who hasn't always had a fun holiday experience myself, hope I did it some justice!
Masterpost link
Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):
@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8
@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles
@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva
@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml
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httpvomitello · 12 hours ago
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hopefully i’m doin’ this right;;
may i perhaps have daemon targaryen x autistic female reader (whom is very physically affectionate and occasionally clingy) with a song inspiration of: the “JUMPIN’ OVER!” cover by Amiaryllis?
Hello, hello! Thanks for the request, hope you like it ♡
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The Rogue Prince and His Wildflower *⁠.⁠✧
daemon targaryen x f!reader
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The halls of the Red Keep were alive with whispers, the servants and lords alike speculating about the strange girl who had caught Daemon Targaryen’s attention. You weren’t like the other ladies of the court, with their polished manners and sharp tongues. You spoke plainly, sometimes too much, sometimes too little. You often avoided the endless formalities, finding solace in small, familiar routines.
But it was your touch—your constant, gentle touch—that seemed to mystify and disarm the Rogue Prince.
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You were seated in the gardens of the Red Keep, your fingers trailing through the soft petals of a row of wildflowers. Most would have seen nothing remarkable about the scene, but Daemon, ever observant, noticed the way your lips moved silently, as if speaking to the flowers themselves.
“What secrets do they tell you?” he had asked, his voice smooth and teasing.
You startled slightly but didn’t retreat. Instead, you looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “They don’t tell secrets. They just… feel nice. Gentle.”
Daemon smirked, intrigued. “Gentle, hmm? As if the world were not a well of kindness.”
Your connection grew quickly, though not without its challenges. You had your routines and rhythms, and Daemon—ever impatient—sometimes found them frustrating.
“Why must you count the steps to the door every time?” he asked one evening as you paced the length of his chambers.
“It helps me think,” you replied simply, pausing to glance at him. “And it feels good. Like… jumping over waves.”
Daemon tilted his head, considering your answer. He didn’t always understand your ways, but he respected them, even if they puzzled him.
“What if I carried you to the door instead?” he teased, striding toward you with a playful grin.
You didn’t resist when he scooped you up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re warm,” you murmured, leaning into him.
“And you’re clingy,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.
“I like being close,” you admitted. “It makes me feel safe.”
For all his bravado and sharp edges, Daemon found he couldn’t deny you. “Then stay close, wildflower,” he murmured, holding you tighter.
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Daemon learned quickly that you expressed love differently from most. Where others used words or gifts, you used touch. You often reached for his hand, brushing your fingers against his when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. You leaned into him during council meetings, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.
One night, after a particularly grueling day, Daemon returned to his chambers to find you waiting for him. You didn’t say a word, simply pulling him down to sit beside you. Your hands moved to his shoulders, massaging the tension away with surprising skill.
“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice carrying none of its usual sarcasm.
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You looked like you needed it.”
Not everyone in court was kind to you. Whispers followed you wherever you went, and there were those who mocked your inability to navigate the subtleties of court life.
Daemon, however, was quick to silence any slight against you. When one particularly cruel lord made a jest at your expense during a feast, Daemon had slammed his goblet down, the sound echoing through the hall.
“Say another word,” he warned, his voice low and deadly, “and you’ll find yourself feeding Caraxes instead of your hounds.”
Even though the lord did not comment on it further, his body was found near Caraxes the next morning.
From then on, the court learned to hold their tongues.
Later that night, as you curled into Daemon’s side, you whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “No one speaks ill of what is mine.”
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There were moments of pure joy between the two of you, moments where the world and its expectations seemed to fall away.
One day, as a storm raged outside, you pulled Daemon toward the balcony, your eyes alight with excitement. “Come on!” you urged, your hand tight around his.
“You’re mad,” he said, though he didn’t resist.
The rain soaked you both as you danced across the slick stones, laughing and spinning as if the storm were your own private song. Daemon watched you, his heart swelling at the sight of your unrestrained happiness.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pulling you close.
“And you’re wet,” you teased, laughing as you wiped rain from his face.
Daemon’s grin was wicked as he wrapped his arms around you, spinning you once more before pressing his lips to yours.
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phantasmatoucan · 2 days ago
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I USUALLY LIKE LOOKING AT PLAYTHROUGHS OF SLAY THE PRINCESS [i usually dont buy games bc i didnt have any money or way to play them before when i was little so by now it kind of became an habit of mine to just watch different playthroughs in youtube and also so i can manage my time properly, thats out the window now bc my brother bought me stp for christmas yesterday so lol] BUT SOMETHING THAT ALWAYS MAKES ME, I DONT KNOW IF SAD ITS THE WORD IM LOOKING WORD BUT LIKE MIFFED IS WHEN PEOPLE DESPISE OPPORTUSNIST, LIKE, I GET IT THO, HE CAN BE SLIMY AND FLIP FLOPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE WITH HIS INTENTIONS, HE DOESNT MAKE IT ANY EASIER BY GOING TO THE NARRATORS SIDE WHICH USUALLY BOTHERS NEW PLAYERS BUT I GUESS SINCE I SEE HIM AS AN ESSENTIAL PART OF TLQ AND HIS SURVIVAL [since that he is essentialy how he came to be] AND HOW DUMB HE CAN BE AS WELL [which is really funny] BUT WHAT CAN I DO IM WATCHING A VIDEO AFTER ALL THIS ALSO HAPPENS WITH BROKEN WHICH HE ALSO DOESNT MAKE IT EASIER BY BEING SO DOWN ON THE DUMPS [for good reason he basically came to be because you gave up your power to the princess] AND PEOPLE THINKING HES PATHETIC AND ANNOYING JUST MAKES ME SAD, theyre just little guys they can be a bit silly
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bullet-prooflove · 16 hours ago
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New Years Bingo Card 2024: Office Party - Nick Torres x Reader
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Tagging: @kmc1989 @whateversomethingbruh @district447 @lovebookheart @stelacole
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The NCIS holiday party is torture.
Usually Nick likes a good social occasion but he’s one year sober and you're wearing that dress, the one that hugs your curves in all the right places. It drives him absolutely crazy because all he wants to do is get down on his knees and worship at your alter.
“Earth to Nick.” McGee clicks his fingers in front of his face and suddenly he’s back in a conversation about…
Nick has no fucking idea because his attention is immediately returning to you, to Dale Sawyer as he leans in close, tipping up your chin, looking into your eyes. His jaw clenches, his fist balling because Sawyer doesn’t get to touch you like that, no one does.
This is the problem with dating under the radar, people don’t know that you’re his. It frustrates him because all Nick wants to do is scream it to the goddamn world but you, you’re not ready yet. It’s different for women in law enforcement he knows, especially rising stars like you.
You disengage before he can make a scene, drawing away, leaving Sawyer hanging. Nick dogs your footsteps down the corridor, stalking you as you enter Ducky’s, leaving the lights off as you do. He’s follows you inside, closing the door behind him, turning the lock on the handle.
“You looked like you’re about to lose your shit.” You say conversationally, your fingertips smoothing over his chest through his Henley and Nick’s dark eyes meet yours, burning like coals.
“I don’t like other men touching you.” He rasps, his hands coming to rest on your hips, dragging you against him. “Especially him.”
There’s always been this feud between him and Sawyer. He’s the spry, new puppy, bright eyed, eager to please and Nick’s the old dog you can’t teach new tricks.
“Nick.” You sigh. “You don’t have to…”
But Nick doesn’t care for the chastisement, he just needs you to know who you belong to, when he’s in the room, when he’s not. His mouth covers yours and he drinks down your words like the finest of wines, savouring every drop. His hands thread through your hair as you yield to him, his tongue licking into your mouth, a filthy, unspoken promise of what’s to come. You moan under the onslaught, grinding against his muscular thigh as he jams it between your legs.
“That’s it baby.” He whispers against your lips, gathering your hair up in his fist and tugging it just right. “Ride it for me, soak my jeans.”
The noise you make, its though to drive a man to madness as your clit rubs against the rough denim, your wetness smearing across the fabric.
“I knew you weren’t wearing any panties.” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting over your jaw. “Were you hoping to get fucked tonight?”
You don’t answer, you can’t because his fingers are in your mouth, thrusting in and out the same way his dick did this morning before he fucked you in the shower. You start to moan around his digits, your movements becoming more stunted, more frantic.
“You’re going to come for me mi alma.” Nick tells you, his fingers slipping from your mouth before delving underneath your dress. “And I hope he fucking hears it.”
His fingertips tease over that pink rosebud, parting the delicate petals just before he dips inside you. He presses that delicious little sweet spot and that flower, it fucking blossoms. Your sweet honey drenches his hand as you bit down on his shirt, trying to stifle the sound of your ecstasy. Nick withdraws his fingers, pulling your head back with his fist as he smears that sweet nectar across your lips, watching as they glisten before he kisses you.
That taste, he can’t get enough if it. He fucking dreams about it on the nights he has to alone in his bed fucking his fist. He guides you back against the door before he falls to his knees in front of you, his palms guiding that dress over your hips.
“This time…” He murmurs, his gaze locked on yours as his thumb traces lightly over your clit. “This time I want to hear you to say my name when you come.”
Love Nick? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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burnforyou · 2 hours ago
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FRAT PARTY - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER
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!SUMMARY! frat president!Luigi x uptight!nerdy!reader. pure fluff! a lazy short one for my fluff enjoyers.
!WARNINGS! none really, just alcohol.
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his eyes scanned the party carefully, until he saw you. he stopped in his tracks, immediately doing a double take.
i didn't know she attended parties. especially frat parties. she should be in her bed at this hour, curled up with a good book, not here, at this disgusting party full of drunk fucks who are just trying to get their dicks wet.
luigi plops down on the couch next to you, resting his arm on the cushion behind you.
"didn't expect to see you here," he flashes his bright smile at you.
"I'm here for my friend," she says, gesturing to another girl in the crowd.
"she doesn't seem to be appreciating the fact that you're here," he looks down at you, taking in your outfit. It's not what you usually wear, its different. its not you. you look uncomfortably uptight in a short, tight skirt and tank.
"well, shes my friend, and she's drunk, so she's not in her right mind," you try defending her.
"hey Luigi, someone's fighting!" some random frat brother yells at him.
"fuck," he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be back," he pats your thigh, "stay right here, alright?"
you nod and watch him stride away to handle the situation.
another body sits down on the couch next to you and you look up from your phone smiling, expecting Luigi. instead, you're met with the face of one of his frat brothers.
"you look too sober," he says to you, holding out his red solo cup to you. "take a sip."
you look between him and the cup, unsure.
"it won't kill you. I'm Jake by the way."
fuck it, you think, grabbing the cup and taking a big swig of the mysterious drink. it actually tasted pretty good, but burned a little going down your throat.
"y/n," you say after swallowing.
"pretty name for a pretty girl," he smiled at you. "so, what brings you here tonight?" he flirts, taking another sip of the drink you're now sharing.
"oh, I don't know, just wanted to have a fun time," you lie, smirking at him.
"hey, you wanna come with me to get a refill?" he smiles, showing you the bottom of the cup.
"sure!" you spring up. his hand settles in the small of your back and guides you to the kitchen where he mixes one bottle with another and hands the cup back to you.
"try it," he yells over the music. you take a sip and nod.
"pretty good," you take another sip.
luigi takes a swig of a beer, his first drink of the night, watching you two flirt from afar. It's so fake, and nothing like you. he knows you, he knows you're not like that.
before you knew it, he's pumping you full of a mysterious, semi-pleasant tasting drink and singing "I Can't Feel My Face" by The Weeknd in your face, literally.
he was actually kinda cute, but he wasn't your type, per say.
and whats your type? you ask?
oh, just tall, smart, Italian guys with curly hair who kinda look like Luigi Mangione, but aren't him!
not to say Jake wasn't smart, I mean, he goes to UPenn for gods sake. it's just, he's just...
he's not Luigi. he's not your biggest rival in the engineering program, the man who never fails to piss you off and turn you on at the same time.
but he's a good distraction, that's for sure.
speak of the devil: he's standing in front of you now.
but he's not paying attention to you: he's yelling at Jack. or was it Jake?
"what are you doing?" he talks down to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. you blink up at him in shock.
"what do you mean?" you say stubbornly, your skin burning where he's holding you.
"you're not being yourself," he argues with you.
"you don't even know me!" you shout at him, running away (or trying to, in your drunken state) to go dance.
you join some random girls and dance drunkenly with them, having the time of your life. your first time drunk. you had no idea it was this fun. if you knew how much fun you'd be having, you'd be attending frat parties weekly.
you keep Luigi in the back of your mind as you grind on a random guy that joined you.
"give me that," he growls at a random brother, grabbing a beer bottle from him and chugging it down. he leans against a wall and watches you, never taking his eyes off of you.
when "Come Get Her" by Rae Sremmurd starts playing, a random girl pulls you onto a table with her.
somebody come get her, she's dancing like a stripper
hoots and hollers come from around you as you and another girl literally dance like strippers. it felt like something straight out of a movie: the nerdy girl turns hot and starts dancing on tables.
and then you're falling.
falling hard from the table, the ground looking so appealing, much nicer than the table.
until warm, familiar hands catch you.
"alright, that's it, you're done." Luigi says to you, effortlessly carrying you bridal style. you stroke his face and smile.
"you caught me, my prince charming!" you cheer, wrapping your hands around his neck, the rest of the party becoming purely background noise.
"you're so handsome," you giggle drunkenly, holding his face in one of your hands. he pretends to not be basking in your attention.
"I'm taking you up to my room. you're cut off for the night." he says roughly, carrying you up the stairs. the music and voices fade away.
"whyyyy," you whine, "I wanna par-tay!"
"you're done for the night, hun." he bends down to open the door without dropping you. he softly drops you on his bed and stands over you.
"you think you're funny, don't you?" you cross your arms across your chest, pushing your tits together purposefully.
"what?" he furrows his eyebrows, his eyes flickering down and up again.
"will you just leave me alone? you're ruining my night!" you try and walk away again, but he grabs onto your arm and pulls you flush against him. you break away and sit down on the edge of his bed, looking around his bedroom.
"y/n, you're going to regret acting like this in the morning, if you even remember this in the morning!"
hes being so mean to me, you thought. why is he being so mean to me?
suddenly, your mood swings and tears fill your bambi eyes. you look up at him, your bottom lip quivering.
"hey, what's wrong?" he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and holds your soft face in his hand, his eyes full of concern.
"why are you doing this to me?" a tear falls from your eyes and he wipes it away immediately, wanting to throw up.
you're crying and it's all his fault. fuck, he's the worst person in the world.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just- I..." he trails off. you look back up at him, sniffling.
"I just want to protect you. people do bad things to smart, pretty girls like you."
"why do you want to protect me? why me? there's a million other girls out there, why are you doing this to me?" you ask through your sobs.
"because I really like you, okay? I like you more than any other girls." he pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head.
"you like like me?" you ask against his hard chest. his chest rises and falls as he chuckles.
"yes, y/n, I like like you."
"that's good, cause I think I like like you too." you yawn and wipe your last tears.
"are you tired?" he asks softly, looking down at you in his arms, struggling to believe this is real. you nod.
"you can sleep here, I'll get you a change of clothes."
you settle back onto his king bed, making yourself comfortable on his pillows. he throws a t shirt and boxers on you, turning around. you weakly discard your outfit, consisting of your friends clothes, and slip his oversized tee on.
"I'm done," you say quietly, he turns around. he looks at you, snuggled in his bed, and sighs.
you pat the cold bed beside you.
"lay with me."
he pulls his shirt and shorts off shamelessly in front of you. your tired eyes take in the shape of his strong body. he slips under the covers next to you and pulls you by your waist into his chest.
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MASTERLIST - PREV WORK
is this too cliche be honest
!TAGS!
@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane
requested by @for-lovers-always
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aventurineswife · 2 days ago
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hmmmmmmm how about an aventurine x reader where like it’s an established relationship but like they’re still a new couple y’know and like reader surprises aventurine with like the perfect gift for him or like something homemade that’s super cute idk and he gets all emotional and all cause it’s like the first time he gets a special gift from someone for Christmas???
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Summary: It's Aventurine's first Christmas in a relationship, and the season feels both exciting and unfamiliar. As someone who has always used charm and theatrics to mask his insecurities, he's unaccustomed to genuine displays of affection. You, his thoughtful and creative partner, surprise him with a heartfelt, homemade gift that reflects their deep understanding of him. For the first time, Aventurine is left speechless, overwhelmed by emotions he can no longer conceal. Amid the soft glow of winter lights, the couple shares a tender moment that brings Aventurine closer to the concept of vulnerability, warmth, and love.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Established Relationship, First Christmas Together, Gift Giving, Emotional Vulnerability, Fluff and Angst, Soft Aventurine, Romantic Gestures, Winter Special.
Warnings: Brief mentions of Aventurine's traumatic past, Emotional themes (processing unfamiliar feelings of love and gratitude), Mild angst with a happy and comforting ending.
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The moonlight danced on the windows of the lavish penthouse, casting long shadows on the sleek furniture. The holiday season had arrived in full force, and despite the extravagant décor adorning every corner of the city, Aventurine found himself in a rare moment of peace. For once, he wasn't scheming or plotting. For once, he could almost pretend that everything was... fine.
He had spent most of the day in his usual flamboyant style, charming his way through holiday parties and meetings, but tonight was different. The festive atmosphere in the air felt more alive, as if something unexpected was about to unfold. And, of course, it did. But not in the way he thought.
"How do you feel about surprises?" your voice echoed from the doorway, breaking his thoughts as you stepped into the dimly lit room.
He turned, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I thrive on them." he replied smoothly, his voice carrying that usual enigmatic quality.
You smiled, but there was something different in your eyes tonight—something tender and full of warmth. "Well, this one’s for you." you said softly, walking towards the small table where a beautifully wrapped box sat, tied with a delicate red ribbon.
Aventurine raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "For me? I must say, I’m intrigued." His tone was light, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, a crack in his otherwise confident facade. He had never been one for receiving gifts—not because he didn’t want them, but because they reminded him of a past he had long buried. Still, he couldn’t resist. He picked up the gift, the wrapping smooth under his fingers.
"You didn’t have to," he murmured, but his voice lacked its usual flippancy, a subtle vulnerability hiding beneath his words.
"It's Christmas," you said, settling next to him, watching as he untied the ribbon and peeled back the wrapping to reveal a small wooden box. It was simple, unassuming, but the craftsmanship was evident. The box had intricate carvings, faint patterns that almost looked like a game board—spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs, all etched with care. He traced his fingers over the delicate design, feeling the weight of the gesture.
Aventurine’s smile faltered for a moment, and he turned to you with a softened expression, his eyes a mix of confusion and something deeper. "What is this?"
Opening the box revealed a set of finely crafted playing cards—each card an artwork in itself, featuring symbols from his past, his journey, and the games he had played. There were intricate illustrations on each one, personalized to reflect his life: the destruction of Sigonia, his rise to power, and his inner turmoil. The Ace of Spades—the symbol of his Cornerstone—stood at the center, an ornate image of the desert, evoking the harshness of his origins.
"It's... perfect..." he whispered, his voice strained as if the weight of the gift had physically struck him.
You watched him, carefully noting the subtle way his gaze softened, how he looked at the cards as though they were a bridge to something deeper within himself.
"This is the first time anyone’s given me something so... personal," Aventurine admitted quietly, his usual swagger absent. The mask he so often wore was slipping, revealing the haunted man beneath. "You know, I’ve never been one to believe in fate or luck. But this... this feels like a sign."
A sudden vulnerability surfaced, one that even he couldn’t hide. His eyes flickered to you, the sharpness in them dulled, as if he was searching for reassurance. "It’s been a long time since someone... cared this much," he murmured, the words laced with an unfamiliar emotion. His voice cracked ever so slightly, a fleeting admission of the weight he carried alone.
You gently placed your hand over his, grounding him in the moment. "I care," you whispered, your voice soft and steady. "I know it’s not always easy to accept, but... I care about you. You deserve something real."
Aventurine’s breath hitched as he stared at you, his usual façade of control slipping away. His gaze lingered on your face, the sincerity in your eyes disarming him. He had been playing his own game for so long, but here, in the quiet of the room, he realized that this was a gamble he was willing to take.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somehow, in the midst of all the games and risks, you had become the most important prize.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how much this means."
In that moment, Aventurine, the master of manipulation, the calculating strategist, was just Kakavasha—a man who had found something far greater than any gamble he could ever win.
You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, a soft promise that no matter how many risks he took, he would never have to face the game of life alone again. The warmth of your embrace surrounded him, and for the first time in years, Aventurine allowed himself to believe that there was something more to life than just surviving.
As the night stretched on, the city lights twinkling outside, Aventurine—No, Kakavasha, the man who had mastered the art of risk—allowed himself to savor this one moment of peace, this one moment of real connection.
And, for the first time, he didn’t feel the need to gamble with fate.
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Can we have Azul being very excited to see his parents again with random dorm members questioning if thats the same Azul that's their dorm leader?
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Octavinelle A-kun? Octavinelle A-kun. (Context: Octa A/Kon is my Octavinelle mob student OC asdblasdiabis)
Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.
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Azul had reserved a slot of time early in the afternoon--before the Mostro Lounge's usual hours of operation--for his parents.
As soon as he swung open the doors, his painstaking efforts were made apparent. Every corner of the eatery had been scrubbed, buffed, dusted, mopped, and vacuumed to perfection. Their best china was out, a vase of freshly cut flowers and romantic candlelight marking the table he had saved. The live band he had hired (no expense spared) welcomed the Ashengrotto family with a soft, jazzy melody.
The music came with a chorus of clapping. Several Octavinelle students stood in lines, giving applause to the VIPs.
Azul ushered his parents inside. "Please, come in, come in! Right this way, esteemed sir and madam," he crooned, gesturing for them to follow him.
They settled into their seats and were immediately provided with menus and tall glasses of water, the ice so clear and free of impurities that one could see right through them. Octa A--Kon--their server, hastily pulled his hand back after delivering the items and bowed. How smoothly everything ran, like an orchestra with a skilled conductor.
"So this is what you've been up to at school," Mr. Ashengrotto murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I must say, it's impressive. Not every 17-year old would be capable of overseeing an entire cafe on top of studying and juggling the responsibilities of a dorm leader--well, perhaps your mother would."
"You really do take after me," Mrs. Ashengrotto laughed, "in more ways than I suspected you did."
"Fufufu. Yes, well... I did learn from the best." Azul straightened, lifting his chin proudly. "As it so happens, I also run a little... side business, shall we say. My peers come to me with their owes, and I do what I can to help alleviate those."
"If only your grandmother could have joined us... I'm sure she would be pleased to hear of your charity work. Perhaps we could pay her a visit on your next trip home."
His stepfather raised his brows. "Seems I've married into a multitalented family."
"Please do not talk down your own abilities. You're quite skilled in your own right, dear stepfather!" Azul wrung his hands together. "Why, I can only hope to match your legal prowess one day!"
“Haha, you’re a sweet talker too. Alright, I’ll take your professional advice. No more talk of business though—let’s decide what to eat.”
“Fufufu, as you wish.”
Kon warily kept his distance, a step or two farther from the table than he usually would. Staring, listening--it was strange, he decided. Never had he heard his dorm leader speaking with such sincerity, with kindness that wasn't laced with hidden ill intent.
Is this... Azul-senpai? He seems a little different around his family. Softer... squisher somehow.
"Pick anything you like off the menu. I'm confident that you will enjoy our dishes, made fresh every day with the best sourced, in-season ingredients possible.” Azul pushed up his glasses with one hand. “If you care for a recommendation, the fried chicken is sublime. It took us a while experimenting with spices to achieve its flavor and texture, but I believe those efforts paid off wonderfully."
“Fried chicken, your old favorite! You hardly touch it anymore.”
“M-Mama…! Er, I mean mother,” Azul quickly corrected himself. “That was back then! Now I am making a conscious effort to mind my health. I ask that you respect that."
“Alright, alright. Point taken.” Mrs. Ashengrotto tapped a finger on her menu. “I’ll take the fried chicken platter appetizer, for old time’s sake. We can split it so you can treat yourself too, dear."
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."
"One bite can't hurt," his stepfather urged. "Here, let's get a salad as well to balance it out."
"Th-That is not how nutritional intake works at all..." Azul sighed, a hand to his head. There was a pause, then he flagged Kon over. "... You heard them, correct? One fried chicken platter and the garden salad appetizers to start."
"We'll get those out for you right away," he said robotically. A line, rehearsed. "Take however long you need to decide your mains."
The mob student turned to scurry away and pass along the order to the kitchen. A voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
“And Kon-san?”
He looked back.
His dorm leader had his legs crossed, looking very authoritative as he sat up straight in his booth. He, the lackey, trembling before the boss.
“Y-Yes, sir?” Kon squeaked.
Azul simply smiled. "Thank you for your service."
The breath he had been unconsciously holding slipped out as a sigh. And he tried to smile back.
"Anytime, dorm leader.”
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mumms-the-word · 16 hours ago
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Since you're the gale enthusiast does his orb in the ending where you let the crown be lost to the river/sea still light up when he and tav engage in sex? :3
Hello!! What a fun question!
Although I wouldn’t say I’m THE Gale enthusiast (because oh boy have you seen some of the amazing creatives on this site?? have you seen the headcanons and imagines and fics of people like @dekariosclan and @senualothbrok and @an-excellent-choice?? run don't walk over to their blogs haha) BUT...I do think a proportionally high amount about Gale’s condition and orb lol
and also I still have parts 2 and 3 of my long essay discussing the orb-as-disability/chronic condition still in my drafts so um...oops haha
Anyway here’s what I think! Under the cut for length, and note, we'll be tossing together some lore and headcanons here!
I think you can have it either way! The orb itself seems to react to magic and neglect in the game and he can also trigger the glow at will. In other words, we see it when it flares up after being neglected (i.e., when it pains him), when he absorbs a magic item to feed it, and occasionally when himself triggers the orb (to show you its hunger, or in a darker turn, to trigger the explosion).
It’s a fandom addition that the orb glows during periods of high emotion/stress/desire, but it’s a good headcanon! It makes sense logically in the game. If the orb's glow is triggered by hunger, desperation, etc, why not other emotions?
(And, side note, it’s been a minute since I’ve played BG3 so I could be neglecting to remember a scene where emotion does trigger the glow, and if so that’s my bad!)
Anyway, one of the things that triggers the glow is hunger. Hunger for magic and power, usually. But desire is a kind of hunger too, especially carnal desire. So does the orb glow during sex? Probably! Other people have explored this at length and there are some very fun headcanons about it floating around.
Does the orb glow during sex after Gale has tossed the Crown of Karsus aside and learned to manage his hunger/desires? That’s a more interesting question.
Again, it could go either way. In certain dialogue at the docks scene, Gale says he’ll have to keep feeding the orb eventually. He treats it like it’ll be a lifelong chronic condition. So if the orb lit up before during sex, it certainly will continue to light up post-Netherbrain!
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Gale: Perhaps that’s the best place for it. Away from the meddling of mortals and Mystra alike. It’s not exactly the outcome Elminster hoped I would achieve, but it’s the best I could do with the time his charm bought for me. I feel the faintest prickling of hunger from the orb already. It will not remain under the sway of his spell forever.
But when you get to his little post-docks bedroom scene, the one where he proposes, he says the orb has changed. It seems to have calmed, though he isn’t totally sure of the effects or limitations yet. Mind you, this is romance-only, so does a romance help quell the orb's hunger better than friendships or Gale going about on his own? Possibly!
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Tav: You seem very relaxed. The orb isn’t on the verge of exploding yet then? Gale: It’s strange. I woke up this morning and realised the orb feels different. No clamour, no desperation, no hunger. I hesitate to say if, but I think it’s…satisfied. I’ll need to keep a careful study of it, make sure it’s not suddenly destabilized by proximity to a rogue pair of Netherese sandals, mind you, but I think it’s dormant. That’s a worry I can leave behind me, at least. Tav: was it Mystra’s doing? Gale: It could be. Or perhaps the orb’s hunger was fueled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.
It sounds like the orb is dormant, which would suggest no glow. But it's not settled, necessarily, either since Gale suspects it could still flare up. The more important thing is that it's not volatile.
He also says in the epilogue, if you toss the Crown, that Mystra reassures him that the orb won't bother him again. This is if you're friends with Gale, rather than romancing him:
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Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful just to be 'Gale' for the evening. I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. She sought me out, not long after we went our separate ways, and assured me neither she nor the orb should pose me any threat in the future. Of course, it's still in there. A constant reminder of my former hubris, and a surprisingly effective means of keeping my more disobedient students in line. Perhaps a tad too effective.
So, after all that…does it still glow?
It’s up to you to decide! I think it’s fun imagining Gale intentionally lighting up his orb when his students get too rowdy just to watch the sudden hush it puts over the classroom. I think it’s fun imagining that the orb still glows when he gets excited, angry, horny, or even (sadly) stressed. I think that falls in line with details in the game.
And even though it’s dormant, that doesn’t mean the glow has to stop. One, you can headcanon whatever you want haha but if you feel like the lore should support it, just think of it this way: the orb is no longer volatile and in search of arcane power and magic. But it’s still lodged right there over his heart, it’s still very in tune with his emotions (probably). And he says it’s possible to be orb was fueled by his own hunger, and that his current contentment is what keeps it calm as well.
So if, say, he were to experience another type of hunger (for example, “oh my Mystra if I don’t take my lover over this desk right now I will combust” types of hunger) then I’m sure the orb does glow!
Therefore, yes, if he still has the orb in his chest I think it very much still glows during sex.
Hope that answers your question! Thanks for the ask 🥰
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ernmark · 20 hours ago
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When I was in college, a friend of mine got a job at one of the campus help centers where they're supposed to help students who are struggling get their feet under them.
Based on his training there, he insisted that he wanted to have a similar session with me in order to Fix me.
(This speaks volumes about the help the other students were getting, I think.)
See, the entirety of his assistance was sitting with me and creating a nice, tidy little schedule for my life in fifteen-minute increments, with tidy little spots for daily workouts and weekly meal prep. And he kept getting frustrated with me for not being able to put my activities for the day in any order, or assign them specific periods of time, or being willing to commit to following this militant schedule to the letter.
He wouldn't hear the fact that I'm a writer-- I have no control over when the words come. Sometimes I'll be doing something Very Important and I'll have to put it on hold because if I don't write this line of dialogue down Right This Second it's going to make it impossible for me to focus at all. Sometimes I'll be staring at a blank word document for two hours and get a sentence and a half done. Sometimes it'll be three in the morning and I'll have been writing for five hours straight but I won't be able to sleep until I get it written.
He wouldn't hear the fact that I have debilitating depression, and sometimes it takes hours to gather enough energy just to get dressed.
He wouldn't hear the fact that I don't actually know how long something like cooking is going to take, because every recipe calls for completely different cook and prep time, and I can't predict what's going to be utterly unappetizing until I look in the fridge for that meal.
There was no accommodation for the fact that I have a sleep disorder, which between the depression and the rest, makes it damn well impossible to predict when I'll be able to start sleeping, or when I'd need to wake up in order to be rested.
And that's what it comes down to-- there was absolutely no leniency or accommodation for anything outside of that ultra-disciplined, hyper-regimented approach. There was no allowance made for neurodivergence or disability of any kind. Despite knowing me for years at that point, he couldn't understand why I just didn't Try Harder. Clearly I'd succeed if I just did it his way.
A few things that did actually help me, for the record:
When there's something that I Know is going to occupy the entirety of my brain until I do it, I just freakin' stop whatever else I'm doing and do it. In my case, that's usually writing down whatever bit is in my head, but also it can be getting out of bed to make sure I turned the stove off, or making sure I locked the door, or paying my credit card bills in the middle of the night, or whatever.
A lot of my executive dysfunction is exacerbated by sugar/protein levels, so I keep a supply of protein shakes on-hand. It doesn't necessarily fix my depressive episodes, but it gets me out of those loops where I can't do X until I do Y until I eat and I have to eat first because if I don't eat now then I won't be hungry for dinner and then blah blah blah.
On that note: I can't control when/how I sleep, but I can control how many meals I eat during a day and roughly when they happen. Eating regularly helps to make the rest of my natural rhythms a little more predictable.
I have a short list of foods that my household can reliably eat and try to keep the ingredients for that stocked.
I do actually do a little bit of scheduling-- I set aside a few-hour-block on two days of my week to work out. Not because I Must do it, but so that I'm not preoccupied with the constant background radiation of "I should be working out more". If it's not Monday or Friday, it's not going to happen.
Forgiving myself for not being at peak productivity levels at all times. My boss will get what I have it in me to give them, and not more. My writing might not be at its best all the time, but it's a hell of a lot better than a blank page. Pushing myself past my limits to adhere to an impossible standard only exacerbates all those other problems.
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