#just thought i'd share some progression

[serafisolaris]

please pick up the phone

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 9.2k warnings: absent parents, canonical child neglect, descriptions of the effects of uninvolved parenting, brief mentions of food [read on ao3] — [part two]

What was she doing?

Diana had found herself sitting outside the front of Wesker’s house, fingers absent-mindedly curling and uncurling around her steering wheel as she chewed on her lip. She could easily back out of his driveway and head to her apartment like she’d intended to, before he could even realise she had been there, but no – instead, she decided to take him up on his offer for dinner at his house.

It was a foolish thing, really, to be as excited as she was to see him again so soon after they had only just run into one another that afternoon. Or perhaps intrigued was a more fitting word for how curious she was to see what it was he wanted.

She had been cleaning up the lab for the day – much earlier than usual as she itched to head out and look over some files she wasn’t supposed to have access to – when Wesker had rung her out of nowhere, asking if she wished to join him that evening. That silver tongue of his was rather annoying, in all honesty, especially considering how thrilled she’d been at the date she had planned with those reports and a nice bottle of wine.

As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see him again.

Diana sighed to herself the moment she opened her car door and stepped out into the night air, feeling the cool breeze biting at her skin. As if the shorter days weren’t enough already, the evenings carried this awfully unpleasant chill that had her cursing her decision to wear a skirt; the sheer nylon covering her legs did little to stave off the cool air as icy needles worked their way through the fabric and pricked at her skin.

The mountains in the distance looked quite beautiful though; a blanket of yellows, reds, and the odd green had been draped over the slope facing the city, as if the forest had been set ablaze, almost. She didn’t really want to think about what would happen if that were to ever occur, not only because it reminded her too much of back home, but because she would feel horrible for the adders she so loved to observe.

And she had made quite a few fond memories on the trails – one, in particular, she still thought of too often for the fact that neither she nor Wesker had brought it up again after such an incident had occurred.

Quickly plucking her handbag from the passenger seat, Diana slung it over her shoulder then shut her car door with a bit too much force, as though that would somehow stop the obnoxious fluttering in her stomach caused by such inane thoughts.

It was simply the result of a few drinks, that’s all.

That was quite a fun little tale she liked to tell herself, considering neither of them had even had a buzz on that night.

Who knew the cold, conceited, and terribly callous Albert Wesker could be so… tender with her? It didn’t matter, she would do best to forget that stupid camping trip had ever happened and just move on.

Leaning down, Diana took one more quick glance at herself in the side-view mirror while she worked on locking her car. She couldn’t tell whether the flush across her cheeks was because of the chilling winds or if her mind was to blame, but it pulled a rather dramatic sigh from her, regardless.

With the click of her lock, she pulled her key from the door and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. That was another thing she was chastising herself for; Diana had forgotten her gloves that morning, even after repeatedly telling herself the whole time she had been getting ready to remember to take them. She could even picture right where they were sitting on the top of her dresser.

Honestly, Diana didn’t know why she suddenly felt this overwhelming need to pick apart every little thing she’d done recently, and tell herself off for it at that. It was just that the last thing she had expected to be doing tonight was standing outside of Wesker’s house when she had far more important things to be doing.

Dinner together was… unwise. A waste of time. And yet, here she was.

The short walk to his door felt impossibly long, and she looked around the front of his house, taking in the exterior of it like she’d done countless times before. There were no houseplants present to give it life, the doormat was plain black rubber, and although there was room on his porch for a bistro set, or perhaps a bench, it was simply barren. He was always more concerned with the necessities, but it would do him some good to at least add something out here, even just to make it unique compared to the other, almost identical houses it sat amongst.

Despite its decorations, or lack thereof, his proud little house always brought her some comfort. Diana wasn’t sure why exactly. Perhaps because there was some charm to it – or something of the like. Her apartment was nice enough, although a bit cramped for her tastes, but to have a home in this area would be much more preferable; the affluent suburbs on the eastside of the city housed the elite, where she belonged, not some drab apartment building at the centre of commotion.

She shouldn’t be entertaining such nonsensical thoughts anyhow, not when she was simply on a job. Still, two years in Raccoon City and she was stuck with that little thing in Uptown when she deserved much better.

It was of little concern, really; hopefully she wouldn’t be here much longer and she could return to the house she’d purchased as a treat to herself following her “divorce” – though that notion only made her chest feel tighter as opposed to the reassurance she was trying to garner.

As soon as Diana rang the doorbell, her hand retreated to the safety of her warm coat just as quickly as it had left it. There was this churning in the pit of her stomach, telling her something was off, different, and yet she wasn’t sure why. It was only dinner, but to be seeing him again so soon truly was a bit peculiar to her; they usually only ran into one another a couple of times a week, if that.

She was overthinking things again.

But it was his fault for complicating matters between them a few months back. Or so she chose to believe, unwilling to take responsibility for her share of the blame. Although, he was the one who decided to say that she belonged to him in the middle of one of their recent trysts, that she was his, and she couldn’t quite let that go.

It didn’t take long before the front door opened and she was met with a rather worn out looking man, the very same one who had managed to distract her from her work. Wesker was missing his signature sunglasses and Diana found that rather curious; they were almost like a permanent fixture on his face, only really coming off when they slept together, but their absence was something she wasn’t really used to day-to-day.

She was certainly not complaining though. There was something about those icy blues of his that never failed to lure her in.

“Diana,” Wesker said in greeting, a slight hint of surprise seeping into his otherwise dry tone, “I did not expect you here so soon.”

After his eyes scanned over her once more, he simply stepped aside in the doorway with one of his hands gesturing for her to come in. Despite how flat his voice sounded compared to how he usually was with her of late, Diana chuckled as she brushed past him, withdrawing her hand from her coat again to reach out and slowly trail her fingertips up his arm as she did so. That earned her a barely noticeable shake of his head.

“Oh, please. I thought you valued punctuality,” she teased as she abandoned his arm and brought her hands in front of herself to rub them together instead, revelling in the warmth his home greeted her with. “Or perhaps I just enjoy irritating you, always being too early.”

Wesker scoffed while turning away from her to close the door, no doubt trying to stop any more of that dreaded breeze from coming in, but the smirk pulling on Diana’s lips vanished in an instant. A sudden wave of disappointment washed over her at the lack of any of his usual retort to her teasing.

Quietly sighing to herself, Diana turned her back on him in kind, directing her attention towards whatever that scent was that wafted into the foyer. She couldn’t quite place what he was in the middle of cooking, but there was most definitely garlic butter involved, and it smelt divine.

However, that diversion didn’t occupy her for long, because Wesker’s rich cologne decided to invade her senses instead, shortly followed by the light press of his body against her own. She almost leaned back to feel him closer, to slot into the space made for her, as his hot breath warmed her ear, but she managed to stop herself at the last minute.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear.” His voice was low and almost a purr, reserved for only her to hear, and Diana would have rolled her eyes if not for the pleasant shiver that ran down her spine.

It wasn’t like she’d changed her attire since he’d seen her a few hours ago, when he had dropped in to her lab after speaking to William, when he had handed her one of those awful coffees from the cafeteria, and when he had asked her how her project was progressing – the project she should still be working on at the minute.

And she had a sneaking suspicion the wind had left her with more stray hairs than she would like, leaving her looking far worse off than she had that afternoon. So, she didn’t see much reason for his flattery, even if it did make her heart speed up a little.

Wesker left a fleeting kiss below her ear then reached around and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more.

He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it.

He had quite a knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

Diana let out a quiet sigh when Wesker stopped them by the dining table and the pressure on the small of her back lessened ever so slightly. She turned in his hold to look up at him, only to find that his eyes were already wandering over her. Those awfully pretty eyes, no longer concealed by his glasses. What she didn’t expect was for him to reach up with his free hand and brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek, and she cursed the flutter that appeared in her stomach at that.

Wesker cradled her chin and merely looked into her eyes for a moment. How blown her pupils were, accompanied by so much warmth, continued to bring forth conflicting feelings for him; he wasn’t sure whether to be unsettled or esteemed by what he could only call adoration on her part. And he was too tired to worry about it tonight.

In an effort to move on from that train of thought, he brushed his thumb over her chin then left a quick peck on her lips. His hand on her back had lingered for a moment too long as he pulled away from her, but he only withdrew to return to his place at the stove, where he’d been busy cooking before she had arrived.

Diana bit down on her lip when she caught the smile that had somehow managed to work its way there while she had been simply watching him. She found that rather pathetic, in all honesty, but he had a way of drawing such treacherous reactions from her.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a quiet huff to herself, she shrugged her handbag off of her shoulder and placed it on one of the seats at the dining table. That’s when Diana finally noticed that there were three sets of cutlery laid out on its surface.

She quickly glanced over at Wesker, but he was entirely focused on the pans in front of him, so she could only stare at the rather odd display instead. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be joining them when he’d called her, and the absence of wine glasses for once was a bit strange. She would have been annoyed at him for whatever this turn of events was if not for how fascinated she was by it all.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs pulled her from her thoughts soon enough. Soft, uneven steps, as though whoever they belonged to was perhaps skipping down. Another odd occurrence, especially considering the only cars out front were hers and Wesker’s.

The cause of said noise bounded into the open dining area with a hurried glance at the front door then abruptly stopped after catching sight of Diana, hesitating to venture any further in the presence of a stranger.

A little girl.

No more than ten years old, if Diana had to guess. She could have sworn she looked familiar, but from where, she couldn’t quite place. It was right there – the nagging feeling that she knew who this was, sitting at the back of her mind, just out of reach. And it was beyond frustrating.

The girl with big blue eyes that matched her school uniform gave Diana an apprehensive, barely-there smile as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Diana’s staring was no doubt making her uncomfortable, the way her eyes kept darting between her and Wesker was proof of that, but she was too busy trying to piece together who she was to even care.

Suddenly, the girl hurried over to Wesker and latched onto his side furthest from Diana. It was as though she was using him as a protective barrier of sorts, and that was more amusing than it should’ve been. However, the sight that followed next took Diana by surprise.

Wesker placed a hand on the top of her head in greeting, and Diana noticed the way he brushed her fringe aside then carefully tucked one of the many stray blonde strands that had come loose from her pigtails behind her ear. A small smile crossed the girl’s face at that, but she still stayed glued to his side, holding onto his shirt even when he returned to stirring the contents of the pan occupying his attention.

That was weird to Diana; she would’ve expected him to be annoyed by this child hanging off of him while he was in the middle of doing something, but then again, she had no idea who this child was exactly.

For a while, the girl only peeked around Wesker every now and again to look at the tall, frightening woman across the room. This stranger was definitely not who she had expected to see when she had rushed down the stairs at the sound of multiple voices, and it left her feeling somewhat deflated, though much more on edge.

When she tightened her hold on Wesker again, the sound of paper crumpling reminded her of the rolled-up drawing in one of her hands, which she’d completely forgotten about amidst her surprise.

“Oh! Here.” She perked up a little as she freed Wesker’s shirt from her grasp to stand back and unroll the piece of paper, then she proudly presented it to him. “It’s you, mommy and daddy!”

Wesker looked down with a raised brow, and Diana could only watch from afar as he seemed to study the child’s drawing. His head tilted to the side and she could’ve sworn she saw the corners of his lips twitch, even if it was only faint.

“Very good,” he said, tone a touch too dry, but the girl beamed at his praise, regardless. Then Wesker leaned down to whisper in her ear, an elusive hint of mischief laced through his voice, “But why is your father so tall?”

The little girl’s brows knit together in confusion as she stared at him for a moment, then she turned the drawing around in her hands to direct the same gaze to it as well. The way her head tilted to the side was much more dramatic than Wesker’s had been, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she inspected her own art, trying to figure out what he meant.

Looking back up at him after no more than a minute, she giggled then blurted out, “You’re the same height, silly!”

Wesker was almost offended by that little remark, but he only huffed out a quiet chuckle and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. There was a much more pressing matter he needed to tend to instead of getting defensive over a child’s drawing that was obviously inaccurate.

As soon as he turned around, his eyes locked on to his guest – his beautiful, brilliant guest, who was now leaning against the kitchen wall with a slight smile on her lips and her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was an odd state of affairs, that was for sure, but he supposed he’d have to make do with the change of plans. The least he could do was introduce the two of them, or Sherry would probably want to rush off and eat her dinner in the spare room he’d put together for her a while back.

“Sherry, this is Diana,” Wesker said while gesturing a hand in the latter’s direction.

Ah, the Birkin girl. That makes sense. The fact that she hadn’t put that together sooner made Diana feel like an absolute moron, especially considering she’d seen that family portrait on Annette’s desk countless times before. It was painstakingly obvious to her now though, the resemblance to William clear as day – with the nervous energy to boot.

Sherry only turned to look over at Diana as well, and the hesitation from earlier took hold of her once more as she was reminded that there was someone unfamiliar in the house. When she didn’t say anything, only keeping her eyes trained on Diana – as though tearing her gaze away would have unforeseen consequences – Wesker sighed.

“Where are your manners, darling?” he asked, trying to prompt her to introduce herself, but that only made her chew on her lip while she nervously played with the corners of her drawing. It took another quick glance from him before Sherry shifted on her feet and nodded, more to herself in encouragement than in response to him.

“I’m…” Her voice was faint, barely even a whisper, so she paused and took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat before trying again. “I’m Sherry, nice to meet you.” A timid smile was offered afterwards until her eyes went comically wide and she hurriedly added, “Ma’am!”

Diana didn’t want to laugh at the poor thing; it was obvious she was unsettled by her presence. Unless she truly was just shy. Knowing who her parents were though, Diana wouldn’t be surprised if Sherry was raised to look at everyone she met with suspicion. A good way to be, in her opinion, and not entirely unwarranted in this case.

It was a bit strange, however, that Diana hoped the girl didn’t know that she worked with her parents. In a manner of speaking, that is. She couldn’t care less about the G-Virus, or Umbrella, but the Hunters were a fun little project she was very glad she had gotten her hands on. Annette and William were… okay, but they were always at the lab, even hours after she left most nights. She’d never really thought about the ramifications that would have for their daughter before, that she was probably left on her own quite often and not given nearly enough attention.

And that pissed her off.

Perhaps she shouldn’t play the “wicked witch” tonight – a nickname William liked to call her when he thought she couldn’t hear him. There was no reason to make the girl more anxious than she already was. Uncrossing her arms, Diana crouched down, not moving any closer towards Sherry but simply showing her that she wasn’t a threat.

Sherry looked up at Wesker and he nodded. “She doesn’t bite.”

The way his eyes locked on to Diana’s once the words left his mouth, a glint present in those otherwise tired blues, made her clench her jaw in an effort to stop how her lips wanted to pull upwards. She would’ve punched him in the shoulder for that if she was standing next to him, but instead, she could only send a glare his way.

That was rewarded with the smug smirk she’d grown quite accustomed to over the past year, and by God, did she want to wipe that off of his face.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating, he was.

Wesker only tore his eyes from hers to look down at the stove. With a quiet hum, he turned off the burners and spoke in Sherry’s direction again. “Then wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sherry, unaware of their silent exchange, placed her drawing down on the counter and Wesker glanced at it once more from out of the corner of his eye. It was ridiculous, but that image reminded him of what felt like simpler times – when they had all been much closer; William wasn’t as paranoid back then, though still painfully obsessive, and he wasn’t so… fed up, to put it lightly.

Sighing to himself, he reached up to pull three bowls out of a cabinet, but Sherry was still lingering at his side. It took another small nod of encouragement before she walked closer to where Diana was patiently waiting, the woman’s eerie eyes only wandering over her, but that just made Sherry play with her hands again.

Diana forced out a sweet smile in hopes to ease the girl’s anxiety, trying her best not to scare her anymore than she already had, though she wondered how insincere it must look. Truth is, she was just as uneasy around this child as she was around her.

Then she realised that she hadn’t actually spoken since Sherry had wandered into the kitchen. Not even a word. And that probably wasn’t helping matters much. She had simply been too interested in observing the way Wesker interacted with Sherry that she hadn’t even thought to speak up; it would’ve only disrupted the opportunity she’d been given to see him like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d ever get another chance.

“I’m Diana.” She reluctantly held out her hand as she spoke, trying to subdue any disgust that threatened to seep out onto her features.

Oh, how she wished she was wearing her gloves right about now. Children were such repulsive little things in her eyes, always getting their hands dirty then touching everything they could. The smudging of colours on the side of Sherry’s hand certainly wasn’t doing Diana any favours.

A large grin spread across Sherry’s face and her eyes lit up at finally hearing the imposing figure’s voice. Curiously enough though, she mouthed Diana’s name to herself, like she was sounding it out and noting the slight difference in pronunciation from how both she and Wesker had said it, and Diana was quite surprised the girl had even picked up on that. It wasn’t obvious like a certain other pronunciation – which she despised – but Wesker’s was far more… American.

Sherry reached out and tentatively took hold of Diana’s hand, shaking it softly. All Diana could think of in that moment was how fragile that tiny hand felt in hers, and it was weird. Everything happening tonight was weird. Sherry, on the other hand, seemed much more interested in scanning her face now that she could see her up close.

Realising she was still holding on to Diana’s hand, Sherry quickly let it go and pulled her own away like she’d been burnt all of a sudden. While clasping it with its pair in front of herself, she offered the woman another smile. “You’re really pretty!”

Diana actually let out a genuine little chuckle at that, and she didn’t miss the way Wesker glanced over his shoulder to look at the two of them. “Thank you.”

“Uncle Albert?” Sherry turned her head to look over at him and he only hummed in acknowledgement. “Don’t you think she’s really pretty?”

“She is,” Wesker agreed. His voice was softer than it had been all evening, and that, combined with the slight upturn of his lips, made Diana’s heart jump in her chest.

Perhaps she gazed at him for a moment too long, because Sherry curiously looked back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes. Her lips curled up at the corners then she leaned in closer to Diana, almost as if she wished to tell her a secret.

She made no attempt to lower her voice, however.

“Are you Uncle Albert’s girlfriend?”

And that was why Diana chose not to converse with children if she could help it.

Her eyes flitted over to Wesker again, and he seemed a touch more tense than before, jaw clenched and shoulders practically drawn up to his ears. Although he busied himself with serving up their dishes, his movements were rigid, and Diana didn’t know what to think of that. She did, however, feel rather proud of herself for being able to get a read on him when most couldn’t.

That was unfortunate for Wesker though, because it gave her an idea. A terrible one, but an idea, nonetheless.

Diana hunched down a little lower and rounded her shoulders to mirror Sherry’s stance, prompting the girl to shuffle a slight bit closer as her grin widened. “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps you should ask Uncle Albert that question.”

Sherry turned around swiftly on her heels, facing him with renewed curiosity. Diana shouldn’t have thought the whole ordeal hilarious; she was most certainly not his girlfriend, or perhaps she was blissfully unaware that the situation they had found themselves in definitely made her seem as such, but it was simply fun to push his buttons.

The moment the girl opened her mouth to ask him instead, Wesker cut her off before she could even get a chance. “Why don’t you go wash up?”

The bite to his tone made Sherry freeze on the spot; she was as still as a statue, save for her eyes moving between the two adults to scan over them. Little good that did as she couldn’t quite gauge what was wrong. The air in the room felt much heavier than before, hanging around them like a thick fog. Or more like steam, considering how her cheeks began to burn up from shame.

She had only asked a simple question, she didn’t mean to make him mad.

Sherry nodded, a bit too quickly, then hung her head and hurried out of the room. The sigh that sounded from behind her fell on deaf ears as she was too focused on navigating her way to her room instead of the bathroom, counting her steps as she went.

The moment the girl was out of sight, Diana stood up from her crouched position and took a moment to brush any creases out of her skirt. While readjusting the hem to lay straight right above her knees, her eyes stayed fixed on Wesker – or more accurately, his back, now that he’d turned away from her.

You’re no fun, she thought to herself while her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek for merely a fraction of a second.

She crossed the distance between them to position herself at his side, leaning against the counter on her hip while her eyes wandered over his profile. He wouldn’t even look at her. If she knew he was going to get so sour over a little joke, she wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“Are you mad at me?” Diana asked while leaning in closer towards him. The way she spoke was in a far more mocking manner than she should have, the pout in her voice entirely to draw a reaction from him.

Wesker sighed once more then finally looked at her. “No.”

That was all he said before he continued to neatly arrange the dirtied pans and utensils he’d used by the sink, so Diana chose not to push what must be a touchy subject for him any further. He sounded exhausted, and that was the second time that night he hadn’t met her teasing, but at least his tone wasn’t harsh like before. His features had even softened ever so slightly when he’d looked at her – though that didn’t last long once he returned to his task.

Seeing him without his sunglasses like this was really something she wasn’t accustomed to; that made her wonder where they could possibly be if not perched atop that sharp nose of his. Their absence provided her with a sort of confronting view. When they’d fallen into bed, or tangled tongues, or even showered together on occasion, she had never really noticed, but now, outside of the heat of the moment and watching him do something so ordinary, she could see that he was wearing himself thin.

The dark circles under his eyes were quite telling of his position, juggling being Umbrella’s Chief of Security with being thrown into an undercover job that held a title of equal responsibility. Whoever thought that was a brilliant idea was clearly deluded, but Diana knew there was no one else more capable for the role.

It wasn’t her place to pass judgement anyhow. She was technically working three jobs, but it wasn’t really the same. The lines blurred more for her. She only had to send reports back to the company as she did her research within Umbrella, not continue to work in a lab with them as well. And her position at the university was merely a front before she’d head underground and take the cable car to the NEST.

Diana pressed her lips together then looked in the direction Sherry had disappeared off to. That was something she was still immensely curious about.

Tilting her head to the side as she let her gaze fall on him once more, she offered Wesker a subtle smile and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “You don’t seem the type to like children.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, “but she is an exception.”

Wesker said no more than that, clipped and short once again, and not bothering to elaborate any further. But the feeling of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head eventually made him acquiesce with a huff.

“I look after her when her parents are more concerned with their research.”

That harsh bite to his tone was back, and it caught Diana off guard this time. She didn’t realise he held such reservations towards his close friend, though she understood it more than she wished. A child deserves parents who will cherish them – even she could admit that. But she couldn’t tell if the way he spoke was because she had struck a nerve by entertaining Sherry’s questioning, or if the fact that the girl’s parents were so absent in her life actually bothered him. It could have also been that looking after her was taking up his own time when she wasn’t even his responsibility.

Diana reached out and ran her fingertips across his shoulder and towards his jaw. How he held his breath when they travelled up his neck always delighted her, but she only laid her hand flat against the side with her fingers curling around to his nape. After a short moment of her thumb slowly gliding back and forth along his jaw, Wesker leisurely turned his head from where he was still looking down at the sink and met her gaze.

The question in those weary blues drew another smile from Diana, slowly pulling on her lips and near crinkling the corners of her eyes. She lifted her hand and gently hooked her forefinger beneath his chin while pressing her thumb down against it, then she pulled him closer towards herself so she could press a soft kiss to his lips.

It lasted only a second. A brief touch of her lips to his own. But Wesker’s eyes remained closed even once she had withdrawn. His posture was still stiff, muscles pulled taut, and his nostrils flared when he inhaled. The crease between his brows had also deepened due to whatever battle he was fighting up in that head of his, but the last thing Diana wanted tonight was for him to go and believe she was pressuring him into making their “arrangement” more than what it was.

“Relax,” she whispered and he slowly opened his eyes, “I do not care to put a label on whatever this is. I simply enjoy your company.”

Diana was relieved to see the tension in his shoulders and jaw ease up at that, but why the topic was so difficult for him intrigued her. Perhaps his experience with committed relationships was not too dissimilar from her own. Or he truly just wanted something casual with her. Which was fine. And having to confront where they stood with one another was too much of a hassle. She couldn’t agree more.

She let go of his chin to rest her palm on his shoulder. “I only wished to poke fun, but this was… unexpected.”

“It’s fine. It was a joke,” Wesker replied dismissively.

“A joke that made you uncomfortable.” Diana averted her gaze, looking down at her hand instead, where her thumb was brushing along the stitching of his shirt. Then she softly shook her head. “It was in poor taste. We agreed this was… Nevermind. I shouldn’t have overstepped your boundaries like that.”

Wesker’s eyes narrowed as he observed her expression. She didn’t usually apologise for her admittedly endearing behaviour – he gathered that’s what she was trying to do, at least. Besides, if he wasn’t so tightly wound, and hadn’t heard his former partner’s name spoken in passing earlier that week, maybe such a comment wouldn’t have affected him to this extent.

He didn’t need her fretting over something as trivial as this though. It was clearly a slip up on his part, letting a joke like that make him uncomfortable in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Wesker repeated, not as terse as before, yet still more distant than how they had grown to be with one another. “She brought it up and—”

Diana placed her free hand over his clenched fist on the counter; he hadn’t even realised he’d done that. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

That, he was thankful for. She always seemed to know when he wasn’t ready to broach a topic, and she never held that against him. It wasn’t something he was used to; people always liked to pry into his personal matters and press him to open up when he didn’t want to, or when he simply wasn’t ready, but not Diana.

And she could read him so well. William was really the only person besides his sister who could see through him, understand him, and now there was her… Wesker didn’t know what he’d expected asking Diana to join him tonight when he was in a foul mood and she was clearly too busy, but it wasn’t this.

He hadn’t accounted for his whole day to go even further south after lunch either. It was getting harder to think, honestly, and despite being the one to invite her over in the first place, part of him just wanted to go to bed and end the day already.

Wesker reached up and covered the hand still resting on his shoulder with his own, and he gave it a light squeeze. That made warmth bloom from the centre of Diana’s chest, and she didn’t bother suppressing the smile that had managed to sneak its way onto her face. It only deepened when he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of it, before he dropped it just as quickly.

He lifted two of the bowls off of the counter and manoeuvred past her towards the dining table, and Diana lightly shook her head, the smile on her lips not wavering in the slightest. Just like that, a moment ended in an instant. So, she picked up the last dish and followed suit, carefully placing it down where she usually sat.

It wasn’t odd for him to do that, especially not of late, when he would give her a peek into how tender he could be before catching himself, but what was unusual to her was how distracted he seemed. Diana had already gathered that he was tired, sure, but the way he glanced down at his watch, prompting a frown to etch into his features, like cracks in porcelain, made her well aware that something was wrong.

With only a curious look cast his way, Wesker revealed his thoughts to her almost instantly. “William was supposed to pick her up over an hour ago.”

Well then… It seemed as though his friend was definitely the cause of his ire. Whether it was because of Sherry’s wellbeing or because he preferred punctuality, it didn’t matter; it was William who had infuriated him, she only twisted the knife. Or so she believed.

“Oh? And here I thought this little dinner with her was all planned,” Diana playfully teased with a soft smirk pulling up the corner of her lips. That was rewarded with a small chuckle from Wesker.

How he had hung his head with a light nod to it as the quiet sound spilled from his lips brought about that revolting flutter in the pit of Diana’s stomach. She hated that feeling, well and truly hated it, yet she took his reaction as a win; all she could hope for was that her presence could ease the worries nagging at his mind tonight, even just a little. An arrogant belief, some might say, but she knew she could offer a bit of humour when she liked someone well enough.

Wesker’s eyes locked on to hers from across the table and it felt as if the world around them had fallen away, like time itself had stopped. For but a moment, it was just the two of them, no one else existed, and neither dared to move.

Things would be so much simpler if she had just kept her resolve a couple of months back and ended whatever this game of theirs was. She wouldn’t have to deal with these ridiculous reactions her body loved to have around him then.

He broke the stillness first, rounding the table to stand at her back, just like he’d done when he had welcomed her inside. Diana steadied herself by holding onto the top of the chair she should’ve just sat down in when they had walked over, but Wesker simply laid a hand on the side of her hip while the other reached up to brush her hair aside. His hot breath warmed her now-exposed neck, and Diana’s breath caught in her throat.

Like always, the press of his lips was so much softer than she had anticipated.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he whispered as he pulled away.

A single chaste kiss, placed right on the junction of her neck and shoulder. Molten sparks danced across every inch of Diana’s skin, and she was glad Wesker didn’t spare her so much as a glance when he walked past her and disappeared up the stairs; she had no doubt her cheeks were flushed pink, and that was embarrassing enough in and of itself.

She slumped down into her chair, rather unceremoniously at that, and let out a heavy sigh. Tonight would have been much better if she had just declined his offer, gone back to her miserable little apartment, and clinked glasses with that annoying robin that liked to sit and peck away at her window every morning.

Yeah, I want to attack my reflection as well, buddy. She’s a right moron.

Diana directed her attention towards the dish in front of her instead, and that didn’t help. Pasta with garlic butter prawns. Or shrimp, as he liked to correct her so often. That explained the mouth-watering scent she’d been enveloped in the moment she had walked in the door – but why did he have to cook one of her favourites tonight, of all nights? He was making it incredibly difficult for her to hate him.

Where was Sherry and her invasive little questions when she needed her?

The girl was taking much too long in washing up, and Diana selfishly wanted her to come back and distract her from the mess of thoughts going on inside her head. There was also the grumbling in her stomach, much more pronounced now that she’d finally got a proper look at what Wesker had cooked.

She didn’t have to wait long; the sound of a door clicking shut followed by two sets of footsteps made her look over towards the stairs. Sherry was skipping down them again, seeming happier than she had been when she’d left the kitchen earlier, and Wesker trailed behind her.

He rubbed at his forehead as he took his time walking down each step. A stark contrast to Sherry, who triumphantly hopped off the last one then dashed over to the dining table to stand at Diana’s side. She turned in her seat to face the girl, who had a large grin stretched across her face, and was immediately met with a drawing being presented to her this time around.

“This is for you!” Sherry proudly announced, holding the drawing out at arm’s length.

Diana felt frozen in place. She didn’t really know what to do in this sort of situation, and it was honestly rather puzzling to her that this little girl was raised – loosely speaking – by parents such as hers. Her cheerful and sweet nature seeped out through the cracks in her timid and distant demeanour, like rays of light shining from beyond the clouds on an overcast day. Why that disturbed her, Diana wasn’t sure. Perhaps because she felt as though this girl’s light may be extinguished given the hand she was dealt, that she would grow up and lose this spark.

Swallowing to rid herself of the horrid feeling sitting at the base of her throat, Diana reached out and carefully took the drawing from Sherry’s hands.

It was cute… That, she couldn’t deny. The image was of herself and Wesker – at least, that’s who she inferred the man with yellow hair and sunglasses was.

Upon further inspection, Diana noticed that the miniature versions of the two of them were holding hands, and that made her lips turn up far too easily. The last thing she would’ve expected a child to pull from her was a genuine smile, and over a drawing, of all things.

Diana looked back up at Sherry, though her fingers still danced over the back of the paper, almost as if she didn’t want to part with it just yet. “Thank you, Sherry.”

“Do you like it?” Sherry bounced on her feet as she spoke, and it hit Diana then.

She was once this little girl… So eager to show off what she was passionate about only for her parents to pay her no mind, to not care, so she would show anyone who took even the slightest interest – anyone who was remotely nice to her.

It damages a child, to have parents who are rarely home, who leave them to their own devices so often, then never show concern for their wellbeing. Her parents were like that: indifferent and absent for long stretches of time. And when they were home, Diana was made to feel like a bother. She hadn’t realised how much that had all affected her until she was in her twenties, when it was too late.

That was something she didn’t think much of anymore. It was easier that way. But for it to crop up tonight, amongst everything else… This visit had truly not panned out the way she had expected.

Diana placed the drawing down on the table and allowed her smile to properly take up residence across her face. It was the least she could do for the little girl. “I do. You are quite the artist.”

Sherry beamed at that before she hurried over to her seat; how her eyes lit up brought Diana a feeling similar to that of when she accomplished something with her work. It wasn’t quite pride, but more gentle and comforting. Fulfilling.

The moment Diana turned back to face Wesker, she was met with his eyes already firmly fixed on her. The unreadable look in them made her narrow her own, trying to prompt some clarification from him, but he only offered her this soft, almost appreciative, smile – as faint as it was.

And she returned the gesture in kind.

Dinner together was uneventful, devoid of their lengthy debates or discussing what had occurred for the both of them since seeing each other last. Diana’s teasing was also completely out of the question due to their little guest, who actually tried to bring up their relationship status out of nowhere once again. That ended in Wesker having to explain to her that not every woman who was in close proximity to him was his girlfriend, and yet Sherry had pressed on.

“But you really like her!”

Diana had tried not to laugh. The last thing she wanted was for Sherry to send him into cardiac arrest over whatever his troubles with relationships were. As harmless an inquiry it was, she understood the weight it could hold.

Wesker, on the other hand, wasn’t so dismissive. He had caught himself almost worrying over this conclusion Sherry had come to – if it actually held weight.

Sure, he enjoyed Diana’s company more than he cared to admit, and he often got too jealous for his own good when others showed an interest in her, but he didn’t consider her his girlfriend. That was such a juvenile term. Had he thought of her as a lover, or partner, from time to time? Unfortunately. But it was quite obvious to him that she preferred their “no strings attached” sort of arrangement.

They did spend an awful lot of time together though.

That didn’t necessarily mean they were together. Absolutely not. She was fascinating is all, and he found her games to be quite fun. Whatever attraction he had to her would fizzle out soon enough, as soon as he got bored – a blatant lie he liked to tell himself, considering how much it had bothered him when he was without her for a month, and the fact that said attraction had been going on for over a year at this point.

They were almost finished with their meals when one of the landlines went off; the shrill ringing made Wesker’s eyes squeeze shut of their own accord, though for merely half a second. He sighed as he stood up to go and answer it, and one of his hands smoothed down Sherry’s hair as he passed by her.

It was late, and the poor girl looked as though she was going to fall asleep right at the table – fork in hand and all. Diana wondered if she had a bedroom in Wesker’s house that she could stay in for the night; she had no doubt Sherry’s parents had stayed at work until dawn on occasion, so surely he had something arranged for her whenever such an incident occurred. At least, she hoped so.

She watched the way Sherry was staring off in the direction Wesker had gone. The side of her hand was resting on the table, fork in a loose grasp between her fingers and merely sitting on the food left in her bowl. Diana slowly reached across the table and gently tapped one of her fingers on the surface beside it a few times to capture her attention.

“Finish up your dinner,” she quietly said, keeping her voice softer for the girl once their eyes had met.

Sherry nodded and looked back down at her food before she began picking at it. The utter dejection in her eyes shouldn’t have made Diana’s heart crack in two. Since when did she care about the feelings of children? The girl’s low spirits could easily be attributed to how tired she was, and what a long day she had been through seeing some strange woman in a space so familiar to her. It certainly wasn’t because of her situation that hit a little too close to home for Diana… That was absurd.

However, Diana did really want to give the girl’s parents an earful the next time she saw them in the lab.

She glanced over to where Sherry had been looking and caught sight of Wesker in the lounge room, pinching the bridge of his nose while he spoke on the phone. She couldn’t make out any of what was being said, he was too far away for that, but he looked even more frustrated than before.

Wesker let out a heavy sigh before he said what was barely even a farewell and hung up. Diana noticed how his jaw clenched for a second, before he shook his head. He made his way back over to the table and Sherry looked up at him expectantly; her eyes were open wide and a hopeful smile was scarcely contained at the corners of her lips.

“Your mother is on her way,” he said, then cocked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you go and gather your things?”

Sherry’s brief excitement vanished in an instant then. “Daddy said he’d pick me up.”

The words had barely left her mouth they were so quiet, but Diana could recognise the resignation amongst the hurt. This wasn’t new. It was as if the girl was used to this, like she had accounted for the possibility but had still held onto a small glimmer of hope, and that bothered Diana far too much. She had been trying so hard to convince herself that the situation wasn’t that bad.

“I know, darling.” Wesker placed his hands on her shoulders once she had slipped out of her chair. He slowly rubbed up and down her arms for a moment, in some futile attempt to comfort her, before he guided her towards the stairs. “Go on.”

The two of them watched Sherry drag herself out of the room, making no attempt to properly lift her feet as she walked. It made for a dreadful sight, honestly, one Diana wished she hadn’t seen. She waited until Sherry had gone up the stairs, where she was sure the girl was well out of earshot, then she looked up at Wesker.

“Does this happen often?” she asked, keeping her voice relatively low, yet unaware of how much concern was dripping off of her words.

Wesker sighed for another time that night, and slowly nodded as he sat back down across from her. That was all he offered on the matter, simply settling back in his seat instead, and silence washed over them.

It wasn’t awkward per se, things rarely ever were with them, but the whole mood in the house had shifted once more.

Wesker closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it on the top of his chair. Diana couldn’t quite discern whether that was from frustration, exhaustion, or if he was possibly in pain, considering how she noticed him wince at the ringing earlier. Perhaps it was a mix of all three. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited her over in the first place, because even if Sherry’s being there hadn’t been planned, his exhaustion seemed to her as the result of a few nights of disturbed sleep, not just one day’s events.

He cleared his throat then looked around the kitchen, his eyes scanning over every surface in sight, as though searching for something. Diana let her own follow the path his took, but nothing seemed out of place to her. The crease between his brows had deepened though, and it almost looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

When it was clear to him that whatever he was looking for was nowhere to be found, Wesker turned his gaze on Diana instead. “Will you stay tonight?”

Diana’s body almost betrayed her in letting a grin slip out onto her lips and make itself known to him; such a question shouldn’t have pulled that sort of response. Instead, she contained that treacherous smile and only sighed with a slight raise of her brows.

“I hadn’t planned to,” she said with a shrug.

She propped her elbow up on the table’s surface and rested her chin on her palm, leaning forward slightly – closer towards him. They only held eye contact with one another, and Diana couldn’t shake the thought that maybe he was actually in pain, judging by the tension tugging at every one of his muscles. 

With that, she gave him a glimpse of her thinly veiled smile then added, “And you’re tired.”

Wesker let out a small laugh as merely an exhale while he nodded in an unhurried manner. That was for the best, he supposed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked, really. So, he looked off to the side again and let his eyes scan over the lounge room this time, cursing himself in the process as he tried to retrace the steps he’d taken since that afternoon.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His head snapped to look back at Diana and his eyes were instantly drawn to her own, locking on again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. How gently she had spoken caught Wesker off guard, but the question itself… He chewed on the inside of his cheek then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yes.”

[girls-and-honey]

Hiya honey girl!

How are you doing? ♥️

I feel gay today, and I don’t have anyone to vent to, so it’s gonna be you I’m afraid

I feel so gay, I spent half the day looking longingly in the distance, and *sighing* wishfully

Do you ever feel like that?

Last week I bought a red rose from a dude in the street and offered it to a beautiful lady singer in a bar, and even if I don’t particularly want to see her again, it still felt good to do something chivalrous and lesbiany you know?

I like living my life on my own, but some days I wish I could do those romantic things with somebody, like holding hands and cuddling, and walking along the river, and maybe kissing a little.

Even if I’m happy by myself, sometimes I still yearn for the day I’ll have my own lady to offer my roses to 🥺

inkaaaa hi hi <3

I'm doing pretty good, in drastic need of a weekend. almost there!

!!! gay vents are always welcome here! oh to look longingly into the distance whilst sighing wishfully...

do I ever feel like that YES absolutely in fact while pondering my response I did just that asjdfkl okay I might ramble in the tags but yeah completely relate to be happy with life on my own but sometimes wishing it wasn't just me yeah I'm definitely going to ramble in the tags

offering a beautiful lady a rose I'm 🥺🥺 sometimes you just have to indulge in chivalrous lesbiany actions this is unavoidable. manifesting this for you, I hope all your rose offering yearnings come true!

[galaxyseclipse]

working incredibly hard on my character references

plus some first looks at Shiver and Frye('s backs)

I still need to do Big Man's clothes, but I genuinely don't know what to do with them. I've seen a few designs I like that give him clothes, so I might base them off of those.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[sinnersshackled]

guess who is still alive............ ptn girls my beloveds <3333

[annabelle--cane]

"the magnus protocol had a whole ARG beforehand? what?"

yes! it did!

"oh so I need to have participated in this whole big thing to actually understand the podcast?"

not at all! from the official post-mortem put out by RQ, "while the ARG was not something that was necessary to participate in to understand the magnus protocol, it was designed to contain a wealth of background story and context that would enrich any player's listening experience."

"a wealth of background context that would enrich my listening experience 👀👀👀 how can I learn about this?"

SO glad you asked. sadly, many of the materials made for the arg have been taken down since the game ended 😔 (ex., the official OIAR, magnus institute, and bonzoland websites. (edit ii: I found partial wayback machine captures! see below) though @strangehauntsuk is still up!), so we're a bit low on primary sources, but in terms of learning about what happened:

for a starting point, I would really recommend this video by @pinkelotjeart

it's super accessible, it was made in real time as the game progressed and follows the solving and revelation of clues as they happened, it hits all the major points of the mystery and moments of community insanity while eliding some of the nitty gritty puzzle grinding, 10/10 would recommend.

here's the official summary put out by RQ, and I'd recommend reading through this once you've already gotten a basic handle on the flow of the story and the basic connections between major clues and events. it's got some fun behind-the-scenes info and lays out the thought process behind the puzzles in simple terms

here's the full masterdoc of all puzzles and resolutions put together in the statement remains discord server. masterdoc my absolute BELOVED, masterdoc my bethrothed, masterdoc my soul mate. I'd recommend this as a second port of call after the above video as it either contains all details about the puzzles or links to other expanded docs that do.

here's the narrative summary doc that lays out all the plot and lore discovered in three pages of plain prose. if you just want to get to the good bits as fast as you can and get blasted directly in the face by contextless lore bombs, this is the doc for you. if you don't want to start with the video, I'd say this is another good entry point.

once you've got the lay of the land, some of the game materials that I found particularly interesting include:

the in-universe east germany expat usenet forum, with all content translated into english. most of it is irrelevant space filler with occasional extremely sus lore, but I still found it fun to read through. love to soak in some fictional forum drama.

chdb.xlsx, the spreadsheet of the names of all the children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was studying/experimenting on. EDIT: here is a version of the sheet without any annotations and with all of the names in their original order, kudos to @theboombutton for catching that the commonly shared copy had the order swapped around.

klaus.xls, a (very corrupted) spreadsheet with what looks like the classifications of a bunch of old OIAR cases.

EDIT: have a few more saved materials from the game that I forgot to include.

an in-universe audio ad to apply to the OIAR that ran before archives episodes and kicked off the whole game.

an in-universe video ad to apply to the OIAR, this one is an official upload that's still up from the game itself. you can subscribe to the OIAR's official youtube channel today, if you so chose.

the robo-voicemail greeting from the OIAR's phone line.

EDIT II:

here is a wayback machine capture of the OIAR's official website.

here is a wayback machine capture of the bonzoland website.

(pretty sure both of the above captures just archived the home pages, though I haven't tried clicking all of the links. I'd say they're still worth looking at, the home pages give a good window into the vibes.)

once you start poking around in these documents, you'll find a bunch of links to others with further information, the materials I've included here just contain what I feel to be the most relevant details to getting a broad feel for the whole game. once again, huge shout out to the statement remains server, I was barely in there as the ARG was in progress and only ducked my head in every so often to find links like these. true mvps of the fandom.

[skzthelomlhehe]

Okie sooo I'm like in the middle of tests and work and the progress to my upcoming oneshots have been slow so I thought, "why not make some headcanons?" (Frankly cuz I'm fucking bored of studying and working all the damned time) Total Masterlist

Okie so for these little imagines, I was thinking

How your boyfriend!skz would react to you waiting for them in a sexy lingerie after they had a long day at work! [Ot8] {Pt. 1: Hyung Line}

MDNI // includes smut (think y'all can know by the title itself lmao), I'm not exactly sure what warnings to include, just know it's smutty (I'm very sorry I'm highly sleep deprived and running on my 7th coffee today my brain cannot function) // established relationships

Bang Chan

Ok so like- I just KNOW the man wouldn't even notice. He'd walk in to your shared apartment (idfk), his head hanging with like heavy sighs and he wouldn't even notice what you were wearing when he walks in. I feel like it wouldn't be AFTER he had his shoes off and walking slow, tired steps towards you and then he looks up and drops his jaw like the bag he had in his hand. He'd prolly stutter sumn like, "Y-Y/N...? What are you...?" And not even have the means to say anything else. He would just be standing there worshipping you, basking in your beauty and walk up to you, wrapping his arms around your bare waist nice and gentle and place soft wet kisses everywhere, once again, worshipping you. Feel like even if he's tired, he would savour you in the gentlest way possible and if he had a really bad day, maybe even cry in your arms a little and vent during aftercare (cuz we all know what a damned softie he is and we love him for that)

Lee Know

For him, I'd say he would just walk in STOMPING cuz he's PISSED (possibly at himself cuz he thinks he doesn't work hard enough or at something or the other that disrupted his usual flow) and he'd just flop on the couch calling out to you probably to cuddle. Maybe even get things heated iykyk and in this case, he'd definitely do the latter. When you walk in wearing that sexy lingerie, his eyes would be wide fixated on you. And seeing him down on the couch in his usual manspread would just get you DRIPPIN'. He would probably scoff at the sight in front of him and flick his fingers motioning you to come and pat on his thighs to get you to sit down and like his little kitten you are, you would obey without a word. He'd probably run his hands all through your body, placing wet kisses, maybe even leaving marks. I'd imagine him saying something like, "what a good kitty. How'd you know I would need just this, hm?" In this husky seductive tone (once again iykyk) and despite how tired he is, I'd think he would take his time eating you up cuz youre his favourite meal~

Changbin

Would he possibly be walking in looking like he could murder someone? Yes. Will he come home to find you like that and go fucking feral? Absolutely. Will he just absolutely wreck your brains out? DEFINITELY. Do I even have to say anything?? The man is a gentle beast. He's gonna care for you, he's gonna love you, prepare you with foreplay and the moment he gets permission and knows you're ready to take him, he'd go BEAST. And then once you're done, and you'd just be laying there huffing in his arms, he would loudly yap about his day and by the end of it, let you know how much he loves you and appreciates your efforts cuz you unintentionally just made him the happiest man alive.

Hyunjin

Another guy who would worship you, really. When he gets home tired and groggy to see you sitting like a beautiful sculpture who was sculpted with extra care, extra love and extra details, he would fold. Probably melt in your arms telling you how crazy gorgeous you looked and how he would take his time painting you with his cum and then later after making a mess out of you, he'd take his time engraving your image both on his canvas and in his mind. No matter how tired he was from the day full of work, once you guys were done with all that, he would sit down on his painting stool with his large canvas in front of him while you laid there mindlessly filled and covered with his fluids. He'd look at you like a work of art, a once in a lifetime masterpiece created JUST for him while he keeps repeating sweet nothings as he paints you.

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[kayleigh-83]

Hobbies and sub-hobbies

I've been working on implementing a sub-hobby system in my game recently and really enjoying it! I took a look at the different activities available for different hobbies and came up with my list, which I thought I'd share here.

I do have some mods that change the hobby enthusiasm of some objects, or add new ones - I'll link where applicable.

I don't assign these based on any system, just vibes. I usually stick with whatever hobby the game assigns, but I do sometimes change them if it really feels like it doesn't fit to me. The sub-hobbies are intended to be a main focus, but Sims can and will still try other aspects of their overall hobby, and other hobbies altogether sometimes too!

The list is a work in progress but I'm basically happy with it now.

Edited: I found a version of the punching bag that gives fitness enthusiasm instead of sports, and that activity makes more sense to me as a fitness thing, so I moved that sub-hobby over.

Edited x2: Combined a couple gaming subhobbies into "Social Games" and added MyShuno to that category.

Edited x3: Combined sewing and knitting into Fibre Arts under Arts & Crafts hobbies.

Cuisine

Cooking

Baking

Wine & Cocktails

Foodie (restaurants, delivery)

Films & Literature

Reading

Writing (helpful but not necessary to also have this mod)

Movies

Tinkering

Restoring & Repairing (restorable car, general repairs, plus drafting blueprints thanks to a mod)

Woodworking (here and here)

Tinker Toys (RC cars, model trains, toy workbench)

Sports

Soccer

Basketball

Sports Fan (watching sports)

Golf (Execuputter reward object made buyable)

Baseball

Football

Music & Dance

Dancing

Ballet

Piano/Keyboard

Synthesizer

Violin

Singing

Guitar

Bass

Drums

Fitness

Swimming

Lifting & Cardio

Yoga

Boxing (with modded hanging bag from here - unlocked buyable punching bag still gives sports hobby, but it seems more like a fitness thing to me as a solo activity)

Arts & Crafts

Painting

Pottery

Photography (hugely aided by the buyable antique camera and Epi and PF's camera overhaul mod)

Fibre Arts (sewing, knitting with Eisbaer's edit of TonyVeis' 4t2 mod)

Science

Stargazing/Aliens

Biotech (buyable Biotech station and microscopes with science enthusiasm added)

Robotics (this mod makes robotics science related which makes far more sense to me)

Games

Video Games (console, handheld, computer, arcade games)

Board Games (chess, Don't Wake the Llama, mahjong)

Social Games (darts, poker, pool, bowling, MyShuno)

Nature

Entomology (hunting bugs, catching fireflies and butterflies)

Animals (small pets like womrats, birds, koi fish, bird watching)

Gardening (harvestable crops, orchard trees - I play with perfect plants mod so they don't have to maintain flowers and shrubs)

Outdoorsy (fishing, hiking, camping, cloud watching)

Flower Arranging (this mod changes the enthusiasm on the flower bench to nature)

[zombvic]

They are talking in real life. I should’ve been more specific when I requested it

I’m sorry. I hope you have a good day 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I'D BE YOURS IF YOU'D ASK. (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n ghosts the turkish footballer during their "situationship" whilst talking to another football player

face claim : no-one

notes : thank you for requesting !! lets pretend the copa america isnt going on at the same time as the euros lmao

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , angsty fluff (?)

Y/n was familiar with the game of footballers. The heartbreak you'd get from talking with football players and then getting ignored out of nowhere, also known as ghosting. After multiple failed "talking stages" and "situationships" with various football players from all around the world, Y/n decided it was her turn to become the so-called ghoster. She enjoyed the sense of control and power it gave her.

As of June 2024, Y/n had been talking with a Turkish footballer named Kenan for about three months. After those three months, there was an undeniable change in the mood. She felt the conversations fade away, the replies becoming drier. After three months, you’d expect their relationship to progress, but instead, it felt like things were regressing.

A week had passed since she ghosted Kenan. She didn't choose the ideal time because the Euros were about to start. She thought maybe her absence would go unnoticed, or that Kenan would be too busy to care. But the truth was, she couldn’t handle the idea of being ghosted again. She took the first step to protect herself.

Kenan realized they hadn't talked in about a week while he was training for the Euros. The days were packed with intense practice sessions, team meetings, and strategy discussions. It wasn't until he had a quiet moment to himself that he noticed the absence of Y/n's messages. He checked his phone, scrolling through their last conversation, dated seven days ago.

He tried to brush off the feeling that she was ignoring him. Maybe she was just busy, maybe he was overthinking it. But as the days passed, he found himself missing her more than he expected. It wasn't just about the attention from her; it was the connection they shared, her way of always bringing his mood up, her way of cheering him up after a loss, the way she made him laugh, and how he could talk to her about anything going on in his life. He realized that he liked her much more than other friends do. He had a crush.

Even while training, Kenan's thoughts kept returning to Y/n. He made an effort to concentrate on the game, but it was difficult. What if she was truly over him? The thought of her abandoning him hit me like a blow to the stomach. Was she talking to another guy? Did she already have a boyfriend? Throughout the training, the worst-case scenarios couldn't stop forcing their way into his mind.

The day of the Georgia vs. Turkey game eventually arrived. Kenan decided to overlook the Y/n incident and concentrate on the match. However, he saw her in one of the VIP boxes as soon as he entered the field, he noticed her talking and giggling with a fellow football player, Kevin Alvarez. A wave of jealousy hit him. Why had she and Kevin come here? Is she trying to make me jealous? Is this some kind of game to her?

Kenan's attention split between the action on the field and Y/n in the crowd during the entire game. Kenan felt that Kevin was taking advantage of her companionship a bit too much. Knowing she was right there, laughing and giggling with someone else, made it difficult to focus.

Despite the distraction, Kenan played well and helped his team to win over Georgia. As the final whistle blew, he couldn't wait any longer. Eager to find out, he ran straight for the VIP box.

Kenan said "Y/n," as he walked up to her. Surprised to see him, she turned round, facing him. "Can we talk?"

Nodding, she followed him out of sight into a more peaceful area. "What's up, Kenan?"

He asked again, his irritation rising to the surface, "What's up? Why aren't you talking with me? And what's going on between Kevin and you?"

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Kevin? We're just friends. What is your problem?"

"My problem? What is MY problem?! You ghosted me, Y/n. One day we're talking, and the next, nothing. Then I see you here with him, giggling, flirting like everything's fine. Like i"

"Look, every time I get into a so-called 'talking stage,' it always ends with me feeling like I'm bothering the person in question and never in a successful relationship. All I was doing is giving you space."

"Space?" Kenan frowned deeper. "I didn't ask for space. I wanted to talk to you. Instead, you left me hanging, making me think I did something wrong."

Y/n moved reluctantly, her eyes glancing away for a while before returning to his. "I am sorry Kenan. It wasn't my goal to hurt your feelings."

Kenan's jaw tightened, showing his simmering displeasure beneath the surface. "But why didn't you talk it out with me? We could have solved the problem, together."

Kenan shook his head, a mix of exasperation and relief flooding him. "Y/n, I like you. A lot. Seeing you with Kevin… it drove me crazy."

Her gaze eased as she turned to face him. "Kenan, I'd be yours if you'd ask. However, you have to understand that I can't deal with the constant unpredictability of our relationship."

Kenan held her hand in his. "Okay. So, I want to be your official boyfriend. I want to spend time with you, I want to take you out on dates, I want you to wear a jersey with MY name and MY number. I want a real relationship with you—not just a situationship or talking stage, an actual relationship."

As he was about to finish his sentence, Y/n hugged him. "Finally."

The tension slowly began to release as they stood there. They finally understood that they both wanted the same one thing: each other.

im hoping this is what you imagined while requesting, if not just lmk i can change anything <3

[noirsfantasy]

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 | 𝖕𝖙. 1

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Michael B Jordan as Adonis Creed x Black!Plus-sized Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Smut

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ Creed

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛3.4k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛A chance encounter between you and Adonis at a label party turns into a passionate and intense romantic night.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛Guys, guys, GUYSSSSSS!!! Y'all are gonna love this one, I'M TELLING YOU! You won't be disappointed.

Next Part

My heels click loudly as I make my way into a large bustling event. I had been invited by my best friend, Bianca to attend the label party she set up for one of her artists. As I walk in, my heart races with excitement as the buzz of the crowd fills my ears. I had been to a few of these exclusive events before and I knew how to dress the part. I'm dressed to impress, my black dress hugging my curvy frame and accentuating my hips. My hair, curled to perfection, falls gently onto my shoulders, and my red purse adds a touch of sophistication to my look.

I feel a buzz from my phone and smile, seeing a text pop up.

"Someone's looking sexy," It reads and I see that it's from Bianca. I scan around the room, looking for her as she's already spotted me. When we make eye contact, I smile and make my way over. She smiles at me and gives me a big hug, which I return.

"I'm so glad you made it!" She tells me as we part.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, B. Besides I'm always down to support my bestie." I reply with a wink, causing Bianca to chuckle.

"You sure you not just tryna steal the show?" She questions playfully as she raises an eyebrow. I giggle and shake my head.

"No way, girl. I just threw something on that I thought would match the theme." I assure her but she purses her lips.

"Really? Cus from what I'm seeing all that ass is getting more attention than my artist." She says, gesturing to my outfit and the way it complements my body. I nudge her shoulder.

"Girl, whatever! That is not true." We share a laugh and I shake my head.

"Anyways, make yourself at home. There's an open bar and, you know, just enjoy yourself. I gotta go talk to these producers real quick." Bianca takes my hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go and walking over to do some networking. I sigh a bit, rubbing my glossy lips together as I look around for anyone familiar.

I'd always been a bit shy, but there's something about being in a room full of celebrities that makes me feel like I'm living a dream. I smooth out my skirt as I weave between people, smiling politely at acquaintances. That's when I see him - Adonis Creed, a famous boxer. I've been a fan of his for a while and, I must say, he's even more breathtaking in person. His brown skin gleams under the warm lights, his goatee and large stud earrings giving him a rugged yet sophisticated edge. And those dimples? Those lips? They can make anyone weak at the knees.

I realize I've been staring when our eyes meet and he holds my gaze for a moment. A smile tugs at his lips and I have to look away quickly to hide the blush that is forming.

As the evening progresses, I find myself crossing paths with him a few times. He'd always give me a charming smile and I'd smile politely back, before going back to what I was doing. Each encounter only serves to leave me feeling more intrigued and attracted to him.

I decide to get a drink from the bar and as I order from the bartender, someone appears next to me.

"I'll have what she's having." He says and I look up to see Adonis. I clear my throat nervously and I smile politely at him as I shift in my seat. He smiles back, taking in the way I cross my legs, my movements effortless and sexy. The heat starts to rise in my cheeks as I feel his eyes on me. "I gotta say," He starts, leaning against the bar. "You killing with that outfit." I meet his eyes once more and smile at the flattery.

"Thank you, glad to know my efforts haven't gone unnoticed," I reply as the bartender hands me my drink. I thank him and then look back at Adonis.

"Yeah, you caught my eye from across the room. But I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. What's your name?" He inquires, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel a blush creeping onto my face as I take a sip from my drink for courage.

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you." I introduce myself, holding my hand out. He takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle shake before lifting it to his lips and landing a soft kiss on my knuckles.

"The pleasure's all mine, Y/N. I'm Donnie." He replies, his grip on my hand lingering for a bit before letting go. The action sends butterflies through my body. "You a friend of Bianca's?" He asks.

"Yeah, her best friend, actually," I say with a chuckle, taking another sip of my drink and feeling the warmth rise through my chest. Adonis raises an eyebrow in pleasant surprise.

"I thought your name sounded familiar," He says with a smile, his eyes studying my face. "She mentioned you a few times. Said you were important to her." His gaze roams over me, enjoying how the alcohol visibly loosens me up.

"Really? That's sweet. I never knew she talked about me to other people." I hide a bashful smile, appreciating my friendship with the producer.

"Although, I've gotta admit, her descriptions of you don't do you justice at all." The compliment rolls off of his tongue easily, but it's clear he means every word. I find myself blushing again and laughing softly as I look away. There's an undeniable spark between us and, as we speak, my shy nature seems to dissipate. We find ourselves engaging in witty banter, my lips curling into a smile as I match his flirty tone.

"So, you a fan of boxing, gorgeous?" Donnie asks, leaning a little closer, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes seem to see right through me and I get the sense that he's just as interested in me as I am in him.

"Maybe," I reply with a playful grin, enjoying the game of cat and mouse. "It depends on the boxer," I say with a shrug.

"Ah," Donnie shoots back with a wry smile, leaning in even closer. "You've got a type, I see. Let me guess, you're probably into those pretty-boy fighters, the ones who don't get their hands dirty. Guys like Ryan Garcia, maybe?" I tilt my head as if I'm thinking.

"Hmm, no not really. I'm more into the dangerous ones." I say, my eyes locking on his. A wolfish grin spreads across Donnie's lips as I share my preference.

"Ah, so you're after someone who can bring the heat, huh? Someone who gives you that flutter in your chest just by being near them." A pause as Donnie lifts his drink to his lips. "You're not afraid to mix it up and get your hands dirty?" I raise an eyebrow, biting my lip slightly.

"I think getting dirty is part of the fun," I tell him with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, I can promise you, it always is," Donnie replies, his voice low and husky. Our eyes lock, the air between us feeling charged with a heat that wasn't there before. "But be careful, gorgeous," he adds. "Some games can end in a brutal knockout."

"Really? Well, good thing I'm always up for a challenge." A mischievous glint appears in Donnie's eyes as he leans even closer.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Donnie muses, his gaze flickering with a predatory flash. We talk for a bit longer, flirting back and forth until the party eventually draws to a close. I find myself unable to resist the pull between us. With a boldness that surprises even me, I approach him, my heart pounding in my chest.

"So, Donnie," I begin, my voice having a suggestive edge, "are you going to ask for my number, or do I have to make the first move?" A flash of desire crosses his face, and he steps closer, his body radiating heat.

"I think we can skip the whole dating game charade," he murmurs, his lips inches from my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Why don't you come back to my place? I'll show you why they call me Big D." My breath quickens as I slowly nod, unable to speak past the lump of desire in my throat. Taking his hand, I let him lead me out of the event and into the night, a delicious anticipation building inside me.

The ride to his place is a blur of streetlights and adrenaline, my body tingling with eagerness. As soon as the door to his home shuts behind me, Donnie presses me up against it, his lips claiming mine in a passionate kiss. I melt into him, my hands roaming over his muscular back, feeling the definition of his powerful body.

His hands find my curves effortlessly, his touch a perfect balance of firmness and gentleness. My body presses against his as my hands caress his jaw and neck, the stubble on his face tickling my skin.

"Damn," Donnie curses under his breath as he pulls away briefly, his lips moving to explore the expanse of my neck. Each kiss leaves fire in its wake and I let out a soft moan, my eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

Breaking the kiss, he looks deeply into my eyes, running his thumb along my bottom lip. Our lips crash together sloppily as I tug at his shirt impatiently.

"Eager, are we now?" Donnie teases, his breath warm against my neck. He gently pushes my hands away and lifts his shirt, revealing chiseled abs and a defined chest. I trace the ridges of his muscles with my fingertips, feeling every contour, every line. I feel like I'm dreaming, but the heat of his body and the taste of his lust on my tongue are all too real.

He lifts me into his arms and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. I feel small in his embrace, but also protected. The way he easily carries my weight and holds me, all while showering my neck with kisses, sends tingles through me. I moan softly, tilting my head to give him better access as my hand rests on the back of his head, my acrylics grazing his scalp. Donnie brings my lips to his once more, sucking on my bottom lip slightly. He carries me into the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss, and lays me down on the edge of the bed.

Donnie's hands slide down my body, tracing the curves of my thighs and legs as he gently slips my heels off. His hands travel up my back his fingers finding the zipper of my dress, slowly pulling it down.

I lift my hips to help him undress me, a playful thrill coursing through me as I expose myself to his hungry gaze. He strips away my clothing until the only thing left are my lacy panties. His eyes rake over my body, taking in every curve, roll, and stretch mark, before returning to my face, the fire in his eyes searing me to my core. He leans down, cupping my breasts and taking my sensitive nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth as I whimper from the pleasure. He kisses the soft skin tenderly, before trailing his finger along my jaw, ghosting over my lower lip as I look up at him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers, kneeling before me and guiding my legs over his shoulders. His fingers run along my outer thighs as he presses a kiss to the damp fabric between my legs, his touch leaving goosebumps in their path. I bite my lip, watching him gaze upon me in a mix of awe and lust. "I've been dying to taste you all night."

A ripple of excitement runs through me as his eyes burn with desire. He pulls my panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. Without another word, he lowers his head, his tongue lapping at my core, flicking my clit and driving me wild.

A strangled moan escapes my lips as his mouth sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body. His talented tongue works me over relentlessly, every lick and suck driving me wild with want. My hips buck against his face as I lose myself in the sensations, my hands on the back of his head, pressing him closer.

"Donnie~" I pant breathlessly, aching for more. A low growl rumbles in Adonis's throat as he hears his name fall from my lips.

"That's right, mama," He breaths against my slick folds, sending tingles through my core. His grip on my thighs tightens as he resumes his devouring assault, his tongue lapping and swirling with unyielding hunger. I can feel the vibrations of his moans against my sensitive skin, causing my back to arch off the bed slightly.

A wicked grin spreads across Donnie's face as he feels my body react to his stimulation. He sucks and swirls his tongue around my clit, intent on driving me wild with pleasure. My hands grip the sheets, fueling his desire as he moans against my core. Donnie's strong hands firmly hold me in place as I squirm beneath his grasp.

"Oh god, I'm so close~" I moan as I throw my head back, rolling my hips. Sensing my impending release, Adonis doubles down, his tongue working my swollen bundle of nerves with ruthless precision as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs tremble against his grip as I feel my climax rising to the surface. With one final flick of his tongue, he sends me hurtling over the peak into a crashing wave of ecstasy.

My body tenses as my thighs grip his head, holding him in place as I come undone. Adonis laps up every last drop of my sweet nectar, groaning with unbridled satisfaction. When my tremors finally subside, he slowly pulls back, his lips glistening as he lightly kisses my inner thigh.

"You taste so good, babygirl," he purrs, his voice dripping with lust. I pant heavily as I start to calm down, my racing heart beginning to slow. I whimper softly as he moves up my body, pressing his hardness against my thigh.

Adonis's eyes darken with desire as he hears my whimpers and he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I'm just getting started." His fingers trail up my outer thigh, his touch feather-light but electrifying. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he whispers before capturing my mouth in a searing, passionate kiss.

My arms wrap around Donnie's neck as I whine into the kiss, tasting myself on his tongue and aching to feel him inside me. He teases me, grinding his clothed cock against my entrance, soaking the fabric. A groan emits from his throat as the delicious friction drives him wild with need. He pulls back just enough to swiftly rid himself of his remaining clothes.

Donnie's cock springs free, thick and throbbing as he positions himself at my entrance. "You feel that, baby?" He rasps, rubbing the tip teasingly against my slick folds.

"Yes-" I gasp as he prods my hole, just barely pushing in before pulling back again. I roll my hips to try and press you deeper, but you don't budge.

"Someone's impatient." He taunts, eliciting a whine from me.

"Please~" I beg, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at how desperate I sound. A chuckle escapes him as he continues to tease me with his cock.

"Say it again," he demands, drawing his lower plump lip between his teeth while pressing into my heat, only allowing the tip to enter. I grunt with frustration.

"Please, Donnie," I whisper, my voice thick with desire. "I need you. Now." Without warning, he surges forward, burying himself to the hilt with a moan of ecstasy. I let out a yelp as I stretch around him, feeling his dick pressing against my cervix. Adonis's eyes widen as he feels me tighten around his hard length.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," he growls, his fingers digging into my hips. Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, establishing a deep and steady rhythm as he fills me over and over.

"Oh my god- So big~" I manage to say between moans. I meet his thrusts, my legs locking around his waist, pulling him deeper. My long nails dig into his back, threatening to break, but I don't care. I groan as he fills me up completely, stretching me just barely past my limit.

Adonis's eyes flash with lust as I cry out, relishing the feel of every inch of him buried inside me. He groans throatily, driven wild by the sensations of my silky walls clenching around his throbbing length.

"That's right, take it all," he rasps, his hips rolling in a steady, punishing rhythm. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me flush against him as his lips claim mine again. My tongue swirls around his as I pull him impossibly closer, my body melting against his. The kiss becomes more possessive Donni's large hands roam my body.

He tears his mouth from mine only to latch onto my neck as he starts rolling his hips against mine, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. He uses one hand to turn my neck, exposing more of my skin, and the other to capture my nipple in his fingers, rolling the sensitive peak between his digits. His hips increase to a relentless pace, driving his thick shaft in and out repeatedly. The obscene sounds of our joined bodies fill the air, only rivaled by my mewls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I'm gonna wreck you." He whispers against my skin, his voice hoarse as the force of his thrust urges another moan out of me.

"Mhm, yes please f-" My breath hitches, unable to finish my sentence as he picks up speed. He shifts his weight to his knees, leaning his head back as his cock slams deliciously into my core. Donnie's powerful hips snap forward with relentless abandon, the bed creaking under our combined weight.

I press my hands to the headboard behind me for support as the force of his thrusts move me further up the bed. I look up at Adonis, but his eyes are screwed shut, his brows knitted together and jaw clenched as every muscle in his sculpted body strains with the effort. My whimpers and moans mutate into screams of pleasure as he chases his own release, his thrusts growing more erratic.

"Don- nie-" My words are stuttered as my brain turns to mush from his movements, his hands grip my hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into me, desperate to find his edge.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Let me feel that sweet pussy milk my dick." He urges, his voice hoarse. His words send me over the edge, my body clenching around him as I climax, my back arching off the bed as a flood rushes from between my legs. I let out a whine as he continues to thrust, splashing my fluids back onto me as the feeling of me tightening around him sends him over the edge as well.

A strangled cry of pleasure tears from his throat as his hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he is enveloped in the throes of his own climax. He collapses forward, burying his face in the crook of my neck as his body shudders with the intensity of his release. Waves of blissful ecstasy washes over us, every nerve ending alight with sensation. When the tremors finally cease, he rolls to the side, pulling me flush against his sweat-slicked body.

"Damn, baby..." he breaths, placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

"That was... fuck, I don't even have the words." I reply softly as my cheek rests against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat slowing. Adonis chuckles breathlessly, his strong arms wrapped securely around me.

"Tell me about it. That was..." He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief. I smile to myself as we lie there in bed, basking in the bliss of our pleasure. At this moment, nothing else matters. It's just me and Adonis. Just two strangers, yet it feels like he knows every part of me. I sigh contently, feeling the lull of sleep falling over me.

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part six)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff, carol danvers x fem!reader (platonic), past carol danvers x natasha romanoff

summary: you feel like there is something more to your relationship with wanda and natasha, but in reality? there is not.

warnings: swearing, nat being mean, kinda toxic!nat, alcohol consumption, ankle injury, crying, just some angst!

word count: 4k

an: this one is a bit angsty, just cause i felt like it:P

(italica = your thoughts)

Wanda and Natasha have kept their promise, showing up at your workplace a next day. They sit in a small corner of the café, their presence commanding attention despite their casual demeanor. Wanda is sipping a coffee, her fingers wrapped around the cup, while Natasha leans back in her chair, looking around the room.

You steal glances at them whenever you have a free moment, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in your chest. The sight of them together, so effortlessly confident and undeniably alluring, fills you with a warmth that spreads from your heart to your fingertips. It feels like you never made a coffee in your life, how nervouss you are around them.

Finally, after a rush hour you have a small break, you make your way over to their table. Natasha spots you first, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across her face. Wanda's eyes light up as she looks up from her coffee, her lips curving into a welcoming smile.

"Hey," you greet them, your voice tinged with both shyness and exitement.

"Hey yourself," Natasha replies, her tone playful. "How's your day going?"

You shrug, feeling more at ease in their presence. "Busy, but seeing you two here makes it a lot better."

Wanda's smile deepens, and she reaches out to touch your hand briefly. "We're glad to hear that. We've been looking forward to seeing you in your element."

Natasha nods, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "And we have to admit, we were curious about where you spend your days."

As you chat with them, the conversation flows easily, filled with light banter and genuine interest. You feel a sense of belonging, as if these two extraordinary women have carved out a special place for you in their lives. Their attention is unwavering, making you feel seen and appreciated in a way that goes beyond words.

But you can´t hide the little voice in your head, that is once again overthinking… they wouldn´t be so nice if it would be just sex to them… right?

After a while, you reluctantly mention needing to get back to work. Natasha glances at her watch and then back at you. "We don't want to keep you from your duties, but we were wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner after your shift?"

Your heart skips a beat at the invitation. "I'd love that."

"Great," Wanda says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We'll be waiting."

With a final smile, you head back to the counter, the prospect of dinner with Wanda and Natasha adding an extra spring to your step.

Oh my god- oh my god! (Y/N) calm down, it´s just a dinner. Friendly dinner. Or is it?

...

The dinner goes well, filled with laughter, playful banter, and an undeniable chemistry that crackles in the air between you. As the evening progresses, the conversation becomes more intimate, and the touches more lingering. Natasha’s hand grazes your thigh while Wanda’s fingers trace delicate patterns on your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

The moment soon turns more heated. Natasha leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, her lips soft yet demanding. Wanda’s hands slide up your back, pulling you closer into the warmth of their embrace. It’s a cycle of kisses and touches, pure lust taking over as the three of you explore each other with an insatiable hunger.

...

Weeks pass in a blissful haze. You find yourself spending more time at their luxurious apartment, each visit is shared with pleasure. The bond between you three deepens with each kiss, each tender touch.

During one of your visits, as you lie entwined on their couch, Wanda’s voice breaks the serene silence. She speaks about a heavy business case they have tomorrow, her tone tinged with worry. Something about the Danvers company taking their customers and main sponsors, especially at glorious gala nights, that are arranged every month for companies like theirs. You can sense the underlying tension, you have never seen them this… worried about something. And you´re glad you could make them forget about it for a little while, but your heart wants to help them more.

...

The next day, driven by a desire to support them, you decide to go to their office. Finding your way to the sleek, imposing building, you eventually spot Natasha, her demeanor taut with stress.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice edged with irritation.

“I came to support. Wanda said it is really important for you, so I came to support the two of you.” You smile.

Natasha’s eyes narrow, frustration evident. “Yeah, it is important, but I don’t have a clue why you are here. I didn’t ask you to come.”

“You didn’t, no, but I just… thought that maybe it would be nice.”

“You thought wrong. We are not together! You can’t just show up here.” Natasha scoff and your heart sinks.

Wanda arrives, sensing the tension, and looks at you with concern. “Nat, she was just trying to do a nice thing.”

Natasha's frustration spills over. “No, Wanda. She feels like we are together, but we’re not! Jesus, what will people think? We have her just for sex, god dammit! She can’t just show up in here and act like our girlfriend.”

Your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. “You did show up to my work too.”

Wanda’s voice is gentle but firm. “That was different.”

Natasha’s voice is sharp. “It was a coffee shop, (Y/N). This is my company! Important place.”

“So I’m not important?”

Wanda reaches out, trying to calm the situation. “(Y/N)-”

Natasha cuts in, her voice cold. “No!”

Feelings clash and collide within you, leaving you messy, hurt, and heartbroken. The realization hits hard— you were never more than a convenience, a thrill for them.

“It would be better if you’d leave, (Y/N),” Wanda says softly, her eyes filled with regret.

“Right… okay, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know it is embarrassing to be seen with me.”

The walk back to your apartment is a blur. Anger, sadness, and a deep sense of betrayal swirl within you. You feel used, discarded like a mere object. What you thought was a connection was nothing more than a facade, a cruel illusion.

In the quiet of your room, you let the tears fall, each one a testament to your broken heart. The sting of their words echoes in your mind, making you question everything. You hate yourself for being so naive, for believing that you could mean something more to them.

After a few hours of crying in your own bed, you decided to go for a drink or two. Sitting in a bar nursing your drink and drowning in a sea of regret, sounded like a better activity than just cry in your apartment. The sting of Natasha’s words still burns in your mind. The bar is dimly lit, a perfect reflection of your current mood. Your thoughts are a chaotic mess, replaying the harshness of Natasha’s dismissal and Wanda’s helpless gaze. The alcohol numbs the pain slightly, but not enough to stop the tears from silently streaming down your face.

In a moment of reckless impulse, you decide to send a text to Natasha and Wanda, something along the lines of, "Thanks for making things clear," but you delete it before hitting send, knowing it would only make things worse. You drain your glass and stumble out of the bar, the night air hitting your face like a slap. The streets are blurry, and your mind is foggy, filled with anger and sadness. As you make your way from the bar, you miss your next step, causing your ankle to bend in 90°C.

Not sure if it´s the alcohol or the heartbreak, but you don´t feel any pain at all. Just a set of hands that are supporting you right now.

"Careful!" A tall blonde lady caught you, she look a bit familiar to you.

"I´m all good-" you clear your throat.

She chekcs you up and down, "oh! You're with Maximoff and Romanoff, huh?" Her hands still on you.

"No," you say sternly, trying to steady yourself as you eventually sit down on the curb on the sidewalk.

"Oh… um, my apologies. Do you need any help with that?" she asks, her eyes filled with concern.

You take a moment to process her words, finding her beauty distracting. "NO! I- sorry, no… I don't think- I'm fine, I'm okay."

She looks down at you. "You're crying, obviously drunk. I saw you in the bar, you looked like shit. You still do, by the way. Let me drive you home."

"No." You quickly mumble as you wipe your tears.

"Okay, then I can call you an Uber?"

"No."

"Taxi? Or anything else you´d prefer?"

"No."

She sighs, clearly slightly irritated. "Can you say something else other than 'no'?"

"Yes."

"Okay, cool." She sits down next to you, and you wince as you realize your ankle is starting to hurt slightly. She notices too and frowns.

"What are you doing?" You ask, your eyes meeting hers.

"Staying… I'm not leaving you alone in this state. No buts… I don't want you to get more hurt."

"Why?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

"Because," she replies simply, not offering more but somehow making you feel a bit safer.

You nod, accepting her presence, and for a moment, there is a peaceful silence between you. Her calm demeanor is oddly comforting.

After a while, she breaks the silence. "I have to ask… did the big CEOs make you feel like shit?"

"What?" you respond, confused by the question.

"Natasha and Wanda."

"I don´t know what you´re talking about," you look away from her, but can´t really concentrate on anything since you´re vision is still pretty blurry.

"I´m Carol, used to be their friend and I'd hate to burst your bubble, but you're not the first one." She states, still looking at you.

You look at her skeptically. "W-what do you mean? Y-you too?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "I wasn’t in their relationship, no. But I am an ex of Natasha’s."

It finally hits you, "Ohhh, Carol Danvers?"

She nods with a small smile, "you heard about me?"

"A little bit, Natasha was mentioning you, while she was talking about some gala night."

"Small world, huh?" she says with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah…," you reply, still processing the revelation.

And another moment of silence was set, your world was still spinning like crazy, but at least you coudln´t fall from your position.

"She's not much of a romantic person… Natasha." Carol speak up again.

"No, not really," you admit, the bitterness creeping back into your voice.

"I'm sorry about that." Carol looks at your ankle.

"It´s okay…" You mumble.

"I meant the ankle, but uh… about them too."

"Oh right… did Natasha broke up with you because of Wanda?" You are curious, is the redhead acting in a normal relationship like this too?

Carol shakes her head. "No. I broke up with her, because she just wanted more and more of me. And then she wanted someone else, someone I'm not willing to turn into, just because I was deeply in love with her."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that," you say, feeling a pang of empathy.

"Eh, don't be. It was a few years ago. And it looks like she hasn´t change a bit." The blonde shrugs.

"I wish I was straight," you blurt out, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

Carol chuckles at your words. "Oh really? So in another universe, you wouldn’t cry because of Natasha, but because of Nathaniel. What is the difference?"

You can’t help but laugh a little at her response, despite the pain in your heart. The simplicity of her words brings a momentary clarity, a reminder that love and heartbreak are universal, regardless of the specifics.

As you sit there with Carol, you find yourself growing more curious about her history with Natasha and how she managed to move on. "How did you manage to get past her?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity.

Carol takes a deep breath, looking thoughtful. "It wasn't easy," she begins. "Natasha is… intoxicating. She's strong, confident, and when she focuses on you, it's like the world fades away. But I had to remind myself that it wasn't healthy. She didn't want me as an equal partner; she wanted me as an accessory to her life, someone she could control and use when it suited her."

You nod, absorbing her words, feeling a connection to her struggle. Just as you open your mouth to ask another question, your phone buzzes. You glance at the screen and see a text from Wanda: "I’m sorry about what happened, can we talk?"

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips as you read the message. Carol raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What is it?" she asks.

You show her the text, and she sighs knowingly. "Let me guess," she says, leaning back slightly. "They’re going to apologize, make you feel needed, convince you that you’re special to them."

You frown, feeling a mix of hope and skepticism. "And then what?" you ask, needing to hear her perspective.

Carol looks at you with a mixture of sympathy and firmness. "Then, they’ll draw you back in. You’ll enjoy their company, feel like you belong with them. Natasha will apologize because she sees you as something she needs. Something she owns. She’ll make it seem like she can’t function without you, and for a while, you’ll feel important. But it’s a cycle. She craves control, and as long as you’re under her influence, she’ll keep you on that emotional rollercoaster."

You feel a pang of recognition at her words. "So, what should I do?" you ask, feeling lost.

Carol reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You need to decide what’s best for you. If you can handle the ups and downs, if that’s what you want, then maybe you can find a way to make it work. But if you’re looking for something real, something where you’re valued for who you are and not just what you can provide, then you need to think hard about whether this is the right situation for you."

You nod, feeling more sober now, but your emotions are still messy.

"You deserve to be with someone who sees you as an equal, not just as an accessory." Carol adds.

You chuckle, "you don´t even know me."

Carol smiles gently. "I don’t have to know everything about you to see your worth. It’s clear you have a big heart and that you care deeply. But don’t let that heart be trampled on by people who don’t appreciate it."

You nod, feeling the sincerity in her words. "Thanks, Carol. I guess I just got caught up in the idea of being with them, you know? They seemed so perfect."

"They’re magnetic, for sure," Carol agrees. "But perfection is often an illusion. What really matters is how people treat you, especially when things get tough."

Your phone buzzes again, another message from Wanda: "Please, (Y/N)?"

Carol notices your hesitation and sighs. "Look, if you feel you need closure or even just one last conversation, that’s okay. But go in with your eyes open. Know what you want out of it and don’t settle for less."

Taking a deep breath, you nod. "You’re right. I think I need to hear what they have to say."

Carol smiles approvingly. "Just maybe drink some water, get an ice for your ankle and take some bubblegum."

You chuckle, "oh… yeah, I need that, yeah."

With that, you send a brief reply to Wanda: "Okay, let’s meet. When and where?"

As you wait for her response, you agree and ride with Carol into the nearest shop for some cold water and bubblegum for you. During your not so long drive you share stories about life, work, some old memories from drunk parties. Carol seems like a super nice woman, who stands her ground, something you have trouble to do so.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes again: "How about our place in 30 minutes?"

You look at Carol, who gives you a reassuring nod. "You’ve got this," she says. "Just remember what we talked about."

"I don´t want to go inside," you shake your head.

"You don´t have to." Carol and you get out of her car as she goes to buy you the stuff that you need to freshen up.

You hum and quickly type an answer to Wanda: "Okay, but we will talk outside."

Carol gives you an ice pack on your leg, "better?" You can just nod.

After 30 minutes Carol drops you near their apartment complex, your nerves are killing you once again. You feel less drunk and more scared. To be fair you feel the same way you look, horrible. Your ankle is now swollen and your makeup is just messy.

As you´re zooned out, you don´t notice them walking towards your secured spot on one of the benches.

"Hey," Wanda says softly, bringing you from your thoughts.

You look up to see both Natasha and Wanda standing before you. Natasha’s eyes immediately fall to your swollen ankle, her concern evident. "What happened to your ankle?" she asks, her voice laced with worry.

You brush it off, trying to appear composed. "What do you want to talk about?" you say, straightening up and attempting to steady yourself, even though you’re still feeling the remnants of your earlier drinking.

Wanda kneels down beside you, her gentle hands examining your ankle with care. "We should get you some ice for this," she says, looking up at Natasha, who nods in agreement.

Ignoring their concern, you persist, "I´m okay, what do you want to talk about?"

Natasha sits beside you, her eyes searching yours. "We want to talk about what happened earlier, and about us," she begins, her tone sincere. "But first, let us help you. You’re hurt."

You sigh, knowing they won’t let it go and in your state… no one can blame you for nodding. "Fine," you concede, allowing Wanda to help you to your feet. Natasha wraps an arm around you, supporting you as you hobble towards their apartment.

Once inside, they guide you to the couch and prop your foot up with some cushions. Wanda disappears into the kitchen, returning shortly with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. She gently places it on your ankle, her touch tender and caring.

Natasha sits next to you, her eyes never leaving your face. "We’re sorry," she starts. "For everything. For how we made you feel and for giving you a mixed signals."

Wanda sits on the other side of you, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "We’ve been thinking a lot about what happened and how we can make it right," she adds.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words. "It hurt," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought I meant more to you."

Natasha’s expression softens. "You do mean more to us," she says. "But we’ve been selfish, we´re sorry. I am sorry."

No. I won´t fall for this. I can´t...

Wanda nods in agreement. "We want to make things right, but we also understand if you need time or if you decide that this isn’t what you want anymore."

You take a moment to process their words, the sincerity in their voices and the care they’re showing you. "I need to think about it," you finally say. "I need to take care of myself first."

Natasha nods, her eyes understanding. "Take all the time you need," she says. "We’ll be here." Natasha´s hand fall on your knee, squeezing it slightly. Oh how you missed her hand on you, but… does it mean more to you than your of sanity?

"I uh… I should get going." You stand up while Natasha´s grip on your knee tightens.

"You´re not going anywhere, you´re hurt." She speaks firmly.

"I´m going home." It was your time to stand for yourself, which shocks you a bit, but today was the worst rollercoaster of your life, you just need your bed.

"Can we drive you at least?" Wanda´s soft voice warm your heart.

"No, I´ll uh.. take an Uber." Shockingly they agreed.

Natasha and Wanda help you to the door of their apartment complex, your swollen ankle still giving you trouble. As you reach the entrance, you pull out your phone. "I’ll call an Uber," you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Just then, you notice a familiar car parked nearby. To your surprise, Carol is still there, waiting for you. Natasha and Wanda exchange glances.

"Is that your Uber?" Natasha asks, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Yeah, it is," you reply quickly, not wanting to explain the full situation.

Wanda looks at the car, then back at you. "That was fast."

You manage a weak smile, hobbling toward the car. As you get in, Carol chuckles, a playful smirk on her face. "I have admit, I was invested."

You chuckle, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. "Thanks, Carol. I didn’t expect you to wait."

Carol shrugs, "I figured you might need a ride. Plus, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

You carefully shift yourself into the seat, wincing slightly as you adjust your ankle. Carol glances at you with a playful grin, then back at the door, where Wanda and Natasha dissapear. "Oh, you didn’t want to get inside their apartment, huh?"

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "Shut up."

As Carol starts the car, you feel a sense of comfort knowing she’s there for you, even though you met her like two hours ago. But you can´t shake the safe feeling you have with her. It might be the alcohol, the situation or just your nature to trust a beatifuly looking woman. "Thanks for being here," you say softly.

"No problem." Carol smirks.

You look at her, "what?"

"First of all, I don´t know where you live, second of all… I´m waiting for some storytime of a verdict or something." She chuckles.

"Oh right, sorry." You shake your head a bit, "Just drive to the Library and then I´ll tell you from there." Carol nods as she starts to drive. "And… um I told them I´ll think about it."

"They were sorry, hm? I mean I don´t blame them, the past ladies before you- well let´s say they weren´t the most kindest souls."

"What do you mean?" You look at Carol.

"Two biggest CEO´s, lots of money, lots of power…" Carol glance at you quickly.

"Oh… I never really thought about it that much." You shrug.

"And that´s why they´re so sorry. And that´s why I would be more careful." Carol honestly states.

The rest of the car ride is peaceful, the city lights blurring past as you reflect on the evening’s events. Carol’s presence is a steadying force, and you feel a little more grounded with each passing moment.

Once you arrive back at your place, Carol helps you inside, making sure you’re settled comfortably. "You sure you’re going to be okay?" she asks, her concern evident.

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks again, Carol. For everything."

She gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Get some rest. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call." She gives you her bussiness card.

As she leaves, you feel a strange mix of emotions—hurt, confusion, but also a glimmer of hope. You have a lot to think about, but for now, you’re grateful for the support you’ve found in an unexpected place, but you will definetly think about it more tomorrow, when you´ll be sober. You glance at the card that Carol gave you.

Ceo Carol Danvers.

Turns out you might have a type.

Thank you for reading! How do you think it will continue?

taglist: @arualdcg, @beholdagaywriter, @snowdrop1026, @itsdoni, @newawakening9​, @aliherreraaa, @zzswiftyzz, @lesbiantothemoonandback, @maggieromanov,

[clementineofmine]

I'm sitting here rewatching Tua S3 for reasons, and one interesting thing I picked up is that the entire season is really just each of the Umbrellas struggling to define and searching for family in their own way. Here's me laying down some thoughts for y'all:

Luther - For him, family has always been about the team. That's part of the reason he's so drawn to the Sparrows, bc at first they seem to have the cohesiveness that the Umbrellas lacked. Remember, Luther was the last one left at the Academy, then Reginald sent him to the moon alone. So of course seeing a "functional" team is going to be compelling for him, and he desperately wants to be part of it. And then he and Sloane quickly fall in love and for the first time in his entire life, someone wants him for him. It's intoxicating and utterly consuming NRE that is more powerful than anything he's ever felt.

Diego and Lila - For these two, it's about figuring out how to be a family. Both together, but also a little bit with the other Umbrellas. Diego looking out for Allison and Klaus and Lila and Five coming to a truce are part of this - more about Lila and Five in a sec.

Allison - In her mind, her family is Claire and Ray. This one is obvious, but I also think that the writers did us a disservice by not letting us into Allison's perspective. If you think about it, it's completely normal for a parent to put their child above all. While I don't defend her actions, her motivation could have been more compelling and it would have strengthened her character. But sadly she's the character on the show that is most "othered" (which is bad for many reasons)

Klaus - he really dug deep into individual relationships w family, starting with Five (e2 and 5 Five and Klaus bonding are still some of the best bits of the season imo), Diego, Reginald, Sparrow Ben, and then Luther in the afterlife.

Five - Five remains a pragmatist. His bar for family is very low - success for him means the Umbrellas being alive, no matter what the personal cost or sacrifice to him or to some extent others. It is somewhat depressingly delightful to see how he makes his peace with the end of the world as the season progresses. Before that, however, I'd like to meander back to e3 and 4 where Lila convinces him to electrocute himself and then they go on the Commission mission. Both of the actors do a fine job here bouncing back and forth between witty banter and genuine emotion and I love it. It's a quick and subtle piece of dialogue when Five explains how he saved Lila from the Handler. The undertone is that they were both abused by that woman in a similar way - ultimately, she developed and kept them both as pawns in her own game. And I think Five, starting in S2E10 and fleshed out through S3, develops genuine empathy for and eventually acceptance of Lila as family, as one of them, because of this shared experience.

Viktor - Like Viktor in all seasons, he continues to feel out of place with the Umbrellas and compensates by over-prioritizing his relationships with others. Don't get me wrong, I do empathize with him that he lost real love with Sissy and Halan, but I also think Allison was 100% valid to call him out on his lying in E6, and it was on point to verbalize how the constant focus on Viktors pain minimizes her (and everyone else's) experience. (Edit to add: Viktor finally seems to get the message on this, after being called out by Allison, then subsequently both Sparrow Ben and Five, and spends the last few episodes trying to make amends. Real character development here and I like to see it)

Reginald - Well, his overarching motivation since S1 has always been bringing back his dead wife, so I won't belabor that, but also it's interesting to see how he interacted with Klaus particularly - esp in E7 when he sobers up it seems he is experimenting with remembering his role as a father. Now we don't get a ton about his internal motivation here, but you can tell there is some mild curiosity, if not affection, for Klaus, despite the fact that he ultimately is cool with sacrificing him.

Some of these are more obvious than others, but when you tie them all together, the idea that they are all desperately looking for family and the blind spots that that creates for them, some of the messiness of S3 starts to make a bit more sense.

[loredrinker]

I Would Not Lay With You Under False Pretenses

In my Dragon Age Inquisition head canon, Solas and Lavellan had a sexual relationship. Throughout their time together in Inquisition, I’ve always imagined them sharing that kind of intimacy - it felt like a natural progression to me. (Despite not getting those scenes in the game—though we know they intended to.) I'd also like to thank the writers for leaving it open to interpretation on purpose. (I’ve held this interpretation long before Veilguard, and with the revelations of Solas’s memories and regrets, it has actually deepened my understanding and added even more layers to this perspective.)

Why is this my take?

On a personal note, it just makes his betrayal way juicier, more devastating, and tragic (And I'll be honest, I am totally into that level of tragedy).

From a more analytical perspective, I interpret Solas as spiritual (he was a spirit first, after all), and the kind of man who falls in love with someone’s mind and spirit before anything else. For Solas, sex isn’t just about physical desire; it’s a spiritual act – and it’s his spirit that seems to be the most wounded throughout the games. This kind of intimacy feels like it could provide him with some healing and to me, it seems a natural progression for him to connect intimately with someone he truly loves.

So, here are some of my justifications for this interpretation (this is a long post!): 

Solas is lonely – we all know this. His immortality and all the secrets and regrets he carries isolate him. Lavellan’s love is one of the few things that lets him connect with someone who sees him. Their intimacy would become a refuge from his solitude. 

It’s his moment to just be Solas. When they’re making love, he can set aside being Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, and just be a man. Vulnerable, open, and present. That’s something he craves but seems to rarely happen.  As his letter in Veilguard to a romanced Inquisitor says - “...put my plans aside and simply stayed with you as Solas...as I wanted”. 

It’s not deception—not really. While he hides that he is Fen'Harel (by omission - his words, not mine!), I don’t think making love to Lavellan is deceptive on his part. For him, it’s the purest expression of his feelings. Words can lead to lies, but in their intimacy, the truth of his love shines through. That’s why his line in Trespasser, “I would not lay with you under false pretenses,” resonates with me in this interpretation - he means it. He wouldn’t make love to her unless he truly loved her. And he does love her, deeply and honestly, even if the life Lavellan knows is built on secrets.

And perhaps, in his mind, this intimacy is also a gift to her - a way of saying, I truly do love you. In moments where words risk exposing too much, this is how he shows her the depth of his feelings. For a man as burdened by guilt and secrecy as Solas, this act becomes a truth - an offering of his unguarded self, if only for a little while.

(On consent: Many valid arguments suggest Lavellan can’t truly consent, given she doesn’t know his full truth. I’ve thought about this a lot. For me, my Inquisitor is not passive. I played her as an intuitive and intelligent, and experienced woman. She is aware that Solas is holding something back. She senses his sadness, a chasm within him, a fight within him. She chooses intimacy with him despite knowing he’s hiding something - not out of ignorance but out of love and faith. Partly because she believes her love can offer him solace and maybe even help him heal and of course, she too is seeking the same connection with the man she loves, that he is seeking with her. What I'm saying is, my Lavellan is an active participant in her own choices. That’s why I find her relentless pursuit of understanding after Trespasser so delicious—she owns her choices and chases answers.)

Love overwhelms him. Despite all his restraint, his love for Lavellan overwhelms him (look at the way he gets lost in her kisses alone). Making love is the only way he can fully express the depth of what he feels for her (other than the actual truth, but he chickens out on that). In those moments, they exist together beyond guilt, secrets, or duty.

It anchors him. For an immortal like Solas, stuck between the past and the future with no real connection to the present, being with Lavellan pulls him into that present. Imagine what a relief that would be - to stop carrying the weight of eternity, even briefly, and just feel good in the moment. 

It’s a reclaiming of his humanity. Lavellan brings out the parts of him that are still human. Sex is a way for him to reconnect with those fleeting, mortal emotions that may have dulled over centuries of war, betrayal and...well, immortality. 

Sex as a spiritual act. Sex, in itself is very spiritual - it is more than just a physical act - it’s an exchange of energy, a union where two spirits connect and strengthen one another. Each moment of intimacy strengthens their shared connection, draws them closer, forging strands of energy that tether them together. This isn’t about taking - it’s about giving, receiving, and creating a sanctuary for each of them.

This shared energy would then carry spiritual significance for Solas. He is a man fractured—both wisdom and pride, split between dualities that circle within him. Through this connection, this literal merging of their bodies and spirits, he might find a fleeting sense of wholeness within her.

Side note: This is why I don’t think Solas is interested in casual sex. He’s far too deliberate, introspective, and connected to the significance of mind and spirit. For someone like Solas, casual encounters would feel hollow, draining him rather than sustaining him.

And then there’s the mythological and religious imagery. He’s an immortal rebel god; she’s the Herald of Andraste. The symbolism! I just love how this imagery elevates them to something timeless and otherworldly.

The Fade connection. Solas holds the Fade sacred, a place where reality and fantasy blur. This parallels the merging of bodies in sex—the blurring of secrets and truth, pain and solace. For someone like Solas, whose love of mind and spirit is central, making love would be sacred.

(And harkening back to my side note above, I’m convinced Solas has had very few lovers in his long existence - two for sure, maybe three. I have theories about who those others might be—not Mythal!—but that’s for another discussion.)

But of course, this is Solas we’re talking about. So all of this romantic theory comes with a heavy dose of tragedy and pain. 

Every time they’re intimate, their bond deepens, their shared energy strengthens, making his inevitable betrayal hurt that much more (oh hindsight, I hate you!). He knows the truth will break her heart, but he can’t resist her! It’s both a wonderful gift and a festering wound to him.  

For Lavellan, these intimate moments are about trust, connection, and offering Solas her love. For Solas, he is offering his love as well, but for him these moments are tinged with the weight of his secrets and the heartbreak he knows he’ll cause. That contrast - their shared intimacy against the shadow of his betrayal - it's just what makes their relationship so compelling to me and why I am completely comfortable with this interpretation.

*since first posting this I have edited it to be a bit more streamlined and removed some redundancy.

[mitsua]

Redamancy

Loving someone who loves you back.

🪼: so this was supposed to be an Izuku snapping at reader but I couldn't bring myself to write about this man being mad... I´m sorry not sorry but maybe in the future I could actually get that done. Maybe? Idk today I wanted to cry myself to sleep.

Warnings: rude people, mentions of self-depricating thoughts (but none explicitly written), low self-steem, crying

Genre: reverse comfort Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya × GN! Y/N Words' count: 1.26k

Izuku's known as a selfless man, a selfless hero—your selfless hero at that.

He's always looking out closely while on patrol to do not let the slightest suspicious thing get out of his sight and catch danger in any form that may present itself, day by day.

People recognize him, greet him, smile polightly, shout excitedly, ask for a photograph with him, a signature—yes, his status has really given him a grand popularity.

But just as much as he greets back, gives small chats, returns a bright smile, shouts back, takes photographs and gives off signatures, he also encounters rude people every once in a while.

He brushes it off, he really tries to when it does so happen.

His first thought being 'they might just have a bad day, everyone has it!', always empathazing and letting people's disrespect get lost in the wind.

Until that wind comes back in a hurricane when the bad day hits him instead.

He brushes it off, or so he thinks. But he knows and you know too—everything anyone's ever told him got into him one way or another.

Thus making him the person you're so proud of to call today your husband, yes, you admit Izuku has this great mindset of turning the imposible—even if it's with tiny steps—a little more possible with progress.

He has a contagious positivity, you know it and he knows it.

'Then why can't I be positive today too? They need reassurance,' he thinks as he just got on a mission out of the city on places were being too powerful or too weak were seen badly.

He's tried greeting, smiling, but has only received scoffs and some offensive comments towards heroes in general. A tiny percentage of the poblation going too far and talking about him in specific being the last drop to spill the glass.

He gets in his hotel room—after being ignored by the workers when he entered and gave a small 'goodnight' out of his habit of being polite—plops in the bed and moves his hands to rest on top of his eyes.

'Don't cry,' he pleads himself. 'They're way more debastated here, you must show a reassuring attitude to let them see heroes mean no harm.'

A tear falls, then a second one and a third one.

It's not until he's fully sobbing with all the harsh emotions he bottled up in the day or even when he was still in the city that he hears his phone had your shared favorite song as your contact's ringtone that he stops spiralling further. A videocall from you.

"Hi! I just wanted to call to tell you goodnight quickly, I know you must be tire-" a sob. You heard him sob once, then twice.

"Izuku?" You got worried, he still hadn't said anything and he got his camera turned to the ceiling that could barely be seen due to the lack of light in the room.

Thinking he might have had a rough day you come up with a quick plan to help him.

"Hey, I know you're usually the one talking but I'll kindly request to do so tonight," you ask and even though he didn't answer either way you spoke again, "alright, and-well, I know I said I'll talk but I'd like to do something else as well..."

For a moment there was complete silence, then bed sheets being shifted around and a couple of grunts coming from your side. It gave Izuku's mind the chance to start wondering towards self-depricating thoughts again, until he heard something close to a documental.

"Aaand with that final blow Pro-hero Deku achieves victory and citizens' safety once again! ...Watch him throw his fist in the air meaning peace has been brought to us again!" A male commenter's vivid voice declared. "Deku helped a grown adult cross the sidewalk, look at this cute pictures!" Then a female's. "Oh, I'd kill to get Deku to patrol in my city," a foreigner's voice mentioned exhasperatedly.

You were showing him a copilation of videos fans of his had made of all his greatest and little heroic actions. Each of them spoke so highly of him—discussed and analyzed his movements and in-the-moment decisions through and through—just as he once did with the heroes he admired. He now was one of them, people admire him.

He could see and feel people's positivity reaching out to him, to help him too. By now, his tears had stopped, only a few sniffles could be heard.

"And last but not least," you whispered to do not break the comforting low volume tonight's call has had, "So, what do you think about Deku?" a reporter's voice. Izuku perked up at this and you internally celebrated you could see more of his face now that he's grabbed his phone with both hands and brought them closer to watch the video you were reproducing in your laptop.

He recalled that voice and that question. "The kindest and brightest people I've ever met, really." You answered.

This interview had been made by fans all across the country once the news about Deku's fiancé were leaked out. You turned to admire Izuku who had been surrounded with more paparazzi. The camera caught it all.

He remembered hearing that voice only faintly behind him.

You've both had been returning from a date and (un)fortunately been caught by a fan of his. People crashing into each other to get a hold of you two. They managed to separate you from him to interrogate you individually as on their plans.

But once he started politely answering some of their questions, he couldn't hear anything else than his voice and cameras' clicking.

You never told him they had interviewed you too, how could he not seen or thought about that?

Izuku observed keenly through the whole thing. You only spoke praises and your eyes, oh your eyes, they kept solely on his form.

Sure, you apologized a couple of times for going out of topic or speaking too much—'just as I'd do,' he thought—but kept on doing it seemingly in an unconscious manner.

"Why'd you choose Deku?" their last question. "Izuku, he has taught me about many good things in life I can no longer count them with both hands, he's been the sweetest and most honest being I've known-also, a greatly empathetic and understanding person, and for that I admire him even more, but also know about some of his struggles and as my love grows stronger each day my heart begs to help him, I want to help him too."

Your eyes got glassy as you spoke, the people got silent, internally crying for such words from you and both of you being so lucky for being with each other. As some started cheering you both and cooing, you'd made it closer to him until you could catch him by surprise in the middle of his last question with a peck on his cheek.

Then the screen turned black.

Now you both were sniffling...

"I love you Izuku, I really hope I can show you and help you just as much as you've done for me." You expressed firmly, closing your laptop and smiling through some tears.

"Thank you, thank you so much-I-I really appreciate I do-don't know what to say-" "-don't worry, there's no need Izuku, I, I just hope my message has gotten through..."

"It did," now that he had the screen closer, it enlighted a bit more his face and you could see him smiling too. "I love you too."

All writings' rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua. (Credit to the respective owners of the picture and tagged anime character.) ⌇ my navigation!