#mother turned to mother and they talked about sons.

[amarriageoftrueminds]

*Not sure this discussion belongs under this post but...*

Tony doesn't sacrifice anything in CACW... He's a billionaire with zero consequences at the start of the movie, and he is still that at the end of the movie.

gif 1: 'justice for the voiceless'

🤣 Mr Hyperverbal! Tony's whole MO is talking over and more than everyone else; he literally interrupts others advocating for themselves (because they're not capitulating to him) just to tell them to shut up. The only time he doesn't do that is because he can't out emotionally-blackmail a dead son's mother.

And why are all these 'people' voiceless, I wonder? Could it be because they are... mysteriously dead, somehow? I wonder how that happened. Does 'justice' look like somebody being jailed and put out of business, losing his precious money? No...? Funny that!

(I'm sure them being a billionaire has nothing to do with it though!)

Tony would sit in a room with a woman whose entire family and country have been destroyed by his weapons, and mansplain collateral damage to them (which suddenly matters because an American was hurt, right? Fuck them illegal immigrant kids, right?)

(Defining characteristic of the Stark family: take only credit, never blame. If you are personally to blame for something, describe that something as a collective fault; if someone else did something great, steal it and/or take all the credit for yourself!)

And the fact that it was always Steve, Nat, Clint, Wanda, etc. down on the ground at street level helping civilians... well, Tony never noticed that of course. As his own bodyguard said, Tony wouldn't remember someone unless they were a blonde with a big rack... Steve may be a blonde with a big rack, but he's not the right sex! 😂

.

gif 2: Tony claims he stopped making weapons.

'Once I discovered my leopards-eating-peoples-faces company was causing peoples faces to be eaten by leopards, I stopped that!' -- Says Man who still runs a leopards-eating-peoples-faces company and never stopped. 🤦‍♀️

You have to wonder just what Tony thought weapons were for, exactly, if he thought his weapons weren't doing any harm before?

(Which he only suddenly deigned to notice because the person getting their chest blown open was- gasp! -an American!)

He decides his weapons were only bad because they were in the 'wrong hands.' 🙄 Implying that the 'right hands' exist, ie. his own. An American billionaire's hands. But then he criticises Steve for saying the Avengers' hands are the safest hands for world-saving?

(Which is true, in this universe, because the WSC's solution for world-saving was to drop a nuke on Manhattan. The Avengers already tried government oversight and it was Hydra, Ross's Hulk project, AIM, dropping nukes, etc etc. Bad writing alert!

Why the fuck would Tony of all people be in favour of that? He told Congress to go fuck themselves when it came to them controlling the Iron Man suits! Then the Vice POTUS turned out to be AIM, who had Pepper abducted and experimented on -- made into an enhanced person against her will! -- but suddenly Tony trusts governments to handle enhanced people? And he's fine with people talking shit about Bruce?? Since when?! Make it make sense!)

The Iron Man movies, Avengers, Cap and Spiderman movies, all feature brand new weapons Tony designed, built, and gave away... after claiming he wasn't in the weapons making industry any more.

Even IM3, when he temporarily lost his armour, had Tony personally making weapons, and handing a weapon off to a kid -- to use on other kids, at his urging!

This idea that Tony ever gave up being an arms dealer is just part of his own Iron Man mythology he's made up in his head.

.

gif 4: Tony has never sacrificed any personal freedoms, nor accepted any limitations on himself.

(Despite sneering at ordinary people who refuse to sacrifice their personal freedoms in favour of authoritarianism. That 'for the greater good' line up there could have come straight out of Project 2025! 🤢)

Tony makes a mockery of Ross and the Accords, despite pushing for them. He never had any intention of doing as he was told, and that's one of his trademarks as a character.

Steve in CACW is anti- corrupt governments (which his films have given him good reason for; Tony's films ought to have given him the same ideology, too... but this is a Disney movie.)

Tony is pro / arguing in favour of handing over control to a potentially corrupt government. Specifically, handing over policing of a minority -- enhanced people -- who aren't like Tony... but he pretends he's in the same boat as them, when he isn't.

He even said government having an agenda is a good thing!

Yeah, how's that working out for you, America?

Subheading of the Accords document: 'The Registration of enhanced people.'

Tony is advocating for the exact same things that ICE and the Trump Administration are doing to immigrants in America right now, because it doesn't and won't ever affect Tony personally. The leopards were never going to be eating his face!

(It reminds me of what Magneto said about mutants working for the US in X-Men: First Class:

"Identification, that's how it starts. And ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated."

Could have come straight out of Steve's mouth!)

The Raft (as Sam correctly clocks) is Guantanamo Bay for Enhanced People, and Tony idiotically argues in favour of that, and is then all shocked pikachu face when that is in fact precisely what they get. (Channelling Trump voters now crying about the conses quencing.)

He's an ignorant sheltered idiot who calls himself a genius but has no idea what life is like for non-billionaires, because he doesn't care to know. (Not surprising given that Musk was the inspo for Tony, as set out by RDJ himself, Jon Favreau, and the guy who wrote IM1).

Steve -- the one who actually goes to the Raft to break the innocents out, unlike Tony! --- is anti-authoritarianism... anti-ICE-for-enhanced-people. And he's been breaking out prisoners of authoritarians since CATFA!

So Tony does not embody what Steve stands for, and never could, because what Steve stands for is Antifa -- Tony embodies what Steve has always stood against.

(And, since never learning a lesson or taking blame for anything is Tony's trademark, he is back to nonsense Hydra monologuing and blaming the Snap on everyone else, in EG. 🤦‍♀️)

Steve isn't throwing away his persona in CACW, he's living up to it.

Being anti-authoritarian and protecting innocents from authoritarian bullies, deploying the 'I can do this all day' battlecry -- suffering personally in order to achieve the right thing -- is exactly what Steve would do even if he never knew Bucky at all.

(That he gets to do one good thing, and save Bucky (another good thing), is just a perk; it's the narrative's way of condoning Steve's moral stance.)

Tony Stark in CA:CW + the values of Captain America

[my-castles-crumbling]

decade - February 14 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 530

It was three in the morning, and not for the first time, Regulus found himself sitting at the little breakfast table in the Potters’ kitchen, trying to find some remnants of the tiredness that seemed to constantly evade him.

Nightmares had never not been a part of Regulus’s life. But now they seemed to be changing. They no longer were about his mother…they were about someone else…someone currently sleeping upstairs.

Gulping and trying not to cry, he took a small sip of his tea.

“Regulus?”

Biting at his lip, Regulus turned to see Effie at the door, a look of concern on her face. “Erm..hi,” he mumbled, looking down. 

“Sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night! Are you alright?” the older woman asked, walking toward him. 

His first instinct was to lie. To say he was fine, that he just couldn’t sleep for some strange reason and he was going to go back to bed in a bit. But the exhaustion and anxiety overpowered him and he felt a tear dripping down his cheek.

“Oh, love,” Effie murmured, sitting next to him and placing a gentle hand on his knee. “What is it?”

He tried to find the words to describe his worries. “How…how long have you been with Monty?” he asked softly, sniffling a bit.

“Three decades this June!” Effie answered, eyes shining with pride. “But what does that have to do with anything, dear?”

“Does…do you ever…when did you stop worrying that things would end? That he would…would leave you, or something?” Regulus asked in a little whisper, tears welling in his eyes again.

Instantly, understanding dawned on Effie’s face and she leaned forward to pull him into a hug.

“Oh, Regulus,” she murmured, voice full of sympathy, as he cried in her arms.

He didn’t answer. He just cried silently for a few moments before he pulled back and wiped at his face. “Sorry. Sorry, I just…”

But Effie was looking at him like she was trying to decide something. Finally, she spoke again. “Dear, can you keep a secret?”

Trying not to panic, Regulus nodded. Was she going to tell him that James secretly hated him?

“James has been talking about marrying you since before your first date. I know it can be scary to be this in love. I know it can be hard to let go like that. And I know I am biased, as he’s my son,” she said, eyes twinkling. “But I truly think he’d probably duel someone to the death rather than leave you.”

Stunned, Regulus sipped in a breath and blinked. “He really…?”

“Are you surprised?” Effie grinned.

Logically, he wasn’t. James was known for loving with his entire being and also having a flair for the dramatic. But the fact that he said that about him. “I won’t tell him you said anything,” he mumbled, wiping at his now-dry eyes one more time.

“Good. And please remember, Regulus: you deserve love. Not just from James, but from all of us. Alright?”

Body filling with warmth, he nodded. “Alright.”

When he finally fell back asleep, he was able to sleep through the rest of the night without a single nightmare.

[ovilusphoninghome]

So last night I couldn’t stop thinking about how interesting Damian’s connection with Dick is.

Like-

Yeah obviously he loves Bruce and Jason and Tim and blah blah blah

BUT I think it’s really fascinating because all of them had some sort of connection to Ra Al Ghul beforehand.

For example, Ra Al Ghul *realllyyy* wanted Tim to be his like- rival ig.

Bro was obsessed with this rlly smart teenager.

While Talia was more obsessed with Bruce (correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure that’s the whole reason she wanted to have a son with Bruce, was because she thought he was the only one good enough to have a son with.)

Then ofc Jason stayed in the league after getting revived with the Lazarus Pit, and Damian prolly interacted with him a whole bunch.

So POV you’re Damian and you’ve lived your whole life in this sorta shadow of Batman and the Robins.

Your Grandpa is obsessed with the newest Robin.

Your Mother says you’re the greatest because of your blood relation to the Demons head and Batman

There’s Jason who’s pretty well known throughout the league and has kinda defied odds time and time again

Then you get to the manor and… there’s this random guy who you haven’t heard too much about.

Like, yeah you know he’s the first Robin, but other than that he must not be that important since your family never brought him up like they brought up Jason, Tim, and Bruce.

So when he ends up being Batman and your stuck being his Robin you’re just kinda like yeah whatever, he can’t tell you what to do, who even is this guy?

But then every hero knows who he is

Every villain definitely knows who he is

They all respect him, and trust him to lead everyone.

Because of this, he’s extremely powerful, but he doesn’t wear it out around like he has something to prove.

He doesn’t scream his power from the mountain tops, like Damian is DEFINITELY used to.

Basically my point of all this is,

Damian has been surrounded by these ideals, and these rules his entire life, and Dick Grayson turns those ideals on their head. His very existence shows that the League doesn’t always know what their talking about.

Because when Damian goes through to try and defeat the past Robin’s, Dick is the only one who he can’t beat. He’s the only one who reminds him he has nothing to prove.

Dick is a complete separation from his old life, and by extension, a complete separation from what he’s been taught.

What better person to be Damian’s Batman?

[authorhjk1]

Choi Sooyoung Blood Red Dress

https://search.app.goo.gl/EqoAcpe

Blood red

(Sooyoung X Male Reader)

Sooyoung lets out a moan as you lean down to kiss her neck. Her husband and his parents are eating in the living room, while you have your hand up his wife's dress in the middle of the hallway. You press her against their bedroom door behind her and let two fingers slip inside her pussy. The two or you were planning to do this in their bedroom, but you stopped in front of the door, unable to keep your hands off her for much longer.

"I need to use the bathroom."

A shiver runs down your spine when you hear Sooyoung's father in law's voice. Finally, the two of you slip through the door behind her and a moment later you hear footsteps in the hallway. Sitting on the bed, you watch how Sooyoung gets on her knees and quickly undoes your belt and pants.

"Isn't this so exciting?"

Her mischievous grin makes you reach for her head and guide her towards your now exposed cock.

"I never thought you'd be such a slut for your husband's boss."

"Guilty."

Sooyoung whispers against your tip, already making your breath hitch, before she even starts sucking you off.

The faint voices in the living room are reduced to a minimum as Sooyoung doesn't care about making noises. She's quickly taking your cock in and out of her mouth, her head bobbing up and down in your lap. Your dick is getting coated in her saliva in the process. You're just about to take her head into your hands and start to fuck her face, when the door suddenly opens.

You look up, suddenly way too aware of what you're doing. Sooyoung lets your cock fall out of her mouth, before she turns around, her eyes wide in surprise.

"I should've known it wasn't my son's idea to invite your boss."

Your surprised by her father in law's amused smile and your confusion rises when he steps into the room and closes the door behind.

"You probably don't know this..."

He is talking to you as he takes his pants off. You're still aware that Sooyoung's hand is wrapped around your wet cock.

"but me and Sooyoung have fun from time to time as well. Isn't that right?"

He leans down and to you watch how she licks her lips as she pulls down his boxers. She takes his cock into her mouth and you feel her hand beginning to move up and down your length. You knew Sooyoung was a slut for sleeping with you. But you never expected her to be this bad.

"Good girl."

He groans, his hand stroking her hair while she sucks him off.

You stand up as well and Sooyoung eventually moves her head to wrap her lips around your cock. You stand next to her husband's father while Sooyoung gives the both of you head.

"This dress looks amazing on you."

He says while she's sucking you off, her hand stroking his cock. He reaches down to reach into her cleavage, groping her tits.

"I picked it."

You admit, amused by how big of a slut Sooyoung is.

"Great choice."

He groans when she takes him into her mouth again and you feel her hand gliding along your length.

"Although I prefer that tight pink one. She wore it for my birthday."

You chuckle.

"Yeah, she looks amazing in that."

"Do you guys want to fuck me or keep talking?"

Sooyoung looks up at the both of you with one hand each stroking your cocks.

"Why not both?"

Her father and law jokes and you help Sooyoung to her knees.

You're curious if her husband or her mother in law are ever going to look for the three or you. You can't tell how long it has been since you went into her bedroom.

"Right there."

Sooyoung moans around his cock, while you keep thrusting into her from behind. She's on all fours on her husband's bed, getting fucked by his boss and his father.

"Keep going, slut."

He takes her head in both his hand and now starts to fuck her face, while you thrust in and out of her pussy. You never expected to share Sooyoung with anyone. But here you are now. You can tell how horny she is. Her pussy is dripping wet and she tries her best to suck her father in law off. Her dress is lying next to her on the bed and you decide to start spanking her ass. Every hit on her butt cheeks makes his head roll back, probably because she moans and groans around his cock.

After the two of you switch positions, you know you won't be able to hold on for much longer. You're surprised her father in law has this much stamina while spit roasting her, but even he seems to be close to finishing.

"God, your throat feels amazing."

You groan, but Sooyoung can't answer. Your cock is buried deep inside her throat, while keeps fucking her, forcing her even further onto your length.

It finally ends with the both of you standing on the mattress with Sooyoung kneeling between you two.

"Come on, guys. All over my face."

She has this mischievous smile on her lips that screams pure lust. It feels like she's the definition of a slut as she jerks both of you off, pointing your cocks at her face.

"Fuck, gonna cum."

He groans, leaning back a little. You watch how he climaxes, his cum erupting all over Sooyoung's face. Her cheeks and nose are covered, some got on her lips and she moans in satisfaction. Trying to taste him, she sticks out her tongue and licks her lips clean.

"So damn delicious."

She sighs and focuses on you.

You can't believe that she is jerking you off, kneeling naked on her husband's bed, her father in law's cum already all over her face.

"Ruin my face completely."

She can feel your cock pulsating, so she closes her eyes and opens her mouth.

You see stars as you orgasm. Your own cum mainly hits her eyes and mouth, slightly mixing with his cum, while Sooyoung takes it all.

"Oh my god. So much delicious cum."

Instead of wiping her face clean, she leans forward and takes both of your cocks into her hands again. She cleans the both of you with her mouth, making sure she doesn't miss a drop.

[seitmai]

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

So sad and unfair🥺

“I want to marry your daughter.” “Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.” “I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

Period👏🏻

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

Ohhh i see where this is going 👀

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him.

🥰🥰🥰

You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

A man with a plan 🫡

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

🤭🤭🤭

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

I mean fair, and they are consenting 🤷🏻‍♀️

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt.

Just what he needed to hear

“You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.” You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.” “Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

The astronaut comment? Iconic 😅👏🏻

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

The circumstances might be a little fucked up, but it's actually really sweet, let them be in love and married!

Daddy's Pride and Joy

Summary: Andy wanted you. He wanted things right. But your dad refused. What other choice did he have?

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, narrow views of sex due to the time period, slut shaming, unprotected sex, breeding kink, PIV sex, first time, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.9K

Andy Barber Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Your mom fiddles around with a bouquet of roses and daisies, refusing to meet your eyes. You’ve heard her talk about how you made a mistake for weeks now. How you put yourself in this position. That you should consider yourself lucky that things are going the way they are. And still you feel her judgemental gaze as she peeks at you over the bouquet.

“Marge?” your grandmother questions your mother. Picking up your dress, she then turns to look at you. “What did you do, you stupid girl?” You hold your head high as your sister starts to zip the dress up. Grunting when she reaches a snag. Well…it is now too tight.

“How far along are you?” You play dumb. The dress wasn’t supposed to be a give away. Your grandmother walks behind you to help your sister. “You could have gone with a bigger dress.”

“It fit last week,” your sister is much too young, and does not understand the adult conversation happening between you and the women who are ashamed of you.

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“No,” Andy told you everything would be okay. And it would be. Everything would be just fine.

“Marge?” Your dad peeks out the front window, watching as the little boy from down the street pushes you in the swing. “Marge!”

“Yes, dear,” your mother responds. She wipes her hands on her apron as she walks into the living room.

“Who is that boy?” He points to the little boy with the bright blue eyes that had captured your heart the moment he and his mother moved down the street. “Hmm?”

“The kid from the old house up the street,” it isn’t like your father didn’t know this already. He asked about him every time you played with him. The problem was your father didn’t like him. Didn’t think the son of a single mother was good enough for his precious angel.

“The one whose father is in jail?”

“That would be the one. She fancies him.”

“I think he just sees an access to money,” your mother rolls his eyes, as she starts to step back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “You laugh at me, but kids younger and younger are being taught by their parents the best way to money is finding some stupid girl that has a rich family to marry. He sees an in. A respectable man that owns a magazine, like myself. The heir…”

“We’re not royalty. His mother says he wants to be a lawyer.”

“Bah. That kid is a loser.”

“Sir,” your father attempts to close the door in Andy’s face, but the younger man places a foot there first. “I would like to take your daughter out on a date.”

“No,” he deadpans. “Is that all?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

“What do you mean by proper?”

“Oh, umm…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he meant he didn’t want to wait below your window as you snuck out with him. In order to not be spotted, he’d just take you on long walks at night, where eventually the two of you would lay looking at the stars. It was kind of infuriating to have you all alone. But you are a respectable woman. And clothes always stayed on.

“You know, Dwayne down the street mentioned something about you and her. Now, I thought it was a bit crazy to suggest that my daughter was riding in a car with the likes of you after midnight,” Andy stands up straighter. Nothing had ever crossed a line. But he has every intention of marrying you, and would prefer it be done the right way. “I want you to stay away.”

“I want to marry your daughter.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.”

“I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

“You’re not marrying my daughter. Do you know why?” Andy shakes his head. He has done everything a man should do. He even has a job lined up. He has a home he is going to buy, just for the two of you, and eventually your children, and Bagel. He has a car. He will provide for you. “You’re a piece of shit, born from a piece of shit. Do you not think I know about your bastard father rotting in prison? Do you not think I don’t know about how your mom was making some extra money? You’ll never be good enough for my daughter. Never.”

—

You lean outside of your window, smiling when you see Andy on the lawn. Throwing your legs out of the window, you shimmy towards the tree branch, and make your way towards the most perfect man you have ever met. Getting down to his arms, where he gives you a bruising kiss. His hand is holding onto you a bit too high on your rib cage, and his thumb grazes over your breast before you jump away from him. He shouldn’t touch you there while at your parents’ home.

“Where are we going tonight?” your voice is so soft as he grips your hand, and leads you down the road and to his parked car. You are so proud of Andy and all that he has earned.

“Did you talk to my dad?” Andy opens the door of the car for you, and closes it before he crosses over to the other side. “Andy, did you talk to him?” He has to let you date Andy now. He is a lawyer. And you weren’t some shy little girl anymore. You wanted to become his wife, and have cute babies with him. And the sooner that this was public, the sooner you can have that, “Andy?”

“He said no,” your arms cross over your chest as you look out the window of the car. “It’s not stopping me.”

“Why is he like this?” it upsets you that your father can’t see the Andy that you see. He is perfect. And he will give you a perfect life.

“Because you’re his oldest daughter. His pride and joy, and he just doesn’t want you to be married off to some boy.”

“Except you’re not some boy,” you give him a smile, scooting over on the seat towards him. Your dainty hand rubs up and down his chest as you snuggle in, “You’re all man.”

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

They’d tell you how a woman has wifely duties. But sex with you isn’t a duty. Sex with you almost seems like a life force for him. It is proper to wait for marriage, but this marriage doesn’t seem like it’s going to be approved by your father. And he’d hate to see you leave Andy behind because you needed that.

But…if you were to accidentally fall pregnant how could he say no? You would need to have a man to marry you. What man would marry a sullied woman? Leaving him with no choice but to approve the marriage. Demand it.

It’s not evil. It’s just changing up the way he would like things to go. He doesn’t want you to be looked down upon in the community. He wants you. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants his future wife properly. He’d taken way too many cold showers after leaving you. Relieved himself way too much.

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him. You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

Andy has always played the long game with you. He knew the moment he saw this sweet little girl rocking in her saddle shoes as you stood there holding out a coloring book and crayons for him, and told him that you have a swing that he was in love. He fell instantly and even told his mom that he was going to marry you. And he will. Even if you have to get pregnant out of wedlock for it to happen.

“Andy, where are we going? We’ve never been here before?” You ask after a while of silence. You are perfectly content rubbing on your boyfriend as he drives. He gets all fidgety and squirrelly when you do. It makes you feel better knowing his heart is racing just like yours always does around him.

“I bought us something.”

“Oh?” You look up at him with doe eyes, and kiss him on his neck. Giggling when he makes that sound. Kissing on his neck always makes him squirm. You love watching him adjust how he’s sitting and even how he pulls you closer to him. Letting his hands roam where they want to roam. You don't mind as long as you are alone.

“It might not be much. But this is just a starter,” he says, slowing down as he turns onto a road. You squeal as you look forward. Your hand lays on his upper thigh, and he clears his throat. Andy is such a funny man when you touch him in certain areas.

“Andy, it’s perfect!” It truly is. The cutest little white house with a white picket fence. A perfect starter home. “Can we go look?”

“That’s why we’re here,” you don’t even wait for him to open the door before you spring to the house. Having to wait a bit too long for him to come to your side and unlock the door before you're running through the empty house.

Home.

Yours and Andy’s home.

The kitchen is bigger than your mom’s, and a few modern appliances. The living room is huge, but maybe that’s because there was no furniture. Running down the hall you see the perfect room for a nursery. Can already envision the crib.

“Honey,” Andy pulls your hand down the hallway, leading you towards the biggest room in the house. It is mostly empty, sans a bed. “This will be ours.”

“Ours?” You sigh, turning towards him, and run both hands up his chest. “And we’ll get to sleep in the bed together,” your mother hadn’t quite taught you anything concerning marriage. And you’d heard your friends gossip a bit about their husbands, but it just made you queasy. You didn’t want to think about another man. You just want him. You want those conversations with Andy or nobody.

“We can do more than sleep,” he says with a sly quirk of his mouth.

“What else does one do in the bed with their husband?”

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

Your body heats up with ministrations, and you stare up at him with your eye lids at half mast. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try with you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to make love with you,” your tongue flicks out of your mouth, and you pull your bottom lip in. Biting on your perfect pout as you look up at him. “Do you know what that is?”

You shake your head no as Andy’s hands go to your back, and he grips tight to your zipper as he pulls it down. You gulp, allowing him to undo your dress. It feels right. And you love Andy, so making love sounds right. “When two people love each other, they give each other their bodies.”

“And then what,” you release a wanton mewl when he fully unzips your dress. Placing his hands back on your shoulders, he pulls the dress down, and you watch with bated breath as it pulls at your feet. Andy’s hungry eyes roam over your body before he reaches back behind you, undoing your bustier, and you’re the one pulling it off.

He stands there, taking your nearly nude body in. “Then what, Andy?”

“I taste you,” you gulp. “You taste me,” you shudder. “I enter inside of you,” you whimper. “I come inside of you.”

“Inside where?” Andy’s finger taps between your legs, and your knees start to buckle. Leaning more into him for support, and you shyly pull at his jacket, and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. “Have you ever came inside someone?”

“No,” it isn’t a lie. He’s had sex, and only because he wanted to be the best for you. But that part of him…it is only for you. “Can — I touch you?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and he leans forward. Both hands cupping your breasts before he sucks one into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” the other breast he squeezes and pulls until he reaches your swollen bud, and gives it a little pinch. You pant as you stare down at him. Sucking on your nipple before he pulls off with a pop, and moves to the other one. “Andy…I can’t breathe.”

“We’re just getting started,” he practically growls. He grabs your hand, and places it on his crotch, while you moan. Slick heat races to your core, and your mind goes all fuzzy. Andy always has this innate ability to make butterflies race to your belly.

Feeling Andy like this doesn’t even feel criminal. He’s showing you exactly why he adjusts his pants, “This is what you do to me.”

“And this,” you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. You can feel his pulse under your fingers. He’s so hot and heavy under your palms. Yours. This is all yours. “This goes inside me?”

“It does.”

“Show me,” Andy steps away from you before sinking to his knees. He starts to slowly peel away your panties and stockings down your body. Assisting you in kicking off your shoes, and stepping out of your confines while you stand completely bare in front of him.

“Andy,” you coo before he kisses you over your naked mound. “Andy,” you start to melt as he coaxes your legs apart, and he licks through your slit. “Oh dear,” Andy is getting a part of you that no man has. Open and so ready for him. Whatever it means. Is this what people are talking about when they mention the wedding bed?

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

Lifting you up, he lets your legs wrap around his body, while he moves you to grind over his enlarged bulge. Your eyes blow wide open with curious lust and the simpering sounds of your needy voice make his movements so much quicker. He could just about come looking at you like this alone. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs so wide to stare at your weeping cunt. Perfect. And all his.

“Andy,” you whine, wiggling around. You feel so exposed, and want him so bad. You want him all over you. You want him to feel a part of you that no one has.

“Shh,” he whispers as he starts removing his clothes. You gasp as his cock springs free. Scooting back in the bed, suddenly scared of where he says he’s going to have you. “You can take it. You’ll take it all, and if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit.”

Andy clamors onto the bed, using his wide berth to keep your legs parted as he lines himself up with your center. Pushing just the tip of him in you and quickly pulling back out, and you yip. “Honey, you can take it, huh?”

“Y-y-yeah,” you take a deep swallow as he goes deep, but doesn’t pull out. “Oh, golly,” he slowly sinks his girth deeper. Letting your body adjust to the intrusion inch by inch. “Oh…oh!” Panting when he fully sheaths his steel rod all the way inside of you, and into the depths of your soul.

Both of your bodies hum with the throbbing intensity that is the two of you becoming one. It’s overwhelming and lovely all at the same time. All these years have led you here. Spread wide open for him. Taking him. Loving him.

“There’s a good girl. There is my sweet good girl,” it is overwhelming having Andy inside of you. Stretching you out deliciously. You want him always there. It just feels right. How dare your father try and take this from you. You belong with Andy with him inside of you.

“Andy, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt. “Oh, Lordy be!”

“You like me fucking you?”

“Uh huh,” such terrible language, but right here, right now, it feels wrong not to be saying that. “Fuck me harder. I like that,” he snaps his hips, barreling back into you. Again. Again. And again. And tears spring to your eyes, but he kisses them away. Pistoning into your body with such force you cry out.

The fullness of him. It makes it hard to breathe. Even the sting of the stretch doesn’t hurt all that much.

“Good girl. You sound so pretty crying for me,” you just cling on for dear life as Andy’s movements make the bed slap against the wall. “You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.”

You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

And he would be. He’ll keep fucking you, and planting his seed until it takes. What is your dad going to say when you’re swelling with Andy’s pride and joy? He wouldn’t want to ruin your good name, therefore the family’s. He’ll be forced to allow you to marry. And he’ll have you exactly how he wants you.

On your back, taking him every night, while every day he gets to worship you. The dream.

“Sugar,” Andy pants, his movements stiffening up. “I’m gonna give us a baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he crows, keeping himself lodged deep in your body. “Fuck!” Warmth blooms in your belly, and your mouth goes slack as you stare up at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?”

Until your belly is so round that everyone knows that he’s fucked you good and hard enough to get a baby. Men will stare jealously knowing that Andy has had you with no inhibitions. There will come a day that he will get to tell people that the two of you are trying for a baby. Meaning they’ll know he’s fucking his come inside of you every night.

It will come. But for now, he’s going to keep coming inside of you. Creating a life in secrecy. In hopes that your father will approve this union. He won’t have another choice.

“Beige,” your grandmother huffs as your sister pulls the veil over your head. “You seriously think people won’t notice you’re wearing beige? You spread your legs for the first man that whispered how much he loves you in your ear. You will ruin this family!” your sister looks back and forth between you and your grandmother, but you keep your head held high. Today you become his wife.

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.”

“Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

“He trapped you,” your mother gasps, holding her hand over her mouth, while the other fans her face. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

Let your mom continue to pray that nobody sees the weight you’ve put on. Four months, and six weeks, it is becoming harder to hide. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon. There would only be you going home to your husband. Sleeping in the bed right beside him where you belong. No more sneaking around, and leaving before sunlight. Everyone may know that you didn’t wait, and you don’t even care. Because he still kept his promise.

There would be no more lies. Only the truth, and that’s what has always been known. You love Andy Barber.

Andy Barber loves you.

And Andy is yours.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @musingsfromthemitten

@theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @distractingbeth

[eu-nicola]

attraction part 2

summary: after your mother's death you marry Ward Cameron to have economic stability and you meet his son who hangs around you

warnings: age-gap, cheating (?), idk tell me

word counter: 8519

author’s note: english is not my first language, ofc i’m based on one of my favorite novels

You were at home, sitting in the living room with one of the house staff while she talked to you about organizing your birthday party. It was an important event. Everything had to be perfect, from the menu to the guest list.  

"The food has to be perfect, Mrs. Cameron," the woman said professionally. "Have you decided if you prefer seafood or something more traditional?"  

You took a moment to think, running your fingers along the rim of your glass of water.  

"Seafood sounds good," you finally replied. "But I also want some classic options. Not everyone likes strong flavors."  

She nodded and took notes, then asked you about the desserts, decorations, and other details. You spent a good while discussing every aspect of the party, making sure everything would be just right.  

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe showed up.  

He walked in with that relaxed, careless stride, like he owned the place. He seemed distracted or at least pretended to be because as he passed by you, his body brushed against yours.  

It was brief, but enough for you to feel it.  

"Sorry, Mrs. Cameron," he said in a neutral tone, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite read.  

You didn’t respond.  

You just gave a slight nod, not interested in starting anything. It wasn’t worth it.  

He lingered a second longer than necessary before walking away, while you simply turned back to the staff member and resumed your conversation.  

Later, you were in Ward’s office, going over some party details with him.  

"It has to be an elegant event," your husband said, scanning a list. "I don’t want anything missing."  

"Everything will be well organized," you replied confidently.  

You were focused on the conversation when, suddenly, a familiar presence filled the room.  

Rafe.  

Like the most annoying person in the world, he walked up to you with an expression that promised nothing good.  

And before you could react, he leaned in and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.  

He had never done that before.  

He had never shown the slightest courtesy or affection.  

But now, here he was.  

The brush of his lips against your skin was quick, almost innocent.  

But what wasn’t innocent was his hand.  

Because when he kissed your cheek, his fingers slid down your back, tracing a slow, deliberate path.  

A shiver ran through you instantly.  

It wasn’t fear.  

It wasn’t pleasure.  

It was confusion.  

A small act, but with a clear intention: to get under your skin.  

And the worst part? It worked.  

After that greeting, Rafe stayed in the room, casually talking to his father like nothing had happened.  

You, on the other hand, tried to stay composed.  

You could still feel the slight tingle on your skin where his lips had touched, the sensation of his hand moving down your back with that subtle, teasing touch. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.  

You stayed put, listening to the conversation between father and son without actually paying attention to the words.  

Rafe spoke confidently, as always, with that attitude of the golden boy who never quite fit the role. Ward, for his part, responded calmly.  

You just waited.  

When the conversation ended, you stood up gracefully and left the room without saying a word.  

You weren’t in the mood for more of Rafe’s games.  

But he didn’t seem too eager to leave you alone.  

Because just seconds later, you heard him follow you out.  

You didn’t look at him right away. You kept walking, head held high, but when you noticed he was keeping up with you, you stopped and turned to face him.  

You weren’t about to let him think he could mess with you.  

"Stop doing that," you said in a low, controlled, but firm tone.  

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.  

"Doing what?"  

"Your games," you shot back without hesitation. "You’re too old for this."  

Rafe let out a short laugh, tilting his head with an amused expression, like he couldn’t care less about your reproach.  

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he said with fake indifference. "I was just being polite. Not my fault if you’re not used to it."  

You stared at him coldly.  

"Don’t play with me, Rafe."  

He held your gaze for a few seconds, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

"Why? Are you scared to play with me?"  

You didn’t answer.  

You weren’t going to give him any more reasons to keep provoking you.  

So you simply turned around and kept walking, not bothering to look back.  

But as you walked away, you could still feel him there, watching you.  

You kept your pace steady, trying to shake off the conversation with Rafe and the unsettling feeling he left behind. But as soon as you turned down one of the hallways, you ran into Wheezie.  

"What’s wrong?" she asked.  

You didn’t hesitate for a second before stepping closer and gently grabbing her arm, pulling her toward you.  

"You’re the only good thing in this house," you murmured, feeling a momentary sense of relief at seeing her.  

Wheezie blinked, surprised by the sudden confession, but instead of pulling away, she gave you a knowing look and nodded.  

"I know," she said with a small smile. "Trust me, I’ve thought the same thing plenty of times."  

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. In a house where tension seemed to fill every corner, Wheezie was like a breath of fresh air.  

"How’s the birthday planning going?" she asked, casually changing the subject to lighten the mood.  

You sighed, slowly letting go of her.  

"Because of the wedding, I didn’t get to plan it properly," you admitted. "So now everything’s being rushed. It’s not what I had in mind, but I just hope Saturday goes well."  

Wheezie gave you a reassuring look, like she completely understood how you felt.  

"It will," she said with confidence. "Everything you plan always turns out amazing."  

You appreciated her faith in you with a smile.  

Saturday came way too fast for your liking.  

Between last-minute preparations, organizing the event, and the constant tension you’d been feeling since getting married, everything happened in the blink of an eye. There was no time for what you really wanted to do, but there wasn’t much you could do about it now.  

All that was left was making sure the night was perfect.  

The theme of the party was simple: an all-white celebration… except for your family, who would wear dark colors to stand out among the guests. A subtle but effective way to mark the difference.  

And you, as the hostess and the newly crowned Mrs. Cameron, would be the center of attention.  

Your dress was a masterpiece.  

An elegant, sophisticated design, entirely black. The top had a deep V neckline, covered by a fine sheer mesh with a pattern resembling a spider web. Tiny white and black pearls decorated the mesh, giving it an ethereal, delicate effect.  

The skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, hugging your figure perfectly before subtly flaring into a slight train. Every move you made made the dress seem like it was gliding through the crowd like a shadow.  

Ward was by your side in a perfectly tailored black suit, matching you. His presence was steady and confident, as always.  

The Cameron mansion had been completely transformed for the occasion.  

The garden was lit by hundreds of hanging white lights, creating an ethereal and sophisticated atmosphere. The tables were decorated with white floral centerpieces and tall candles flickering in the breeze. On the dance floor, a grand chandelier hung above the polished marble, reflecting light in all directions.  

There were about a hundred guests, businessmen, Ward’s associates, members of the Outer Banks high society, and some acquaintances you’d managed to invite despite the short notice. Everyone was dressed in white, like ghostly figures under the dim lighting.  

And among them, the Camerons stood out.  

Sarah wore a fitted black satin dress with thin straps and a slit up the leg. Her hair was down in soft waves, and even though she kept a neutral expression, she seemed to be enjoying the party.  

Wheezie had chosen a more modest navy-blue dress with long sleeves and lace details. Her excitement was obvious, this was a real celebration for her.  

And then, there was Rafe.  

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, no tie. His relaxed demeanor stood out against the seriousness of the rest of his family. He sipped from his glass with an indifferent air, but his gaze moved through the party like he was taking everything in.  

When your eyes met his, his expression didn’t change.  

But something in the way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine.  

Ward’s hand gently pressed against your waist, pulling you closer with a smile before whispering, “You look stunning.”  

You forced a smile, thanking him.  

The night moved quickly, like every detail had been calculated down to the last second. The soft music of violins drifted through the air as guests sipped their drinks and chatted.  

The atmosphere was filled with murmurs, quiet laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses in occasional toasts. From the terrace, you could see the dark ocean stretching beyond the glowing garden, a stark contrast to the whiteness of the party unfolding before you.  

You stayed close to Ward, his hand resting on the small of your back.  

The guests’ eyes lingered on you with curiosity. You weren’t just the youngest wife in the recent history of the Cameron family, you stood out.  

When the time came for the official celebration, everyone was led toward one of the large garden tables, where the enormous cake sat.  

It was a masterpiece, several tiers, covered in immaculate white frosting with gold details and floral decorations in cream tones. Tiny sugar pearls shimmered under the candlelight.  

The guests formed a circle around the table, and Ward stayed beside you, his arm firm around your waist.  

Wheezie was the first to start singing “Happy Birthday,” her youthful enthusiasm shining through. One by one, the others joined in until the song filled every corner of the garden.  

Sarah smiled softly, clapping politely.  

Rafe, on the other hand, leaned against one of the porch columns, glass in hand, his face unreadable. He didn’t sing, just watched.  

When the song ended, Ward raised his glass and spoke.  

“To my wife,” his voice rang with authority, with certainty. “The woman who has brought new light to this family. May this be the first of many celebrations together.”  

The guests lifted their glasses in a graceful unison and drank to you.  

You smiled and blew out the candles.  

After everyone had enjoyed the cake and the drinks kept flowing, the music changed.  

A soft waltz began playing, and Ward extended his hand toward you with a charming smile.  

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Cameron?”  

You knew it wasn’t really a question.  

And you couldn’t refuse.  

With practiced grace, you took his hand, and he led you to the center of the dance floor.  

The guests stepped aside, giving you space. The hanging lights above twinkled like artificial stars as Ward took your hand firmly and guided you into a flawless rhythm.  

“You’re the center of attention tonight,” he murmured as he spun you smoothly. “How does it feel?”  

You gave him a measured smile.  

“It’s... different.”  

Ward tilted his head slightly, still moving with you.  

“You’ll get used to it.”  

He said it with such certainty that you couldn’t tell if it was a promise or a warning.  

As you danced, you could feel certain gazes fixed on you.  

When the song ended, the guests clapped politely.  

Ward gave a small, elegant nod before kissing your hand and leading you off the dance floor.  

The soft music and the quiet hum of conversations created the perfect atmosphere, and for the first time in a while, you were actually enjoying the night.  

You walked through the guests with grace, exchanging words with each one, asking if everything was to their liking.  

Ward was engaged in conversation with some of his business partners, occasionally glancing at you with an approving smile.  

Wheezie moved around excitedly, while Sarah stayed close to her group of friends, enjoying the night in her own way.  

Rafe… well, Rafe was another story.  

You’d caught him watching you multiple times throughout the night. His eyes followed you from different spots in the garden, but every time you met his gaze, he looked away with a smirk.  

It was annoying.  

But you decided to ignore it.  

At some point, you felt the need to step away from the noise. Pulling your phone from your purse, you quietly slipped into a more secluded part of the garden, where the light was dim and the music was just a distant echo.  

You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your messages, enjoying a brief moment of quiet.  

It didn’t last long.  

“Don’t tell me you’re bored at your own party.”  

The sound of his voice made your blood run cold.  

Rafe.  

You took a deep breath and locked your phone, ready to walk away before he had the chance to start his little game.  

But when you tried to move, he stretched out an arm, resting his hand against the wall beside you, blocking your way.  

“Relax, Mrs. Cameron,” he said with a crooked smile. “I just came to say happy twenty birthday.”  

You looked at him warily.  

“Thanks.”  

You didn’t know what else to say.  

His closeness unsettled you, not out of fear, but because his presence had an effect on you, one you refused to acknowledge.  

“Great party,” he said casually. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting something this… elegant.”  

“What were you expecting?” you asked before you could stop yourself.  

Rafe shrugged.  

“I don’t know. Something less… sophisticated.”  

There was a teasing edge to his words, but you refused to take the bait.  

A brief silence settled between you, his eyes locked onto yours before he stepped in a little closer.  

Too close.  

A shiver ran down your spine as his scent wrapped around you, a mix of mint and tobacco you’d noticed before.  

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice lower than you would have liked.  

He didn’t answer right away.  

Instead, his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and in one quick, unexpected movement, his mouth was on yours.  

You froze for a second, completely in shock.  

But then… you kissed him back.  

It was just a moment, barely a couple of seconds where you lost yourself in the feeling of his lips, warm and confident against yours.  

But then reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.  

You pulled away abruptly and, without thinking, raised your hand and slapped him.  

The sound echoed in the silent air.  

Rafe tilted his head at the impact, but when he looked back at you… he was smiling.  

A smug, amused smile, like he had gotten exactly what he wanted.  

“Don't ever do that again," you said through gritted teeth, still feeling the heat on your skin.  

“Why? Did it scare you how much you liked it?"

You glared at him.  

“It's disrespectful."

“To who?" he asked, his voice low, teasing.  

“To me," you answered without hesitation.  

Something flickered in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite figure out, but you didn’t stick around to find out.  

You turned around and walked away, feeling your heart pounding against your chest.  

No.  

This couldn’t happen again.  

You went back to the party, determined to act like nothing had happened.  

You blended in with the guests, smiling, accepting congratulations, toasting with those who approached you, and staying close to Ward.  

But you could feel Rafe’s gaze.  

You could sense it on your skin, following your every move, lingering and persistent.  

And even though your heart pounded every time you noticed, you refused to give it any importance.  

When the celebration finally ended, Ward and you said your goodbyes to the last guests, exchanging the final polite words. He wrapped an arm around your waist in a possessive, proud gesture, and you leaned into him.  

As you walked toward your room, you felt that gaze again.  

Instinctively, you turned your head, and there he was.  

Leaning against a wall, drink in hand, eyes locked on you.  

You didn’t do anything.  

You didn’t say anything.  

You just kept walking.  

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the windows.  

You woke up early, still carrying the emotional hangover from the night before, but determined to ignore it all. You got ready calmly and headed downstairs for breakfast, expecting to find only Ward, but to your misfortune, Rafe was already there.  

He looked relaxed, sitting with a cup of coffee in one hand, flipping through a newspaper like the world was perfectly normal.  

Like he hadn’t crossed a line last night.  

"Good morning, Mrs. Cameron," he said, in a tone that only you caught as a provocation.  

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.  

“Good morning," you replied neutrally.  

You sat at the far end of the table, where one of the housekeepers had already set your breakfast.  

Ward hadn’t come down yet.  

A heavy silence settled between you two.  

The only sound was Rafe’s coffee cup clinking against the saucer.  

“Did you sleep well?" he asked suddenly.  

You didn’t look at him.  

“Yes."

“Good," he replied, a slight hint of amusement in his voice sending a chill down your spine.  

You still didn’t look at him, focusing on your breakfast. But you could feel his presence in every fiber of your body.  

You knew he was watching you.  

You knew he was enjoying the discomfort you were trying to hide.  

Finally, you gathered your courage and looked up.  

Your eyes met his.  

Blue, cold, inquisitive.  

You couldn’t deny the obvious, Rafe was attractive. His face was the perfect mix of arrogance and danger, his posture always carried an air of overwhelming confidence, and the way he looked at you made your stomach twist… but not in disgust.  

You hated him, yeah.  

But that had nothing to do with his looks.  

It was his attitude, his way of provoking you, the way he moved with that maddening self-assurance, his insistence on making you react.  

A lazy smirk spread across his lips when he noticed you were staring.  

You immediately looked back at your plate.  

"Anything interesting in the paper?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent.  

“Not much," he replied casually. “But last night’s party was interesting, don’t you think?"

His words made your jaw tighten.  

You knew exactly what he meant.  

You didn’t answer.  

“Oh, come on," he said with a quiet chuckle. “Nothing to say about it?"

Finally, you set your fork down and looked at him with a neutral expression.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Rafe tilted his head, his smile never fading.  

“Sure you do."

A couple of seconds passed in silent tension between you.  

But just as you were about to respond, Ward walked into the dining room.  

“Good morning," he greeted, his usual authoritative tone filling the space.  

Both of you broke eye contact immediately.  

“Good morning, sweetheart," you said with a flawless smile, as if everything was perfectly normal.  

Rafe simply took a sip of his coffee, but before turning back to his newspaper, he murmured just low enough for only you to hear:  

“This is gonna be fun." 

After breakfast, you decided to take advantage of the sunny day and headed to the pool.  

Rafe had gone out with his girlfriend.  

Sarah wasn’t home.  

Wheezie was out with her friends.  

For the first time in a long while, the house felt like it was truly yours.  

You picked an elegant black bikini, put on your sunglasses, grabbed a book, and stretched out on one of the loungers by the pool.  

The warmth of the sun caressed your skin, the clear water shimmered with golden reflections, and for a moment, everything was peaceful.  

Just you, the sound of the water, and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees.  

Hours passed as you lost yourself between reading and moments where you simply closed your eyes to enjoy the calm.  

But that peace didn’t last long.  

You heard the sound of an engine approaching.  

Turning your head, you saw Rafe pulling into the driveway. He wasn’t alone.  

A brunette stepped out of the passenger seat with him.  

His girlfriend.  

You knew instantly.  

You’d heard her name before when someone mentioned Rafe’s girlfriend, but you’d never actually seen her. Until now.  

You shifted slightly on the lounger, dipping your feet into the water, pretending not to pay attention.  

But Rafe was paying attention.  

From the moment he stepped onto the property, his eyes had found you.  

You didn’t notice at first, too focused on acting indifferent, but every move you made had his full attention.  

The way your legs dipped into the water.  

The shimmer of droplets on your sun-kissed skin.  

The way the bikini hugged your body.  

For a few seconds, he completely forgot Sofía was next to him.  

“Rafe…" she called, snapping him out of it. He blinked, shaking his head and regaining his composure.  

With a charming smile, Sofía linked her arm through his as they walked toward you.  

“Stepmom," Rafe’s voice cut through your peace.  

You turned slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm.  

“Sofía," he said casually. “This is my dad’s wife."

There was something in his voice, a slight inflection only you caught.  

Sofía, however, didn’t seem to notice.  

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, ma’am," she said warmly, extending her hand. “I’ve heard so many great things about you."

You shook her hand politely, offering a pleasant smile.  

“Likewise. Welcome."

For a brief moment, Rafe’s eyes drifted from your face down your body, taking in every inch of you without the slightest subtlety.  

And this time, you noticed.  

There was something in his gaze.  

You didn’t know what it was.  

The air seemed to shift for a fraction of a second.  

Then, Rafe snapped out of it.  

“Let’s go inside," he told Sofía, placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward the house without looking back.  

You stayed where you were, watching them disappear through the door.  

Later, just as you were about to head inside, you saw him coming down the stairs with a bag over his shoulder.  

He stopped near the door, and for some reason, his eyes sought yours.  

“I’m leaving for a few days," he said simply.  

You didn’t understand why he was telling you.  

It wasn’t like he owed you an explanation.  

You weren’t close.  

You barely spoke when it was necessary.  

And yet, there he was, standing in front of you, with his bag and that look you still couldn’t figure out.  

You nodded without asking any more questions.  

You assumed he was leaving with Sofía, maybe on a trip or just to her place.  

And honestly, you didn’t care.  

"See you," was all you said before stepping inside and closing the door behind you.  

A few hours later, you decided to change clothes and go out.  

You wore a simple but elegant dress with comfortable sandals. You styled your hair naturally and grabbed your car keys.  

Your destination was one of Wheezie’s friends’ houses.  

You had agreed to pick her up after she texted you, asking for a ride.  

You drove calmly through the streets of Figure Eight, watching as the sun started painting the sky in shades of orange.  

When you parked and got out of the car, you barely knocked before the door swung open.  

"Wheezie! Your mom’s here!" one of the girls called from inside.  

You froze for a moment.  

But Wheezie reacted instantly, peeking out from the living room and rolling her eyes with a smile.  

"She’s not my mom," she corrected as she walked to the door. "She’s my dad’s wife."  

The other girls, who had been eyeing you with curiosity, smiled and came over to greet you.  

"Oh, sorry," said the girl’s mom, appearing beside them. "Wheezie told us you live with them, so we assumed you were her mother."  

"No problem," you replied with a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you all."  

You greeted the girl’s parents and friends, exchanging a few words about their afternoon together.  

Wheezie, on the other hand, seemed completely comfortable with you being there.  

"See you tomorrow," she said to her friends, and after making sure she had all her stuff, she followed you to the car.  

As you drove back home, she leaned back in her seat, looking relaxed.  

"They thought you were my mom," she said suddenly, glancing at you.  

You let out a small laugh.  

"Yeah, I heard."  

"It didn’t bother me," she admitted with a small shrug. "It doesn’t bother me when it’s you."  

You turned slightly to look at her, surprised by her honesty.  

"Thanks, Wheez," you said with a genuine smile.  

She just nodded, like it wasn’t a big deal.  

But to you, it was.  

Weeks had passed with a deceptive calm after Rafe had left.  

Life went on, and though the house was quieter without him around, you didn’t spare a second thinking about it.  

But that all changed one afternoon when you got home after being out for a few hours.  

You walked in, planning to head straight to your room, but then you noticed the odd atmosphere in the house.  

There was murmuring among the staff, an unusual movement.  

"What’s going on?" you asked one of them, stopping in the hallway.  

The man hesitated before answering.  

"Mr. Rafe is back, ma’am," he finally said. "But he’s not well. He’s sick."  

You frowned.  

"Sick?"  

"Very sick," he confirmed. "He came with Miss Sofía, but she had to go home and said she’d be back later."  

You didn’t know why, but an uneasy feeling settled in your chest.  

Without thinking too much, you turned on your heel and quickly went upstairs.  

You headed straight for his room.  

The door was slightly open.  

You pushed it gently and stepped inside.  

The first thing you noticed was the heavy air and the dim lighting.  

The curtains were drawn, leaving the room in partial darkness, and the sound of Rafe’s labored breathing filled the space.  

He was lying in bed, shirtless, with the sheets tangled around him.  

His skin was pale but covered in sweat.  

You approached carefully.  

"Rafe," you called softly.  

He shifted slightly, blinking slowly.  

When his eyes landed on you, there was a moment of confusion before he managed to focus.  

"What… what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough like it hurt to even speak.  

"I heard you were sick," you said. "I wanted to check on you."  

Rafe squinted, a slight grimace appearing on his face.  

"Worried about me?" he muttered, sounding disbelieving, though weak.  

"Yeah," you answered honestly.  

He let out a rough chuckle, but immediately winced like it hurt.  

"I don’t believe you," he murmured.  

You sighed.  

You weren’t in the mood to argue with him when he barely had the strength to stay awake.  

You stood up, ready to leave, but then you felt his hand grab yours.  

His grip wasn’t strong, but it was enough to stop you.  

His skin was hot, too hot.  

You turned to look at him and saw that his eyes, still a bit glassy, were locked on you.  

"Don’t go," he whispered.  

Something in his voice, in his vulnerability, made you nod without even thinking.  

"I’m just going to make you some tea for the fever," you said softly.  

It took him a couple of seconds to let go of your hand, like his body was resisting it.  

When he finally did, you turned and walked out of the room with a strange knot in your stomach.  

You headed to the kitchen with determined steps.  

You didn’t know why you cared so much.  

Rafe was a grown man; he could take care of himself, and Sofía would probably be back soon to handle it.  

But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to do something.  

You walked into the kitchen and found one of the maids, who looked at you curiously.  

"Do you need anything, ma’am?"  

"I’m making some tea," you said, moving naturally around the cabinets.  

"I can do it for you."  

"No, I want to do it myself."  

She didn’t insist.  

You grabbed a pot and poured water into it, setting it to heat on low.  

As you waited, you carefully selected the herbs you needed.

You knew exactly what to do: a mix of mint and chamomile to ease the discomfort, a bit of ginger to help with the fever, and some lemon leaves for a good taste.  

When the water was ready, you added the ingredients and waited a few minutes, letting the herbs release their properties.  

Then, you poured the liquid into a cup and let it cool.  

There was no point in giving him something hot when his temperature was already too high.  

Once it was cool enough, you picked up the cup and left the kitchen, heading back to his room.  

When you got there, you carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside.  

Rafe was still in the same position you had left him in, eyes half-closed and breathing heavily.  

He looked completely exhausted.  

You walked over and placed the cup on the nightstand.  

"You need to sit up to drink this," you said softly.  

He groaned, clearly too drained to move.  

You rolled your eyes.  

"Come on, it’s not that hard," you insisted.  

Placing one hand on his arm and the other on his back, you helped him sit up.  

His skin burned under your touch.  

When he was finally upright, he took a shaky breath and rested his head against the headboard.  

"Here," you said, handing him the cup.  

He took it, staring at it with a confused expression.  

"What is it?"  

"Cold tea. It'll help with the fever."  

He looked at you like he was surprised you knew something like that.  

But he didn’t say anything.  

He took a sip and closed his eyes, as if the simple act of swallowing drained him.  

"Thanks," he murmured after a while.  

You weren’t sure if it surprised you that he said it or if you just didn’t expect it from him.  

"Just drink it," you replied, unsure how to react to his gratitude.  

As he did, you reached out to check his forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.  

You frowned.  

"You’ve got a high fever, but it'll go down," you said calmly. "You’ll be fine soon."  

He didn’t respond, just took another sip before lying back down like even that had taken too much effort.  

You watched him for a few more seconds before deciding you had done enough.  

"Get some rest," you said quietly, turning toward the door.  

As you stepped out, you closed it softly behind you.  

And then, you let out a sigh.  

It had been a few hours since you left Rafe in his room, and the rest of the afternoon went by normally.  

The house was quiet, too quiet for your liking, leaving you with too much time to think about everything that had happened.  

When Ward got home later that night, you went to greet him and decided to mention Rafe, though you kept it casual.  

"Rafe came back today," you said as you walked with him toward his office.  

Ward nodded absentmindedly, not even looking at you.  

"Oh, yeah?"  

"Yeah. He was really sick, by the way. Had a high fever when he got here."  

Ward sighed, rubbing his temple.  

"He’ll get better. He always does."  

You frowned.  

"You don’t care at all, do you?"  

He gave you a tired smile.  

"If I had to worry every time Rafe got himself into trouble, I’d never have time for anything else."  

You didn’t know what to say to that.  

Ward just kept walking to his office, ending the conversation.  

It wasn’t the reaction you expected, but it didn’t really surprise you either.  

You sighed and went to bed, not thinking too much about it.  

The next morning, you woke up early and went downstairs to have breakfast alone.  

The dining room was completely silent, the only sound being the soft clink of porcelain as you poured tea into your cup.  

You took a sip, enjoying the quiet moment.  

But then, the door opened, and Rafe walked in.  

You looked at him in surprise.  

He looked better.  

The sickly, worn-out look from last night was gone, though he still seemed a little pale.  

"Morning," he said, his voice a bit rough.  

"Morning," you replied, setting your cup down. "How are you feeling?"  

He shrugged as he took a seat across from you.  

"Better."  

You were relieved to hear it, though you didn’t say it out loud.  

"Good."  

Rafe took a sip of his coffee before looking at you again.  

"Thanks for... yesterday."  

You tensed slightly.  

"It was nothing," you said flatly.  

He smirked a little, like he didn’t quite believe you, but he didn’t push it.  

There was a brief silence before you decided to ask,  

"Where’s Sofia? I didn’t see her when I got back yesterday."  

Rafe looked away, stirring his coffee.  

"She’s busy with her family and work."  

"Oh."  

You didn’t ask anything else.  

If there was something off about his response, you chose to ignore it.  

He didn’t seem eager to talk about it either because he changed the subject almost immediately.  

"And my dad?"  

"Working. As usual."  

He nodded, like that was no surprise.  

Another silence.  

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe looked at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes.  

"What are you doing today?"  

You raised an eyebrow, not understanding his sudden curiosity.  

"Not much."  

"Want to go for a walk?"  

His question caught you off guard.  

"I don’t think that’d be appropriate."  

"Why not?"  

You looked at him incredulously.  

"You know why."  

He smiled, tilting his head.  

"No, you tell me."  

You pursed your lips, realizing there was no point in continuing that conversation.  

So you just looked back at your cup of tea and took a sip.  

Rafe let out a small chuckle but didn’t push any further.  

After breakfast, Rafe left without saying much else.  

You stayed in the dining room a little longer, enjoying the quiet morning, but after a while, you decided you needed to get out.  

You didn’t want to spend the whole day stuck in the house, especially when you’d been feeling more restless than usual lately.  

So you grabbed your bag, left without telling anyone, and walked to the shopping district.  

You spent the afternoon going from store to store, enjoying the feeling of doing something for yourself.  

You bought a few new clothes, nothing too flashy, just enough to treat yourself a little.  

After a while, you sat down at a café, ordering a latte and a croissant.  

You looked out the window, taking small sips of your coffee, enjoying the quiet moment.  

By the time you got back home, it was already dark.  

You expected to find someone in the living room or at least hear some noise from somewhere, but the house was completely silent.  

There was no one there except Ward.  

You found him in his study, looking over some documents with a tired expression.  

"Where is everyone?" you asked, leaning against the doorframe.  

He barely glanced up before going back to his papers.  

"Sarah’s doing her thing. Wheezie’s at a friend’s house. And Rafe… who knows."  

You frowned.  

Something about his tone made you press your lips together.  

You hadn’t planned on saying anything else, but somehow, the conversation took a turn you didn’t expect.  

You weren’t even sure when it started, but suddenly, you were arguing with Ward.  

It was his indifferent tone, the way he acted like nothing mattered.  

Like he was always right.  

Like there was nothing you could say to change his mind.  

And that pissed you off.  

The words got sharper, the comments more cutting.  

You had never argued with him like this before.  

Sure, you’d had disagreements, but never like this.  

This time was different.  

More real.  

More intense.  

You didn’t even know how it got to this point, you just knew you didn’t want to be there anymore.  

And when Rafe showed up in the middle of the argument, you decided it was time to leave.  

You didn’t want him to hear any more than he already had.  

So without thinking much about it, you turned on your heels and walked out of the house.  

Ward just sighed, exhausted, and shut himself in his room.  

But Rafe didn’t let you leave alone.  

You heard his footsteps behind you, quick, following.  

You weren’t surprised.  

"Where are you going?" he asked, catching up to you and grabbing your arm to make you stop.  

You pulled away gently, but you didn’t keep walking.  

"Anywhere," you said without looking at him. "I just don’t want to be there."  

Rafe studied you in silence for a moment.  

And then, without much ceremony, he said, "I’m coming with you."  

You turned to look at him.  

"You don’t have to."  

"I know."  

You sighed, knowing there was no convincing him otherwise.  

"Fine," you said finally.  

He nodded, like he had expected that answer from the start.  

Rafe didn’t say anything when you got into the car with him, he just started the engine and pulled away from the main road.  

He drove surprisingly calmly, considering how impulsive he could be sometimes.  

The city lights faded behind you as he took a less-traveled road, surrounded by trees and darkness.  

You didn’t ask where you were going.  

You didn’t really care.  

You just wanted to be away.  

After a while, Rafe pulled up at a small abandoned dock by the lake.  

The water was calm, reflecting the dark sky with only a few stars visible.  

You got out of the car without waiting for instructions, hugging yourself when the cold night breeze brushed against your skin.

"Why here?" you asked as he closed the car door.  

"It's quiet," he answered simply.  

And it was.  

The only sound was the soft splashing of water against the old wooden dock.  

You walked together along the edge of the lake, no rush, no real destination.  

After a few minutes, you decided to break the silence.  

"Tell me the truth," you said, stopping and glancing at him.  

Rafe raised an eyebrow.  

"About what?"  

"About the first thing you thought of me when we met."  

He smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile.  

"You want me to be honest?"  

You nodded.  

"I didn’t like you," he said bluntly.  

It wasn’t surprising, but it still stung a little to hear it out loud.  

"Why?" you asked, curious.  

"Because I thought you were an opportunist."  

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words.  

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.  

You just looked away and kept walking.  

Rafe kept up with you.  

"But I don’t think that anymore," he added after a few seconds.  

"You don’t?" you murmured skeptically.  

"You don’t seem like you’re trying to ruin my dad."  

You let out a dry laugh.  

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."  

He gave a small smile but didn’t say anything else.  

You walked a little further before stopping.  

You didn’t know why, you just felt like you couldn’t keep going.  

You stood there, staring at the water, and without warning, tears started falling.  

Rafe frowned.  

"What’s wrong?"  

You shook your head, feeling ridiculous.  

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice shaky. "I feel overwhelmed, but I don’t know why."  

Maybe it was the argument with Ward, the constant tension in the house, or just the fact that nothing lately felt under your control.  

Everything felt like too much.  

Rafe stepped closer and, without thinking much, pulled you into him.  

You didn’t push him away.  

You didn’t want to.  

You sank into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body as his arms wrapped around you firmly.  

"You’re too beautiful to be crying," he murmured against your hair.  

You let out a soft laugh, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.  

"That was cheesy."  

"But it worked."  

You looked at him, your eyes still wet, and in that moment, he kissed you.  

You didn’t pull away.  

You didn’t want to.  

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but when you broke apart, he whispered something against your lips.  

You didn’t let him finish.  

You shook your head and took a step back.  

"We should head back."  

Rafe didn’t argue.  

He just looked at you for a moment before nodding and walking back to the car with you.  

The drive home was silent.  

Rafe drove with an unreadable expression, and you stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past.  

You didn’t speak.  

Neither did he.  

But the tension was there, thick in the air.  

When you got home, everything was calm.  

Ward was already asleep, which, in a way, was a relief.  

You didn’t have the energy for another difficult conversation.  

Without saying a word, you walked straight to your room, changed, and slipped into bed beside Ward.  

He didn’t even stir.  

His breathing was deep, lost in a heavy sleep.  

You stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, thinking about the kiss at the dock, the warmth of Rafe’s hands on your back, the sound of his voice murmuring against your lips...  

You squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep.  

The next morning, you woke up early.  

Ward was already up and in the bathroom, so you got up, threw on a light robe, and went to the dining room.  

When you walked in, Rafe was already there, sitting at the table with Sofía next to him.  

They looked good together, or at least that’s what anyone would think at first glance.  

She was put together, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her smile was calm.  

He, on the other hand, had the same unreadable expression from the night before.  

"Good morning," you greeted politely.  

Sofía returned the greeting warmly, and Rafe just nodded, watching you as you took a seat next to Ward, who arrived a few minutes later.  

Breakfast started off peaceful.  

The conversation was light, nothing too deep.  

Ward asked about business, Sofía talked about her family, and you kept your attention on your coffee and the plate in front of you.  

Until you saw it.  

Sofía slid her hand across the table and gently took Rafe’s, intertwining their fingers.  

You didn’t know why, but instinctively, you looked up.  

Rafe looked at you too.  

For a second, the world seemed to slow down.  

His blue eyes locked onto yours, and then, without looking away, he casually pulled his hand from Sofía’s.  

She didn’t seem to notice much, she just kept talking.  

You, on the other hand, lowered your gaze to your coffee, bringing it to your lips for a sip.  

And you smiled.  

You had always been a little possessive.  

Not in a crazy way, you didn’t like that, but there were certain things that belonged to you, and you didn’t tolerate someone else taking them.  

Seeing Rafe pull his hand away from Sofía after looking at you gave you a satisfaction you didn’t want to overanalyze.  

You took the last sip of your coffee and stood up calmly, sliding your chair back without making a sound.  

"I’m going to get ready," you said simply, not looking at anyone in particular.  

Ward nodded, focused on his conversation with Rafe. Sofía gave you a polite smile before turning back to her plate.

You went up to your room and opened the closet, scanning your options before settling on a navy blue dress, short and form-fitting.  

The neckline was elegant, just enough to highlight your figure without being too revealing.  

You paired it with nude high heels, which made your legs look longer and contrasted perfectly with the deep blue of the dress.  

You styled your hair, leaving it loose in soft waves that framed your face, and applied subtle but flattering makeup.  

When you walked downstairs, you felt a gaze slowly traveling over every inch of your body.  

Rafe.  

He was standing there, one hand in his pocket, his eyes tracing a slow path from your legs to your face.  

He didn’t say a word.  

But as you walked past him, he brushed his hand against yours in the slightest way.  

A barely-there touch, but enough to send a spark of electricity through your skin.  

You didn’t react. You just kept walking, head held high.  

Ward was sitting on the couch, looking through some documents when you approached him.  

"I’m going with Wheezie," you said casually.  

He barely lifted his eyes from his papers, nodding absentmindedly.  

"Alright, take care of her."  

"I always do."  

You gave him a small smile before turning toward the door.  

You didn’t need to look back to know that Rafe was still watching you.  

That day, you didn’t see Rafe again.  

After spending the day with Wheezie, you got back home and got ready to go out to dinner with Ward. You picked an elegant but simple dress, and the two of you went to an exclusive restaurant in the city.  

Dinner was calm, with Ward talking about business while you listened, nodding at the right moments. He asked if everything was okay, and you just smiled and told him it was.  

The next morning, breakfast was a little more crowded. Ward sat at the head of the table, Rafe and Sofia were next to each other, Sarah hadn’t come down yet, and Wheezie was busy on her phone while eating.  

That’s when you got the invitation from your sister.  

You weren’t close, barely talked, but her message said she wanted to see you.  

"We could go horseback riding together," she had written.  

You thought about it for a moment before replying that you’d go.  

Looking up from your phone, you glanced at the others at the table.  

"My sister invited us over."  

Ward nodded immediately, not thinking much about it.  

"We haven’t seen her since the wedding."  

"She said she wanted to see me," you clarified. "That we could go riding."  

You noticed the way Rafe looked at you for a second, but you looked away.  

"Are we all going?" Sofia asked curiously.  

"Yeah, if you want to," you replied.  

And just like that, it was settled. After breakfast, you all got ready for the visit.  

Your sister’s place was huge.  

The house had a classic style, with sprawling gardens and a pristine stable where they kept their horses.  

One of them was yours.  

Or at least, it had been.  

After your father passed away, you left it there. You distanced yourself from riding and hadn’t visited much since.  

Walking into the stable, the scent of hay and leather surrounded you.

Your sister was waiting for you with a measured smile on her face.  

"I thought you'd never accept my invitation."  

"I'm here," you simply said.  

She nodded and looked toward the horses.  

"Are you going to ride yours?"  

You looked at the animal that used to be yours, its coat shining and eyes alert.  

You didn’t answer right away.  

You carefully took the reins, approaching the horse with a mix of nostalgia and hesitation.  

You whispered its name softly, and the animal blinked before slightly lowering its head toward you, like it remembered you after all this time.  

A small flicker of emotion lit up in your chest, but you didn’t let it grow too much.  

You mounted easily, adjusting your posture while your sister did the same with her horse.  

You didn’t talk much as you rode around the property.  

Words between you two had always been measured, almost superficial, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some familiarity in the silence.  

The sound of hooves on the grass set a steady rhythm until, in the distance, another horse approached.  

You turned your head and saw Rafe, riding with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before.  

"Mind if I join?" he asked with a light smile.  

Your sister nodded without objection, but not long after, she excused herself, saying she had things to do.  

So you were left alone with him.  

"Where's Sofía?" you asked, guiding your horse at a slow pace.  

"Inside. She doesn’t know how to ride."  

"I didn’t know you did."  

Rafe smirked.  

"I have a lot of surprises."  

You rolled your eyes lightly and kept riding.  

The cool afternoon air made the moment nice, even relaxing.  

But several times, you felt Rafe’s gaze on you.  

At first, you ignored it.  

But when you turned your head and caught him staring at you again, you decided to ask directly.  

"Why are you looking at me like that?"  

Rafe didn’t look away.  

"Because you're really beautiful."  

You weren’t expecting such a direct answer.  

But it didn’t make him uncomfortable to say it, either.  

You smiled, not giving it more importance than you wanted to.  

You rode for a while longer without the mood turning awkward.  

Until you decided you’d had enough.  

"We should head back."  

Rafe nodded and matched your pace, following you back.

@sweetgoldwoman @dudenhaaa27

[that-butch-archivist]

"I have a thin stack of photographs from my fiftieth birthday party. This morning I've drawn them from a crumpled white envelope to look at them for the first time since that evening. I've delayed looking--the weight the pictures carry is heavy. That night there were flowers, candles, jazz, blues, and salsa, party favors that uncurled like snakes, and a huge sugary cake. My two beautiful grown sons and I and my beloved Leslie gathered with friends in an echoing room. There I usually sat at long tables in political meetings, shoulder to shoulder with others, listening, talking, our hands busy stuffing envelopes for our next demonstration. But that night the room was transformed with balloons, streamers, banners--and photographs everywhere. Leslie had set up tall cardboard stands with pictures documenting my "fifty years of love and struggle." At the center were pictures of me and my sons. [...] Them at seven and eight, sitting knee to knee on top of my VW bug--I am standing by the open car door, one hand turning nervously against the other. I'm about to drive the children back to their father, who wrested custody of them from me. He has had me declared an unfit mother, because I am a lesbian. In all the pictures of us together we are smiling. There are no snapshots of the moments of terrible pain--the images that flash through memory over and over, like a home movie of agony. [...] Perhaps every family album has these private pictures, the stories we try to guess at from a few hidden whispers and the grief-struck eyes above someone's smiling mouth. [...] This is the family album of one of the many of us who have been told that we are not fit to have a family, told that we can stay in the family only if we are quiet and invisible, told not to "flaunt" our life, not to make a scene. [...] One June day, in his teenage years, my oldest called to talk about a video he'd just seen on public television, a documentary about gay families. I said to him, "You know, I've never asked how you've felt about my being a lesbian, how you think it's affected you." And he said, "Your being a lesbian didn't affect me. What hurt me was not being able to have you with me." My story is but one of many, that of a woman who mothered her children almost in isolation for years. Who struggled to hold them as a family even though the law decreed that they could not enter her home if she shared it with another adult. Who strove to teach them connection to the forbidden others in her life, those who might give them a new kind of family, a different kind of world, where no people would lose their family because of hatred against how they love or the color of their skin, because of their despised femaleness or their poverty. [...] I unfold the creased envelope. The pictures from that birthday night show the four of us standing awkwardly together. One son smiles but looks down; the other frowns, turned inward. My smile is tense, Leslie's face is drawn and tired from a recent illness. Yet beyond that snapshot are moments when we are smiling. The four of us piling into a car later that night, crammed in with presents, cards, chrysanthemums, and cake, laughing giddily that we are like a clown car in the circus, like a party ready to burst out when a door opens, everything in hand that we need for another feast. [...] We have fought to claim our lives with each other despite years that we have been physically, forcibly, separated. Despite years of no words to explain to others what we are to each other. How--despite what law, custom, religion may say--we are heart of each others' hearts."

-- Excerpted from "Family Album," Minnie Bruce Pratt's foreword for Love Makes A Family: Portraits of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Parents and Their Families. (Emphasis in bold my own.)

Year of publication: 1999

[philomelek]

shitty infopost (if you have anything to add or correct, please let me know!!)

Wayne Harris

Wayne Hallagin Harris, as well as his wife and son have stayed away from publics eyes regarding the massacre so we know very little about him. Many who knew Wayne or had an encounter with him described him as a very nice but stoic army man, talking about the massacre and his own sons death like a soldier would report, some even going as far as to say he was mentally abusive towards Eric ?

Before Columbine

He was born in Colorado, USA, his mother Thelma Harris, his sister Sandra Harris but his father remains unknown. He attended the Englewood High School and later met Katherine Ann Pool whom he would marry in 1970.

He was a U.S Air force pilot, his flying "skill and leadership" helped in the testing of strategic missile and space systems; Air Force records show. He earned the meritorious service medal, 4 oak leaf clusters, 2 bronze service stars and an award for small arms marksmanship. His military work forced the family to move all across the country, Eric was born during their stay in Wichita, Kansas, then they moved to Beavercreek, Ohio, then to Oscoda, Michigan, then to Plattsburgh, New York before finally retired and settled down with his family in Littleton, Colorado in 1993, where they lived in a small rental home and then settled in 8276 S. Reed Street in 1996.

Wayne and Eric

Wayne would play basketball with his two boys when he came home from work, he would often take Eric's side saying things like "boys will be boys" and even siding with him during his incident with Brooks Brown in 1997, not offering to pay for the damage. However many note him being a strict father, including Randy Brown leaving an Amazon review of Cullen's book where he stated "-a mentally abusive father for Eric" , some reported he yelled at Eric often, calling him an idiot and berating him however this is all based on assumptions and this wasn't an unusal thing for a father to be yelling at their child, there was no record of him being really "abusive" in mental or physical sense, but some neglect and strictness? Sure. One known fact is that Wayne kept notes on Eric and Kevin, there were 2 Steno notebooks, one named "Eric" the other "Kevin" Eric's book documented Eric's troubles from allegations by neighbors about property damage to the felony case and repeated interactions with school officials, and an issue between Eric and Brooks Brown. His writting of his son was often described as him "analyzing an animal" particularly later in life after the van break in and near the massacre where Eric lost motivation for keeping up his routine so Wayne imposed stricter rules on his studying and his screentime, including "light's out at 10pm."

His full writting and the transcripts in the notebook can be found online, despite Wayne previously fighting to keep it private

Harrises were much easier on firearms due to Wayne being a military man so they had knowledge of Eric owning weapons and being subscribed to a gun magazine but they only understood it as his deep interest in the game Doom, nothing to worry about. Wayne would discover a fishing tackle box named "Explosives" Eric owned and in there he would find a pipe bomb. This however didn't raise any alarms for Wayne as he only made Eric bring the bomb to a deserted area to detonate it and told him to not do it again, despite Wayne returning him all of the bomb making materials (fuses, detonators, cartridges etc.) When Eric ordered clips in Wayne's name and Wayne got a phone call he only told the store that he "Didn't order any clips." and "Must be some mistake" and he hung up without second questions. Wayne said that he did notice his sons behavior such as him punching a brick wall, having outbursts, struggling with suicidal thoughts and anger. He knew something was odd but chose to ignore most of it. Many say that because of the way Kevin turned out to be a perfect dream child, both Wayne and Kathy just didn't know what to do with Eric so they just let him be.

Waynes writting on the van break in:

Eric has said his family was very disappointed in him so its no doubt that Wayne never really trusted him and continuously criticized him

After Columbine

As soon as Wayne heard about what was happening at Columbine HS he would call 911, immediately assuming his own son had something to do with this, which left so many people shocked how absolutely stoic he was about the fact he would hear about a massacre happening and think his own son would do it, showing the extent of just how much he knew but ignored.

The subtitled 911 call can be seen here:

Wayne and his family were absolutely devastated, having their home searched and bombarded with media, death threats and lawsuits. They chose to stay quiet and any attempt at contacting them would go straight to their lawyer. It didn't help that Sue got extreme backlash for speaking out so they could only imagine how much worse they would be treated. Since it's been almost 30 years it's unlikely we would hear much about them. (except the 2027 depositions, which i can't find info on so if you have it it would mean so much to me^^)

Him and Kathy would go stay at a different place for 6 months following the massacre grieving with the loss differently. Though no public funeral was held for Eric it is unknown wether they held one privately or not. They chose to move completely just a couple of years later, putting the house for sale in 2004. (Some state they stayed in Colorado and some say they moved to Washington) Him and Kathy would watch the Basement Tapes but they would take breaks every 20 minutes to have a moment with their therapist and cry. It is said Wayne was so angry with what had happened and this would spark many rumors like him "flushing Eric's ashes down the toilet" and them "not picking up Eric's belongings", though it was revealed that Eric's ashes stayed under their private investigators posession (next to Timothy McVeigh's ashes) and wether they had been picked up or not remains a mystery. Wayne has in fact picked up Eric's belongings though Jeffco gave him a lot of difficulty with it, forcing him to get each item separately.

Things Wayne picked up, amongst other things:

Some school books/papers

Hand written notes

1996,1997 and 1998 yearbooks

Magnets

CDs, posters, photos, Doom books, Eric's class schedule and report cards

Clothes

The boots, socks, underwear, right hand glove and the natural selection shirt he wore during the massacre (other things he wore have been destroyed)

His wallet, leather case and a match sticker

Eric's body bag, nail scraping and hair

People who ran into Wayne or known him after the massacre have described him as absolutely crushed, "not seeing the beauty in the world anymore" and at the same time being "oddly calm about it".

Though him and Kathy stayed silent at each victims attempt to contact them, one time, Linda Mauser (mother of Daniel Mauser, who passed away in the massacre) wrote them a letter in which she stated that she forgave Eric and only wants a chance to possibly connect with them and understand "Why?" Harrises both agreed to meet Mausers and they had a long conversation with them but it wasn't quite fulfilling as Linda hoped it would be. They trully had no new answers to give and Wayne was noted to be indifferent the entire time, only answering questions and most importantly "accepting his son was a psychopath"

Wayne has also made his own site in 2010 though after many people found out about it he would be forced to edit out any mention of Eric or Kevin, because his wording to a lot of people seemed like he was saying his son was just another victim in the massacre. He would then take down the site completely so we only have some screenshots

Before and after he edited it:

"Mount St Helens blew her top" reffered to a volcano that had a big eruption at the time. It's a freudian slip in a sense as Eric famously blew the top of his head off when committing suicide His frequent blowing stuff up also comes to mind. He could've said "when the vulcano erupted" or activated or anything, I've never heard someone describe a vulcano as blowing its top off

Wally Lamb, a famous writter, who also expressed curiousity about Kevin and Byron (Dylans older brother), had an encounter with Wayne during a book singing in Denver in 2008. 50 signed books into the line a man would approach Mr. Lamb and say "Do you think this would be a good book for Eric's brother, Kevin, to read?" Mr. Lamb was confused and quickly realized it was Eric's father, Wayne. He described Wayne as "the walking embodiment of sadness and grief" The two shook hands for a good long moment before having a small conversation, Mr. Lamb breaking out in tears and stating "I don't have any answers to give you" and asking about Kevin to which Wayne replied "I don't have any answers, either" and explained how Kevin was in great pain, joining the military to distance himself from it and at the time being in Afghanistan. Mr. Lamb praised Wayne for being a brave man and gave him his email in case he ever needed to talk about it.

Wayne Harris, Kendra Harris, Kevin Harris and Kathy Harris pictured at Kevin's and Kendra's wedding in 2009.

Somewhere around here it is said Wayne became happier.

"We continue to be profoundly saddened by the suffering of so many that has resulted from the acts of our son. We loved our son dearly, and search our souls daily for some glimmer of a reason why he would have done such a horrible thing. What he did was unforgivable and beyond our capacity to understand. The passage of time has yet to lessen the pain." - Wayne and Kathy, April 15th, 2000.

All in all Wayne tried his hardest, even though he was trained to be indifferent and strict by his military life and with his first child turning out fine it would end up being his flaw as he just continuously ignored Eric's problems though its harsh to say he was "not affected by the tragedy" because him and his family were greatly greatly affected and saddened by it. I hope they're doing good today wherever they are. Let me know if you have more to add ^^

[newtonsheffield]

I imagine Kate has to hold Anthony back on getting miniatures of Edmund done every month. He wants to document his son at every stage of life because hes so PROUD of him growing and never wants to forget any of these moments and wants the memories forever (no more not talking of family. and god forbid anything happen to them they dont want them left like Kate with barely anything to remember her Amma by) but Kate has to convince him that while the sentiment has never made her feel more cherished there’s no fucking way shes siting with her son for a portrait a week after giving birth and still healing from the process. They compromise every 3 months of infancy and then yearly which Kate pretends to be put out about but adores making traditions that are solely THEIRS

Kate has a regularly scheduled appointment with Benedict for portraits. Even just after their wedding Anthony was insistent that they have a portrait done to hang in Aubrey Hall and Benedict had to sigh every time Anthony bent down to whisper something in his new wife’s ear that made her giggle.

“Standing up again Anthony!”

“Benedict you know what my face looks like, surely!”

“I will leave, Anthony! So help me god, I will leave!”

And then when Neddy comes along Anthony gets completely out of control.

“And we’ll need miniatures as well. One for me to carry with me, one for mother and to send to Lady Mary. Several to put around town as a sort of announcement, I imagine.”

Benedict turned to Kate, jerking his head at Anthony. “Can you not control him?”

Kate sighed, placing Edmund in Anthony’s arms. “I assure you, this is the compromise. He wanted you to update it weekly originally.”

“I’m not going to apologize for being proud of my wife and son. And what else is Benedict doing?!”

“I don’t suppose living is a good enough answer?”

[syndrossi]

It started funny, then went a bit contemplative, as I often do...

x~x~x

The second time Aegon spilled his wine cup, this time in his haste to pass Aemma the butter she had asked for, she shot Rhaella a look from across the table. Aemond hadn’t spilled yet, but he seemed to have made supper a competition with his brother yet again, offering her sister portions of every nearby dish—including those that were well within her reach.

Rhaella’s patience was impressive. Aemma didn’t think she could have repeated variations on “no, thank you” more than twice without her irritation beginning to show.

“I trust the ride back from Runestone was pleasant?” Aegon asked.

The wine had been sopped up by the servant who had swooped in before it could spill over the edge of the table, and he seemed to have recovered his dignity—not that he had much to begin with.

“Runestone was pleasant,” Aemma said, already missing it. Being welcomed by the chaos and stink of King’s Landing had made her want to turn Shadow around and fly right back, but her father still had a love of it and she did not want to deny him his home.

“I could fly there,” Aegon said eagerly. “You and Rhaella must meet Sunfyre.”

The last part was spoken particularly loudly, and Aemond’s head turned in his brother’s direction, mouth drawing into a scowl. With Aegon having claimed his dragon while they were in Runestone, and Helaena two years before, Aemond and Daeron were the two siblings left without.

Aemma made the appropriate noises of interest, gazing morosely down at her plate. It would be a long supper, she knew, and with Rhaella entertaining Aemond and their father embroiled in conversation with the king—though he glanced at them occasionally—her fate was most assuredly sealed.

x~x~x

There was no escaping their cousins, Aemma soon found to her dismay. Gone were the pleasant, quiet suppers with their father in their apartments within the holdfast. When they were not supping with Princess Rhaenyra and her sons, they were forced to attend the king’s table. Only when they arrived early could she and Rhaella seat themselves as best they could to avoid being trapped. Often that meant suffering the queen’s presence, but at least they had Helaena to talk with.

At the yard, their archery was constantly interrupted—and not merely by their cousins. Squires crowded the range, seeking to distract or on occasion embarrass themselves trying to match their skill. On those days, their cousins were like jealous terriers, yapping at the other boys.

“How could they possibly know that we’ve flowered?” Aemma complained afterward, in the refuge that their apartments had become.

“It is more that we have breasts now,” Rhaella said, glancing down at the small swell of her bosom. “And we are not yet formally betrothed, yet we are nearing the age where such arrangements are made.”

Aemma had done her best thus far to avoid thinking about the messy business of matches. In her life before, it had only just become relevant once the Others had been defeated, when Dany had begun hinting that as her heir, Jon would be expected to make an appropriate match, but there had still been battles to win.

Now, she had Runestone, and the boys tripping over one another for her favor were second and third sons with ambitions of ruling Runestone themselves. In some ways, their mother had been extraordinarily lucky that their father could not stand Runestone. She had been left alone to rule in peace.

It was not that Aemma didn’t want a family someday. But there were a great many problems to solve first, and having to nurse the ego of a slighted husband while doing so did not appeal.

“Who would you want to marry, if you had your pick?”

Her sister’s eyes held that calm intensity that often served as a balm when Aemma was working herself into a frenzy. She halted her pacing and tried to give the question the consideration it deserved.

“Certainly not our cousins,” she said.

Aegon was unbearably self-centered and even worse, lazy. Back when she had been his age and boy, she had made the mistake of drinking too much sweet wine, but it was a daily occurrence with Aegon. He is constantly indulged by his flock of admirers, and he has embraced such indulgences.

Aemond was no better a prospect, prone to jealousy and rage, though at least he applied himself. Aemma was the match that Otto Hightower desired for him—she knew that much from overhearing their father’s furious argument with the king a few years ago. To his credit, Aemond seemed to admire their martial pursuits, rather than view them as a flaw, but that was as much as she was willing to concede.

Rhaenyra’s sons were less abhorrent, but they still seemed so young. She knew that three or four years was not a huge gap, especially not when they were older, but ten-year-old Jace was very much a child still. And she knew that Rhaenyra dearly wanted Rhaella for him.

“I do not know,” Aemma said, flopping back onto their bed, muddy boots and all. “Perhaps I can follow our mother’s example and not wed until I am an old maid.”

At least at twenty-two her rule would be well-established and she would have those years to focus on the looming succession crisis—and the distant threat in Volantis.

“What of you?” she asked, craning her neck to look at Rhaella.

Her sister frowned, the expression absurdly beautiful. Rather than make her look sullen, it lent her an air of melancholy. Aemma did not know why the suitors were so evenly split between them when they had Rhaella to sigh over.

“Jace would be a kind husband,” her sister said.

“But?” Aemma prompted, bringing in her knees so that she could unlace her boots.

Rhaella shook her head, her stare at the bed far-away. “When you are queen—your life is not your own. Your body is not your own.”

Aemma’s namesake had been butchered for the potential heir in her belly. And Rhaella’s had been beaten and locked away, forced to carry half a dozen children who would never see their first year, only to die birthing her final child at Dragonstone.

Rhaella’s shrug was almost despondent. “I would like to marry someone like Daemon, I suppose.”

Aemma understood what she meant—someone who would love her. Who would go to war for her. As Rhaegar warred for Lyanna? Aemma blinked the thought away, the reverse parallels too dizzying to entertain for more than a second.

“You do not have to marry,” Aemma said. “You can stay with me at Runestone.”

Rhaella leaned in to kiss her on the temple, pulling back with a wry smile. “I believe that is Aemond’s fantasy. Except that we are both his wives.”

They both pulled a face, and Aemma swung back into a sitting position. “I simply wish to be able to use the training yard without being besieged by admirers.”

Rhaella’s smile turned devious. “There is a way.”

Aemma raised a brow.

“We invite our father to train with us.”

“I don’t wish them dead,” Aemma protested, but she had to admit that the notion had its appeals.

“A mere maiming should serve as ample deterrence,” Rhaella said serenely.

[rwshfordgirl]

"I HOPE THEY LIKE ME."

all images were taken from pinterest.

where he meets her parents for the first time.

pairing: hector fort x reader!

a/n: the last one 💔 i feel like i could have developed it more but i hope you like it.

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

"Cariño, you look good in anything." I said looking at my cell phone screen watching Hector try to choose an outfit. "I just want to make a good impression." He said as he changed his shirt for the thousandth time.  "Just wear the clothes you normally wear, my parents don't care about that." I tried to calm him down.

My parents know who Hector is, I just don't know if they remember him, but we studied together in the early years of school. We weren't close, but we stayed together because of our friendships. I lost contact with him when I moved to Valencia because my grandmother had become ill and my mother decided it was best for us to stay close to her, and she certainly wouldn't live in Barcelona even if you offered her all the money in the world.

So I spent four years there, I would come to Barcelona every now and then to sort things out with my parents but I didn't stay for long. I remember when I left, my friends organized a farewell snack after school, it felt like I was going to the other side of the world. And my favorite memory of that day is Hector saying, "I'm going to miss you so much, don't forget me." And I replayed that phrase in my head every day before I went to sleep.

Until I got back to Barcelona, I went with some friends to a birthday party for someone I didn't know and do you know what was the first thing I saw? Hector Fort, leaning against the wall and laughing uncontrollably at something his friends had said to him. He stopped laughing when he saw me, waved and came walking towards me excitedly, the huge smile on his face almost made me fall apart. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?" he said hugging me.

That hug changed my life. After that we spent the night talking, every detail about how our lives had changed was shared. Before I knew it, I was already going to Barcelona games, I sent him good luck messages and worst of all, I lied to my parents every time I met him. 

But it was on a random Wednesday where I was sitting on the couch watching a movie with my mother, I opened my cell phone, went into the gallery and turned the phone towards her. "Your son-in-law." She almost spat out the water she was drinking. "Seriously? Why haven't I met him yet? Why hasn't he come here yet?" Later that day, my father came to my room. "Your mother told me about Hector." I smiled, but the tone in his voice was serious and I felt apprehensive "I'm only accepting this relationship because he's one of ours! Visca el Barca." He made me laugh and then closed the bedroom door.

"You're coming to my house on the 15th, don't forget." I sent him an audio message. "Why? Are your parents going to be there?" He replied by text and then sent me a playful photo, but I could already feel that Fort was nervous from the start. "Yes boy, they want to meet you."

Hector arrived about forty minutes after the video call, I was waiting for him on the porch. "I told you you looked beautiful either way." I kissed him as he approached, in his hands he had a bag and a bouquet of flowers. "I'll give you your present later." he said as he held out his hand to me. I gently pulled him into the house, my mother was finishing the food in the kitchen and my father was watching the news in the living room.

"I hope they like me." he commented and I smiled without showing my teeth, I gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "it's impossible not to like you." I replied. My father looked at us when he saw us approaching, he promptly stood up smiling and already offering his hand to my boyfriend. "Hector Fort in my house, what a privilege!" he said and I felt Fort's cheeks blush "Thank you for having me, sir! I was looking forward to meeting you." Fort was so nervous, I wanted to hug him "We've only heard good things about you! I hope you and my daughter work out." my father patted him on the shoulder.

My mother appeared in the room all happy, she greeted Hector with a tight hug. "Make yourself at home." she told him.  The player gave her the bouquet and an autographed Barcelona shirt to my father, and I knew that he had won my parents' hearts. My mother loves flowers and my father loves Barcelona.

"My brother-in-law just lost his position as favorite son-in-law to you." I commented before giving him a peck on the lips. "He's going to hate me." Hector commented. "I told you it's impossible not to like you."

[youkidding-me]

expanding on my previous post about orym witnessing cyrus's funeral

the silken squall burn their deceased over open bodies of water or forests, so their spirits can keep travelling after their bodies are gone

because of this, they have to move the city to the closest body of water/forest

the loved ones or volunteering magic users take turns watching over the body and keeping it cold. it's also a way for the deceased to not be left alone, assuring them their community is with them until the end

during the few days of travel, the immediate family will be showered with love, provided with food and having their house cleaned by their neighbours/friends/distant family. this is to give them time to mour and to prepare the cremation ceremony

dorian's house is the biggest tent in the city, made of probably a few dozen tents connected between each other and almost as tall as a two-story building

everyone lives in portable homes but it's colorful and organized. the tents have creative patterns either weaved, embroidered or painted on them. the stone roads make mosaics of air genasi motifs

the wyvernwind home is the only one covered with a huge linen roofing, though the normal colorful tent peaks underneath it

the entire wyvernwind is dressed in linen. not entirely, though, just their jewelry. dorian is always impeccably dressed, but his rings, earrings, boots, belt and shoulder piece has linen sewn around it. his father and mother are the same

dorian is almost always busy watching cyrus's body, recepting other air genasi that wish to bring food to the wyvernwinds, hand-making the wooden boat that will burn with cyrus in a few days

orym spends a lot of time with goyan enlil-wyvernwind, dorian's mom, since zeru wyvernwind seems to have assumed most of the work on land

(orym suspects the man is avoiding his grieving home's emotional needs like the plague)

they talk a lot about dorian - his childhood, his adventures outside that city, his music, his fight - but she also seems interested about orym

more than once orym thinks if she actually wants to know about his life with the air ashari and how much it's her common diplomatic gait

"the linen?" she answers orym. it took him three days to build courage to ask. "have you noticed how our skin looks against the sky?"

goyan was the slightest darker than dorian, though her hair was a lighter blue. the resemblance to her son was undeniable, even if her eyes were green like cyrus's

"you look like the sky on a clear day"

"every day is clear up here" she said with a smile. "under all this linen, against the blue, what do we look like?"

"clouds" orym answered, and she nodded. "we look like clouds. it's an old tradition that says that, if we cover our loved one in linen, we'll not be saying goodbye to a loved one, but to a cloud passing by."

she managed to say the entire thing with posture, but drops everything she's holding and covers her mouth, breathing hard. "oh no, my baby! my baby, my baby, my baby..."

and orym comforts her, knowing too well what she's feeling

orym can't help to watch cyrus, but he's everywhere else: his hands bleed after cutting all the wood for the boat, he seems to be the only reason dorian remembers to eat and drink water, and he loses his sleep to hold his insomniac lover

"i'm such a fucking failure. i suck, i suck so much. i can't do this, orym, i can't fucking do this" dorian growls against his chest

"i'm right here, my love. we'll do this together. you're doing incredibly, i'm so proud of you."

"it should be him in my place. i was never meant to be here, this not my place"

orym swallows the vision of unconscious dorian in his arms under the radiant gaze of predathos. he wants to smack dorian for saying nonsense, but he knows that pain too well. "not a lot of people can say they were so loved until the very end. in times of chaos, you are giving cyrus the treatment of a prince."

"i barely feel like myself most of the time. i can't remember the days."

and orym holds him, because he knows how it feels

zeru comes back the morning of the ceremony, the sixth day of orym's stay. his skin is ashy and his light blue eyes have sunk into his skull

goyan is keeping him company, touching his arm, his face, his back - and he leans into the touch every time with fail

they have a family meal and zeru avoids dorian's gaze at all costs. orym doesn't know if dorian noticed, because his gaze is equally focused on the table

by the end of the day, the city is reunited, with the wyvernwinds ahead, by the edge of the silken squall. beneath them, the ocean glistens dark blue and purple

cyrus's boat is perfectly tailored for his size, filled with a few of his belongings and his body fully protected by linen. before sending it away, an old genasi lady cuts off the linen on the wyvernwinds clothes and puts the fabric in the boat as well

cyrus floats away, though always closest to dorian than anyone else in the world

dorian whistles a tune as a guard raises a flaming arrow, that flies when the tune ends

fire silently burns the boat into dust as the dozens of genasi watched in complete silence. the only heir of the silken squall holds himself up, though his fingers squeeze orym's painfully

the first time dorian and zeru look at each other is when the last pieces of brumestone fall and there's nothing else to watch. father and son look nothing alike, orym notices - zeru's angular jaw and broad built is an almost ghostly replica of cyrus. dorian's dimples and loose waves resemble his mother a lot more

they don't say a word. dorian's tears are loud and choked, cutting the night air like a knife to the gut. zeru's tears are ragged and tired, ringing with his deep voice, like the land cried with him

goyan hold both of them, closing themselves from the rest of the world

orym decides to leave with the other genasi citizens back to his quarters. as much as he promised he'd be there for him, this was the time for the wyvernwinds. when dorian needs him, he'll be right there to help and support him, like dorian is for him

the night fell, but the sun will always rise in the end

[eddiegettingshot]

genuinely can i ask why you're so against people viewing eddie through a woman coded lense and finding it interesting to compare his own experiences traits and storylines with other female chracters? seeing as you yourself speak frequently about your headcanon for how much "buck diaz" wants to be eddie's submissive housewife who grows a magic womb and gives him tons of miracle babies or whatever and a lot of people use buck liking cooking/ wanting children/being emotional as evidence for this (which what the hell, sure) id thought you'd be open to the feminization of eddie the same way so many people for years have been feminizing buck. the only difference between the two is i see buck feminized more with sexual connotations while eddie's feminization comes from a more societal and familial analysis i think which don't get me wrong both have their heteronormative moments (single parent (which like it or not is most often applied to female characters)/eldest "daughter" parentification/denying himself what he wants etc are the arguments i most see for eddie) not trying to start a fight i just am curious about why you feel one's ok and not the other cause gotta be honest your vehement reaction to this kinda gave me a bad taste in my mouth considering how passionate you are about your headcanon of eddie being this macho dom top which im sure some people also feel is a gross mischaracterization as strongly as you feel about this like,, long story short i guess im just saying let people enjoy things! lol

i think woman coded is stupid as an actual character/tv analysis 😭😭 if someone said buck was woman coded id fucking laugh too because it’s not actually a useful way to analyze his character whatsoever and genuinely have you ever seen me make this claim in earnest for buck? because i don’t do that, ESPECIALLY not citing the reasons you included here, and i also don’t write him as a submissive housewife in my serious creative work.

as you pointed out yourself for eddie it comes from “societal”/“family” which to me feels obnoxious because the ENTIRE point of eddie’s character and specifically his relationship to fatherhood is that he is a man who’s raising his son in a way that he wasn’t allowed from his own father. people yell so much about eddie’s toxic masculinity or his relationship to masculinity or whatever but in the face of choices he makes/ways he behaves that are in active opposition to those kinds of ideals the response is “ok so this means he’s being coded as a woman” … not to mention the flip side of this seems to be a way of looking at SHANNON that’s patently ridiculous considering that her entire story (what we have been allowed of it) is specifically tied up in motherhood, her feelings of failing as a mother, etc. viewing these canon storylines in this way and making claims about these characters like that is patently different from a widespread half-joke about how getting struck by lightning made buck impregnable… i’m sure you see that?

and suggesting that i think eddie is a macho dom top is like actually kind of hilarious considering literally the one thing i’m always talking about is how he ISNT macho 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 at every turn i am on this blog arguing about how this man is emotional and vulnerable and goofy while the fandom at large insists that he’s not. i’m sorry like. hello?? i also outright said i don’t care about being progressive, i didn’t say anything was problematic, i just think this is an obnoxious and hilarious way to intellectually look at things (and deeply transparent but i digress).

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀

120 or 1k for 🔀:

---

Evan doesn’t really understand. They said his bone marrow was supposed to heal him. But it made him very sick, very fast. He dies quicker after it than he would have without it. 

Evan doesn’t understand. But his brother is dead.  

His brother is dead, and his mother hates him. She screams at him. 

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WEREN’T RIGHT! YOU’RE NOT HIM! YOU’RE NOT HIM AND YOU KILLED MY SONS!” 

She screams at him until he’s sobbing. Until Maddie has to pick him up and take him away from her. Until the doctors have to give her medicine that makes her sleepy. 

She never says it again after that. Doesn’t dare. Evan thinks it’s because she’s scared of how his dad will react; he thinks she’s lost her mind. But even if she doesn’t say it again, Evan never forgets. He never forgets what she accused him of. And he never, not once, feels like she loves him. Not for a second. 

2025

i. 

The skin on Buck’s stomach is burning. It feels like he’s developed a rash or heat blisters all of a sudden. The blade the imposter is holding against him hasn’t broken skin. It hasn’t even ripped his shirt. The point is just pressing into his stomach. He doesn’t know why his body is reacting so viscerally to it, nevertheless.

“Okay, hold up,” Buck pleads to the younger, rougher-looking version of himself.

“Shut up,” he snaps. His voice is a little different than Buck’s. “Take careful, slow steps back into your apartment. Don’t try anything.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees. He does as he’s told. He walks backwards into the loft, the imposter matching his steps. He closes the door behind him. 

Buck turns his head to look at Bobby and Athena. Bobby is rigid, wide-eyed and furious. Athena’s eyes are on her purse, on Buck’s counter. Did she bring her gun? No, right. She doesn’t bring her gun around in her purse. But maybe something? Something that can help?

“Who are these people?” The imposter demands. “Are they like you?”

“Like me?” Buck asks. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t play stupid,” the imposter nearly growls. “I know you can’t lie. I won’t fall for any tricks.”

Okay… So he’s crazy. Like crazy. 

“No one is trying to trick you,” Bobby says. “My name is Bobby. This is my wife, Athena. We’re just friends of Buck’s, okay? That’s all.” 

The imposter’s eyes narrow. “Buck?” 

Buck nods. “That’s my name. My nickname.”

The imposter wrinkles his nose. “That’s stupid.”

Well? Fuck. Okay then. Hold him at knife point and tell him his name sucks. Great. 

“What do we call you?” Athena asks calmly.

“My name is Evan,” he says.

“Okay,” Athena replies. “Evan. You came here because you want something, right? What is it that you want?”

“I want my life back!” He shouts, pressing the blade a bit more firmly. “You stole my life. My family. Give it back.”

“Uh…” Buck struggles. He’s wincing from the pain. “I-I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Evan, the imposter, narrows his eyes. “Yes. Yes, you do.”

“Something very strange has happened,” Bobby says. “We’re just learning about it. We don’t have any details, but maybe you do? Maybe you can help? Fill us in?”

“Why would I help you?” He demands. 

“Because we’re all confused, I think,” Athena says. “It sounds like you’re confused, too.”

“I’m not,” the imposter snaps. “I’m not confused! You stole me from my family and took my life! I was just a kid!”

Buck emits a low grunt of pain. It feels like a hot poker is being held to his skin. And, beyond that, he feels like he’s having some sort of nightmare. This is his story. His trauma. The thing that happened to him. He didn’t do it. He’s not the cause.

[herst0rryteller]

Love is?

On Valentine's Day, it is customary to remember the love stories of famous couples. However, often in the shadow of these great novels remained women, whose talents were attributed to their husbands, and colleagues appropriated their discoveries.

Zelda Fitzgerald

Francis Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda Sayre met during the First World War. It seemed that their love story was full of romance, and for contemporaries they became a "golden couple". However, the writer constantly checked Zelda's notes and diary, as if "drawing inspiration" for the plots of his novels. It was the woman who came up with many of the ideas and plans, but all the glory went to Fitzgerald. Once Zelda admitted that she recognized in her husband's book a barely edited excerpt from her diary, which mysteriously disappeared after the wedding

Francis, in turn, also tormented Zelda with jealousy, although he himself brought home mistresses and drove his wife to nervous breakdowns, making her look crazy.

Sofya Andreyevna Tolstaya

"My male friends said that Lev Nikolayevich was happy with his wife. <...> And what did I get from being famous? Work, work and work!..", - wrote Sofya Andreyevna in her diaries.

Although Tolstoy loved to talk about the fact that "a woman has one goal - sexual love", his wife not only rewrote drafts of her husband's main works several times, but also came up with precise female characters for his novels, corrected texts, concluded contracts with the publishing house and the owners of the printing house, checked estimates and even checked the density of paper sheets.

At the same time, Tolstoy systematically cheated on Sophia; accused his wife of greed; insisted that she breastfeed her first child, despite a difficult birth and inflammation of the mammary glands; withdrew from household chores.

Sophia Andreyevna never realized her creative talent, devoting herself entirely to her husband, home, work, and raising 13 children.

Eleanor of Aquitaine

Eleanor of Aquitaine (1122-1204) was the Duchess of Aquitaine and Countess of Poitiers, the wife of the French king Louis VII, and then the wife of the English king Henry II, she became the mother of the English kings Richard I the Lionheart and John Lackland.

She played a significant role in governing the state, was the most influential woman of her time, and was famous for her wisdom. But at that time, a woman could not independently govern the state, so the political role of Eleanor of Aquitaine is always spoken of with the addition of "under her husbands" and "under her sons."

For example, during her marriage to Henry || she actively participated in governing the state, acting as regent in England when Henry was in France, and vice versa.

After Henry's death || in 1189, their son Richard I the Lionheart ascended the throne. Since Richard spent most of his reign on the Crusades, Eleanor acted as regent of England until his return.

Judith Leyster

Judith Leyster is one of the outstanding artists of the 17th century. However, her works were long passed off as the works of another artist - Frans Hals.

This was only revealed in 1893, when the monogram of Judith Leyster JL* was found under a forged signature of Hals on the painting "The Feasting Couple" in the Louvre. At first, this discovery was regarded as a "fake Hals", then several more paintings with the monogram JL* were discovered - and for a long time art critics called the woman an imitator or follower of Hals, criticizing her paintings for their "weak feminine hand". It is unclear what kind of relationship there was between Judith Leyster and Frans Hals: there are suggestions that he or his brother was Judith's teacher; others believe that they could have simply been colleagues and friends. Leyster's works received recognition only at the end of the 20th century: they became valuable exhibits in the Louvre, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, the National Gallery in London, etc. In December 2018, the artist’s painting “The Merry Trio” was sold in London for $2.3 million.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 8

Part 7

Steve ignored Dustin’s protests as he scented him in the car. He’d done so every morning this week now that his pup was back in school. It still felt like a dream come true that he got to see his son off, bookbag bouncing as he hopped, skipped, and stepped to his class. But that left him completely alone. He sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and then drove off to distract himself with random errands. Of course, the thoughts came to him anyway. As he went shopping, as he visited the club, even as he tried to drown his thoughts out with the chaotic sounds of a playground, they found him.

How he was in a loveless marriage, how his parents still ruled over him, even though one was dead. He was just like his parents, right down to his husband having a mistress. Steve got back home, hours wasted and it was barely two in the afternoon. Steve wandered to the kitchen. He got through two glasses before giving up and just taking the bottle up to his room. 

But there was one difference between his life and his mother’s. One aspect he nearly forgot about.

He nearly jolted off the bed and threatened to tip the bottle over when the phone rang. He groaned, not up to talking with anyone. But it continued to ring and that just frayed his nerves even more.

“Hello?”, he answered.

“Hey, so what should I bring to dinner tonight? Wine? A cheese plate? Some other rich person thing I can’t think of?”

Shit. Shit, the weekly dinner. Steve set the bottle down on the floor and tried to right himself. He sniffed, not realizing how close to tears he had been.

“Hey? Stevie, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m just, yeah I…yeah”, Steve said, words feeling too heavy all of a sudden. He just wanted Eddie here. To hold him, scent him, comfort him the way he used to. And just like before, Eddie could tell there was a lot weighing on him even though he had hardly said anything.

“Are you home? I can be there in ten.”

“Eddie no, I..I couldn’t. You don’t need to-”

“I’m coming. You can turn me away once I’m there but I’m on my way.”

Eddie got there in nine minutes and Steve didn’t turn him away. He was almost petty enough to bring Eddie up to the bedroom. Let Tommy catch the scent of another alpha on their bedspread. But Steve wasn’t that bold yet. Not ready to fully confront it all. So he took Eddie up to one of the guest rooms instead. They fell into bed as easily as if nothing had changed. Steve scented him, rubbing their cheeks together, nuzzling his neck. Eddie let it all happen, silent until a rumble rolled through him.

“What are we doin’, baby?”, he asked, voice low.

“I know, I’m sorry”, Steve said, suddenly sitting up. “I just…needed you.”

“I get that. But why? What happened? Is something wrong with Dustin?”

“No”, Steve shook his head. “Dustin’s as healthy as ever. It’s…”

Eddie propped himself onto his elbows, gazing at Steve’s profile. “It’s Tommy”, he surmised correctly.

“Not just him. It’s Carol too.”

Eddie shot up at that. “No…”

Steve nodded, then got up from the bed to stare out the window. “It’s true.”

“I’ll fucking kill him. How could he-”

“Eddie, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! Steve, you were about to fall into rejection sickness!”

Steve wrapped his arms around himself and refused to look at Eddie. That’s what he’d been feeling. Eddie must have smelled it on him the minute he arrived. And he still let Steve rub all over him.

“Do you love him?”, Eddie asked, his voice soft.

“No!”, Steve whipped around. “I don’t love him. He’s slime. He’s a parasite. He’s-ugh, fuck! I can’t believe I’m sick over him! Eddie, I swear I don’t love him. It’s just…I never wanted…this life”, he sighed, then fell back against the bed. “And it’s not just me anymore, it’s Dustin too. He’s growing up in this cold, loveless house just like I did. I should’ve run away with you.”

“It’s not loveless. He’s got you. And me now”, Eddie said, kneeling before Steve. “And I’m done looking back. I just wanna think about the future I have with you two. What’s it matter if Hagan’s shacking up with Carol anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter all that much. At least not on Tommy’s end.” Steve played with Eddie’s hair. “But Carol’s never in it just for the fun. She’s probably after his money.”

“Your money”, Eddie corrected. “She’s trying to push you out. Push our pup out.”

Steve bristled at that. Carol wasn’t any old floozy. Eddie was right, she was making a play for the Harrington fortune. She was a threat to him. A threat to his pup. But even so…

“I don’t know what to do, Eddie. Carol won’t back off just because I say I figured out their game.”

Eddie grinned and stood up, bringing Steve along with him. “You must have mellowed out from the way you used to be back in the day. I remember you dressing a guy down because he bumped into me and refused to apologize. I remember you making that cheerleader cry in less than ten words. I remember you making the mayor speechless! Sweetheart, you could end Carol’s life if you wanted to. The question is, do you want to?”

Steve nodded. “I wanna ruin her for good. But that’s not the only thing I want.” He swallowed as he met Eddie’s gaze, only to find the alpha looking just as intensely at him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Steve’s hands smoothed up Eddie’s chest and suddenly they were sixteen again, hiding away in a guest room while his parents were out for the night. Gone were the titles and roles that had been piled up on him in the past decade. He was just Eddie’s. And Eddie was his.

“I want you”, Steve whispered before capturing his lips.

Eddie melted into it, arms coming around Steve. He had missed this. Getting to kiss him and hold him, and have him. He moaned when Steve’s hand went into his hair. A move that was so familiar, it had him forgetting where he was. But they both heard the heavy front door open and close and broke apart from each other.

By the time Dustin came bounding up the stairs, Steve was able to greet him, door to the guest room closed behind him. Dustin smelled Eddie on him of course but came to the conclusion that he must be somewhere in the house - not that his two dads had just been making out. 

Steve went to keep Dustin occupied, giving Eddie a chance to escape the guest room and pretend he’d been in another part of the house. The three of them caught up in the living room while dinner was being prepared. When it was served, the only other newcomer was Bianca. Tommy would be working late again.

Bianca was only just barely civil to Eddie. It helped that she had a soft spot for her grandson. It also helped that Dustin was such a chatterbox that he dominated the conversation. It gave Steve time to think. About how to handle Carol, about what he wanted from Eddie. Because try as they might, things couldn’t just go back to how they were before. He had a child now. Any scandal involving him would hurt Dustin too. Dustin got Eddie to stay through dessert but after that, Eddie had to go.

“Come on! It’s basically the weekend! Can’t you stay the night?”

Every adult froze, including his mother who was on her way upstairs. Eddie recovered first, smiling as he bent over to get on Dustin’s level.

“Wish I could, bud. You and I can pull all-nighters when you’re at my place, deal?”

“Only if those all-nighters include movie marathons and junk food”, Dustin made him swear.

“I promise.”

“Go ahead upstairs and start getting ready for bed. And that includes brushing your teeth”, Steve said as he walked Eddie to the door. He closed the door and they were both alone in the quiet of the night. “Look, Eddie-”

“I already know what you’re gonna say. And I understand. It was the heat of the moment. You don’t wanna do this.”

“No! Shut up! I do!”, Steve hissed. “I mean, I do, just, not like this. Not when things are so complicated.”

Eddie stuck his hands into his pockets. “Haven’t they always been like that?”

Steve shook his head. “Not in the beginning. It only got messed up when my parents meddled and-” His brain suddenly decided to bring up a similar scene to this. It was night, Steve was on his front porch, telling Eddie to go away. He could blame his parents for that, but Steve was responsible too. “I meant that. I want you Eddie, I do. That hasn’t changed. But can’t I have some time? To think about how it’s gonna be? To deal with Carol and Tommy?”

Eddie took out a cigarette and lit it as Steve spoke. He didn’t reply until he’d taken a drag and breathed it out. “I’ve waited ten years. I can wait a little longer. You’ll call if you need me, right?”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. “There’s no one else I’d rather call.”

Part 9 coming soon