#she recovered without anyone forcing her

[redladydeath]

oc post

Ondine has been clean+sober+hasn’t experienced a severe ED relapse for decades. However, it wasn’t really a choice that she made; Fineas and Vox just sort of forced her to stop once she arrived in Hell. The accountability is good for her, but the root causes weren’t ever addressed. She’d probably be at elevated risk of a relapse if she lost that support structure.

Yet another couple of reasons why being around Valentino makes her extremely uncomfortable.

[sayruq]

Amid Israel’s ongoing genocidal war on Gaza, maternal healthcare faces excruciating challenges. Deliberate and systematic Israeli attacks on hospitals and medical centers, and critical shortages of humanitarian aid, including medicine, have created a crisis that is endangering the lives of both mothers and newborns. The situation is critical. There are an estimated 50,000 pregnant women in Gaza and some 180 births every day. Israel’s decision in October to prevent food, water, fuel and electricity from entering Gaza created a desperate situation. Inadequate nutrition, exposure to cold and hot weather, the absence of clean water, and poor sanitation weigh heavily on the wellbeing of women and children. The circumstances force them to consume contaminated water, heightening the peril of dehydration and waterborne diseases, particularly among vulnerable groups such as expectant mothers, new mothers and young children. Fuel shortages and the constrained capacity of the few remaining medical facilities exacerbate the difficulty for women in labor to access hospitals. Um Amin, a mother with a few children, confronted with the harsh reality of displacement, recounted her family’s struggles during Israel’s aggression. As bombs relentlessly fell on their neighborhood, reducing their home to rubble, Um Amin had to seek refuge at a school run by the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) in the northern Gaza Strip taking only very few belongings. She was pregnant. And in the school there was little by way of basic necessities such as clean water, food or even clothes for her children. She considered moving south, where food might be a little more accessible. Her husband refused, causing conflict between them.He feared not being able to return. And while she believed that the Israeli army was attempting to force them to leave, she also felt it was a matter of life and death for her children. “It was heart-wrenching to witness my kids fighting over scraps of bread. My 4-year-old started stashing away bread in his pocket for later. I was shocked. Before the war, I never slept without knowing my children were fed. Now, most of the time, I am certain they never feel satisfied.” Her entire motivation to carry on became a matter of feeding her children She denied herself food for their sake, but had also to remind herself of the child within her. “The baby inside me is also a priority, so I had to eat too.” She found the balancing act incredibly challenging, an unbearable burden of motherhood. “I am going to share something I’ve never told anyone I know: I contemplated suicide to escape the weight of this responsibility.”

After the Israeli army unexpectedly stormed al-Rimal, a Gaza City neighborhood, for a second time, Um Amin panicked and fled again, this time going from the UNRWA school to a relative’s house. But her fear caused her to enter preterm labor. A doctor, at the nearby al-Sahaba medical center, had to resort to a cesarean section. It was hell, Um Amin said. There was insufficient anesthesia and she could feel the scalpel cutting into her body. There was no electricity; the doctor had to use a handheld flashlight to see. Um Amin’s cries of pain could not drown out the crashing of shells around her. The operation left her utterly drained. She couldn’t believe she was still alive.She needed nourishment to recover what she had lost during the bleeding and to breastfeed her son. But hunger was stalking Gaza. Food was scarce, there was no white flour in the markets, and Israel was blocking aid trucks from entering the north. “All I had to eat was bread made from animal feed and water. When I had my other children, I relied on foods rich in animal proteins, but it was impossible this time. The price of meat was five times higher than normal.” Unable to adequately breastfeed her child, she had to find infant formula. But the price was multiple times higher than it used to be and more than she could afford. Eventually, she was forced to buy formula that was past its expiry date. “You might blame me, but there was literally no other option. I didn’t have enough money. It wasn’t clumped together, so the doctor told me it could still be used.” She would never find out. Due to the lack of clean water, she prepared the milk with non-potable water from a well. The baby refused to drink.

[reincrimination]

race against the clock

criminal minds | aaron hotchner x reader

content warnings: canon-typical violence, guns, death (unsub), panic attack, kidnapping, mild injury.

collection: whumptober 2024, day 1: race against the clock/search party/panic attack.

“Drop the weapon!” Morgan yelled. Hotch looked at Morgan, and then to where Morgan was looking. The rest of the police force did the same, and suddenly, twenty guns were all drawn on him- the man who had you. He had a gun, too, but he wasn’t aiming it. He held it in his left hand, which Hotch- and you- had known was his dominant one, by the characteristics of the stab wounds that he had left on his victims. Stab wounds that he might’ve- Hotch’s breath hitches- left on you. “Where is she?” Hotch yells. Another agent had been talking, maybe Morgan, but he didn’t give a shit right now. “What have you done with her?”

Aaron Hotchner knows how to keep his cool. Probably better than anyone on the team. In fact, he was the one to remind everyone to do just that before they breached the doors on this unsub’s decrepit cabin.

The woods were dark and eerie, as they always are on these types of days. It was some hour past midnight, Hotch couldn’t recall- all the numbers had started to blur together. The only time he had in his head was twelve hours, twelve hours since you’d gone missing. Taken right out of the parking lot of the precinct.

At least there hadn’t been much question about who had taken you. Finding the unsub’s cabin had been easy once Garcia had been given a name. Hotch only hoped recovering you would be that easy, and that you’d be unharmed.

“FBI! Open the door!” a man fully decked out in black SWAT gear and significantly more firepower than Hotch yelled, pounding on the front door.

The slats of the porch creaked under their feet, the paint flaking off the railings and the door-frame. The light shining through the smudged windows was the only clue this place was even inhabited.

There wasn’t even a car in the driveway.

The battering ram took the rotting door clear off of its hinges. The SWAT team fans out inside, searching room after room. Hotch hears them yelling “clear” as they proceed through the house. He waited with baited breath. If it were up to him he’d have been inside with them, but they knew this guy had lots of firepower at his disposal, so it was SWAT’s job to clear the house. Which, they had. Finding no one inside. Not even you.

Hotch felt the small balloon of hope inside him pop; the wind had been knocked out of him without so much as a physical punch. The SWAT team filed back out of the house. There was no unsub, and there was no sign of you.

A loud bang pierced the quiet night air.

The entire assembly of police and FBI agents all whirled around, guns drawn without a second thought. No one knew where to point them, though. The dark forest pressed in on all four sides of the cabin, the dirt road driveway even consumed by darkness after a few hundred feet.

“Drop the weapon!” Morgan yelled. Hotch looked at Morgan, and then to where Morgan was looking. The rest of the police force did the same, and suddenly, twenty guns were all drawn on him- the man who had you. He was half-hidden by the shadows cast by the tall pine trees, the moonlight unable to illuminate anything this far down from the forest canopy.

He had a gun, too, but he wasn’t aiming it. He held it in his left hand, which Hotch- and you- had known was his dominant one, by the characteristics of the stab wounds that he had left on his victims.

Stab wounds that he might’ve- Hotch’s breath hitches- left on you.

“Where is she?” Hotch yells. Another agent had been talking, maybe Morgan, but he didn’t give a shit right then. “What have you done with her?”

The unsub smirked, his grubby little brows furrowing, beady eyes narrowing, as he stared at Hotch.

“Answer me!” Hotch screamed. His voice broke on the last word.

“Take it easy, man,” Morgan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let the others talk to him. Take a breath.”

Taking a breath seemed like an objectively good idea, but Hotch found, he could not. His chest felt tight, like a rope was being pulled taut around him. His vision had begun to swim, the only thing he was focused in on was that disgusting, abhorrent man who had- who had-.

“Hotch,” Morgan repeated. He holstered his gun and took Hotch’s from him. “Come here. Don’t let him see you like this. That’s what he wants.”

“I need…” Hotch gasped. His hands were tingling, his fingers cramping. He tried to make fists with his hands as he followed Morgan back and around the back of an SUV, hidden from the unsub’s line of sight, but his hands weren’t cooperating. “I need to get her back, Morgan.”

What was happening to him? He had never felt like this before. He wouldn’t even be able to fire a gun like this, not with his hands cramping. How was he supposed to do anything?

“Is- are they talking to him?” Hotch peeked around the side of the SUV. He saw Spencer, his hands out placatingly, trying to talk to the unsub. He trusted Spencer, he trusted all of his team, but he needed to be out there. What if the unsub said something that they all missed. That only Hotch could put together. What if he said that he had killed you? Stabbed you, like all the others, or worse? “I need to- Morgan, give me my gun.”

“Hotch, relax,” Morgan tapped his shoulders again, trying to draw his attention back. “Focus on me. Breathe, slowly. You’re hyperventilating. You’re panicking, man. You’re no help to her like this.”

“Morgan, she’s not just- fuck- she’s not just an agent, she’s- we’re-,” Hotch stammered.

“I know, Hotch. We all know. And we’re going to find her.”

Hotch felt his hands relaxing, his chest loosening, his composure returning, like clouds parting after a storm. Leaving a clear sky. He needed to focus on finding you, and he couldn’t do that if he was panicking. He held his breath and counted to seven and then exhaled and did it again, until his hands were steady and his vision was clear.

“I told you,” Hotch heard the unsub groan to Spencer, “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Hotch. To Aaron.”

Morgan handed him his gun back and they left the shelter of the SUV. The unsub was still talking with Spencer, but had clearly noticed Hotch’s absence. The unsub’s gaze had flicked to track Hotch as he strode to the front of the crescent of officers. He kept his gun at his side- enough officers had their guns trained on the unsub anyways- in an attempt to be non-threatening.

“I’m Aaron,” Hotch said. He stepped forward, closer to the unsub. Hotch scanned his clothes, hands, arms, boots, everything, for any trace of blood, or dirt, or any clue as to where you were hidden. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I think you know what I want to talk about,” the unsub huffed a laugh. “You were all she wanted to talk about.”

Wanted? In the past tense?

Hotch felt the panic rising again. He took a deep breath. He could do this, he could stay focused for you. He had to, if he ever wanted to see you- alive, or otherwise, again. He had to pretend this was no different than any other case, that you were just another victim. That was the only way for him to avoid panicking- something he had never known he needed to avoid doing, before. Before you. Before he cared about someone as much as he cared about you, before you were put in danger.

“What else did you talk about?” Hotch asked. He needed information, any small hint at where the man had hidden you.

“Plenty.” The unsub shifted his weight from foot to foot, his left hand flexed around the hilt of his handgun. “We talked about how I couldn’t wait to shoot you. How that would be more painful to her than any physical would I could inflict. She begged me not to. Have you ever heard her beg before?”

The unsub began to raise his left arm up, gun in hand, but before it passed his waistline, a hail of bullets rained down on him. His body hit the ground before Hotch could even blink.

“NO!” Hotch shouted. He holstered his own gun, and kicked the unsub’s gun away from his side. He sank to his knees, suit pants sinking into the damp mud and pine needles. Hotch knotted his fists in the man’s shirt, and shook him, hard. “Where is she?”

“Hotch,” Emily murmured, somehow kneeling beside him now.

“Hotch, he’s gone.”

“Tell me where she is, you bastard!” Hotch’s voice had begun to go raw from screaming. He shook him one more time. Then he noticed: the dark, round hole in the center of his forehead.

Hotch released his grip on the unsub’s body and stumbled to his feet.

His knees were wet from the mud, and maybe from the blood that had undoubtedly already pooled out around the body from the various gunshot wounds.

Now we have nothing, he thought, pushing past the crowd of officers. He glanced at the empty driveway. Not even a car.

Not even a car.

Hotch whipped around.

“Follow the tire tracks!” he ordered, breaking into a run. “He has to have used the car to move her. Wherever it is, she is.”

He pulled out his flashlight and shone it on the dirt driveway. The earth was wet and covered in pine needles, making it difficult to analyze what he found. Two divots on each side of the path denoted the place the tires must’ve usually rested when the car was parked. They extended down the path through the forest, down a few miles to the main road. There wasn’t much room between the trees for the car to have pulled off, but he must’ve found somewhere, because if he had taken you to the main road, the officers at the roadblocks there would have seen him.

Hotch broke into a run, shining his flashlight ahead of him, looking for the slightest disturbance in the forest floor. He heard footsteps and clamor behind him as the rest of the cops and his agents spread out into a search party. He knew they could get scent dogs out in a few hours, but your scent would be hard to track, if not impossible, especially if he was right and the unsub had moved you using a car. Searching on foot was Hotch’s only hope to find you soon.

He had said that they had talked about shooting him- how it would be more painful for you than anything he could possibly have done to her.

Implying that you had to have been alive when the unsub shot Hotch- or had tried to.

The relief and hope that flooded Hotch at that realization almost distracted him enough to miss what he had finally found- a tire track, veering off between two trees that the car had probably barely fit between. Hotch shone the beam of the flashlight on the trunks and noticed the bark had been scraped off, and chips of white paint were left in the gouges. You had to be somewhere close, if the unsub had walked on foot from where he had hidden you.

Hotch began yelling your name, and then, all the other officers started, too. They moved forward like in a grid search, looking behind every tree, kicking through the leaf cover for anything left behind. “I found the car!” Morgan yelled. Then, the words that Hotch had been waiting to hear for the last twelve- now more like thirteen- hours: “I got her! She’s alive!”

Hotch ran towards the sound. The officers had already clustered around a small wooden structure, a hunting blind. A few meters behind it was the unsub’s parked car. The area quickly became illuminated in bright white lights as all the cops present shone their flashlights on you.

Hotch watched as Morgan began to help you up. Your hands were zip-tied tightly behind your back; Hotch could see dried blood around your wrists where they had cut into your skin. A pair of zip ties hung off of your ankles- Morgan must have just cut them off. He used his pocket knife to slash the ones holding your wrists together, too. Your hair was disheveled and full of leaves and debris, like you had been dragged along the floor, and a huge gash and bump to your right temple, like you’d been pistol whipped, glowed in the bright light of the flashlights.

“Where is he?” you sobbed, clinging onto Morgan’s arms as he helped you out of the blind. “Is he dead?”

“He’s dead, sweetheart,” Morgan tried to soothe you and pull you in for a hug, but you pushed him away, more strongly than you should’ve been able to after being tied up for so long.

“No!” you wailed. “How could you let this happen?”

Confusion flashed on Morgan’s face, and through Hotch’s mind.

Then, he realized. The unsub had known that he would die when he faced the police, but he knew that his final act would be to psychologically torture you, leaving you to wonder if one of the gunshots you had heard had been him shooting Hotch, like he had promised you he’d do as his final act.

Morgan had misunderstood your question. He had just told you that Hotch was dead.

Hotch finally closed the distance between the two of you. He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. A broken sob wrenched its way out of your throat, tear tracks already cutting through the layer of dirt and dried blood on your face.

“Aaron,” you croaked. “Oh, thank God.”

“I’m here,” Aaron murmured beside your ear, so softly no one else could hear. It was just you and him now, in your own world. The secrecy of your relationship be damned, he would deal with the consequences later. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You broke down sobbing into his arms, all the fight flooding out of you as soon as you realized that Hotch was alive. The dehydration, the hunger, the fear, and the pain in your head all rushed back in. Hotch’s arms tightened around you, the only thing holding you up anymore. His face was smushed into your dirty hair, the blood on your wrists was staining his shirt and tie, but neither of you noticed, nor would you have cared if you had.

“I knew you- I knew you’d find me,” you gasped, fisting his shirt in your trembling fingers. You stared up at him, into his beautiful glossy brown eyes, committing every inch of his face to memory. You had thought you’d never see him again, never hear his voice again, never feel his touch again. “When I heard the shots, I thought- oh, my God- I thought you were-.”

“Shh,” Aaron soothed. He wrapped a hand around the back of your head, near the base of your skull, and guided your face into the crook of his neck. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, a wet, raw sound. “I know.”

“I thought he…” you mumbled into his neck, the words dying on your parched lips, or before that, in your sore throat. “Aaron.”

“I’ve got you, honey,” he murmured back, cradling your head so softly in his big hands. “You’re safe now.”

[bbydoll18xx]

Brats Get Punished

You choose to be a brat. Punishment ensues.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Themes: slight angst, smut (18+)

I got wine drunk and came up with this. This is pure filth. I'm so sorry

Today had fucking sucked. 

No. Scratch that. The whole week had fucking sucked.

You held back tears as you walked through uconn’s campus, heading back to your dorm. All you wanted was to be taken care of. This week had been wracked with a million assignments, frustrating exams, and  family drama you couldn’t escape, even all the way in Connecticut. The cherry on the top of the miserable sundae was your lack of Paige. With basketball season ramping up and finals nearing, you hadn’t seen your girlfriend in five whole days. 

It felt like five days without air.

The thought makes your heart ache once again, and you throw on your sunglasses to hide the redness of your swollen eyes.

The bitter northeastern cold of early December made you shiver as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets.

It was finally friday. 

Tonight you could escape into the vastness of Paige’s blue eyes. You had no thoughts when you were with her, just habitual feelings of comfort and intimacy you couldn’t get from anyone else. 

You were looking forward to cocky smirks, long, talented fingers, and a mouth that had a power to shut you up in more ways than one.

Fuck.

The thought makes your bottom lip quiver. Usually, you had a little bit more of a general grip on things; you could handle your emotions perfectly fine, thank you very much. But the overwhelming shitiness makes you want to pout and whine until you get your way. You felt sorry for anyone dealing with your bratty ass tonight. Namely Paige, but you knew she could handle it.

Trudging up the stairs to your dorm and stomping into your room, you dramatically fling yourself onto your bed. You lay there momentarily before you hear a gentle knock on your door.

Groaning, you head to open it and find Paige standing there with an apprehensive look on her face. You barely have time to register why she would be anything but ecstatic to see you before launching yourself at her taller frame.

She stumbles back at the sudden force of your body but recovers quickly, wrapping her arms around your middle and bringing you into a tight hug.

You let out all the air and frustration that had been pent up over the last week as soon as you connect.

“Paigey,” you whine, “I missed you so fucking much.” Your hands roam her body, trying to cling to her in an effort to never let her go. 

“I missed you, too, baby…” she trails quietly. 

That was weird. Why wasn't she excited to see you? Paige was always characteristically exuberant around you, and she was excitement personified. This Paige was not your Paige, and your stomach rolled with worry.

“Geno is having us do an extra practice tonight,” she explains carefully.

Your heart drops into your ass. No wonder she seemed off.

As you realize that you would be spending yet another night alone, your eyes well up with thick, hot, and angry tears. You spin on your heels, retreating back into your room in defeat.

“C’mon, talk to me. It’s not like I want to be away from you. As soon as I’m done with practice, I’ll come right over. I’ll even pick up your favorite ice cream,” she tries to reason.

“W-want you now,” you stutter out. Your words start to slur together with frustration. “Don’t even care anymore; just go away.” 

Your venomous words don't dissuade the pang in your heart. Of course you didn’t want her to go. And of course you still cared. But you were feeling like a brat and you were a glutton for punishing yourself.

“Ya know, you might want to watch your attitude,” Paige grits out. Her jaw tenses in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together. 

Then you remember you were supposed to be pissed. You roll your tear-filled eyes and cross your arms with a huff. This exasperates your blonde girlfriend even further. 

“Once you stop acting like a fucking brat, give me a call, and then I’d be happy to give you some attention. Stop punishing me for shit I can’t control.” Paige says with an impressive amount of restraint. She turns around to leave with one last disappointed glance in your direction.

In her harsh exit, you fall apart. 

Sitting in your dark room, cocooned in your sadness, guilt, and general horniness, you watch the hours slip by. 

8:00

9:00

10:00

Your eyes are tired with both sleep and grief by the time the clock turns to 11:00, but you can’t ignore the way you were pulsating with desire just thinking about Paige.

Your brain wrestles with either keeping up your facade of nonchalance and running to Paige, apologies spilling from your mouth with desperation. You were so damn stubborn, never wanting to back down, but you could barely think anymore. 

Your fingers dance around the hem of Paige’s soft t-shirt you had stolen. You fight with yourself internally before pulling it over your head with a groan. Your sweatpants quickly follow.

Dating Paige meant there was rarely a need for self-pleasure. Why would you when she was always at your beck and call?

Huffing at the sheer stupidity of the situation, you close your eyes and bring one hand to your left tit, rolling your nipple experimentally. It feels nice, but you needed more. 

You always needed more.

Your right hand trails down your stomach sensually, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and lands on the swollen nub that holds all the pleasure. Circling your clit, you try to coax out an orgasm. Your pussy was sopping after spending the evening thinking about Paige, but nothing was clicking for you. You let out a small whine of annoyance.

Your hand felt too small, too cold, too wrong. 

Nevertheless, you were fucking desperate. The unkindness of the past week had been even more cruel to your sex life. You hadn’t cum in what felt like forever. You needed this. 

Hesitantly, you enter a finger into your dripping hole. Again, it feels nice, but the angle is all too wrong. If Paige was here, you’d already be panting like a whore, begging for another finger and her tongue.

You pull out of yourself, sucking the wetness off your finger before throwing yourself back down onto the pillows. 

‘Fuck,’ you thought. It was time to surrender. You needed Paige.

Before you can overthink some more and chicken out, you feel your body pull itself out of your dorm all the way to Paige’s apartment. It's as if you have no control over your idiotic, lovestruck brain.

Paige was patient, and she was so in love with you, but you knew you’d be doing some serious groveling tonight. ‘And hopefully having some seriously good sex,’ you think slyly. 

Feeling bashful, you knock on her door. You knew she was out of practice now, and you were ready to give up your tortured whining in order to finally get what you needed. 

Paige opens the door, looking down at you with a knowing smirk. “Lemme guess, babe. You need me,” she purrs in a mocking tone that makes you want to jump her bones.

You want to protest, but you know it would be no use. She knew she held all of the power over you, and she was not going to let you walk away unscathed tonight.

“Baby, I‘m sorry,” you sigh, trying to appear as solemn as you could. “This week just got the best of me. It’s not your fault you had practice.” You really were sorry, but you were more concerned about fixing the dampness in your panties than you were about coming off as regretful about your past attitude.

Paige reaches out a hand to draw you in closer, pulling you into her familiar warmth. You could feel yourself melt into her, worries evaporating quickly. Her eyes softened at your apology, but you could still see a sadistic glint in them. 

You were so getting it tonight. You didn’t care as long as it ended with your back arching off Paige’s bed, her name leaving your lips continuously, like a prayer.

The hand that was resting on your hip trails up to rest loosely around your throat. Her thumb caresses your carotid pulse, which was pounding dangerously in her wake. She smirks at your blatant anticipation before leaning down to suck right at her favorite little spot just under your ear.

You moan lasciviously, almost causing you to miss the words she whispers next.

“Get your ass on my bed. You know what position I want you in.”

Your face heats up, and your stomach lurches. You knew you were getting the dominant version of your girlfriend tonight, but to this extent? This side of her rarely came out. You swallow thickly as you grasp the consequences of just how far you had taken things earlier.

As much as Paige’s dominant side made you feel timid, your desire to get thrown around and fucked out took over.

“Now, you little slut,” she all but growls, as you hesitate, your thoughts and apprehension momentarily stilling you. The degradation of her words ignites a flame in the pit of your belly once more, and you fall headfirst into subspace. 

You stumble into her bedroom, throwing your sweatshirt over your head haphazardly and shimmying out of your pants. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your nearly naked figure in her full-length mirror, taking a second to admire the swell of your ass and the heaving of your chest. 

Leaving you in nothing but a plain black thong, you kneel on Paige’s bed, your ass resting on your heels in a display of submission that had you wanting to be good, so good, for your blonde girlfriend. 

Paige leaves you waiting for a few minutes, making you squirm anxiously. You didn’t know what to expect with her tonight. The last time you acted this childishly, you weren’t allowed to cum. ‘Bratty whores don’t get to cum,’ you recalled her whispering in your ear mercilessly. 

‘If that was the case tonight, I might just die,’ you think as you desperately shift your thighs in an attempt to feel an ounce of pleasure.

Soon enough, Paige strolls in looking smug at your visible distress.

“My poor baby,” she pouts derisively, eliciting a whine from your mouth at the mention of you being her baby. “Why don’t you tell me why you decided to come apologize tonight. I know it wasn’t just because you were feeling guilty.” She looks up and down at you expectantly, waiting for a bullshit excuse she knew she was getting.

You realize that lying would get you absolutely nowhere with her tonight, and you decide to be honest. “Need you,” you mumble, you face feeling hot once more. “Tried touching myself. Didn’t feel as good as you…” you trail off. 

Paige’s face lights up at this admission, and she grins sinfully. “Get on your back and show me how you tried to touch yourself,” she softly demands. She had tried to get you to masturbate in front of her before, but you had always been too embarrassed to do so. It felt so ridiculously private, and the thought of her seeing your failed attempts to get off without her made you want to hide under the blankets. 

“C’mon, baby girl,” she coaxes. “If you want me to touch you, you gotta touch yourself first.” 

You stare at her, jutting out your bottom lip in protest before sighing in defeat. You adjust yourself against her pillows at the top of the bed and spread your legs teasingly. 

‘Might as well make a show of it if I have to do this,’ you think, trying to find a way to feel more comfortable with the sheer act of perversion.

Paige settles in on the edge of the bed. She had the perfect view of your soaked pussy, still hidden beneath your black thong, and of your peaked nipples, begging to be licked and bitten. You run your hands up and down your body a few times, just as you had earlier in your bedroom, trying to put on a performance to appease your girlfriend. You needed her to be in the best possible mood.

After spending a few moments tending to your tits, squeezing them with an appropriate amount of vigor, you take off your panties and throw them to Paige. She catches them, and upon seeing how soaked they were, says, “this is turning you on, isn’t it? You like having to touch yourself in front of me. Such a naughty, little slut."

You bite your lip, but nod reluctantly. This was fucking embarrassing, but it turned you on, and you hated having to admit that to her. 

“Knew it,” she responded arrogantly. “Keep going.” 

You dip a finger into your folds and swirl the wetness around your weeping hole before bringing it back up to your needy and swollen clit. A few circles around it and you’re already letting out puffs of air. Just the sight of Paige in front of you has you panting. 

You sneak a glance at Paige, seeing her enthralled by your performance. The idea of being able to please her makes you want to keep going, but you hoped you wouldn’t have to be responsible for your own orgasms tonight. Your pussy belonged to her.

“Please, P,” you moan. “I need you. My fingers aren’t enough.” 

She pretends to think about it before shaking her head with a stupid grin on her face. She was getting way too much enjoyment out of this. You let out a huff in annoyance before entering two of your slim fingers into your pussy and thrusting harshly upwards towards your g-spot. 

You knew you’d never really had any luck getting off this way. The angle was too weird, and your fingers were too small to really get you anywhere. The only g-spot you could reach was Paige’s, and you whimper at the lack of pleasure you were getting. 

Feeling incredibly frustrated, you make eye contact with the blonde, and plead with her to do something, anything, to get you closer to the finish line.

“Want some help?” Paige asks smugly. You desperately nod. “Beg,” she says shortly. 

Fuck. You had told yourself you wouldn’t beg tonight. But you were feeling hopeless, so if she wanted you to beg, you would. 

“Please, please, please, Paigey, I'll do anything for you, just touch me,” you moan brokenly. “Just need you, only you, don’t want anyone else, please, baby, please,” you let out, words overlapping each other with a vicious need to prove to her that you needed her with your whole being. 

It must’ve done the trick because before you can even register what is happening, she's on top of you, fervently kissing you and groping your tits. You preen at the attention, finally getting what you’ve wanted and needed all week, and kiss her back. You welcome the taste of her tongue in your mouth, getting drunk on the way she alternates between kissing your lips and your neck.

As she trails her kisses down your neck to your chest, you watch her lips close over a nipple, sucking it in gently before biting down, causing a gasp to leave your now swollen lips. Paige grins wickedly at your reaction, but she continues her descent towards your drenched pussy.

You buck your hips to try and meet her mouth, but she presses them back down with strong hands and avoids the area altogether. She presses hot, open mouth kisses onto your inner thighs, making you squirm even more.

Her touch, or lack thereof, made you want to cry. You needed more stimulation or you might just die.

Paige studies your wetness for a moment before meeting your eyes. She has a mischievous glint in her eye that makes your belly turn in anticipation. 

“I’ll eat you out, baby,” she simpers, “but you still need to be punished.”

You wrinkle your brow in confusion. This wasn’t punishment?

“What’d you mean?” you ask reluctantly.

Paige sits up and pats her lap. “Get your ass over on my lap. Since you decided to act like a brat earlier, I’m going to punish you like one.”

Your heart pounds once more at the realization you were about to be spanked by your girlfriend. So much for thinking you were getting let off easy tonight. 

You drape yourself across Paige’s lap, suddenly feeling extra grateful for the apartment’s emptiness tonight. It was rare that you and Paige got time to yourselves, and the idea of anyone hearing you being subjected to this was enough to make you want to hide forever.

The first smack comes quicker than you were expecting and reverberates through the small room. If it wasn’t for Paige anchoring you to her, you would’ve flown off in shock. The sharpness of the swat forces blood into your cheeks.

You internally curse yourself for how much you enjoy it. Three slaps follow in quick succession, and before you know it, you’re even more of a moaning mess in Paige’s lap. You have to force yourself to stop from grinding your hips in an effort to chase some pleasure to accompany the delicious pain of your punishment. 

Paige rubs a few circles on your ass, admiring the gorgeous pinkness that blooms under her hand. 

“Fuck, you little slut,” she murmurs. “Of course you’re enjoying this shit.”

You shake your head in protest, but to no avail. You knew she could see right through your bullshit, and she rolled her eyes fondly. “I think I’ve put my girl through enough. Are you ready to be a good girl for me?” she questions. 

“I’ll be so good. Promise,” you moan into her neck, causing her to let out a giggle.

Paige lays you onto your back once more and finally brings her mouth down to your sex. She dives in, circling your clit with her hot, wet tongue, and immediately adds two long fingers into your dripping hole with no warning. You arch off the bed wantonly, relishing in the pleasure you had been chasing for days. 

She spreads your legs apart even further, attempting to get even deeper into you. For both of you, it would never be enough. The sheer amount of desire you felt for the woman between your thighs swelled in the moment, and you feel yourself inch closer to the edge. You teeter at the brink, reveling in the throes of pleasure and passion. 

You’re babbling now-straight bullshit leaving your lips, mixing apologies and pleading for Paige to let you cum.

Paige is now full on assaulting your pussy. Three lengthy digits pushing at your g-spot at a punishing pace and sucking your clit like it was a fucking lollipop. 

Moans, groans, and slick noises fill the room. It was pure depravity, and you were both loving every second of it. In a final plea to let you cum, Paige concedes smugly. She knew she had turned your bratty ass into a whimpering mess, and she was going to relish in you coming undone in front of her. 

As soon as you get the green light, you all but scream, feeling as if everything is snapping into place all at once. Your chest heaves and your thighs try to close around Paige’s head, feeling suddenly overstimulated. Pushing them back out, Paige forces you to ride out the orgasm fully. 

“Fuck,” you groan. That was the hardest you’d cum in a while, due to the absolute buildup of it all.

Licking her lips seductively, Paige meets you in a searing kiss that makes you melt back into her soft bedding once more. Paige was always so gentle with you after being particularly dominant. 

“Gonna go get a rag. Don’t move. Gonna take good care of my sweet girl. So good for me tonight,” she praises. 

Too fucked out to protest, you lay back, allowing her to pamper you. Your eyes felt as heavy as rocks, and you struggled to stay awake.

“I really am sorry,” you mumble sleepily into her neck. “Didn't want to make you mad. Just needed you.”

“I know, baby,” Paige replies tenderly. “Not sure if the spanking was an actual punishment, though.”

You giggle at her admission. It really wasn’t. 

In fact, you were already scheming ways to get another spanking. 

‘Once a brat, always a brat.’ 

[blitzwhore]

What Ghost Fuckers shows us about Blitzø, his face scar and eye trauma, and his deepest fears.

As we already know, Blitzø's scars come from the same accident that maimed Fizz, killed Blitzø's mom, and burned Blitzø's life as he knew it to ashes. We also know Blitzø blames himself for the accident, because he inadvertently caused it by pushing aside the imp carrying Fizz's cake.

In Oops, we also saw Blitzø's eye got badly hurt during the accident.

And, even though it seems to have fully recovered given his precision with a gun, it is still permanently and completely surrounded by scar tissue.

It's his most visible scar—the only one he cannot cover up with his daily attire. It represents his vulnerability and broadcasts it to the world. So much so that, when he's feeling at his most helpless, he shields it from view as a means to protect himself.

Eyes are typically represented in fiction as windows to the soul, so one's eye being hurt or scarred can be a representation of how broken, hurt, or tainted they are/feel inside; an unclosable window that displays their deepest trauma for everyone to see.

We also know Blitzø privately crosses out his face in pictures with his loved ones, and we've seen across multiple episodes that the side of his face that is highlighted in each scene can relate to his emotional state. His scarred side is in full view in moments when he's losing control of his emotional state and unable to hide his vulnerability, whereas his unscarred side will be in view when he's trying to avoid/hide his insecurities and pretend everything is fine. On key moments when he's being honest with himself and others about his emotions, his front side will show, a representation of him acknowledging both sides and approaching a balance between them.

In Ghost Fuckers, eye trauma is also used to represent Blitzø's emotional turmoil, except the eye trauma is no longer his own—it is very blatantly extended to others.

In his Millie hallucination, every single Millie except for the one with the broken arm has got something wrong with one or both of her eyes. Each of them is the realization of Millie being hurt because Blitzø put her in harm's way: the bottle shards from Murder Family, the fire in Loo Loo Land, the giant fish from Spring Broken, the angelic arrow in CHERUBS, and the final Millie, which seems to match the hotel bellboy, implying Rolando has hurt or affected her in some way.

(Notice how Blitzø's scarred side is showing again in this moment).

All these Millies have been ruined in the same way Blitzø is ruined, and they've been ruined because of Blitzø. Because he needed her. Because he put her in harm's way. Because he cared about her enough to selfishly keep her in his life.

All of these Millies have ended up "like him": permanently marked as broken.

This is what his love does, in his eyes (pun not intended). It damages people beyond repair. It is a contagious and unstoppable force that will inevitably destroy anything and anyone it—he—touches.

Just like it did his mother.

She, too, loses an eye in his hallucination. An eye that falls right in his hand as she burns away, marking him as responsible for her corruption; an eye that looks at him even as she vanishes from his grasp. Almost as if she knows. Knows what he did, knows he's to blame for her death. Knows that if it weren't for him, and his feelings, and his love, she'd still be whole. She'd still be alive.

This masterful visual representation of Blitzø's guilt and fear is perfectly summarised in Millie's line, “when was the last time you loved someone without hurting them?” Blitzø truly believes anyone who stays close to him will end up just like him: damaged, and traumatised, and broken, or worse—dead.

And all because he was selfish enough to let himself be loved and cared for by them.

[space-blue]

It's horrible too if Jinx lives!!

OK, I guess we're doing this?

People keep coming at me for my post about Jinx dying being terrible writing and promoting suicide by heroics as a valid way out, and the argument is always "Actually, Jinx is alive because XYZ"

So let me makes myself clear : if Jinx lives, it's also terrible writing!!

Because for all intent and purposes, she DOES DIE! Even if she's alive and fucked off in that blimp, she's still dead to everyone who knew and loved her.

WORSE! Vi will go on thinking for the rest of her life that Jinx died because of her, or at the very least that she couldn't save her.

It's not for no reason that Vi has this scene in the cell with Caitlyn, where she says she always choses wrong. In the scene on the crumbling metal beam, Vi choses not to listen to Jinx!

People got in my comments saying I have no humanity for reproving Vi picking "Vander's corpse" over Jinx. But what we see happen is Jinx telling Vi multiple time to get away and how to get to safety, and Vi completely ignoring her to interact with Vander/WW, only for him to wake up, attack her, and force Jinx to risk her life to save Vi.

Vi made a choice, between more time with Vander and listening to Jinx, and the price paid in the end is Jinx dying.

What if she lived and escaped? Vi doesn't know that! Ekko doesn't know that! Or Sevika! Or anyone!

Thought exercise time: close your eyes and imagine a relative disappearing for your life after a lethal accident you're involved in. You never recover a body and never see them again. How do you feel about it? Mmh?

"Oh but Caitlyn sees the schematics that show a side tunnel…"

Firstly, Caitlyn was nowhere near the event, and she can't frame-by-frame the explosion as we do, so you can hardly claim she's looking for Jinx and not, for example, the arcane gem, or Warwick.

Vander/WW was shown to be entirely impervious to the bullets from Jinx's automatic gun. If anyone has a chance of surviving, it'd be him.

But do you know what? If Jinx is in that blimp, and Caitlyn then tells Vi, "From the schematic, I think your sister could have escaped" (ignoring entirely the fact that Jinx should be cut in half by WW's claws wrapped around her waist), then what would happen???

That would send Vi on a wild goose's chase!! How many years would she spend hunting through Zaun trying to find her sister? How many years until she starts resenting Caitlyn for giving her false hope? How many years until she's forced to accept Jinx isn't anywhere, and so must have died back then, and has to see herself as Jinx's killer all over again??

How is this good for Vi?

And Ekko? He pulled her out of suicide what? 5 times? Had some epic bonding with her painting all over each other, doing self-care and hair dyes and fixing a balloon so they could go on a big attack together.

Maybe he thought he could genuinely finally be close to his world's Powder. Silco just taught him the greatest thing he can do is forgive, and the girl he forgives fakes her death and runs away?

They're barely 20 ffs, Jinx would have plenty of time to struggle on the road to recovery, especially with his help. What if Ekko was ready to be there along the way with her? What about him?

How is it good if Jinx is NOT dead but has NOT told him? What difference does it make to him? She's dead for Ekko, and if he learns later on that she faked her death, all he'll know is that HE wasn't worth her staying. He wasn't even worth telling the truth to!!!

It's fucked! It's not healthy!! Jinx could have her ending removing herself from Zaun without having to fake her death.

But hang on, it gets worse!

Because it's straight up not good writing even on the meta level.

Arcane has millions of viewers. Nobody I know IRL thinks Jinx is alive. Plenty of people in my notes agree she's dead. Do you know what millions of people think? That she is dead!!! Because it's the TEXT OF THE SHOW.

Millions of fans will think Jinx was killed off, because they aren't willing to go frame by frame, extrapolating and make-believing their way into thinking she is alive. Most fans are normal people who aren't terminally online, theorycrafting all day long.

Most normal fans have moved on to watch Dune Prophecy or Sweetpea. And if Jinx comes out alive in another show, the "Somehow Palpatine Jinx returned" memes will abound.

Let's go over the common elements brought forth as arguments.

Jinx uses pink and blue in that bomb, and pink is how she gets away "quick".

No? The bomb she attached to Thieram in season 1 was pink and it was all for glitter and harassment. There is no strong canon association of meaning. If you watch frame by frame, there is a pink "light gleam" over the first blue detonation followed by a very large pink blast and ZERO smoke trails or anything indication someone getting away. Jinx uses the same bomb she used to kill herself very effectively earlier in the show, so we have no indication it wouldn't kill her here too.

We can see the inside of her bomb when she kills herself (with the two liquid vials) and it's the same she uses on Vander/WW and herself.

Besides, even if she used some part of the explosion to get away, WW's claws are around her like this:

She'd be bisected in half.

So some people say that means that Warwick is also alive and let her go! But no. That's make-believe. That's fanon, 100%. The TEXT of the show is that Vander is burnt away (we see the final image of himself burning up) and he has just attacked Vi, trying to kill her. We have no indication he'd want to spare Jinx here.

HOWEVER, he's literally bullet proof, so if there's anything we can conclude is that he's likely to be the one to have made it into a shaft and to safety.

Speaking of shafts: the next argument is that Caitlyn is looking at the tower's schematics to hint that she suspects Jinx lives.

Maybe, but you are reading a character's mind. We see her look at schematics while holding the monkey bomb head, yes, but you don't know what she's thinking, and if the show runners don't make it explicit, then Cait's thoughts about an explosion she hasn't even witnessed aren't worth much. She could think Warwick lived. OR she could think, despite not witnessing the fight, that Jinx lived. But she doesn't KNOW, she doesn't tell us, and so you are INVENTING the thoughts of a character to mean what you want it to mean.

This would be a lot more meaningful if it were Vi investigating this.

There's a blimp going away, it has blue smoke, and then it ends with a Jinx glitch.

No. There is a blimp going away, slowly, without any blue smoke. It's also THE EXACT SAME ONE that opens Season 1 act 1.

Instead of coming towards Piltover, it now is leaving over the sea. This can be fully interpreted as a sign that the hextech era is over. Blimps have to travel the old fashioned way again. It's also going away from Piltover/Zaun, symbolizing future stories taking place there.

Finally, the glitch is 3 frames long and spells "the End". IDK why the fact that it's a little Jinxy means anything to anyone. The end of credits for season 1 was Jinxy as well, and it could simply be about keeping the same visual identity and not a sign of Jinx being alive???

If I wanted to play subtext games, I could say "Wow Jinx writing "the end" would be appropriate if she were dead" and reverse the argument.

Finally, and the thing in most poor taste, IMO.

Jinx kills herself several times in the opening of the episode, and a sad emo song plays over it, with sad fucked up lyrics. Then Ekko comes and pulls her from this…

Only for that EXACT same song to be played while she and Vander/WW fall. They are both crying. Vi is crying and screaming while these lyrics are playing!!

If I could just lay my head down and rest. If there was nothing to fight or protect. Maybe then I could finally be free. Maybe death is like falling asleep. This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. I used to have strength but I ran out of hope. I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone. This world is a wasteland. Please let me go. Go, go, go. Please let me go.

This is literally singing about suicide. When you say "Maybe death is like falling asleep" over the animation of a character pulling the pin, you are not dealing in subtext or metaphor of any kind.

One of the earlier shots literally has her framed in broken glass among shards that are WARWICK'S MAW. It's like a hint of her death being killed by him, furthering the parallel.

And I think it is in very bad taste to have suicide apologia music playing over characters screaming and bawling (Vi)

while others cry (Jinx and WW)

and a bomb goes off (with no hint of survival),

only for some of y'all to come around acting like Cait glowering at a blueprint and a recuring blimp all means Jinx is alive...

It would be grief porn on the part of the writers. It would mean slamming us in our feelings in a brutal way, in an ugly way, while playing a suicide song, only to turn around and say "Syke! didn't you get that Cait is suspicious about Jinx so it totally means it was all a fakeout?"

I don't want a fake-out at this point!! Why would I?? It's legit worse! Because then it means they couldn't spare 5min of animation time to have her rescued by Ekko and being on the mend with him. Even if she has a scene where she tells him "I need to leave. I can't stay in this city), at least it wouldn't be a cruel joke on the fans and the characters.

This entire ending means that either Jinx was better off dying taking out the mad monster made out of her dad with her (making her the ultimate dad killer, yay), or Jinx was better off removing herself from the equation SO THOROUGHLY that MOST fans believe it, everyone in world believe it, and the show offers no concrete textual clue for it.

It means Jinx didn't deserve/or wasn't able to get better. And so she has to die or do the exact-same-as-dying but kind of more fucked up somehow.

---

ULTIMATELY the message to impressionable viewers who struggle a lot with mental health and identified a lot with Jinx, are being told with soft sad music that yeah maybe dying is like going to sleep and your family should let you go, go, go, and that "leaving everything and everyone behind" is about the same.

It's fucked, and it saddens me that people are so focused on the "she lived" narrative that they miss out the fact that a hint she may be alive doesn't change the messaging.

And it saddens me knowing that if Viktor's arc ended with him being validated in feeling like his human body was "broken" and "inferior" and that his disability made him lesser as a human, people would have pitchforks and torches out.

Jinx's mental illness and struggles in interacting with the world were her disability, and she got fucking killed or wiped off the city incognito for it.

--

P.S: If you're warming up to post hate in comments or tags because you don't like my take and don't know how to politely disagree, please save us both time and block me. I'm open to polite discourse but the next person questioning my humanity over fandom wank will be nuked from orbit with prejudice.

[thepsychonyx]

The Dagger is a representation of Solas Duty and Trauma

DRAGON AGE THE VEILGUARD SPOILERS AHEAD

I believe the dagger being left behind in Redemption endings symbolise Solas finally being freed of his duty & trauma whilst non-redemption endings force that pain to go with him. The dagger reminds him all he lost & sacrificed vs in Redemption he is free and regains his autonomy.

Before anyone yells at me that this is a reach, I get it- but walk with me. The dagger was commissioned by Mythal, he was against its creation and against its purpose to sunder the Titans, it was also used to kill Mythal and is essentially a symbol of all of Solas' original sins

Though some of us agree that none of these things sit solely on his head, they do sit on his conscience.

The grief of having a part of your autonomy irreversibly altered as they did with the Titans is a reflection of how he was forever condemned to himself. His one salve? Duty.

I've never thought Mythal's words in the Redemption endings were an indication of him prizing her affection above the chance Rook gave or Lavellan's pleading, she mutilated his spirit and perverted his purpose. For which, her taking accountability unbinds him of the emotional and mental toll. This is only one aspect of why the dagger is key to redemption. The important thing is he needed to be freed of his duty, he feels he has gone too far and taken too much. He knows the price has been too high and that is why he wants to be stopped, one way or another. Hence leaving hints for Inquisitor and Varric, as well as stating to Rook he fears becoming like Elgar'nan, too powerful with no one to check him. He never wanted to be this, and he is ready to die. Solas is exhausted of what this duty has taken from him as it has costed him everything.

Crucially, freeing him from his duty finally allows him to let go of the purpose he made himself physical for. He was brought into the world to give her wisdom, wisdom she denied and without her to unbind, his reason for being physical is left to trying to heal the wounds he made.

In DAI, if you drink from the Well, thus putting you into Mythals service, Solas is incredibly angry for valid reason. He just watched you make the same error he did!

He bears these words so heavily because this is also the burden he bears - he is stuck in the cycle of what this duty demands of him.

Solas asks you what will you do after Corypheus and he only *Approves* if you say "I'll restore what was" - he associates bettering the world with undoing the condition his actions have forced it into.

"You honor the past and work to recover what was lost, even if the cost is high." It is not all about Mythal, it is about fixing his biggest mistakes and restoring the world to what he, someone duty bound to the people for causing the problems, took away from *everyone.*

He knows the cost is high, that's why he wants to be stopped. That's why he leaves hints for Inquisitor. It's why he says to a friend, "I would treasure the chance to be wrong again" - he just cannot see another way because he is bound by his purpose for why he entered the world.

This is why the Trick ending also works because it forced Solas to see another way to atone, but the dagger - the grief and trauma - goes with him. The bad ending is him completely forced (stabbed) into becoming a manifestation of pride. His duty completely corrupting his values.

Whilst the Redemption ending is the most fulfilling as it finally let's him allow himself to let go. He is forgiven, for the first time ever by his friend or true love, he is absolved of the burdens and duty that haunted him, he is given the wisdom he has always been denied.

Someone who only wanted to free others finally being freed themselves, who endeavoured to unshackle the chains of others finally being unbound of his own, isn't that a beautiful ending? He is just a man, a faulted haunted man who did his best and I think that is worth something.

The beautiful thing, is with the Solavellan ending, Inquisitor Lavellan gives him more than just atonement to live for. Bereft of his original purpose of bestowing wisdom as he has confined himself to atone, she posits a new purpose. Their love, eternally, will be their new fate. He will never be alone again, and together work towards his new purpose. For a man who was enslaved by a friend (he wore Mythal's valaslin!) who used him and ignored him, to be given salvation from the love of his life who listened to him and wants to be beside him through everything - I cannot imagine a better conclusion and retirement from his Duty and the first crucial step into healing from his Trauma.

(Ignore me in the corner teary eyed lol)

This post by Trick states that the endings with the dagger mean it’ll be harder for him mentally to become free - it may be a simple association that no dagger = redemption, but this is DA it has to mean more. At least, it does to me.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Story Idea #25:

I don´t know why, but i love the "yandere emperor" figure. So, here's my idea:

Darling(you) was originally a young woman of high society who was forcibly married to the respective king of her people when he was a prince, against her will. She had a young lover whom the king murdered (because he believed that she was unfaithful) after her family practically sold her; after this, the king mistreated her harshly as punishment for years, while her family insulted and cursed her, even when she tried to explain to them that nothing happened.

These mistreatments and depressions caused her to lose the pregnancies she had, which made her desire for revenge against her family and against that disgusting king begin. She tried to escape several times, but was always caught. It must be said that the king did not love her at all, and was constantly unfaithful, humiliating her to feel proud of himself. All this continued until Darling saved a seemingly ordinary young man who was being persecuted, without imagining that this was one of the sons of the emperor who ruled his kingdom and all the others (it was specifically the crown prince). Due to the pain of the wounds, the young man did not pay much attention to who Darling was, but her sweet voice was engraved in his head, and since then, he could not stop thinking about her.

Later, the boy recovers and sees her more clearly, realizing that she is not only gentle and kind, but she is very pretty. That is when the prince knows who he is, and although he leaves at that moment, he decides that when he takes the throne, she will be his. It is not long before the emperor in power dies and the aforementioned prince ascends; in the meantime, he dedicates himself to investigating more about her and spying on her a bit, ending up falling madly in love with her and causing him to kidnap her and without even asking the king, he annuls the marriage. This is when he becomes the yandere emperor.

Darling is initially upset and outraged, but upon seeing the affection and good treatment that the yandere emperor has (removing all his strictness), in addition to his power over all the kingdoms, including that of her ex-husband; so she decides to put together a plan of revenge since the king not only mistreated her in countless ways (physically, emotionally, sexually, etc …) and moves pieces to earn her place among the imperial court (and more so if the yandere emperor already has an empress or several consorts) and fakes even her way of breathing; she learns the rules and customs of the new palace, as well as purposely approaches the yandere emperor to further awaken his obsession.

What the Yandere Emperor didn't know at first was that Darling had bruises from his mistreatment; these were the reminder of his revenge. Darling made her husband fall even more in love with her, but she still gave him hints about her past suffering as his obsession grew, which made the Yandere Emperor start to investigate. On their wedding night, when they were getting intimate, she slowly took off her clothes and there he finally saw all the bruises; when the Yandere Emperor asked for an explanation, she told him everything.

She tells him about the contempt she experienced; how her family sold her; the forced marriage; the murder of her love; the false accusations made against her; the abuse and mistreatment… everything up until the day he came into her life. She even asked him not to throw her out, since she had nowhere else to go but the imperial palace. Then the yandere emperor promised her that under his care, NO ONE will ever lay a hand on her or insult her again.

Days later, Darling learns that the emperor murdered her family and ex-husband in cold blood, along with the former servants who tortured her. The emperor saw how this made her very happy, as her revenge was successful. Meanwhile, the emperor is also happy, as from now on she will not have to think about anyone else (According to him).

I'm kind of tired of the fact that whenever I read a "Yandere Emperor x Reader" Darling, it's always submissive. I like to think of a Darling who appears to be submissive, but is actually so evil as to use the emperor to her advantage.

[pupyuj]

Pervy G!P babysitter Yujin who can't stop imagining fucking reader who is married but her husband is always away so she sees that as her chance of "helping you out" with your problems. Biggest problem Yujin being extremely hot.

Also don't worry, your works always slay and I can't wait to read more of your work (Especially Yujin because I need her cock in me badly)

an older ask! 😳 n thanks a lot for ur kind words then anon <;33

yujin's definitely the type to take that job bcs she wants to fuck a hot milf... and that milf being you! she does end up enjoying spending time with a kid but at the end of the day... she always comes into your unnecessarily huge mansion with a mission 😈 yujin's super polite and well-mannered, plays with your kids very well and even gets him some gifts sometimes! you grew fond of her after she went above and beyond for your kid and ever since then, you've seen her as more of a confidant than an... well, an employee 😭😭

it was definitely strange to call someone so young your friend, but that was what became of your relationship! especially after your partner got so busy that you started feeling lonely around the house 😞 yujin always made sure to keep you from getting bored though! from cooking meals for the kid with you, helping you with cleaning, playing with your kid with you.. yujin was good company! but ofc... her ulterior motives got the best of her one day! 🫣

making sure that the kid wasn't around when she makes a move... sees you looking all stressed from work without your partner to comfort you :((( yujinnie offering her help by putting her hands on your shoulders and giving you a well-earned massage! "your partner... they're a very hard-worker but i can't help but think that they're being a little unfair to you, (y/n)-ssi." yujin lowering herself so she's right up your ear, making the slightest moves to be softly pecking your head,, and you're so tired that you can't rlly think correctly... leaning in to her and making the mistake of moaning when she suddenly gropes your tits??? now yujin definitely doesn't have to think of stopping herself.

"y-yujin... wait, i'm... i can't be doing thi—"

"fuck no. stay here." she pulls your back against her, attacking your neck 😳 her hands were already inside your blouse, groping and touching everywhere she could :((( humping your ass while she pinches your nipple, forcing her tongue inside your mouth, and rubbing your clit all at once?? it was all too much for you and soon enough you've completely thrown away all your self-control,, letting yujin touch you as she pleases, reaching down her pants and squeezing her dick... and you're even the one who unbuckled her belt and unzipped her pants! you were so desperate to be filled that you didn't care that you were cheating on your spouse—all you wanted was yujin, and for yujin to fuck you good 😵‍💫

memkehjksd yujin pumping in and out of your cunt while you're sat on top of your desk,, your arms around her neck, holding on for dear life while she pounds your pussy like she's never fucked anyone before,, her grunts in your ear?? bites your shoulder, your neck... 🤤🤤 yujinnie making sure you're taking the full length of her thick cock with every thrust :(( reaching even some spots your partner did not know about.. fuck, yujin was way too good at this...

"lemme breed you, mommy... fill this fucking pussy full of my cum... can i? can i, please??" her hips stuttering the closer she gets to her climax :((( yujinnie gets super whiny too,, whimpering and muttering "mommy" against your skin,, one clench around her dick pushing her over the edge and making her spill her seed inside you 😵‍💫😵‍💫 she really does fill you up so fucking full too! "how was that...? i'm good, right, mommy?" yujinnie was asking with a shit-eating grin, knowing damn well she's just given you a good fuck after forever 🥴

you were just recovering from all of that when yujin had this genius idea to sit on your bed, wrap your panties around her cock, and jack off right in front of you,, "f-fuck..! mhm!" her coming in your panties,, and telling you to wear them bcs it inflates her fucking ego so much... and to both of your luck, your partner arrives home later that night and you had to stand and be all sweet in front of them while wearing some cum-soaked panties... yujinnie watching from the side with a smirk, winking at you when you happened to make eye contact with her while your spouse kissed you,,,

and ofc, each and every single one of her next visits became merely an excuse for the two of you to fuck like rabid animals,, but what can you say??? being bred full of yujin's cum everyday have become too much of a good thing to give up 😵‍💫

[solarsa1nt]

𐚁֙࿐ PEACHES

uraume x fem!reader

Tags — fluff , heian era , soft uraume

Notes — i use they/them pronouns for uraume!

"Uraume-san! Uraume-san!" Y/N calls, running through the halls of the large shrine to approach the monk.

"Y/N." Uraume greets back neutrally, turning their head away from the village man that they were speaking to moments earlier, tattered clothes dirtying the floors of the shrine.

"Eh?" Y/N pauses, smile faltering as she looks between the two. "Were you busy again? Sorry... I can—"

"No." Uraume interrupts firmly, turning their body to completely face the girl that had started to slink further back into the shrine. "It's fine."

"Really? I don't want to be a nuisance..." Y/N frowns apprehensively.

Uraume sighs at the insecure and nervous behavior coming from the normally out-going girl. "It's only a minor issue, someone else can deal with... him."

Uraume sends a subtle glare back at the man, prompting him to straighten his spine.

"Y-Yes! I should be g-going anyway..." The man stammers, quickly rushing out of the shrine like a scared mouse.

Y/N blinks in surprise as the man disappears from view. "Huh. You're really scary, Uraume-san."

Uraume frowns faintly at the admission, opening their mouth to say something as they look back at Y/N, words dying in their throat at the sight of the girl smiling at them in admiration.

"You and Sukuna-sama are so cool." Y/N sighs with an amazed smile, wonder dancing in her eyes.

Uraume blinks in stunned silence, it (embarrassingly) taking a moment to recover before they speak again. "What is it you wanted, Y/N?"

"Oh, right!" Y/N easily perks back up again, smile returning full-force. "I was wondering if you wanted to go peach picking with me! It's in season!"

"I-If it's not too much of an issue, of course..." Y/N adds, glancing away from Uraume sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind going alone—"

"No, you're not permitted to leave without Sukuna-sama or I joining you after last time." Uraume cuts off bluntly, never the one to sugarcoat things.

"It's not my fault that guy wouldn't leave me alone." Y/N huffs childishly, turning her head to the side with a pout.

"Of course not. It's merely a precaution." Uraume replies, tone completely unreadable. Although when Y/N glances over, her eyes catch onto their hands that were tightening into fists at the mention of that particular attempt.

Of course, people outside the shrine were aware of Y/N— a completely normal human with nothing special about her that, somehow, got in Ryomen Sukuna's favor.

So it didn't take long enough for people to target Y/N whenever she left the safety of the shrine— her being the only person they were able to attack. Uraume could use cursed energy and only a fool would dare to attack Sukuna himself, leaving Y/N the only one to defenseless enough to try to kill.

One man was even brazen enough to try and kidnap her— which resulted in his head being speared outside the village as an unspoken threat.

"So, peach picking?" Uraume prompts, drawing Y/N out of her musings.

"Oh, right! There's this really pretty peach farm an elderly man had last time I visited the village. He even gave me some!" Y/N rants excitedly. "He said I could come back any time and have some more since he doesn't have anyone else to give them to!"

"Hm." Uraume closes their eyes in thought, pausing for a moment before their dark pink eyes peer open again. "Alright, I will accompany you."

"Great! Thank you, Uraume-san!" Y/N squeals, tackling the monk in a hug, holding on for another second or two before pulling away to meet them face-to-face.

Uraume's eyes were blown wide, a faint pink dusting their pale cheeks that matched their eyes. Their lips were parted in shock— as if they went to say something but couldn't muster the words.

"You're the best!" Y/N praises, kissing their cheek before letting go, turning and rushing down the hall.

Uraume breathes in, raising a hand to their cheek as they blink incredulously— unsure of what the warm feeling bubbling in their chest is.

© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad

[prettymonegasque]

Can you maybe write smut about Charles and Lando after their 2-3 finish in Australia? <3

Charlando x Reader (Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris)

A/N: I got a little (very) carried away

Warnings: Straight up porn with absolutely no plot'

Seeing your boyfriends soak each other with champagne on the podium turned you on more than you expected. It was their first podium together in over 4 years. They celebrated like starved men and you wanted to feed them. You got to Charles’ driver's room as fast as you could knowing that’s where they’ll be headed.

A few minutes later, your very sweaty boyfriends entered the room deep in conversation. They didn’t see you lying on the bed with nothing but a pair of red lingerie that left very little to the imagination. Charles was the first to notice you and he had to do a double take to believe what was before him. Lando saw his boyfriend’s jaw drop and followed his eyeline.

“Hi boys” You called out softly. “Fuck” “Putain” You giggled at their surprised faces. “Baby anyone could’ve walked in on you” Charles breathed out as he walked to you. “That’s what makes it more exciting huh? Anyone walking in and seeing how I’m laid out for my sexy winner boyfriends waiting for them to fuck me good.” He let out a groan and dropped his trophy on the floor. “Lando look at our little slut so desperate for us.” Lando was in a trance. He looked at you like a mad man but he didn’t move.

“Lan. You okay?” You pulled yourself up slightly worried. “Lay the fuck down” He demanded without blinking. Charles turned to see him. Lando wasn’t usually the one to be dominant. He was glad to let you both take the reins. But clearly, something had come onto him today. He got in front of Charles and kissed him so hard, that the poor guy stumbled a little. Lando was quick to undo both their race suits without breaking the kiss.

You couldn’t help but slide your fingers down your body. Charles finally broke the kiss to catch his breath and looked flushed. Lando turned to see you touching yourself through your panties. “Aw, my baby couldn’t even wait till I finished kissing him huh? So impatient” He tutted and harshly pushed your fingers away.

“Charlie finished second. Don’t you think he should be the first to cum today?” He got to work pulling down Charles’ boxers and taking his swollen cock in his mouth. Charles groaned and whined but he felt helpless and had no choice but to watch his boyfriend ravage him. You moaned at the filthy sight in front of you and squirmed in your place unable to do anything. Charles could feel himself getting close and he pleaded Lando not to stop. But the little shit had other plans as he pulled his cock out and smiled innocently. “Merde. Why would you do that amour? I was so close” Charles felt like he could cry.

“I want you to cum in her baby. She obviously wants us to fill her up and let everyone know who she belongs to. Look at her, we haven’t even touched her and she already looks like she’s about to cum.” Lando got rid of his boxers and pulled you to the end of the bed by your leg. He admired your body for a good minute before kneeling and tearing the tiny fabric of your body. He licked a long stripe on your pussy while Charles crawled on the bed to kiss you, swallowing your moans. Lando sucked your clit and fingered you, forcing an orgasm out of you.

You had to muster every bit of energy to not scream and let the entire Ferrari Motorhome know about your little sex capades. You didn’t have much time to recover before you were on fours and Charles lining up on your ass. Lando stood in front of you with his cock in his hand. Both your boyfriends pushed their cocks in it at the same time and you wanted to scream in pain but you stuck to sucking the cock in your mouth like there’s no tomorrow. It was their turn to now hold back their moans and avoid making any loud noises.

Charles pounded mercilessly in your ass while spanking it. “Fuck look at our slut Lando. Taking us both so well. If only everyone could see you now baby. Letting yourself be used by not one but two F1 drivers.”  “Look at how helpless she looks Charlie. Wish I could take a picture of this baby.” He moaned and fucked your face harder.

  “Putain. I’m getting close. I’m gonna cum baby. Do you want me to put a baby in you huh? Should I do it Lando? Make her look all nice and swollen for us.” Charles moaned out. “Do it Cha. Fucking cum in her. Let everyone know who she belongs to.” That was enough to tip them off the edge as they both came in you. Caution was out the window as the room was filled with pornographic noises. You were dripping from all your holes.

A minute later when you all caught your breath, they pulled out of you and you whined at the instant emptiness. Your boyfriends snuggled to you from both sides and held you tight while your body relaxed. “Was it too much baby?” Charles asked as Lando gently moved your hair out of your face. “No, it’s okay. I’m good” You smiled at him. “I hope you both realise this is only round 1. Next time I get to fill her up.”

[castellankurze]

Here's the thing that interests me about the dueling scene in Gideon the Ninth. Yeah, the narrative phrasing Harrowhark rose to the occasion like an evening star is peak and the line "Death first to the vultures and scavengers" is pure fire but why is she in that position to begin with?

The situation is thus: Camilla Hect has just won a duel against Marta Dyas attempting to claim the Sixth House's necromancy challenge keys, but she was wounded in so doing. Naberius Tern, backed by Ianthe Tridentarius, is pressing a dueling challenge against the injured Camilla in a flagrant bid to beat Camilla down and take the keys for the Third House while she's already recovering from one match. Gideon is standing by watching things unfold and, to her relief, Harrowhark steps up to put Gideon in the ring as a substitute for the injured Camilla and thus shut down Naberius' vulturing.

Except...why? You'd think that in anything like a polite societal dueling code (I know, I know, but go with it-) Camilla and Palamedes would have the option to demure, saying something like "the Sixth House cavalier just fought a duel and is wounded to boot, piss off for a day and we'll see then." But that's not even floated as an option. Palamedes isn't a dumb guy - far from it - and even if he were out of his element, you'd think someone else could just lean in and say 'dude tell them to shove it.' Judith Deuteros objects by saying "There are rules" and Ianthe shuts that down by pointing out she pressed Marta's duel on incredibly flimsy pretext, so that seems to be an objection on the grounds for presenting the challenge, rather than probing for an option to refuse. If Harrow and Gideon (or Jeannemary, jumping on the bandwagon) hadn't interceded, Camilla was about to fight her second duel back to back.

(Even in the first dueling challenge, the tone of onlookers seems to be that people want Palamedes to default and hand over his key to the Second House to spare Camilla the fight, because they assume the Sixth House is weak and don't know how good Camilla is.)

To sum up: the Sixth House seems to have no recourse but to either accept the repeated dueling challenges or default; with no way to decline except to give the Third House something they want (in this case, a Canaan House key).

That's insane.

And if that's deliberate, rather than an oversight on Tamsyn Muir's part, that suggests so much about the Nine Houses' dueling culture. It suggests that a challenge from a cavalier primary can't be refused; you have to either throw down or roll over as if they won. It speaks to a distinct lack of value placed on human lives, that the cavaliers are forced to accept a challenge on pain of their house losing face at best, something material at worst. The defending house can only negotiate to a degree that the attacking house is willing to let them. This is, depressingly, fully in keeping with the series' characters' treatment of the cavaliers. The subsequent books and short stories (especially The Unwanted Guest) really hammer this idea in, that the cavaliers are nominally viewed as a source of blades and shields in the hands of the necromancers, even if the laypeople of the setting don't know all the reasons behind the traditions.

In real life, formal dueling typically had customs and rules for negotiation and ceremony, with multiple exit points for parties to back out of a potential threat to life without losing face. Only truly aggrieved parties would press a suit to the point of confrontation. The Nine Houses say screw that, put up or shut up. They've more or less raised up the informal tradition of 'swords now motherfucker.'

To steal a phrase from another tumblrite, 'congrats god that's the worst anyone's ever done it.'

[mymindisneverhere]

Summary: Terrys been spending a lot of time helping Summer recover and you can’t help but to feel neglected and a bit jealous.

warnings: angst, fluff, and some jealousy

Let’s Make Up

It’s been a few weeks since Summer's recovery and you’ve been completely understanding of her and Terry's friendship. Ever since Terry lost his cousin and witnessing Summer almost lose her life, he was overcome with panic and anxiety. Although Mike's death wasn’t Terrys fault, he still took on a great deal of guilt for his passing.

With Summer coming face to face with death, Terry spent every free moment he could making sure she was okay. He made sure she had the food she needed, he was sure she got lots of rest and spent time with her daughter. However all of the time he spent with her was time away from you and you couldn’t help but to feel a hint of jealousy.

“Hi Summer, how are you feeling?” You greeted with a forced smile.

“I’m doing much better.” Summer responded. “The doctors said as long as I keep myself hydrated and active I should be back to normal really soon.”

“That’s good.” You said.

You were in the kitchen preparing dinner for you, Terry, and now Summer. You tried to hide your emotions but as the days went by it was becoming more of a challenge.

“Summer’s staying for dinner, is that okay?” Terry asked, grabbing a cold water out of the fridge.

“Sure.” You responded dryly. “Thanks for the heads up, again.”

Summer and Terry couldn’t help but to catch the sarcasm in your tone. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide it anyway.

Every night for the past three weeks, you’d prepare dinner for the two of you and just when you thought you’d finally have an intimate evening with your husband, here comes Summer at the last minute. You were stuck between feeling sorry for her situation and also wanting your husband back. Yeah she needed the help getting back herself, but how long was that going to take?

“You okay?” Terry whispered to you, placing a hand on your lower back.

You quickly brushed his hand away and headed to the sink with a bowl of potatoes to rinse them.

“Yep.” You turn the water on full blast hoping to drown out anything else Terry was about to say.

Terry looked over at Summer not needing to say anything. Summer could take a hint so she decided to head home.

“I’ll just go, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome.” Summer smiled nervously, grabbing her bag and car keys. “I’ve gotta take my meds anyway, see you guys later. Thanks again T.”

“Be careful Summer.” Terry watched carefully as Summer exited the house and waited a few seconds before hearing her Volvo start up and pull off.

“Is everything okay?” Terry asked, turning his attention back to you, his voice calm.

“Peachy.” You responded, sarcasm lacing your tongue yet again.

Terry took a deep breath and placed his water on the counter. Ever so often he would pick up on your side comments and petty remarks. He had to admit that sometimes the immaturity was not the most flattering on you. Although he could do without the childish games, he understood you better than anyone else did so he’d give you a pass.

“It’s nothing Terry.” You stated. You grabbed a knife from the drawer and began aggressively chopping the potatoes.

He knew not to fight fire with fire, especially with you. It would get you guys nowhere. As sensitive as you were, he knew to deal with you accordingly. He was never one for ego trips, so he had no problem doing whatever he could to be sure you two were in perfect harmony. Even if that meant swallowing his pride and letting you throw your tantrums.

“Come on babe, don’t do that.” He said, hinting at your passive aggressive behavior. “Talk to me, tell me what’s bothering you instead of making me guess.”

“Is Summer your wife now? Cause it sure as hell feels like it.” You spat, turning to face him, knife still in hand.

Terry eyed the knife then you.

“You wanna put the knife down?” He said, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the knife.

“I’m not gonna cut you Terry…” You started. “Unless I need to.”

You stared up at him with a raised brow.

Most people would find Terry intimidating. His height, his authoritative voice and stern expression caused most to shrink in his presence. But you didn’t care about any of that, especially not at the moment.

“You can’t possibly think I’ve done anything with Summer.” He joked, smiling slightly. He couldn’t believe what you were suggesting just by the face you were making.

Your expression quickly changed from skepticism to anger. You were never really a jealous woman but you needed time and attention. If he wasn’t giving it to you then it was going to Summer, and what exactly was she doing to get so much attention from your husband?

You knew about her condition. You knew about her past struggles with drugs and how she was fighting to get her daughter back. But Summer was a grown woman who should’ve been able to take care of herself at some point.

“So this is a joke to you?” You questioned. You slammed the knife down onto the counter and brushed past Terry, heading to your bedroom.

“You can’t be serious right now.” He was right behind you. “She just got out of the hospital from an overdose. I walked her into the hospital, I made sure she was okay, she could’ve died hadn’t I taken her in time. Am I supposed to just leave her and disappear like I don’t care?”

“You know that’s not what I'm saying, do not make me seem like I'm some heartless person!” You shot back, turning to meet him face to face.

“Then what is it?” He asked, genuine confusion written over his face.

“Terry, when was the last time we had movie night?” You began. “When was the last time we went on a date? Hell, when was the last time we fell asleep together in our bed?”

“Some days you’re so out of touch with reality and so laser focused on fixing another person, I don’t even know what’s going on with you!”

Terry relaxed his shoulders and let out a sigh of defeat. He didn’t realize that him being so concerned about Summer, who was solely a friend, would result in him neglecting you and your needs.

“Every day you leave out early in the morning and come home late at night and the nights when you do make it home in time, guess who's right behind you?” You were pissed beyond belief. “I spend the days all alone, do you know how empty it feels to know my husband isn’t home to hold me while I fall asleep? That he much rather be out playing nurse than to be here with me making sure I’m okay? Or did you forget you were even married?”

He stood silently staring down at you with a look of regret and sorrow.

“I didn’t know.” He admitted.

You scoffed and turned to take a seat on your side of the bed. You couldn’t believe that the only thing he could muster up was “I didn’t know.”. He needed to try ten times harder than that or he would be falling asleep in the living room for the next few nights.

“Baby listen.” Terry spoke. He walked over to you taking a seat in the chair across from you.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you were second to Summer, those weren’t my intentions at all.” He stated, his eyes locked onto yours. “It’s just…”

He took a breath and ran his hands down his face.

“I’ve been feeling this heavy sense of guilt since Mike passed. After all I did to bring some sort of justice to his death and Summer being the one to help me in all of this, I didn’t know what to do when Summer wasn’t responsive after what those cops did to her.” He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t know if I could handle both of those deaths back to back like that.”

“I just wanted to run from the guilt that I felt so I made it my priority to try and nurse her back to health and in doing that I neglected you and I’m sorry.” His eyes were filled with remorse, turning a soft brown as he stared at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt guilty for Mike’s death, we could’ve talked about it?” You asked him.

“I was just trying to be strong I guess, not let the emotions catch up to me.” He chuckled. “The Marines will do that to you.”

“Well you’re not there anymore.” You stated in all seriousness. “If you can’t tell me what’s going on with you, then what am I here for?”

“You’re right.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t want you to neglect Summer either but I need you to find some balance in this. You can care for your friend and still be here for me as well, she’s not the only one who needs you.” You added.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, the sound of cars passing by being the only noise in the room.

“Mike’s death isn’t on you but at least you know he’s in a much better place and so is Summer. She’s healthy, she’s got her weight back and she’s a big girl, she can handle herself.” You stated. “You can stop trying to play Superman for everyone, you need to take care of yourself too.”

He nodded in agreement.

“You forgive me?” He looked at you with pleading eyes.

You waited a few seconds before responding just to admire the look on his face. Although you two had your moments, he was so good to you. He never hesitated to right whatever wrong he had done.

But he had a lot of making up to do and you knew exactly how you wanted him to do it.

“Not yet.” You smirked, staring down at his lips

He paused, catching onto what you were suggesting. A small smile crept onto his face as he shook his head.

“What I gotta do?” He asked, staring at your lips, his eyes fading from soft brown to green.

“Whatever I say…” You said, standing up and towering over him.

Little did he know he was in for a long night…

*Next Day*

You slowly opened your eyes, the sunlight beaming through your thin curtains. You rolled over to find your bed empty, again. Sitting upright, you looked around the room wondering how he was gone yet again after the talk you two had last night.

Just when you felt yourself becoming upset, the smell of breakfast filled your nostrils and you began to blush. The aroma of pancakes, eggs, bacon and fresh fruit filled your home and you knew who was responsible for that.

Terry didn’t cook often simply because you enjoyed being in the kitchen most of the time and he didn’t want to interrupt your flow. You guys weren’t a completely traditional couple but while you handled most of the cooking, he took care of the rest of the house work and you two were okay with that.

You rushed to brush your teeth and wash your face before heading into the kitchen. Terry was there in his pajama pants, no shirt with a kitchen towel hanging off his shoulder. You giggled to yourself as you noticed how seriously he would take things, even the smallest tasks.

He didn’t notice you walk in so you decided to lean against the wall admiring the view. You watched as he moved around the kitchen like a professional. The way his muscles tensed with every flip of the pancake, the way his tattoos appeared so clearly against his smooth skin, you could sit and watch him do anything all day long.

“You know you've never been good at sneaking up on me.” He joked, without turning to face you. Terry was always 100% alert and aware of his surroundings even in his own home. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t sense no matter how small it was. It was ingrained in him to be so hyper vigilant.

You stood up straight, taking your weight off of the wall and walked over to him. “Damn Marines.” You kissed your teeth in annoyance.

He laughed and placed the last of the breakfast onto a large plate on the table where the rest of the food sat.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He said, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Good morning.” You took a seat at the kitchen table and placed a tablecloth on your lap.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked.

“I slept well, finally having you next to me, I didn’t toss and turn all night.” You said looking up at him. “I really missed you baby. You’ve been up all morning cooking all this food?”

“Of course, anything for you.” He stated. He sat a plate right in front of you and another directly across from you. “I figured I could start off by cooking your favorite meal of the day.”

He reached into fridge and grabbed two juices and looked to you. “Apple or Orange?” He inquired, holding up both jugs of juice in each hand.

“Apple, duh!” You laughed.

“I just wanted to give you options.” He joined you in laughter.

He poured two tall glasses of juice for the two of you and took a seat across from you. The two of you sat enjoying the food and much needed conversation. It had been such a long time since you actually sat together, you had so much catching up to do.

Terry sat fully tuned in as you filled him in on the latest gossip of the town and at work. He loved how you got so excited just to share something as simple as lighthearted drama on the job with him. He missed your sense of humor and animated personality, it was the perfect match for his calm and relaxed demeanor.

“Knock Knock.” A familiar voice rang out, it was Summer.

“We're in the kitchen.” Terry announced, looking at you. He continued eating his breakfast as if nothing was happening.

You stared back at him with an unreadable expression. You weren’t upset but you weren’t happy either.

“I’m just coming to deliver a package before I head into town to see my little girl.” Summer said before turning the corner holding a large bouquet of roses.

You looked at her in shock and then back to Terry, a sly smirk on his face as he ate his breakfast. She held bright pink roses in her hands, your favorite flowers, the same ones Terry bought you on your first date, during your engagement and for every anniversary.

“Oh my God.” You stood up from your seat and grabbed the flowers from her, the both of you struggling to hold up the weight, considering your stature.

“Terry asked if I could bring these by on my way into town.” Summer started. “My neighbors are florists so it wasn’t a bother at all.”

“Thank you Summer, I really appreciate it.” You said with a soft smile. The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, not really needing to say much because your expressions told it all. Hers soft and apologetic and yours grateful yet compassionate.

“Well I have to go, don’t wanna be late.” Summer stated, breaking the silence.

“Enjoy your time with your daughter.” Terry said, walking Summer to the door. “Be careful up there.”

“Will do.” Summer said.

Terry walked back into the kitchen to see you smelling your roses, a huge smile on your face that always warmed his heart. He didn’t need to distract himself from the loss of his cousin by smothering Summer. He needed to be home with you, his wife. Just the sight of you being happy was enough to make him feel better again.

“You were about to go off on me again, weren’t you?” Terry smiled, folding his arms over his chest.

“No.” You lied. The expression on Terrys face let you know he didn’t believe you one bit.

“I mean I was just surprised, but I love them so much, they’re beautiful baby.” You said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“I don’t know where I wanna put them.” You searched around the kitchen for the perfect spot.

“Just place them down for now.” He instructed.

He took your hand and led you to the living room where blankets and pillows sat on the floor. All of your favorite snacks and candy, popcorn and bottles of wine. There were tea lights lit around the floor and fireplace. Your eyes darted around the room, taking in everything before your eyes landed on the TV.

You looked up at Terry in complete shock and excitement.

“I rented all five Twilight movies,” He started. “We’re binging all day, I got all your favorites. It’s just you, me and your favorite movie all day and all night.”

“How did you have the time to do all of this?” You asked genuinely wondering how he set all of this up.

“Well I figured you’d be in a deep sleep after last night.” He joked with a flirtatious smirk on his face. “So I got up a little early and got to work.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. You relaxed into his arms and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. You felt young again, like he was courting you, trying to win your heart and make you his all over again.

“I won’t ever go missing on you like that again baby, I promise.” He said looking down into your eyes. “I love you.” The serious expression on his face telling you that he was being completely real with you.

“I love you more Terry.” The two of you kissed again before snuggling onto the pallet on the floor and enjoying each other’s company for the rest of the day.

(Please excuse any mistakes! 🩵)

[rnelodyy]

The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series. 

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime. 

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc. 

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all. 

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse. 

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there. 

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms. 

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering. 

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again. 

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again. 

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be. 

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too. 

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven. 

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best. 

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs. 

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven. 

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work. 

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change. 

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has. 

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twenty six

Summary: What actually happened the night John went missing?

Warning: No Cry Baby in this one. Graphic Violence. Murder. Implied Sexual Violence. Explicit Language, and Intense Emotional Distress.

Word Count: 929

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: The truth is out. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

After your tense reunion at the bar, Steve, Bucky, and Sam refused to let John’s harassment of you go unanswered. Arranging to meet him at an abandoned warehouse, away from prying eyes on the outskirts of the city, their anger simmered. The atmosphere inside the warehouse was thick with anticipation, the only sound was the faint echoes of footsteps as they entered. 

John’s usual demeanor quickly faltered as he took in the determined faces of Steve, Bucky, and Sam. The smirk he wore wavering slightly, yet he tried to maintain his bravado. 

“What’s this, a little intervention?” He sneered, looking from one to the other. 

Steve stepped forward, his voice cold and controlled. “You’ve been harassing my sister,” he stated firmly. “That stops now.” 

Scoffing, John tried to play it off. “Aw, little Cry Baby can’t handle a few words? She needs her big brother to fight her battles?” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “You’re going to regret every word you’ve said to her.” 

John once wavered smirk returns over his lips, it slowly turns into a derisive laugh. “Oh, and the guard dog has come to play tough, too? Pathetic.” 

Before anyone could react, Steve had launched himself toward John. His speed and force took him by surprise as Steve’s fist connected solidly with John’s jaw. The impact echoed through the warehouse as John was sent stumbling backward. 

“Do you think this is a joke?” Steve’s kept his voice low and dangerous. “I’m putting an end to it, Walker.” 

Recovering quickly, John swung back widely as his own anger flared. Effortlessly, Steve dodged the blows, countering with another powerful punch, knocking John off balance. Each movement of the confrontation was driven by Steve’s pent-up rage, every fierce exchange of punch and grapple. John desperately attempted to retaliate. 

Exchanging a glance, Bucky and Sam silently acknowledged the need to step in. They simultaneously moved forward, flanking John allowed Steve to press his advantage. With a steady stance, Bucky’s movements were calculated as he aimed precise punches at John’s midsection. A satisfying thud as the blows landed, causing a grunt of pain from John. 

Ever the strategist, Sam circled behind John as he waited for an opening. John turned to face Bucky, in doing so Sam delivered a swift kick to his knee, seizing the opportunity. John gave Steve another chance to land a punch to his jaw as he staggered. 

“You’re just a coward picking on someone who can’t fight back,” Steve growled at John between punches. 

Grimacing in pain and frustration, John’s face twisted. “She’s nothing,” he coughed. “Just another plaything,” he defiantly spat. “If you hadn’t shown up that night, I’d happily fucked her sweet little p–” 

Bucky landed another punch to his gut, cutting him off. 

Meanwhile, Steve froze, his entire body tensed with fury hearing John’s words. The mention of you in such a demeaning way had ignited a fire within him. Without another word, he launched himself toward John again, the force pushing him passed both Bukcy and Sam. Fueled by a primal need to protect you, his punches punish John for his disrespect.

Smirking cruelly, John’s face was evident with satisfaction as Steve’s blows landed. “Is that all you’ve got, Rogers?” he taunted, blood trickling from a split lip and brow. “Your sister isn’t worth shit, never mind this.” 

Rage blurred Steve’s vision, his fist rained down on John with relentless force. Each hit was a declaration of his loyalty to his sister. His commitment to defend her against anyone who dared harm her, belittle her… touch her. 

Bucky and Sam watched as Steve unleashed his fury. He continued to pummel John. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the warehouse, mingling with John’s gasps and Steve’s grunts. 

“Steve,” Bucky called out, but he was too far gone in his rage to hear as Bucky tried to pull him back. 

Under the barrage, John’s smirk wavered, but still, he managed to get out a breath. “You think you’re a hero, Rogers? You’re just as broken as she is.” 

Landing a particularly brutal punch to John’s temple, Steve caused him to slump to the ground. He tried to push himself up as he coughed, blood spraying from his mouth. But yet, he laughed, a broken, mocking sound. 

“I enjoyed breaking her,” he spat, venom dripping from his voice.

Steve snapped. Grabbing John by the throat, he lifted him from the ground. John’s hand clawed at Steve’s grip but it was no use. A mask of rage consumed Steve, the intensity of the blaze in his eyes even caused Bucky and Sam to step back. 

“You’ll never hurt her again,” he growled, tightening his grip. John’s face began to turn purple as he struggled to breathe. He tried to speak, yet all that came was a strangled gurgle. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted as John’s bones began to crack under the pressure of Steve’s grip. And, with a final twist, Steve brutally snapped John’s neck. The sickening crack echoed through the warehouse. 

Steve couldn’t loosen his grip as John’s body went limp. He stood, breathing heavily as blood covered his hand. 

“Steve,” Bucky broke the silence, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s over. He’s gone.” 

Steve didn’t respond at first, his eyes still locked on John’s lifeless gaze. Slowly, the reality began to sink in as he looked down at his bloodied hand, then back up at John. 

Sam stepped forward, placing a steady hand on Steve’s other shoulder. His phone pressed to his ear. “Fury, we’ve got a problem…” 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[toournextadventure]

movie night viii

Summary: Tara finally starts to believe that it's possible to heal and move on.

Word Count: 6k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, Scream typical violence, scars, trauma Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

It had become apparent to Tara over the past two months that you were impossible to deal with.

She knew she couldn’t be too frustrated with you. After all, your nonstop talking had been put to a halt by whatever injuries had been inflicted upon you. The frustration was evident in your eyes when you would try to write down a response to something before the topic changed. More often than not, you never got a word in.

And, Tara would admit, she felt for you. Not only had your regular life been turned upside down because you couldn’t bicker back and forth with your family, but now? Now you had to deal with the fallout of Ghostface. A fallout that not even she and Sam had gotten over, and their initial attack was over a year ago. She distinctly remembered her own feelings immediately after, and now you had to deal with those feelings without even being able to tell anyone about it.

You tried. God, Tara knew you tried. You would do your best to write how you felt, or even draw a picture, little kid style. But it never worked, and you got more frustrated than she did about the whole thing. You would get irritated and storm off, locking yourself in the bathroom for hours at a time on bad days.

There were days Tara tried to help you act like everything was normal. Yes, you still had wounds you were recovering from, but she tried to act like nothing had happened. Putting on your favourite movies, playing your favourite scores when cooking, whatever she could think of. During late nights of studying or working, she would make sure to leave plenty of kisses on your cheek, the top of your head, your hands, everywhere she could reach.

She didn’t know what you two were exactly, but she tried.

It didn’t stop you from hiding away from her. Mercy had told her to help you change your bandages, especially before you had the stitches taken out. Yet every time she offered, you quickly shut yourself away and didn’t come back until everything had already been cleaned and changed. It made her feel like you didn’t want her around, like you didn’t want her help. Tara knew that wasn’t the case, but it very much felt like it.

The only thing you let her help with was cleaning all the damage from the gunshot. The gunshot that Gale still couldn’t talk about, and that you pretended didn’t exist. Hell, if Tara and Sam didn’t practically force you to let them take care of it, you would’ve let it fester. All in all, Tara felt utterly and completely useless.

“Give ‘em time,” Martha had said one night while you were all at your parents’ house for dinner. “They’re a bit too proud to accept help.”

And she was right. You didn’t ask for help. Not even when you started dragging Tara with you to your last appointment with Mercy. She knew it was about time for you to remove the bandages once and for all, but after how you had hidden from her? Well, even Sam agreed it was fair to assume you wouldn’t be bringing company. But then you had practically refused to let go of her hand the entire trip, and Tara was more than happy to stay.

“You sure you want Pipsqueak here?” Mercy asked. The wink eased the slight annoyance bubbling in Tara’s chest.

Your eyes darted to the side before you nodded slowly.

“Then here we go,” Mercy said.

Tara tried not to stare, she really did. After all this time, she knew it would be a sensitive topic for a while. But she hadn’t seen your smile in weeks. She hadn’t been able to see your crooked, toothy grin after a battle of wits with your family. There had been no closed-mouth smile when your favourite movie score surged through the speakers.

You hadn’t even been able to kiss her.

Okay, that last reason was a little selfish, but Tara didn’t really care. She had been through hell and back not once, but twice. Her first real girlfriend had tried to kill her before then attempting to kill her sister and Sidney fucking Prescott. If anyone deserved to be a little selfish, it was her.

At least that’s what she told herself as she tried to keep her eyes off of the slightest glimpse of scar tissue. Don’t humiliate them, she thought to herself as she waited patiently - or not so patiently - for you to turn around. The small smile on Mercy’s face when she tossed the bandages was comforting.

“See?” Mercy said. “Still as fetching as ever.”

Tara didn’t have to see your face to know the exact look you were giving Mercy. Judging by the set of your shoulders, you were giving her your best, most unimpressed look that you could muster. Complete with a downturn of your mouth and a single raised brow that was convincing enough to get even Sam to hush at least once.

“Don’t give me that look,” Mercy said, confirming what Tara already knew, “I’m sure your little girlfriend would agree too.”

Now that. That had your entire body stiffening almost painfully. There was an instant, immediate tension in your back. Tara knew if she simply walked forward and touched you, there would be nothing but the hard surface of muscles that wouldn’t, or couldn’t, react.

Would you ever be okay with her seeing you again? She hoped this was temporary but… what if it wasn’t? What if you realised all of this was too much and she wasn’t worth it? Tara had only truly had you for a short time, she couldn’t lose you to Ghostface. He had taken too much from her already.

“I’ll leave you two for a bit while I finish your paperwork,” Mercy said with a smile that was directed at Tara.

She left the room swiftly, leaving you and Tara alone. It wasn’t the first time she had been left alone with you since the incident. But it was the first time she had been left alone with you without the bandages as a barrier. She wanted to see you, to see what carnage you had endured for the simple sake of keeping people safe. Did you know that just the fact you had done all of this for everyone else made her feel so uncomfortably warm that she wanted to scream just to feel something different?

“Do they hurt?” Tara asked after a little too much awkward silence. Her footsteps were the only thing echoing through the room as she stepped closer. Hopefully not too close to make you uncomfortable.

She heard your squeaky attempt at speaking. In any other situation, she would have laughed first. Teased you, “just now going through puberty?” Part of her wished she could tease you about it; at least that would mean you were okay and back to normal. You cleared your throat.

“Not much.” 

The first words Tara had heard you say since she had bid you goodbye outside the abandoned movie theatre. Your voice was weak, croaky, almost even painful sounding. But it was you, and the fluttering in Tara’s chest had her trying to catch her breath.

Just her luck, she had left her inhaler at your apartment.

“What are you thinking?” Tara asked when you stayed silent and still didn’t turn around.

“I think,” she heard you exhale. “I think I’m nervous.”

Nervous. A feeling Tara knew all too well even if she managed to hide it. It wasn’t something one could just look past, not when the underlying cause was Ghostface. What would other people think? Would they look at you and see nothing more than scars and trauma? It sat in the pit of your stomach, festering until you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball as the world passed you by.

But it was also a feeling that she had managed to keep under control when you were around. Even before Ghostface. She would never have admitted it, of course, but you always made her forget, even momentarily, about all the scars, and trauma, and insecurities left behind. You had made her feel like just a normal kid again.

Wait. That gave her an idea.

“Remember that first date in my apartment?” She asked, stepping a little closer. Not in front of you, not yet, but behind you so she could brush her fingers against the back of your arm.

You shivered.

“When Sam walked in on us?” You asked. It almost sounded like you were smiling.

“No,” Tara said with a huff, “when you cooked and pretended to watch Pearl with me.”

“Oh.” You nodded your head slowly. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Remember what you said to me?” She asked. She inched closer and slid her hand up, resting both on your neck as gently as she could. “On the couch?”

You sighed heavily. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Do you trust me?” 

There was a moment of hesitation, and Tara’s mind started running through every possible way to backtrack and act like this hadn’t even happened. But then you nodded slowly, once. It was like all the pressure around her heart lessened and she could breathe, at least for the moment.

“Then close your eyes.”

Tara couldn’t see your face from her current position, but she gave you more than enough time to close your eyes. Only when your shoulders relaxed under her hands did she try to shake the thoughts out of her head and maneuver herself until she was standing in front of you.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Maybe some deep, horrific, dark scarring that covered your entire face. For all she knew, maybe you didn’t even have a bottom jaw anymore. Each thought that crossed her mind was worse than the last. What she saw, the fresh scars stretching from the corners of your mouth to the middle of your cheeks? It wasn’t as gruesome as she was expecting.

That didn’t mean her heart didn’t break inside her chest at the sight of the still-irritated skin. Underneath her fingers, your pulse raced; she understood that too. Slowly, gently, she let her hands move up your neck, feeling every inch of skin she could. If she really focused, she could almost feel your trembling. Her hands stopped their short journey when they cupped your jaws, holding you carefully even though she was still worried you would break.

How could she possibly convince you that the scars changed nothing about how she felt? You were still hers. Someone she would trust with her life. That she had trusted with her life. How she admired you for staying with her even through the literal threat of death? That she was in- that she admired you so?

There was only one thing that she could think of that would possibly convey everything she was feeling. Tara exhaled slowly before she leaned forward and ghosted her lips over yours. You stiffened under her hands, but she didn’t move. She wanted so desperately to kiss you until you couldn’t think, but you had to make the final move.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. It tickled her cheek. But then you relaxed, and your hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer until you could return the kiss. Genuine, almost hungry, like you were letting out all the pent up emotions from the past six weeks. Like you were trying to convey everything you hadn’t been able to say.

“Don’t fuck in my office,” Mercy said, appearing almost out of nowhere.

Tara jumped, but your grip on her waist stayed firm. She quickly hid her head in the crook of your neck when you turned to face Mercy to do… well, honestly, you probably flipped her off. If Tara knew anything about you, it was that you would jump at any opportunity to harass your siblings, and now? Oh, now you had free reign again.

“Told you she’d still like you,” she heard Mercy said.

You simply pulled Tara closer.

—---

“What happened to your back?” Tara asked.

You froze with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. There was a single speck of toothpaste on the corner of your mouth, and she wanted to reach forward and brush it away, but she knew the scars were still sensitive. Thankfully, you did it yourself and licked it off. Which then left more toothpaste, but she wasn’t going to mention it.

“You said only girlfriends got to know that information,” she continued, “and I’m very much a girlfriend now.”

“Are you?” You asked. That stupid smile gave you away, but she made sure to elbow you in the side for extra measure.

“Your side bitches don’t count,” Tara said. “They’re not girlfriends.”

“I can barely keep up with you,” you chuckled, “how am I supposed to keep up with multiple?”

“We’re getting nowhere,” she mumbled before continuing to brush her teeth.

Your body shook with silent laughter, but you otherwise stayed silent. It was a peaceful evening routine that you both knew not to interrupt. Tara did everything she needed to, you almost did more than her, and it was nice. Comforting, even. You both moved around the small bathroom in sync, never getting in the other’s way. Something that, surprisingly, hadn’t taken long to achieve.

But the question kept nagging her.

“Tell me what happened to your back,” Tara demanded again even as she crawled into bed beside you.

You lifted your book just high enough for her to wrap an arm around your waist, being careful not to jostle you too much. As much as you claimed the mostly-healed injuries didn’t hurt, she knew better. Especially when you flinched when she got too close to the scars.

“You really wanna know?” You asked without taking your eyes off the page.

“No, I’m asking because it’s funny,” Tara said with a huff. “Yes I want to know.”

“You’re so aggressive,” you said. Tara wasn’t looking up at you either, but she heard you putting the book down. “It’s not even that exciting.”

“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to know now.”

“It was just a meet-up gone bad,” you said. Your hand rested on top of hers; it was warm. “I followed Martha to meet a client who turned out to be a narc.”

“And you got shot,” Tara mumbled to herself.

“I’ll admit,” you continued, “I don’t think he meant to actually hit me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’d be committing career suicide,” you chuckled. “No one survives shooting a 10 year old.”

Tara didn’t find it as funny. In fact, she didn’t find it funny at all. You were a child; hadn’t even hit puberty yet. And you had already been making runs with your family? She knew your family, there was no way in hell they had known you were following. They weren’t stupid, they took everyone’s safety seriously. If Martha had known you were following, she wouldn’t have continued.

You were young, you could have died. Did you ever stop to think about that on those nights when you were uncharacteristically quiet? Did it ever haunt you that just one wrong decision, one case of curiosity had nearly gotten you killed? Because it would haunt her. It would haunt her until the day she died that she could have missed out on having you around, simply because you had been curious.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you said as you pulled her closer into your side.

It didn’t matter. The scar hurting now didn’t matter because it had happened anyway. You had gotten hurt anyway. She could feel you moving with each breath, but you almost hadn’t had that. You were alive now but what if?

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you said softly. She felt you kiss her forehead and closed her eyes. “I promise.”

That was a rather bold promise to make. Especially because she wouldn’t let you go anywhere even if you wanted to. You were hers, and she was yours, and nothing was ever going to take that away from her. Not again.

—---

“They got blood on my new shirt,” you whined for what was probably the 10th time since you had started the walk from your apartment to Sam’s.

“I told you not to wear it to work,” Tara said even as she smiled at your ridiculousness.

She knew you had known better, because she had gotten you the shirt. A fresh, pastel pink button up that looked rather stunning on you. But you had decided to wear it to work because “I don’t want to come home and change,” and what happened? Dicky got you into a scrap and now you had blood on the cuffs.

“It was Dicky’s fault,” you mumbled. “I had it handled before he butted in.”

“I’m sure you did,” Tara said, reaching over to grab your hand in a half-hearted attempt to stop you from fidgeting with the cuff of your left sleeve.

The rest of the walk was spent in a comfortable silence. You kept squeezing her hand, pulling her this way and that to keep her out of the way of most pedestrians. Granted, it helped that everyone gave you both a wide berth; your scary dog privileges had increased tenfold thanks to the scars. At least it gave you a bit more confidence in them.

“So,” you said as you knocked on Sam’s door three times. Always three. “Who is this new boo?”

“Someone from back home,” Tara said with a shrug. “I think they went to school together?”

“Sounds suspicious,” you said with a frown and your arms crossed over your chest. “Sure they can be trusted?”

“Without a doubt,” Tara said.

You hummed in reply before the door opened. Sam gave you the most polite smile she could muster before pulling Tara into a hug. If she heard your grumbling complaint, she didn’t say anything. But that was okay, because Tara got a little tighter squeeze before she backed away.

“Give us one second,” Sam said.

“We’re gonna be late,” you called through the door that Sam had left open. “If Ma interrogates us, I’m throwing you under the-,” you froze when they both came back. “-hey!”

You pointed directly at Kirby, brows furrowed and your mouth practically hanging open. Tara couldn’t tell if you were surprised, angry, excited, anything. She just knew you were feeling something. At least until Kirby smirked at you as she pulled her jacket on, and your expression turned into a pure frown.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” You asked, your accent coming out in earnest. “You can’t come.”

“Yes she can,” Sam said as she ushered everyone out of the apartment and locked the door. “You already said we’re late.”

“How you doin’, Vitale?” Kirby asked.

“You better put that badge away, Reed,” you said. Tara felt your hand grab hers and give it three squeezes. “This is a family dinner.”

“This is pleasure, not business,” Kirby said as she similarly took hold of Sam’s hand. “If you ignore the badge, I’ll ignore the blood on your sleeve.”

“I really liked this shirt…”

Tara tried not to laugh as you looked down at your sleeve, that frustration instantly transforming into upset. You chewed on your bottom lip until you were all back on the street. But you regained your composure quickly and pulled Tara forward until you could lead the way.

Everyone was, quite frankly, glad that you were leading the way. Sure, Tara and Sam had been to your family’s house a few times, but that didn’t mean they could tell anyone how to get there. Which was probably due to the fact that you took them in a different direction every. Single. Time.

“You are a guest,” you said when you finally marched up the steps of an indiscriminate brownstone. “Everything said in this house is sacred.”

“I’m not here to learn your sketchy family secrets,” Kirby huffed. “It’s a safe zone.”

“Damn right it is,” you said definitively.

But you continued to stand there, scuffing your shoes against the ground. There was something else you wanted to say, Tara could feel it in the slight trembling of your hand in hers. You were turning clammy and your tongue impulsively licked out to the corners of your mouth. A habit you had picked up on once the bandages were off for good.

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for coming with Sam.”

Tara’s head tilted slightly. That was rather big of you. Not that you hated Sam, quite the opposite actually. But you both had this predestined sibling feud going on that neither one of you was willing to budge on. And now you were being nice? To Sam’s girlfriend, of all people?

“Thank you for having me,” Kirby said with a kind smile that you made a point to reciprocate.

“If any of you mention that again, I’m killing someone,” you said quickly before turning around to open the door.

That was much more like it.

The house was pandemonium, as it always was. Kirby seemed hesitant, but everyone else acted like they practically owned the place. Thankfully, Sam was wise enough to keep hold of Kirby’s hand and guide her around the house to find Ma and Pop. You, on the other hand, pulled Tara with you to the kitchen where Martha and Mercy were cooking.

“Thought you’d never get here,” Mercy called out. “Hey, T.” A smile in Tara’s direction.

“Did you know Sam’s dating a fed?” You asked immediately, letting go of Tara’s hand to start helping. “She could do so much better.”

“You know, Sam said the same thing when I brought you home,” Tara teased.

"Us too,” Martha said. She looked so much happier now that she was no longer pregnant. Tara couldn’t really blame her.

“You love me,” you said with a smile before planting a quick kiss on Martha’s cheek.

“More and more each day,” Mercy said.

Tara enjoyed spending time with your family. She loved the chaos that came with it, even as she listened to the children screaming and running around upstairs. You all gave each other hell for every little thing, digging into the little wounds that you all left open for the intent of digging. Your brothers were the worst offenders, and you gave it just as ruthlessly.

But she couldn’t deny, it was nice to hear them remind you that you were important. Their tones had changed quickly after the whole Ghostface incident last year. They had tried to tease, to keep up the image. All it took was one poorly timed joke for you to practically explode, practically devolving into tears.

Now, they made sure to remind you how much they cared for you. They would still tease, sure, and they still took it a bit too far at times. Tara couldn’t complain, you started it just as often as they did. But no one could deny that you just seemed all the happier when you were occasionally reminded of the fact that yes, they loved you. Yes, they had played it off well, but they had nearly lost their minds when you had been hospitalised.

“You two go set the table,” Martha said, pulling Tara out of her thoughts and back to the present.

"Come on," you said softly. You handed her half the plates before walking past her. And of course, as usual, you kissed the top of her head on the way.

Tara would be the first to admit she hadn't given you a proper chance in the beginning. Yes she had her reasons, and no she wouldn't go back on them. Even now, the aftermath of Amber would have her waking in a cold sweat, pushing you away in case it happened again. She couldn't be hurt like that if she kept you at arm's length. It was something she was working on with her therapist.

But now? Now that she had given you a proper chance to show her that you were both more than just each other's drunken hookup? You were extremely physical. Not inappropriately so, but always holding her hand, or touching her back, or sitting so close your thigh pressed against hers. You talked a lot of shit, but you showed your affection through touch.

And Tara? Oh, how she lo- adored you for it. Every time she was stuck in her darkest thoughts, with her biggest fears, all it took was your touch to bring her back to the surface. To know that she wasn't alone, and you weren't going to leave. All her fears and worries and insecurities were nothing you weren't willing to help with. You showed her what Amber never could.

You truly cared for her.

“Hey T, I think your chair’s over there,” Joel said with a pointed finger. Tara followed until she saw exactly where he was pointing.

“You’re a dick,” she said as she did her best to shove him aside.

“The kid’s table is perfect!” He called out. “It’s your size!”

“Yeah, come on, Auntie Tara!” More than one kid cheered. 

Tara would be honest, she didn’t even know which one it was, she was still learning everyone’s names. All she knew was that there were five kids, one of which was too young to talk. Three spouses that she was friendly with, but didn’t talk to. Except for Linda, who always kept her updated on if you had been into the police station again or not. You always let her know, of course, but it was nice to hear someone else say you were safe.

Slowly, and with no one stopping their conversations, everyone sat down at either of the two tables. She made sure to smile and wave at Chad, Anika, and Mindy, who were thankfully being watched after by Gale. You frowned when Gale sat as far away from you as possible. Gently, Tara placed her hand on your thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

She didn’t even try to keep track of all the conversations going on around her. The kids were, thankfully, too busy eating, but everyone else continued. You managed to hit up a conversation with everyone at the table, sometimes even yelling to the other table to include them too. Hell, at one point, you even struck up conversation with Kirby, who was sitting directly across from you.

Even though you had made it a point to harass Kirby, Tara could still see the slightest upward tilt of the corner of your mouth. Most had admitted - without you around, of course - that they couldn’t detect your teasing as accurately anymore thanks to the scars. They gave you a perpetual smirk or smile that was hard to look past. But she could tell.

And you were finding clear joy in teasing Kirby.

Tara had to look away to stop herself from laughing with you. She looked down at her plate and pushed a few things aside; as delicious as it was, she wasn’t exactly in the mood. Something warm brushed against her knee, but she settled quickly when she realised it was just your hand. Oh, the embarrassing comfort you could give her with a simple touch.

“Anyone ever call you Joker?” Kirby asked.

Oh no.

“Not twice,” you said with a raised brow as you took another bite of your dinner.

“Only to scare the kids,” Dicky chimed in with a full mouth.

“Or threats,” Alfie mumbled with a nod without looking up.

“How’d you get them?” Kirby continued. “Deal gone bad?”

The few of you at the table slowed down, heads turning slowly to look at Pop. He was sitting in his usual spot, with the usual cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. The look he gave Kirby was scrutinising and, even though it wasn’t directed at her, even Tara felt herself shrink under his gaze. You squeezed her knee again, and she quickly reached down to grab your hand.

“Are you asking as a fed?” Pop asked slowly. “Or family?”

“You’re Sam’s family,” Kirby answered without hesitation. “Which makes you my family.”

“That’s so gay,” you mumbled. That stupid, endearing smile was back and you didn’t even try to hide it. Tara did her best to kick you under the table, but you just smiled even bigger.

Pop nodded slowly before raising his brows at you and gesturing toward Kirby with his head. You cleared your throat and sat a little straighter in your chair. With a roll of your shoulders, you looked back at Kirby.

“It was Ghostface,” you said with a shrug that tried a little too hard to be casual.

“What?” Kirby asked, her head quickly turning to look at Sam.

“Last year?” You continued. “Surely you knew.”

“You kept that from me?” Kirby asked.

“Oops,” Dicky said before trying to choke down his laughter. Which he failed miserably at.

“I wanted to leave it behind,” Sam tried to explain.

“You are in so much trouble,” you mumbled.

“I’m guessing you caught him?” Kirby asked, slowly turning to look back at you.

“Caught him?” You asked. Underneath her fingers, Tara felt your thigh tense up.

“We don’t catch criminals,” Alfie said.

“Plata o plomo,” Dicky said.

“Okay, Escobar, calm down.” If there was one thing Tara appreciated, it was your insistence on turning things into jokes even after the incident. “We killed the sons of bitches.”

“You shot them really quickly,” Sam said.

A question popped into Tara’s head as the entire scene replayed through her mind. She had done her best to act like it hadn’t happened - outside of therapy, at least - but Sam brought up a good point. You all had shot them almost immediately. That wasn’t how it usually went.

“Why did you shoot them so fast?” Tara asked.

You inhaled as if you were going to answer, but quickly shut your mouth and looked back down at your plate. She squeezed your knee lightly before your leg started to bounce. It was a nervous habit that you rarely displayed, at least out in public. Usually you kept it reserved for the apartment where no one could see the internal turmoil you so desperately wished to hide.

“Your little “movie algorithm” says to hear ‘em out, scuffle, and win, right?” Alfie asked.

Sam, Tara, and Kirby nodded slowly in response.

“This ain’t a movie,” Dicky said.

“Because the movies don’t matter,” you said.

Kirby pointed in your direction. “No they don’t.”

Your leg slowed its bouncing before coming to a restful stop as conversation turned back to normal. The frown that had attempted to make an appearance turned back into a hesitant smile as everyone started to laugh and talk and scream once again. And the entire time, Tara could do nothing but look at you with only a single thought in her mind.

—---

The sounds of your movie came through the shitty little speakers you had hooked up to your TV. Martha had brought the kids over so she could do some work, and you had agreed in an instant. Without consulting Tara, who had planned on having a wonderfully exciting evening in.

She shouldn’t have even been surprised, being interrupted was basically foreplay for you both at that point.

“Why is Auntie Tara so grumpy?” The oldest asked. Which in turn made Tara even more grumpy. She was starting to hate these kids.

“Because she didn’t get what she wanted,” you said with a poorly concealed smile. “So now she’s upset.”

“Do you need a hug?” The middle one asked.

She knew she had to be nice to the kids, she knew she did. But she very kindly wanted to tell those kids to fuck off. What she needed was to resume your previous activities and to have your hands on her skin. She needed a kiss and a genuine fuck.

But no, that wasn’t allowed, she had to babysit a bunch of kids that weren’t even hers. Meanwhile, Sam and Kirby had forever been excused from babysitting duty because they were… well, they were honestly shit at babysitting. Which was rather ironic considering Sam used to babysit as an actual job back in school.

Clearly she had played the system better than Tara had.

“I would love a hug,” is what she ended up saying.

She was glad she did, because that kid? Gave amazing hugs. Clearly he had learned from you, because he hugged the exact same way. Arms over the shoulders and chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t help but smile into the kid’s chest when he squeezed her a little tighter before letting go.

“Better?” He asked.

“Much,” she said.

The movie continued to play on, and the kids moved from the couch to the floor. You had both decided to play it smart and make a pallet in front of the TV. It wasn’t anything big or special, but some blankets and pillows? Oh man, the kids ate that shit up, they almost didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Which left plenty of space for you to lay down on the couch and pull Tara down with you. Your chest pressed against her back while your arm snaked around her waist. It left her with a comfort that she couldn’t quite place. She felt safe when you held her like that, like nothing could get to her because you were there with her.

The whole situation was entirely too domestic. You were holding her, the kids were nearly asleep on the floor, and she felt safe. It made her feel like she was home. A warmth spread through her chest and she could practically feel her heart beat in rhythm with yours. Was that what it felt like? Was that what it really was?

Should she say it?

“You’re thinking really loud,” you whispered into her ear. The kids were completely passed out. “What’s in that pretty head of yours?”

She shouldn’t say it.

Maybe she should.

It could backfire.

But what if it didn’t?

“I love you.”

She thought she would have to wait for a response. That you would stiffen, back off, try to play it off like you either hadn’t heard her or you wanted to change the topic. But you giggled - practically giggled - and shifted behind her. You pulled her just enough so she could look at you and that stunning smile of yours.

“Oh thank god,” you said. “I thought I was going to have to say it first.”

“What?” She asked.

“I was gonna tell you ages ago and got cold feet,” you continued.

“And you just didn’t tell me?” She asked. You both fell silent when the kids shifted, but they quickly settled once again. “What is wrong with you?”

“I can’t let you win,” you answered quickly. “I need you to chase me back.”

“I-” she closed her mouth quickly. She supposed you were right; she had let you make the first move time and time again. But no way in hell was she going to admit that to your face. “You’re a dick.”

“I love you too,” you said, your smile impossibly bigger.

Tara rolled her eyes. Of course you would turn this whole love thing into a competition. Maybe it was one of those things she loved about you. Instead of letting you know, she just grabbed you by the face and pulled you down into a kiss that tasted of the capri-sun you had stolen from the kids.

She was glad you were the one she loved.