#who both died thinking they were unwanted

[x-marge]

If you’re gonna make Tim the red hood in your reverse robins au instead of Steph you better have a Damn Good Reason

[ladysharmaa]

Kate mini version

Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma x sis!reader

summary: Kate's sister is sent to live with Kate and Anthony by her mother who had to travel to India and couldn't take her. Feeling that she was unwanted and intruding on the Bridgerton couple's lives, Y/n starts acting distant. When Anthony and Kate realize this, they try to make Y/n see how much she is loved by everyone

requested: yes

part 1 part 2 part 3

Y/n was sitting in her carriage for 5 minutes, not having the courage to open the door. She was outside the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton mansion, in other words her sister and her brother-in-law. Her hands trembled in her lap as she took a deep breath to try to calm her anxiety and her irregular heartbeat.

Her mother Mary had to travel to India and decided to not let her youngest go with her. As Y/n was still too young to consider it safe to keep her at home alone, even with maids, Mary asked Anthony and Kate to welcome her into their home.

Ever since Mary's older daughter found a husband and went to live a new life, Y/n felt that her relationship with her mother got worse.

The house was quieter, both of them no longer had the usual company of the other sisters. It made Y/n realize how she couldn’t hold a conversation with Mary, at least not like Kate and Edwina. It also didn't help that Y/n was extremely similar to their father, who had already died. It seemed like Mary was grieving again for her late lover, and Y/n was the cause of it.

So, like a snowball effect, Y/n couldn't help but think that Kate and Anthony were just taking her in out of obligation, since they were family, but that she was actually considered a burden for them.

"Would you like for me to open the door, Miss?" the maid who accompanied her asked with a gentle smile.

"There is no need for that, Anne. Thank you." she replied, snapping out of her thoughts.

With a last deep breath, Y/n opened the door just as Anthony and Kate were leaving the house. As soon as she saw them, Y/n bowed slightly. When she lifted her head again she found the two of them with a smile directed at her. But even so, she had doubts, after all, in this society, everyone had learned to master the fake polite smile. Kate hurried to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Y/n! It's so nice to have you here. The house can get so quiet when the Viscount is working. It'll be great to have our conversations like we had before." Kate whispered in her ear, Y/n only responding with a small smile.

Anthony approached the younger Sharma to greet her, Y/n bowing again. "Lord Bridgerton, thank you for your hospitality. It was very kind of you."

"By all means, Miss Y/n, you are family. Now let's come inside, Phillip can bring your belongings to your room." Anthony said, linking his arm with his wife and starting to head towards the room where the maids were setting the table for the tea.

Y/n followed behind the couple, her steps cautious. She looked at the huge mansion and sighed, her fears continuously running through her mind. This was going to be a very long month.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was still quite early, the sun's rays barely illuminating the mansion. However, Y/n was already awake and ready for the day. She went down to the kitchen, wanting to help the cooks and maids. It was the least she could do, since now they were cooking for one more person and the day before they had brought her a rather late meal since she didn't eat all of dinner.

The maids were surprised to see the youngest Sharma in the kitchen, tying an apron around her waist. However, with a lot of resistance on Y/n's part, they let the girl help. Y/n had a lot of fun, the maids had a good relationship with each other, throwing in some jokes from time to time that made her laugh.

Y/n was placing the last dish on the table. She had to admit that everything looked great. The food varied from fruit to various cakes and breads. Just in time, Anthony entered the kitchen, stopping in surprise when he saw Y/n there.

"Miss Sharma, I wasn't expecting you to be awake already. It's quite early."

"I'm a morning person, Lord Bridgerton." Y/n chuckled, running her hands down her dress nervously. She then pointed to the table, desperate not to remain in an awkward silence. "Breakfast is ready."

"I see that, everything looks great." he sat at the end of the table. Y/n remained standing, looking around, causing Anthony to hesitate before asking, "Aren't you going to sit down to eat too?"

"Oh! I already ate with the maids, thank you. Hm, is my sister awake?"

Anthony clears his throat, looking down. A frown appeared on Y/n's face when she saw the man's cheeks start to turn pink. "Your sister is still sleeping. She was not feeling well last night so she couldn't sleep much."

"Very well..." The girl nodded slowly. "I shall bring her tea when she wakes up. Until then, I was hoping I could go on for a walk in the gardens? Please?"

"Of course, Y/n, you don't have to ask." Anthony nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin after drinking some orange juice. "Do you want me to ask a maid to go with you and keep you company?"

"No, it's okay, I prefer to go alone."

"No problem. In the afternoon we should go to my mother's house to play pall-mall. It would be lovely if you decided to join us."

"Oh, I'm not sure yet. I wouldn't want to interrupt your family time." Y/n looked away so as not to show the sadness she felt.

She had never even met Anthony's family properly, only meeting them briefly at the couple's wedding. Either way, with all the stories she'd heard from Kate, she doubted she'd be able to fit into the family dynamic. She was afraid that Anthony was only extending the invitation to her out of obligation to now be living with them, after all, she had never been invited even when her two sisters were.

However, with all these thoughts, the girl did not see the frown that appeared on her sister's husband's face. What do you mean she didn't want to interrupt family time when it was part of it?

Although his family never spent much time with Y/n, it was just because since she was younger, they thought she would feel more comfortable with her mother instead of being dragged around with Edwina and Kate to every event. She had lost her father and moved countries, they didn't want to overwhelm her. However, Anthony's siblings really wanted to meet her, especially Francesca and Hyacinth, who wanted to have a new friend.

"Y/n, you are family. My siblings would love to spend more time with you, especially my sisters." Anthony finally said.

"I will think about it." Y/n offered him a small smile out of politeness. "I will be heading to the gardens. Let me know if you need me. Excuse me, Lord Bridgerton."

When Y/n finally left the dining room, Anthony rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. He really needed to talk to his wife about this.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n was lying down on the grass, enjoying the sun's rays that warmed her skin, when Kate found her. After Anthony told her about what happened at breakfast, Kate knew there was something wrong with her younger sister.

Anthony's wife lay down beside Y/n, alerting her to her presence. Y/n lifted her head, offering her sister a small smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"Pardon?" Kate frowned, not understanding the question. Her mouth opened in realization as she remembered what Anthony had told her with a light blush. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Nothing that a few more hours of sleep couldn't solve."

"I'm glad." Y/n closed her eyes again, enjoying the sunny day.

"Are you enjoying your time here? Lord Bridgerton told me that you cooked with the maids today." Kate said after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, they were lovely. I wanted to help."

"If you had a good time then there's no problem. But you know you don't need to get up early to cook for us. I want you to have fun and be comfortable while you're here."

Y/n remained silent. Her hand started messing with the grass, a way to distract herself. "I know." she replied with a small voice.

"Do you?" the elder Sharma raised her eyebrows teasingly.

But Y/n remained silent, a small frown forming on her face as she thought about what Kate said. In turn, Kate felt her heart tighten with guilt. As she looked at her little sister, she remembered when she was a baby and made exactly the same face when she thought. A sigh escaped her lips, missing having Y/n's company all day.

The three Sharma sisters used to spend every waking moment together, strolling around the garden or simply relaxing in silence. But now, with Kate married and Edwina being courted by the prince, they didn't think about how it would affect Y/n.

"Tell me what is really wrong." Kate asked with sad eyes. Y/n sat down, opening her mouth to start speaking, but nothing came out. "Y/n, I'm sorry I haven't spent much time with you. But I love you, and I want you to be comfortable being here with me and Anthony."

"You didn't just let me stay out of obligation?" the younger sister asked shyly, refusing to look into Kate's eyes, who had also sat up and was trying to lift Y/n's chin with her hand.

"No! In fact, I was the one who asked mother to let you stay with me instead of considering you going with her to India. We wanted you here. I miss seeing my little sister every day. It can get lonely when Anthony works, and I love having you here."

"Really? But when you're bored, don't you visit Lord Bridgerton's siblings?"

"Yes, but no one can replace you. And I'm always talking about you to them, from all the stories I've told, I think they like you more than me!" Kate laughed, her smile widening when Y/n also chuckled. "I'm sure they would be delighted for you to go with us to play pall-mall."

"Hmm, I'm not sure. What if they don't like me?"

"Oh!" Anthony's wife gasped as if it was the most ridiculous idea. "That's impossible! With your heart and your kindness, they would be fools to not like you!"

"I really missed you." Y/n admitted, resting her head on Kate's shoulder.

"Me too. And after mother comes back, our house is still open. You can come here whenever you wish."

"Thank you, Kate. I'm glad you found Anthony, you seem very happy."

"I am happy." Kate assured her. "And just because I am married now, nothing changes between us. You are still my priority."

"Thank you. And I believe a game of pall-mall is not the worst thing in the world. I will join you." the younger girl nodded with a smile, gaining confidence from her sister's words.

"Great! Then you'll also get to see Lord Bridgerton be a sore loser when I win."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

She was already starting to regret her decision when she saw Anthony's family in the garden, already bickering with each other. She and her sisters were competitive, but not at this level.

"Dear siblings, if you could please just listen to me first." Anthony caught their attention with a sarcastic smile. "This is Miss Y/n, Kate's younger sister. She will be joining us today."

"Another Sharma? We are going to lose!" the younger boy, who Y/n assumed was Gregory, said.

Two other girls came to her, introducing themselves as Francesca and Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sisters. As they excitedly talked, Y/n's nerves began to disappear. Kate watched them closely, relaxing when she noticed that her sister was smiling, looking happy to be making friends. Her husband joined her, letting her lean against him and kissing her cheek.

"I told you it was going to be okay."

"Yeah, I know. But I was so sad that she thought we didn't want her here with us. It's my fault." Kate whispered sadly, feeling Anthony put his arm around her waist in comfort.

"It's not your fault, my love. We have to make her feel welcome, but for now, I think she's having fun." Noticing that Kate still wasn't convinced, he added. "What if the three of us went for a horse ride tomorrow? You once told me that Y/n always wanted to ride a horse, but she never got to learn since your father died. What if I taught her?"

"You would do that?" his wife smiled in delight. "Oh, Anthony, thank you. I'm sure she would love that."

"Anything for my wife and her little sister." Anthony smiled, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. "I love you."

"Are you being this lovely just so I won't be so competitive in the game?" she laughed teasingly. "Forget it! Prepare to lose, my dear husband."

Kate turned her back on him, going to the others so they could start the game. Anthony enjoyed the view of his wife, wondering how he got so lucky. "I love my life."

While they were playing, Eloise told Y/n how women deserved to go to college and not live just for their husbands. Benedict appeared later, declaring that he was going to save her from her sister's obsessions, making Y/n hide a giggle behind her hand. In turn, he and Collin were extremely funny, especially when Anthony made a bad move and Kate beat him.

Y/n also had time to meet Daphne's son, who seemed to like her and demanded with a cry that she pick him up. She didn't complain, the baby was too cute to refuse anything.

She and her two new friends got tired of playing, preferring to sit under the shade with the baby and play a little with him. Meanwhile, they talked about everything and got to know more about each other. They only realized how much time had passed when Lady Violet Bridgerton called them to drink and eat something.

By late afternoon, Y/n was exhausted but happy. Her family was more complete, and she loved being part of its dynamic.

[lostwords-found]

Oh no. Oh fuck. I am relistening to some of the earlier Protocol episodes, and I have a horrible, terrible, no good very bad suspicion about Gerry.

I could, I want to emphasize, be completely wrong! I could be wildly, hilariously, off the mark. But--hear me out. This is going to take some explaining about what I think is going on in the bigger picture worldbuilding stuff; hopefully it'll be coherent, but fair warning, it may get a bit long.

First: there have been a lot of cases that have boiled down to trying to keep only the "good"/desirable/etc aspects of things or events or people, and discard the "bad"/unwanted, right? We saw this happening very explicitly in episode 23 with Alesis Newman, and way back in episode 2 with Daria the painter, but a number of episodes have presented variations on a similar theme.

Two variations in particular that I've been thinking a lot about are the violinist in episode 4 and the gambler in episode 9. The violinist can play his violin beautifully, but he wants to be rid of the price in flesh and blood that it demands. Similarly, the gambler wants the rewards of rolling high on his magic dice, but wants to be rid of the misfortunes that come with rolling low. Crucially, both episodes make clear that in this type of balance--something unwanted for something wanted--you can't just make the unwanted piece vanish. It has to go somewhere, it has to happen. But you can make it happen to someone else, somewhere else. And when that's how the game works, one of the major questions for players who want to get ahead then becomes: "how do I make the bad stuff stay happening somewhere else, and keep reaping the benefits of the good stuff that balances it out?"

Here's where this gets wildly speculative and from here on I freely acknowledge that I may be talking out my ass:

I think the Magnus Institute was investigating that question. I suspect a great many alchemists before the Institute, probably going back to the times of Albertus Magnus, were investigating it as well. I think the Great Work they were attempting -- the "universal transmutation" alluded to in episode 21 as the Magnus Institute's aim -- was the exact opposite of Jonah Magnus's own "Great Work" in TMA. In other words, I think they were probably trying to make the world an eternal paradise, rather than an eternal hell.

But if you're getting rid of all the "bad" stuff, all the suffering and misfortune, it's got to go somewhere.

I think they were sending it through to other worlds.

I'm not going to get into all the reasons I think that right now, because that's a whole essay in itself, but basically--the Leitners in TMA? The artifacts? All the little bits and pieces of evil given physical form, that never had a clear origin point in the world where they caused so much suffering for so long? We've all been worried about them winding up here, post-Archives... but I think this is where they came from in the first place. I think they were sent away in the hopes that an increase in "bad" in other worlds would lead to an increase in "good" in this one. Remember all those books Albrecht von Closen found in the tomb in the Black Forest in TMA, that Jonah Magnus later stole and let loose on the world? Remember that Albrecht found a mysterious coin along with them dated 1279? Albertus Magnus died in 1280; I strongly suspect he sent those books from the world of Protocol to that of Archives shortly before his death, much as the world of Archives sent the tapes away centuries later. But I think Protocol's world kept sending things away, kept trying to export "bad" and import "good". Remember all those happy, laughing volunteers bringing strange and sinister items to the charity shop on Hill Top Road in episode 7? "All for a good cause."

Okay so. Now. With that bit of hypothetical framework for Protocol's worldbuilding in place, let's next go back to Alesis Newman of episode 23. Her expressed wish is to create a new her. "Someone better. Someone the pain can't touch." Someone who can be everything Alesis wishes she could have been. Someone "free of all (her) mistakes."

But increasingly it sounds like what she actually wants isn't to create someone new. It is to create someone who is only a part of her current self. Someone who, she says in one of her last few posts, will "just be the good parts of me."

And if that's the case, if what she's really trying to do is make someone who holds only the "good" parts of her, someone who can be happy and strong and perfect and loved by everyone forever... what happens to the bad parts of Alesis Newman, as she currently exists? What about the parts of her that feel pain and fear, the parts of her that make mistakes, the parts of her that she rejects?

One might assume, from the experience she narrates, that those pieces of her are simply being destroyed. But that doesn't line up with the suggestion we've seen from earlier episodes that there has to be some kind of balance maintained in these bargains. What she actually says is happening to her--and what the forum members have apparently told her will happen, through this process--is that she and this "new her" are "becoming one... and then two."

I don't think the "bad" parts of Alesis Newman are dying. I think they're also going to become a "new her"--they're just going to go somewhere else, somewhere the new, happy, strong, perfect version of Alesis Newman never has to see them.

Still with me?

Okay.

Now let's talk about Gerry. Let's talk about the smiling, laughing, irrepressibly happy Gerry Keay we meet early in Protocol. Gerry who seems to have everything that the Gerry Keay of Archives was denied.

Gerry who underwent tests at the Magnus Institute as a child, and who, per the static over his and "Gee Gee's" words, holds a few more secrets about what went on there than he let on to Sam and Celia.

Back when I first heard Gerry's appearance in episode 8, it sure felt like a narrative gut punch: This is who he could have been in Archives, if not for the presence of the Fears. This is what Jon and Martin's final decision threatens to destroy--for this safe, happy version of Gerry, and for everyone else in his world.

I'm now suspecting it might be significantly worse than that. I think the Magnus Institute might have done to Gerry Keay something similar to what Alesis Newman later did to herself: made him New. Kept only the good parts--ensured a happy, comfortable, good life for him. In which case, all the bad stuff--all the parts of Gerry Keay that would ever have to suffer from bad luck, to feel pain and fear and misery...

...well. They'd have had to go... somewhere else, wouldn't they.

Which would suggest I had the causality the wrong way around the first time I heard Gerry's appearance in Protocol: maybe it's not "Gerry has a happy life in this world because he didn't have to suffer everything that the Gerry Keay of Archives did."

Maybe it's "Gerry in Archives had to suffer everything he did because Gerry in Protocol was made to always be happy."

[queenshelby]

Sweet Possession (Part 1)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

It was about four months ago when you met him, this blue-eyed stranger who would change your life forever. It was as if you had stepped into the unknown, shedding your old, familiar skin. He made your head spin with his charm and allure for the unknown.

When you talked to him for the very first time, it was as if you had known each other for years. He listened to you, and you felt as though he truly understood who you were and what you needed in life.

Despite being over 12 years older than you , Thomas Shelby made you feel safe and wanted, desired and accepted. You never felt such a connection to someone who had such an intense personality as Thomas and, most importantly for all, he showed you respect.

Thomas (or Tommy as you called him) was a wealthy business man from Birmingham and whilst you did not know much about his business activities, you knew that he was responsible for import and export of goods such Tabacco and cars.

With both of your parents not having survived the sinking of the Titanic, you had no one but yourself to stand up for and take care of yourself until Tommy came into your life.

He took you in and took care of you a few months ago, admiring your inner strength and determination to overcome all the challenges that life had thrown at you ever since you had turned 16, which was almost three years before you met him, your soon to be husband.

You were 19 years old when you met the 32-year-old in a pub named the Garrison shortly after you had started working there behind the bar. That night, Tommy had saved you from some unwanted attention from some other patrons and as you sat together that night, your connection was undeniable, palpable. Every guess or gut feeling you had ever had about your future guesses or dreams was confirmed in an instant. This was the moment that would change it all.

Fast-forward a bit and soon you found yourself living in Tommy's mansion, which you had yet to fully discover. The mansion was home to your own magnificent bedroom, Surreal wallpapers, wax-leafed walls, brass fixtures, and white porcelain handles.

It was surreal coming from almost living on the street to this and when Tommy asked you to marry him a few weeks ago,  you accepted blindly only thinking of the safety and love he gave you.

The wedding ceremony itself was small, with only some of his family in attendance. You were his second wife; his first wife having died four years ago and this was something that did not bother you. You accepted him with all as his baggage, just as he accepted you.

***

Having respected your wishes not to engage in any sexual activities before marriage, you two waited for the big night, anticipating the pleasure of having each other's bodies.

Tommy had told you through the weeks leading up to your wedding day that he would be gentle, as he assumed you were still a virgin and had no experience with men. He also told you that he would teach you everything there was to know about sex, which was a prospect that excited you. 

You knew that being abstinent for more than four months, must have been difficult for a man his age, and you couldn't help but admire him for his respect towards you and your decision to wait until your wedding night.

Unlike many other men, he said that he had no interest in the services of prostitutes and you believed him. He showed you that intimacy was not just about sex but more about the emotional connection between two people. But as each day passed, the tension between you two grew stronger and stronger.

The big night finally arrived. You had taken a bath, washing your whole body using a lavender-scented soap and then slid your body gently into a silky nightgown that you had bought in an expensive store downtown especially for you wedding night. As you looked at the mirror, you could not help but feel a bit nervous.

Tommy knocked gently on your door and after a short moment, he opened it up.

As you stood there in your nightgown, he couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered over every bit of your body, and you could see the hunger in his eyes from a mile away.

Approaching you, he gently took your hand and drew you closer to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, making your core tighten. 

"You are beautiful, Love," Thomas whispered in your ear, brushing a loose tendril of hair from your face, his breath warm against your skin.

He then took hold of your left hand again and tenderly kissed your wedding ring – a token of your eternal love. Your heart raced and your nerves tingled at his tender display of affection. Your cheeks felt flushed and the room seemed to be spinning as the moment you'd been waiting for your entire life was finally about to happen.

Your hands felt clammy and you were struggling to find the words to respond to the man you'd married.

"Tommy," you gasped. "I want you," you stammered, looking up into his sharp, handsome face.

He caught your gaze with a knowing smile. "Good, because I want you too," Thomas said, with his eyes blazing and expectant.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself being swept away on a tide of anticipation and desire.

Thomas stood in front of you, his fingers tracing the outline of your delicate collarbone.

He leaned in to softly kiss your quivering lips. His tongue danced upon yours for a mere moment before he pulled away. Slowly, he unbuttoned your night dress and let it fall gently to the floor, revealing your perky, young breasts to the cool air of the bedroom.

He took a moment to admire your inexperienced and vulnerable beauty before he began to trail kisses down your neck, across your chest, and onto your sensitive nipples.

"Oh God," you gasped, your hands clenching in his thick, dark hair as he teased you with his mouth.

"You like that, do you?" Thomas whispered, a wicked grin on his face.

The heat between your thighs became unbearable. You wanted him to do more, to touch you there, to do away with the last scraps of clothing that separated you from the man you married.

"Why don't you lie down for me, Love?" Thomas suggested, as he began to remove his own clothes.

You nodded eagerly, unable to find your voice in the intensity of the moment. Your breath hitched as you watched him undress. His muscled chest and chiseled abdomen were revealed to you as he shed his shirt, and your mouth went dry as he removed his trousers to stand proudly before you.

You laid back against the plush, velvet pillows, feeling self-conscious about your own nakedness in front of such a strong, confident man.

You noticed that his member stood tall and rigid, ready to claim you as his.

"Stop looking at my cock and lay back, Sweetheart," Thomas chuckled, sensing your discomfort. "I promise I won't hurt you," he then reassured you and you swallowed hard, nodding in compliance as you scooted further up on the bed.

Thomas followed, crawling up the bed with a seductive grace. He settled between your thighs and you trembled with anticipation.

"Open for me," Thomas whispered, his fingers lightly tracing your slick folds.

You whimpered at the sensation of his touch, your body tensing as he explored you intimately. Slowly, you obeyed his demand and allowed your legs to fall open. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also safe in Thomas' arms, which held you with a protectiveness you needed in this new and uncertain moment.

"Good girl," Thomas praised, his fingers circling your clit with a tantalizing slowness. "You are already so nice and wet for me, eh?"  Thomas whispered, a suggestive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as Thomas began to circle your clit with his thumb, all the while keeping his fingers buried inside of you.

"You are so beautiful Y/N. I am a lucky man," Thomas murmured, sensing your pleasure at his touch.

You nodded again, too caught up in the euphoria of the moment to find your voice.

Thomas began to thrust his fingers back and forth, his thumb continuing to rub your clit in slow, steady circles.

You threw your head back and moaned, your hips moving with a mind of their own. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting close to the edge.

"Let go for me, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let yourself go. I promise you'll enjoy it."

With those words, something inside of you snapped. You closed your eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"That's it," Thomas murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "That's my good girl. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice thick with lust as he brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath after the powerful release you had just experienced. You had never felt anything like that before and you couldn't believe how intensely Thomas had been able to make you feel.

"I love you Tommy ," you whispered, half-ashamed of the needy tone in your voice.

Thomas kissed you softly, his lips tasting of salt and lust. "I love you too, my wife," he said, before his hand started to wander down your body again.

His fingers found your wetness once more and he stroked you gently before, finally, climbing on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Love," Thomas whispered, his breath hot against your cheek as he teased your entrance with his tip.

"Please be gentle , Tommy," you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size and intensity of Thomas' manhood.

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. "Of course, Sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as I can," he said and, with that, he slowly began to push himself inside of you.

You gasped at the initial pain and pressure of his penetration, clutching onto the sheets as he filled you up completely.

Thomas paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you tried to relax and accommodate his girth.

"Yes, I'm okay," you assured him, and Thomas began to thrust in and out of you with slow, deliberate movements.

At first, it felt foreign and slightly painful, but as Thomas' rhythm gradually picked up speed, your discomfort gave way to a growing sense of pleasure and desire.

"You feel so good, Sweetheart," Thomas groaned, as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of you.

Your legs wrapped around Thomas' waist, drawing him closer still, as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to the precipice of climax.

You clung to Thomas, your fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"Oh, God, Tommy," you panted, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "I think I'm going to cum again."

Thomas' eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he drove himself deeper inside of you, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

"That's right, Love. Cum for me," Thomas growled, his voice low and husky.

"I want to feel you tighten around me, Love. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come."

With those filthy words, Thomas thrust deeper and harder into you, sending wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surging through your body.

"Yes, Tommy! Yes!" you screamed, your voice mingling with his deep, guttural grunts.

"Fuck, you feel so tight and warm. So fucking good," Thomas groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as he plunged into your depths again and again.

"Don't cum inside me ," you gasped, suddenly remembering a crucial detail as you had previously discussed that you were not yet ready to have children with him. 

"I won't," Thomas groaned. "But I need to feel you a little longer. You just feel too good around my cock, Love," Thomas pleaded as he continued to drive himself in and out of you with wild, untamed passion.

You could feel another orgasm building within you, and you knew it would be powerful. You wanted to hold off for as long as possible, wanting to savor every exquisite sensation that Thomas was eliciting from your hyper-sensitive body.

But your pleasure took over and you succumbed to the tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you. You screamed his name as you squeezed your thighs around his flexing hips.

"Good girl," Thomas panted in your ear, swirling his hips as he forced yet another powerful orgasm from your aching flesh. "So good. So, so fucking good."

You arched your back and collapsed against the bed, trembling beneath him as pain, pleasure, shame and wonderment coursed through your veins like liquid fire.

"Fuck, I am going to cum," Thomas groaned, the thickness of his cock throbbing within you before pulling out quickly and spraying sticky streaks of semen over your stomach, breasts, and bedsheets.

Both of you were breathing heavily as the room filled with the scent of your mutual pleasure, stocks damp with your fluids and mixed with the evidence of his release on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a few moments, enjoying the quiet moment of contentment that came on the heels of such intense satisfaction.

Thomas broke the silence, removing evidence of his release from your body, as one would clean a precious piece of artwork after its masterpiece was finished.

"Did I hurt you, Love?" Thomas asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"No, I-I wanted that," you admitted, your body still shivering from the intense pleasure. "It was perfect," you told him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly, recalling how long he wanted to do this. 

Unbeknownst to you, he had been wanting you for many years and now, finally, you were his. His wife. His possession. His triumph.

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[hollowingearth]

I'm sorry but the more I think about the Rebirth ending the more I love it actually like. The whole trilogy has been a meta commentary of sorts and, specially, Aerith's death is at the epicenter of it. She both dies and doesn't die exactly because us, as an audience, want both things to happen.

People have been clamoring to be able to save Aerith since 1997, there were fake hidden hacks, AU fictions, retellings, everything. Everyone has been at Squeenix's doorsteps begging them to let us save her. Like, it's at a point where the "Square will let us save Aerith if you pay for the DLC" joke is much more than a decade old.

On the other side, there's this very expressive unwant for any change whatsoever from the source material. It's not a feeling that is exclusive to FF7 either, there's this very clear pushback against any new remake/adaptation that deviates, even slightly, from it's original. People don't want new content, they want the old one they experienced when they were younger, but prettier, they want to both feel the nostalgia and experience everything as if for the first time again.

From that camp, I think the most prominent argument is that FF7 is about loss, right? And they're not wrong. Aerith's death is the crux of the story, it's the very thing that made FF7 as known as it is, there would be no actual weight to what it's trying to tell if the heroine doesn't die in the middle of it, an unexpected, hurtful, avoidable death. What's the point of a narrative about grief if you can just... avoid losing someone? Avoid having it be cruelly taken from you?

And yet, you see, if want someone to die, if you want something to be taken from you, are you really losing it? In the original, part of the impact was that no one could see it coming, it was a straight representation about how death is sudden and takes away opportunity from you. Aerith doesn't go into the sleeping forest willing to make a sacrifice for the greater good, she has barely started her adventure, she makes a promise to go on the highwind, the group is one location away from finding out more about her ancestry and her family.

That's not true for the remake, tho. Everyone knows about her fate, about what is going to happen to her. That's probably the most spoiled moment in video game history. I personally knew about her death before I truly understood what Final Fantasy even was. So now we have an audience that is extremely aware of what, when and how her death is going to happen. That's why the Confluence of Worlds is put at that moment, because it's the single most expected moment in the entire triology, it's the one moment that made the narrative resonate so well.

The impact is impossible to recreate now, even for newer fans of the series. People want a 1:1 retranslation but such a thing would always be a gimmicky shadow of it's original. It's why the focus shifts, now the most emotionally impactful scene is not the killing of her but of her goodbye, in the church after the dream date. "Thank you," Aerith echoes "It's been fun", a callback to her conclusion on Remake where she says "I'm grateful for all the words we shared. All the moments and the memories. You've made me more happy than you know."

So she dies and she doesn't, both at the same time. Effectively in limbo now, narratively explained by lifestream shenaningans. We put her there ourselves, by refusing to move on, refusing to accept her death but also refusing to change, allowing a different outcome. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, at least, Aerith's words sound like the very sincere feelings of the developers, who are grateful for all the love we all have powered into their work all these years.

I just love it so much, I could spend hours talking about it.

[heartdoomed]

Hey! I was wondering if I could request a story or headcanons with Daniela and a maid? Personally, I headcanon Daniela as a huge flirt and loved receiving attention from the maids. What if there was a new maid ignore Daniela, at first. She doesn't give Daniela her attention easily and Daniela tries to flirt with the maid and get a reaction. Then one day the maid turns the tables and flirts with Daniela back (maybe steals a kiss), and returns to her work like nothing happened. Basically, a maid puts Daniela in her place and realizes that she's not the only one who can fluster others.

Have a good day!💃

Hello~

This is such a nice prompt! Dani is one of my ride or dies, she is just too precious and for what?? Either way, enjoy!

| Flattery

Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu x Maid! Reader

Genre: One-Shot, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death

Masterlist

Working for the Dimitrescu family was nothing like you or anybody else imagined. Well, surely the tales you’ve heard from this crippling place were enough to keep inhabitants away but this was far from a simple choice. Like you, many other maids — both residents and past servants — came here in a desperate need of shelter, food or the bare minimum to survive in this hell of a place. Living under the wrath of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters could just be better than the savaging of those monsters outside. You left the cold to embrace the warmth of what they promised to be a fairly average job — a facade, one you didn’t noticed till you experienced your first night in that castle shaped trap. Your ears were flooded with unwanted laughter, screams and the ever present sentiment of insecurity. By any means maybe you should have risked it all by staying outside within the village, but soon you realized that just as this wasn’t any usual job, you had no usual way of simply “asking to quit”.

Your first night was haunted with unwanted laughters, echoing screams and the ever lasting feeling of unsafeness that ever truly went away. You’ve never felt this exposed, like the other maids you were a walking plaything for the infamous daughters to play with and soon you too realized that. Now, weeks into this new job of yours, you feared the occurrences were past the shocking point for you. Sure, you don’t think you could ever get fully used to seeing severed human remains scattered around the halls or having to wash the girl’s blood soaked clothes but at certain point but you just had to endure things, out of survival or not.

Lady Dimitrescu herself was a… interesting woman. In fact, the only time you properly spoke to her was when you first started in this place. Sharp, composed and commanding — you never thought someone could get that tall and still posses such incredible elegance, yet there she was to stun you. You rarely saw of her wandering around the castle, but you knew how busy she always was nonetheless. Bela was a prodigious daughter, somewhat of a mirror to her own mother but with her own characteristics. She enjoyed teasing you, more than you would expect from someone who claimed to be as mature as her mother. Cassandra was, and is, someone you avoid around the place, simply because she is no mere woman to be messed up with and you have seen what she is capable of doing to maids she doesn’t get along with — hells bells, you had to brush those floors for hours apart to get rid of the blood stains.

And there was… Daniela.

Like the other Dimitrescu family members, you only knew of her from what the other maids told you. Still, you were incredibly sure she had already caught an eye onto you.

//////

“Ah! There you are!” A voice echoed, sounding hauntingly close to your left shoulder. Unfamiliar, but judging by the tone you could just guess it wasn’t just another maid. “So you are the new maid?”

Turning around resulted in almost bumping face-on with Daniela. ‘The red head’ How the maids referred to her. She was smiling, a smile that didn’t quite indicated what she wanted but for sure it wasn’t the type of smile people used greeted other with, not with the matching grin of mischievousness she held— that made you realize how blood stained her mouth was, it made you shiver but you kept your composure still.

“Yes I am. Good afternoon, miss.”

Quick, polite, and the minimum expected from a maid. You gave her a short bow before turning on your heels to continue your chores, these windows wouldn’t polish themselves and the last thing you wanted to get was a scold of one of the head maids. Daniela was left speechless, to say at least, she was stoic in place as she watched you continue on your day — something deep inside her mind sparkled, like waving a trinket in front of a feline. The interest she had for you went over heels, like an imaginary challenge was just set between you both.

//////

The relationship between the both of you was unusual. Although you seek to avoid or even hide away from the red head you both always managed to bump into each other someway, much to Dani’s delight. Ever since she laid her eyes on you, you knew you came to an inescapable doom of some sorts and you were absolutely right! From that time on, Daniela became your shadow. She followed you everywhere, from rooms, to halls, even getting shortcuts from secret passages in order to catch up and pretend you were the one to bump on her but to her dismay, you didn’t seemed to pay much mind to her games.

In yet another day under the reigns of serving in that castle, you quickened your pace around the west halls, eager that your shift was almost complete and that you could finally rest your tired body. Small heels clicked softly against the luxurious floor, it was a silent night, too silent perhaps? You were used to hearing the girls planning on what to kill in their next hunt but tonight you heard nothing more than distant cracks and the usual wind blow against the tall trees —

“Rah!”

Suddenly, the youngest of the three sisters jumped in front of you, weapon at bay and hissing teeth — her face mere inches from yours. You didn’t precisely yelled, but it surely made you startled. Placing a hand against your chest, you sighed in a strange short of relief. Other maids would have genuine fear of actually being the prey of the day for the girls, but from what you have heard; She was the one you’d rather ran into.

“Miss Daniela— You’ve scared me!”

Daniela’s grin turned into a smile as she loosely spun her weapon against her fingers with little effort, soon you found her form pushing further against you and a nearby wall.

“Ohhhhh, Did I? Oh but you can’t blame me, right? Your face looks even prettier when you scared~”

Pressing you almost entirely against the wall, Daniela couldn’t expect you to swiftly undergo under her arm and flee her trap. She turned to look at you with a point, quickly walking back towards you almost tangled yourself within the long curtains of a nearby window. Your eyes squinted at her audacity, it was somewhat very cute but you also couldn’t stop brushing off her attempts. Maybe deep inside you even liked to give her a cold shoulder, it brought her into a needy state of shameless flirting.

“I’m truly honored Miss Dani—“ You murmured.

“Call me Dani, luv~” She purred.

Cursed heavens, she was starting to finally get under your skin after all of this time. And as if she could read your thoughts, her smile widened, it was the smile one would show as they ran up to the finishing line of a hard track race. Just as she approached yet again, you furrowed your eyebrows as an idea flickered in your head — risky, bold and unexpected, nothing short of a maid’s behavior but you still went for it. Lunging forwards, your lips smashed against Dani’s just as you turned to pretend on moving across her. It was quick, but firm and full of savor — you could taste the distinct metal of the leftover blood against her lips, but also something else you couldn’t quite put your finger into. Nonetheless, her lips felt surprisingly soft but cold, it was like kissing a marble statue.

Just as quickly as it came it ended right away. Daniela was left in total bliss, a shocked expression of someone in disbelief — face almost as red as the wine her family produced — it only took her a turn of her head to see you quickly vanishing further into the castle with the same posture as before, as if this moment had been nothing more than her imagination. She had never felt this warm before, not even when she stood near a fireplace or watched the fire of a wooden pit burn. Her shook transformed into a genuine burst of chuckles and the widest her grin has even reached, Daniela felt drunk with happiness and all because of you, she had to catch you yet again, suddenly nothing else mattered but to be able to have you this close. You had just outdone the biggest flirter of the sister trio, no maid has ever had this much boldness like you did, or simply had the skills to make Daniela so hooked like this.

The woman dissipated into a swarm of flies, quickly leaving as her laughter echoed yet again across the castle grounds. You heard it too, also smiling to yourself as you finished the last of your chores. You wondered just how interesting things would get around here.

/////

AN: This is my first-ish One-Shot, i’m shaking and hoping this is at least decent or that I can improve in the future! Either way, tysm for the ask and I hope ya enjoyed it!

[xjulixred45x]

Zagreus (Hades) x Albino! Mortal!Reader

Imagine that the reader is a mortal who lives (unknowingly) near the gates of the Underworld (perhaps near one of the temples in honor of Hades next to the Cocytus River), and not only that, but she was born with ALBINISM.

I mean, skin very sensitive to sunlight, eyes just as sensitive, hair without color, etc.

Thanks to this, she gained a certain reputation in her hometown, both good and bad, but the general consensus was that her "exotic" appearance would make a good trophy wife.

So the reader resorted to an old Greek custom, covering herself as much as possible with veils and cloth, not only to protect herself from the sun, but to give the illusion that she was married to someone important, someone her suitors were afraid of.

and it works, sort of, but unwanted attention one way or another appears, so she decides to take a break from the people at the temple in honor of Hades, knowing that no one would dare go there.

What she didn't expect was to have company at some point.

Let's say this is for when Persephone returns to the Underworld and Zagreus goes to the surface at first just to tend to his mother garden, but eventually wants to wander, which leads to him stumbling upon the temple to Hades.

which leads to him running into reader.

Even if he dies before talking to her, curiosity is quite powerful, Zagreus knows that his father has very little culture (and understands VERY well why) so seeing a mortal for the first time and on top of that one who adored his father ? unusual.

The next time he surfaces he goes directly to the temple, and there is the reader, taking care of the almost abandoned place a little.

Definitely both at first are a bit wary of each other, mainly reader to Zag because of her bad experiences with men, but once she sees that he is a friendly guy (I say "see" as a way of saying because with all the veils that she wears she doesn't see shit) starts having a conversation with him.

Zagreus thinks that Reader surely uses the veils as a way to cover herself from the cold at first, but since Demeter has softened towards mortals and better times are coming and Reader continues wearing veils, Zag is confused. Isn't she roasting in there?

At the same time, as reader also covers her eyes to protect them, She probably does not know or realize at the beginning that Zagreus is a god, simply because she does not see the need to remove the veil to find out what this friendly person looks like. although she definitely thinks it's strange that be disappears after a couple of hours out of nowhere. rude.

It takes several trips to the surface for both to open up, which causes both to begin to generate a certain playful dynamic taking advantage of the circumstances. It's something...tender.

Zagreus learns more about mortal customs and their history thanks to the reader, how they see the gods, how they differ, in general, it is something quite important for Zagreus, being more empathetic than his relatives, he wants to be aware of how the gods live, as well mortals. After all, without them the gods have no work, right?

Reader definitely didn't buy Zagreus about being the son of Hades at first, and it will take a little time for her to believe it, but I think the most important step for both of them would be to know why Reader is always covered and her condition.

Let's say that one day while being outside (reader in the shade and Zagreus in the sun) Zagreus accidentally pulled a bit of the reader's lower veil while playing and that generated a HORRIBLE burn on her arm, poor boy felt so guilty :(

Although it also helped him to start connecting the dots for him because she was always so covered, and he just started asking about her condition in order to help her.

The reader would tell him some basics of her condition and how it affected her life in many ways. Coming to the topic of suitors. and I imagined something like this:

"So you wear your veils to protect yourself from the sun?"

"not only that...women in my city usually cover themselves when they get married"

"(between berserk and heartbroken mode) are you...married?"

"Oh no! Gods no! It's just a move I made to protect myself from both the sun and the men who won't leave me alone!"

"Are they that bad? Do you think that will stop them for long?"

"The worst... and the more covered the woman is, the more powerful the husband is. What do you think these men think when they see a woman covered from head to toe?"

"that you must be married to the king of Olympus himself"

when the reader finally decides to show Zagreus her face and as you can see, boy is so ANXIOUS, because well, he was already quite in love with this girl just with her personality and her attitude, so being able to put a face to the name was simply exciting . And when she takes it off? he dies (figuratively).

And for her part, the reader is quite surprised to see that INDEED her recent friend not only has a strange divine aura but also fucking BURNING FEET and begins to believe his anecdotes much more 😅

Zagreus getting her Ambrosia 🥺 I have the hc that in normal living humans the ambrosia of Hades has a certain healing effect (as ambrosia had a rejuvenating effect in mythology) and perhaps thanks to this reader can walk in the sun without getting hurt.

Zagreus definitely dislikes reader's suitors as much (or even more) than she does. If she wants him to scare them, he'll be happy to do it :)

(It goes without saying, if the reader ends up in the Underworld suddenly, er, because of the suitors, Zagreus is DEFINITELY going to retaliate by giving them a direct step to Tartarus).

If reader could somehow go to the house of Hades (maybe for Charon) she would be SO HAPPY that finally there is no sun damaging her skin or stupid men harassing her, being able to move freely is so.. MAGICAL! Her joy is contagious to Zagreus, who had already gotten used to seeing her always confined by her clothes and veils, but this is not bad at all.

Overall, I think it's a cute concept😚

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Soon i may or may not post something about Achilles! So, stay tuned.

[writersdrug]

Mourning Dove

König x Reader

Chapter 1. A New Path

Masterlist

Summary: It's been nearly two months since you and Drew had fled the city for the thick, endless forest. You had escaped the infected, only to get stuck with a monster of a different kind - a selfish, abusive asshole named Drew. But you'd had enough - it was time for your plan.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, cursing, abusive behavior and speech, mentions of domestic violence, reader uses sex to her advantage but it's unwanted, so rape

“There’s a city on the other side of the mountain.”

Silence. Nothing returned your statement other than the crunch of leaves and stones under your feet.

“Is this big enough to be a mountain? Feels too small for a hill.”

An irritated sigh.

“Unless it’s smaller than I think…”

Nothing this time. He needs one more push.

“If we go and check it out, there might be some suppli-“

“For fuck’s sake!” Drew finally shouted, turning quickly on his heel and looming over you. You gripped the edges of the map you held, nearly tearing a hole through the thick paper.

“We are not going down there! How many times do I need to beat that into your head?!”

Your eye twitched at the reminder, your body immediately tensing in preparation. Your jaw was still sore from the last time you’d unintentionally worn his patience thin. This time, however, you wanted to poke the bear. You needed him riled up and irritated, particularly at you, for your plan to work.

Play dumb. “I- I just thought- you said we were almost out of water, and I-“

“That’s why I have the fucking water pills.” He snapped. His pupils were nearly drowned in the amber of his eyes with the weight of his anger. “And I showed you how to use the Lifestraw three fucking days ago. Didn’t I?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you- you did, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t sure if-“

“If we’d need clean water? When we’ve been following a stream for ages? And when have two fucking ways to purify the water? Hmm?!”

That was good enough. Not to mention, he seemed like he’d have no hesitation in taking a fist to your eye if you continued to babble on nonsense. You looked at the ground and mumbled an apology.

He sighed. “Don’t open your mouth unless it’s something important, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck did I just say?”

You nearly apologized again, but you stopped yourself. Unsure if he wanted a response at all, so you just stared at the rocky ground beneath your worn shoes. Tears burned on your waterline – that was unintentional, just a reflex after weeks of consequence brought by his ire.

“Good.” He growled. He turned back away from you with an annoyed sigh. “Just- keep up. It’s not even noon.”

You looked up at the yellowed haze of cloud that completely blocked out the sun. It was a miracle he could tell what time it was; you thought he’d lost the ability when his watch had died, permanently stuck on three-o-six. Still, somehow, he was able to keep track of the hours, even though the sun hadn’t shown its face since the fog came around. That was weeks ago, unfortunately. But who was to say he wasn’t lying to you? You weren’t savvy enough to his liking, and he certainly hadn’t kept his distaste for your inexperience a secret. Either he was telling the truth, and it would be another long, agonizing day of journeying – or it was afternoon, and he was just trying to get under your skin.

Walking. That’s all the both of you had done since the first day, the day the virus had shown itself in the country. Drew took you deep into the woods, abandoning the car somewhere in the thicket of trees, once it had run out of gas; burying it under broken branches and smashing the windows with rocks. It could have been some kind of security measure, to make sure the car would be unusable should someone else stumble upon it, or it might have been him taking his anger out on the vehicle. But speculation was satisfying enough for you; better than getting a palm to your cheek for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time.

Then, he began walking, and you followed. A few days turned into a week, which then turned into several weeks. He never had a destination in mind, so it seemed. When you asked what the plan was, he’d answer with a simple “stay alive”. Something about staying on the move, and hopefully, you’d get lucky and stumble upon an abandoned shelter, with sustainable tools and foodstuffs. You’d held onto the ridiculous pipedream for a while, before the hunger became the new normal, and the idea of bathing became a luxury – a joke. You didn’t hope for anything nowadays, besides the wish that Drew would finally cut ties with you and go his separate ways.

Maybe he was right, that you couldn’t survive without him. You’d been the one holding the map since the get-go, yet you hadn’t paid much attention to it. The rivers and valleys and roads had all been branded into the backs of your eyelids, but it meant nothing to you in relation to where you were now. Drew had never asked you for directions; he had his compass and a small, folded map of what you could only assume to be the earth you treaded now. He certainly didn’t need you for help.

You imagined he made a split decision that day, deciding you would be worth the company, if not anything else. But as each day had passed, you felt nothing short of a leech on his back, and he never hesitated to make that known, either. You wondered what else he’d be doing, since half of his time was spent yelling at you or dragging you underneath him. Was the satisfaction of how much you let him push you around enough to drown out the annoyance of your presence? Did fucking you every night help him overlook his abhorrence to you? Or would it have been just a bit too cruel to let you end up like the others? He probably didn’t care about the latter. Besides, you were sure that whatever woodland creatures remained wouldn’t care if he cranked his frustrations out here and there.

“Hey.” Drew called over his shoulder, noticing your furrowed brow. He never liked it when you were thinking – at least, more than any normal, stupid girl should be. “Stop doing that.”

You glanced up at his back, then down at the forest floor. Your feet were sore and blistered, and you had to tread carefully, considering this was certainly your last pair of shoes. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You know what I mean.” He snapped. His eyes darted between his map and his compass, seemingly paying you no mind. But he was always aware of what you were doing; he’d spent a little over a month alone with you in the woods. He knew the difference between your mindless dissociation and your contemplative thinking. It irked you to no end. Your thoughts should be yours, and yours alone. You didn’t like being easy to read, let alone by him.

Which is why you had to be careful. You wanted to bite back, tell him to leave you alone, get lost… hell, you’d been holding back the desire to sink your teeth into his flesh and rip. But then you’d be just like one of those things out there, and you needed everything you could gather to remind yourself that you are, in fact, still human and sane (for the most part). Plus, you needed the plan to work. Drew was quick to anger, a fuse with a minacious, short wick. Despite that this had given you the upper hand, he wasn’t stupid – he’d know if you were purposefully taking it too far. Turning the heat up underneath him too quickly could throw this entire scheme out the window. And you needed this to be perfect. It was your only chance.

So you bit your tongue, dipped your head, and followed after him. Not too closely, at least. You stayed out of reach of his fists should he decide to take his frustrations out on you.

When the sun was gracing the edge of the horizon, and the mountain was descending into a thick shadow, Drew had found a spot he deemed good enough to rest at. The turf was dry, void of any wet leaves or sludge, but it was still cold. The chill of the dirt soaked through your shoes, which were barely holding together – shame on you for deciding to wear flats on your date over a month ago, when the world had started to end – and straight into your feet. You didn’t want to sit down, instead opting to shift from one foot to the other to keep your blood flowing and your legs as warm as they could be.

The space he’d chosen was better than last night’s. A towering wall of rock stood tall, part of the mountain that was far too steep to climb. The ground was decently flat and clear; Drew mumbled that there’d be no fire tonight, since you had mentioned that there was a city nearby, and possibly some of the infected (distance never seemed to be an issue for their senses). He dragged both of your bags under a sturdy fir that guarded the edge of the rock wall, grabbing the tarp, rope, and his knife from his pack. The temporary home would keep your backs protected, facing the drop of the mountain, so you’d only have your fronts to worry about, if anything even dared to trek up the steep incline.

He never let you help him set up camp (if you could even call it that). He had never even let you try. He wanted you to sit there and busy yourself with whatever would keep you occupied, and would help you leave him alone. He didn’t like it when you stood and watched him, but you responded to his bitching by saying the ground was too cold to sit, and there was nothing for you to do. So you followed his next suggestion (more of a demand, but you liked to see the more positive aspect in things – it’s what kept you going through all of this), and went for a walk while he set up the thermal tarp for a basic shelter.

“Don’t leave my line of sight.” He called out. You said you wouldn’t.

Every evening, the constant fog that plagued the daytime would roll down the mountain and disappear for the night. The moon was still no clearer; the thick fir trees blocked any direct light from casting beams with their dense, unforgiving shade. Like a dream, a nightmare that you were never allowed to wake up from. A present state that you were never permitted to know the outcome of, whether you would survive all of this – or even, how long it would be before the virus took you too. In the daytime, when you should be able to see over the trees that descended down the hill, you were met with the smoggy, amber cloud of dew. At nighttime, what little sky that managed to poke through the blanket of pine needles would blend into the darkness of the forest.

The world was a snow globe, shaken up by the creator to make things interesting, and you were still waiting for the clouds of dust to settle before you could make sense of everything. This life must have been too boring for its audience, you supposed, and that’s why you were here.

There was still no explanation for what had happened – at least, not that either of you had heard. But it’s possible that no one knew. It’s more likely that the broadcasters had been infected at their desks before they could spread the information. There was no theory, no hypothesis. None worth wasting energy to relieve the itch in everyone’s brains. There was only the evidence: the wailing, screaming, and shrieking, coming from the west side. The panic that held you down like an anchor when you and everyone on that street had witnessed the bite; the creature’s teeth sinking into another’s throat with no sympathetic yield, the way you realized how stringy flesh really is when it’s being ripped apart.

They looked mostly human, but only in shape. Their flesh was dull, and their veins were a blackened crimson, running like poisoned roots under their skin. Broken bones nor open wounds could stop the gnashing of their teeth. The eyes were clouded with deep red, and the outlines of the iris were barely visible beneath it. It was a sharp reminder that they were people before they were infected with the virus, and an even more painful question: were they still there? Were they dead, or were they living hosts?

Eventually, Drew called you back to the camp, and you hastily returned before his anger could beat you there. You gave in and sat on the cold earth, using your knit cardigan as a buffer from the chill, while he sat under the tarp shelter.

Dinner was a protein bar split between the two of you, and it was eaten in silence. The chewy, peanut-butter-flavored granola did little to satisfy you, but it rounded the rough edge of hunger that had been pinching your stomach. The MRE’s were saved for days when more energy was exerted. You only had so many of those left, and it was unlikely that there would be any more lingering in an abandoned store, if Drew ever did choose to look for more supplies.

It was an unsettling thought: one day, he’d run out of food and ways to purify the river water. His tools would break, batteries would die, clothes would wear down… and the both of you might not be so lucky to happen upon an untouched store. You had just been lucky that Drew carries his rucksack in the back of his car – the fact that he had the car for as long as he did was a miracle. It managed to drag you across thousands of miles of Europe, before the fuel stations had run dry. All in all, he seemed very prepared for an insane situation such as a viral apocalypse, which should have been a red flag. But considering your current position, and how you could have ended up… infected, you weren’t opening that can of worms.

Still, it did beg the question, you thought as you chewed on the never-ending granola. Why did he bring you along?

Up until the day the world collapsed, he’d been nothing but caring and sweet. A little too eager to have you exclusively, you had thought, but who are you to underappreciate affection, wherever you can get it? A gentleman was hard to come by these days – even if Drew barely fit that mold. He was nice enough, paid for dinner the first date, took you to a movie for the second, and fucked you nice on the third. How could you complain about the minor things, when he was a good boyfriend in other aspects?

Things changed drastically when the virus had begun to spread. After witnessing a walking cadaver bite the jugular out of an innocent bystander, he had dragged you out of your shock-induced stupor and into the passenger seat of his car. He had barked orders at you, but you were too busy processing the blood and the half-dead, still-chewing corpses on the streets as you passed them. His words landed on deaf ears, so he smacked you, which then gave him your full attention. So much had happened that one day that you had brushed it off as a necessary action. He couldn’t take care of two people when one of them was in shock, you reasoned. Besides that, you eventually realized how fortunate you were to have escaped in one piece with him. For all you knew, the two of you were the only ones to make it out alive – or, rather, uninfected.

But the change in his behaviour was a permanent one, you soon found out. Every day, you were reminded how much of a burden you were, how he saved your life, how grateful you should be (because apparently asking what the plan was more than once when you didn’t receive an answer was very ungrateful of you), and what you would be if he hadn’t brought you with him: dead. Nearly everything you said to him earned you with spit in your face and a welt somewhere on your body. If you asked him a question, his reply always came to you in a raised voice. You figured that the loss of balance and routine in his own life had driven him to this – he needed something under his control, and unfortunately, you were the only living thing within a twenty-mile radius of him. You became that something. The bird in the cage.

“Y’know I never wanted this.”

You looked at him as you chewed the last bite of the protein bar. It wasn’t a new conversation, though it wouldn’t have surprised you if it was. His actions had been nothing short of hateful.

“I wouldn’t have brought you with me if I could help it.”

You could have. You wanted to say. You could have left me standing in the square. I would have died there and would never be your problem. But you have said this before, and all it did was land you with a bruise somewhere on the back of your head.

You didn’t know if he wanted a response, but on the chance that you could make him angry, you gave one. You needed to. You needed him to be angry.

“I don’t… I didn’t exactly plan this.”

He laughed with disappointment. Apparently, you’d said the wrong thing.

You continued: “But thank you.” Thank you for dragging me into nowhere, for bringing me along with you just to call me useless.

“At least you know what charity is when you see it…” he mumbled, chewing on the last bite of his protein bar. “You know how far you’d’ve gotten on your own?”

You kept your venom tucked away into the corners of your mind. For the plan. “I think- I would have been alright, maybe…”

“You’d be one of them.” He spat, staring into your eyes with malice. He wanted to hurt you, to keep you scruffed with your nose rubbed into the dirt. “You can’t do shit for yourself out here, even when the world’s not on fire. You’re pathetic, y’know that?”

You waited to see if he’d let you off the hook, but he continued to glare at you. Slowly, you nodded your head.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“… I’m pathetic.” You said quietly. You might have been biting the bullet just to enact your plan, but the words dragged daggers on the inside of your cheeks as you spoke them.

He stared at you a few moments more. You wondered if he was satisfied with your admission, or if he could stand a bit more self-degrading statements from you. The hair on the back of your neck bristled under the intensity of his gaze, so you looked at the ground. A sign of submission, but hopefully one of the last ones you’d allow him.

He stood slowly, shucking his jacket off and dropping it behind him. Your gut grew uneasy as he stalked over to you; your eyes darted between his face, his expression somewhere between irate and smug, and back to the darkening woods behind him. The sun had fully descended behind the mountain now, and you were once again surrounded by the blanket of shadow. You felt a tremor building in the base of your spine as you could only assume what would happen next.

He reached his hand out and held your chin, surprisingly gently – though you still flinched. He dragged your head upwards until your eyes landed on his face. There was cruelty laced into his brown eyes, and his unkempt hair only added to the feral look about him. You knew that the lust was one of the reasons he had kept you all this time – why he brought you around in the first place, you couldn’t say. But, unfortunately for you, there hadn’t been much you could do to keep him at bay. It was better for you if you worked with him instead of against him; at least, that’s what he’d told you every single time, but you had come to believe it. Still, this would be the last time you’d have to endure it.

“Stupid girl…” he muttered, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “You don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”

Saying no would be too obvious – he’d know you were trying to win his approval for a reason, and you couldn’t risk anything tonight. So, you continued to look up at him, letting the tears weave into your lash line.

“Aren’t you lucky to have someone like me?” He continued, cupping his hand over the crown of your head.

You nodded as a single tear spilled down your cheek.

“I don’t like getting mad at you, I swear…” no matter the meaning of his words, they continued to drip from his tongue like slime. You wanted to choke just from the sound of them. “It just seems like you don’t trust me, after all this time…” he smeared the tear against your skin until the water chilled, making you shiver. “… after all I’ve done for you. You don’t think I know what I’m doin’?”

You could feel his fingers working themselves into your hair, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m sorry…” you said for the umpteenth time that day. “I just get worried, and- I know you tell me not to, but I can’t help it.”

“I know, I know…” he murmured, his fingers clenching into the roots of your hair, making you wince and grip his calf, a silent yet timid plea for him to be gentle. “You’re not used to this, I get that. But you gotta leave it in my hands, sweetheart.” He pulled your head back until you were looking up at the sky, making you groan painfully. “You promise me that? You promise you’re gonna let me do what I need to do?”

“M-mhmm-“

“Use your words.”

“I promise-“ you sputtered out.

“Good, good…” he said, releasing your hair. Your head dropped down and rested against his thigh. The plan. Remember the plan. You can use this.

“You don’t need to worry about what I’m doin’. Just tell me what you need and I’ll decide what to do, alright?” He said lowly.

“I- I want it…”

“What do you want?”

You gritted your teeth, then forced yourself to look up at him. “I want it… rough, tonight.”

You heard the growl rumble through his chest, and noticed the subsequent tightening of his pants right in front of your face. It filled you with a nauseating dread, but it would only be one more night, just one more, one more time, and then it’s over-

“All that gotcha worked up, didn’t it?” he chided, folding his arms over his chest as he smirked down at you. As if this wasn’t where he expected the night to go. “All that yelling and orderin’ you around gotcha riled up, darlin'? Looks like you’re starting to know what you’re good for. How you can help, since you’re always asking.”

You didn’t look up at him. It was bad enough trying to stomach yet another night of what you were trying so hard to escape. Now, for him to think that you were starting to crave it; you wanted to grab the nearest rock and bash him in the head with it. Or grab his legs and throw the both of you down the mountainside, to be done with it, once and for all. But, as easy and refreshing as that sounded, you needed this. You needed your freedom. Sacrifices had to be made to have such a thing, especially in this day and age.

You closed your eyes and pressed your cheek to his groin, feeling it stiffen and twitch from behind his pants. You tilted your head back to look up at him, wide-eyed and giving the neediest look you could. He had never been more unattractive to you than now, but the chance to escape had never been more desirable.

“Please…” you said, reaching your other hand up to palm at his abdomen. “I can be good, I can… I can make up for today. I promise.”

He sighed, as though he was surrendering some part of his responsibility and morals. You knew it was a front – the only reason he wasn’t forcing your face into the earth was because you weren’t fighting back this time. He reached a hand down and roughly tapped your cheek a few times. You winced, but held back the urge to jerk away from him. He then rubbed the reddening spot on your cheek.

“Alright then. Show me.”

Just one more time.

Next ->

Taglist: @nic-stars @teenagellamaangel @zhuyingsworld @crypticme @konigswifeyforlifey @zlunia @gremlinmodetweeker

[reginamillls]

💗 + buddietommy beloved?? 🥺💖

Maybe it was the almost dying part that sped run the confession, but laying here now in a bed that was almost too small, Eddie likes to believe that it was inevitable, that they were always meant to be here.

He's the most mobile of the three, his injuries the lightest and so Eddie is the one who is up to get pain pills when the alarm goes off. It's an easy trek to Tommy's kitchen, his home was all on one floor as well, easily accessable to anyone.

It's easily accesable to Chris.

The thought warms Eddie as he carefully grabs some water bottles. His bruised ribs didn't allow for much reach, and when Bobby had set them up for the week he made sure that everything would be easy.

On his way back to the bedroom, Eddie passes Tommy's cat who blinks up at him from her perch on the couch and he strokes her soft fur, enticing purrs.

"I'm taking care of him, Amelia," Eddie promises lightly. Amelia blinks at him with her big blue eyes and Eddie scratches beneath her chin. "I love them you know." She blinks at him and Eddie likes to think she understands that he means every word.

Eddie moves on into the bedroom and stops in the doorway to just look at the two men in the bed. Buck is tucked intowards Tommy, his legs tangled with the other's. His posture is careful, positioned in a way not to aggrivate his injuries. His breathing is even, something that is welcomed after hearing it rattle only a few days prior.

Next to Buck in the middle, Tommy is awake.

He looks over at Eddie, eyes softening when he sees Eddie in the doorway and the tense line of his shoulders relax some.

"You weren't here when I woke up," Tommy mumbles as Eddie gets closer. "I was worried-"

"I meant what I said back then," Eddie says. "You both make it out of there, and I won't let either of you go-" Eddie sits on the bed and grabs Tommy's hand in his own and squeezes it. "We're all here."

"Yeah-" Tommy croaks and Eddie opens one of the waterbottles and holds it to his lips, helping him to drink it carefully. When he isn't so parched, Eddie helps Tommy take one of his pain pills as well.

"Thanks," Tommy says, eyes shinning as he looks at Eddie. Buck had mentioned before how Tommy's gaze could be intense, and Eddie feels the weight of it now, but it isn't unwanted.

"Do the thing-" Eddie hears Buck mumble and he looks over to see Buck blinking awake with a small smile on his face.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, curious. Tommy is smiling now and Eddie feels two fingers tuck beneath his chin.

The kiss is gentle.

It still takes Eddie's breath away.

When Tommy parts he looks shy and behind him Buck is beaming, bright and happy with this developement. They had talked about it, back in the accident and then again in the hospital, about what this could mean for all three of them.

A part of Eddie just thought it would stay there, in empty promises said in the heat of the moment.

"My turn-" Eddie hears and before he realizes it, Buck is kissing him then, just as gentle as Tommy but a little different.

"You two are beautiful," Tommy says when they part. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Almost dying wasn't part of it," Buck says, eyes narrowed and Tommy sighs. "Seriously, you're not allowed to do that again Tommy."

"I'd do it again if it meant the both of you lived," Tommy retorts but the argument dies there. They've already dished most of this out at the hospital.

"I love both of you," Tommy adds softer and Buck seems to melt at that and goes to kiss Tommy this time and Eddie can't help but thing that the two of them were beautiful together as well.

"Let's just try and stay alive," Eddie moves closer so that he could grab both Buck and Tommy's hands. He feels more grounded here then he has in months, in this bed that barely fits the three of them.

"We should get a bigger bed," Buck says once they're all settled carefully into a cuddle again. "None of us are exactly small here."

"I'll look up some Alaskan kings," Tommy says. "Eddie what's your favorite color-" Tommy starts as he pulls out his phone, including Eddie immedietly into the conversation and Eddie lets the feeling of warmth wash over him from both Buck and Tommy's attention and love.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

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The next few weeks were like clockwork.  Bucky felt well-rested and lighter than he had in years as Y/N helped with Winnie.  Y/N quickly became another part of the Avengers family, her calm and inviting demeanor making the others feel comfortable being open with her.  She was bright and outgoing, often spouting one-liners that had the entire group doubled over laughing.  Bucky could feel himself getting in dangerous territory with her as he naturally got closer to her as friends, building an emotional and at times physical connection with her.  He reveled in the moments he’d muster up the courage and give her a side hug that she happily reciprocated, a lingering touch between their hands, when she would fall asleep on his shoulder as they watched a movie with Winnie, or be close to her as they both played with Winnie.  If he didn’t know any better he would think that she copied his stare, catching her looking away from him hurriedly every once in a while.  He didn’t want to push it, but was finding it more difficult as time went on.

“Hey Buck?”  Y/N asked him one day.

“Yeah?” 

“Um…I’m sorry to do this but, I need next Saturday night off,” Y/N said hesitantly.

“Oh, okay.  That should be fine.  May I ask why?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m helping out a friend with something,” Y/N said, clearly not wanting to give him any details.

“Okay, yeah I can handle my kid for one night,” Bucky smirked at her.

“Psh, you sure?” Y/N teased him.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  Their playful banter had become second nature to them by now and he secretly loved it.  “Yes.  Jesus, how little faith you have in me.”

Y/N shoved his arm playfully.

***

“We go next Saturday,” Steve announced to the room.

“Next Saturday?” Bucky asked incredulously.  “I can’t, Y/N’s gonna be out that night.  Who will watch Winnie?”

“I can,” Pepper piped up.  

“Good,” Steve continued.  “We’ll go in as patrons.  Scott will take a look around while we observe the club and Kingpin’s guys.  He won’t be there, he’s scheduled to be out of the country until next Sunday,” Steve continued rattling off the mission plan.  Bucky’s unease didn’t let up.  Something about this seemed off, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

The next Saturday Y/N had already left earlier in the day and Pepper was watching Winnie as Bucky got dressed.  They were going to a fancy burlesque club downtown and they needed to look like they belonged.  He wore a faux skin over his metal hand to make it look like regular flesh and an all-black outfit that was much tighter than the t-shirts and sweats he enjoyed.  Steve and Scott met him downstairs, Steve dressed in a similar sharp outfit and his beard growing in, making him slightly less recognizable, and Scott in his Antman outfit so he could get tiny and spy all over the club quickly.  They were looking for intel on weapons manufacturers that Kingpin was working with to deliver some previously-thought-lost alien weaponry into New York.

They arrived at the club at about 11:15 p.m. and were ushered into the VIP section, courtesy of Tony making a call ahead of time.  Scott was buzzing around somewhere as Steve and Bucky ordered drinks and observed the club around them.  Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, the regular set up of Kingpin’s men there as bouncers and security.  

“Guys, he’s here,” Scott’s voice sounded panicked through the earpieces.

“What?” Steve said, his brow furrowing, but otherwise keeping a straight face.

“A whole caravan of cars just pulled up, it’s him with his entourage.  Looks like about 15 more men with him.”

“Why would he come back early?” Bucky asked, his eyes sweeping across the venue slowly.  Just then Kingpin and his group entered.  He was freakishly tall, bald, and burly, a mountain of a man compared to his bodyguards.  He was dressed in the most expensive materials, his pearly white veneers glowing eerily between his lips, large rings on his fingers.  “Typical,” Bucky sighed heavily as he watched him cross the club to his own VIP section that was front and center to the stage.  

“Tell me about it,” Steve scoffed.  Just then the announcer came overhead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest for you tonight.  Back for one night only, give a warm welcome to the one, the only, Big Booty Baby!”

Kingpin stood and clapped, his eyes trained on the stage territorially.  Bucky and Steve shared a knowing look before looking toward the stage, noting how much the crowd was clapping excitedly as well.  The curtain pulled back as the music started, a bright pink light outlining the body of the dancer who was posed with her back to the audience.  She was plus size, thus the name, but it wasn’t until the spotlight came on and she turned her head to her profile that Bucky’s mouth dropped open.  Steve looked at him strangely then took another look at the dancer and his eyes bulged.  It was Y/N.

“Did y’all miss me?” she asked in a sultry tone, her voice being picked up by the microphone hanging over her head.  The crowd cheered, whooping and hollering.  She giggled then turned and posed again, looking out over the audience.  The song picked up and she started to sway and move, dancing while lip syncing the lyrics to “Fever,” a song Bucky actually recognized.  He squirmed in his seat as he watched her slowly pull off her glove.

“Um…did you know she was going to be here?” Steve breathed.

“No,” Bucky seethed.  He was angry.  Not necessarily at her, or that she didn’t tell him she would be “helping a friend” at the burlesque club, but that she was here in a dangerous situation with the likes of Kingpin.  If he wasn’t already invested in this mission and ending this man, he definitely was now.  Especially as he saw Kingpin watch her hungrily, whispering to his men next to him who all chuckled darkly with him.  “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve said, looking around for quick exit points and options.

“I found the jackpot,” Scott’s voice crackled through.  “I’m collecting it all now and I can meet you outside in 10 minutes.”

“Something came up, Scott.  Take what you have and go back to the compound.  We’ll meet you there,” Steve instructed lowly.  Scott agreed and disconnected.  “What’s the play, Buck?”

“I’ll buy a private dance.  You find an exit point and get the car ready and we’ll get out of here,” Bucky said, his metal hand creaking slightly as he made a fist when she stripped off another layer of clothing.  Steve gestured to one of the waiters, asking to buy a private dance with her for his friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, but he’ll have to wait till after Mr. Fisk has his dance,” she said sweetly.  “But we can get another girl for you?”

“No, just her, uh…how long are the private dances?” Steve asked as Bucky sent a murderous glare Kingpin’s way.

“They’re scheduled anywhere from 5 minutes to 20 minutes.  Mr. Fisk always takes 20,” she rattled off.

“I’ll take a 20 after him for my friend,” Steve said and paid her the money.  She nodded and walked off as Steve turned back to Bucky.  “Buck, you need to stay calm.”

“I am calm,” Bucky grunted.  “Twenty minutes is a long time.”

“Right,” Steve said, sounding worried.

They both sputtered as Y/N took off her last layer of clothing, her nipples covered in heart shaped pasties and her nether regions barely covered by a small, glittery red bikini bottom, her full ass hanging out as she jiggled it to the audience, the fan in her hand shaking as she finished the song.  She did her last pose and then smiled wide at the cheers, blowing kisses to people and bowing, covering herself with the large fan.  Her eyes seemed to catch sight of Kingpin and she froze for a moment, her eyes widening and the smile dropping from her face before she quickly recovered, smiling politely as she grabbed her clothes and dollar bills and exited the stage.  Bucky could tell she was scared, and it made him even angrier, and nervous.

When it was over Bucky quickly stood and marched over with Steve to the private dance area.  Kingpin was right behind them.  Bucky decided to try his luck as he stepped up to the podium.  “Hi, I paid for a private dance with Big Booty Baby,” he said in an even, flirty tone to the woman.

“Ah, sorry, sir, our owner has first dibs,” she said, looking behind him.  

Kingpin stepped forward and stood next to Bucky.  He seemed to size him up, which made Bucky level him a cocked eyebrow.  Kingpin was a head taller than him and bulkier, probably weighing close to 400 or more pounds.  He could probably squash Bucky just by sitting on him, but Bucky didn’t let it get to him.  “It’s alright, Roxy, this gentleman can take his turn first,” Kingpin said, trying to play it off as a kindness, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.  “Oh and uh,” he leaned forward to Bucky, “she’s a spitfire.  Feisty.”  He winked at him.

Bucky wanted to deck him right there but just gave him a tight smile.  As he turned to enter the private area he glanced at Steve who was already nodding and turning to leave to find a back door to the area.  Bucky followed Roxy’s instructions and nodded to Kingpin before heading into the private room near the back, thankfully right next to the exit.  When he walked in the room Y/N was pressed into a corner, dressed in a robe and turned away from him.

“Stay away from me, Wilson,” Y/N said firmly, not looking at him.

“Y/N,” Bucky said quietly.  She turned, looking at Bucky in shock.

“Bucky?  What?”  She stared at him then held her robe tighter over her body.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he held a hand out to her.

“I can’t,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.  “I’m covering for Tiffany.  He wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said, her chin trembling.

“It’s not safe, Y/N,” Bucky said, slowly approaching her.  “We need to leave.”

“There’s cameras everywhere,” Y/N said.  “It’s in the corner behind you.”  Bucky stiffened and sighed.  “They’re always watching.  I have to give you a dance or the manager or Fisk will come back and do something.”

“Okay fine,” Bucky said matter-of-factly.  He turned to the large, wide armchair behind him and sat in it stiffly.  “Give me a dance, then we’ll head towards the door like you’re sending me off, and slip out the exit.”  Y/N stared at him wide-eyed, her eyes flicking to the camera and back to him.  “Come on, Y/N, we only have 18 minutes left,” Bucky urged her.

Y/N watched him for another moment then nodded solemnly.  Her hands released her robe and slid it off her body, showing off her bright blue bustier top she had changed into.  She was wearing a matching thong and garter set with sheer blue stockings, her feet bare.  Bucky swallowed thickly as he looked at her.  She swayed her way over to him, matching the beat of the music bumping around them, putting on a show for the camera.

When she reached him she pulled a leg up and set her foot on his knee, moving her hand from her thigh down to her foot slowly, tipping her body forward to show off her heavy cleavage.  Her hand edged off her foot to his thigh, kneading the flesh there as she climbed onto the chair, straddling his legs, her hips slotting over his.  Bucky didn’t dare move.  The feelings he’d been tamping down were coming out full force, refusing to believe that it wasn’t real.  Her fingers scratched up his shirt, and when she reached the top buttons she undid three of them and leaned in.  She placed a kiss on his chest then dragged her mouth up to his neck and licked just under his jaw.

Bucky’s hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly to help ground himself.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Y/N whispered into his ear, giving his earlobe a nibble as her hands roamed along his chest and arms.

“It’s okay,” Bucky breathed, his hips trembling when she started to grind down on him.  “We’ll…mmh,” he moaned as she bit his neck lightly, her hands moving to his hair and scratching his scalp.  “We’ll talk about it at home.”

Y/N nodded against his neck.  She glanced at the timer behind him.  10 minutes.  “Forgive me,” she said quietly.  Bucky didn’t understand until she suddenly pulled away and got off the chair.  She turned around and slapped her ass, making it jiggle in his face, then took his hands and led them to her ass, encouraging him to touch her.  Bucky tried to act like he didn’t want to, but it was no use.  He sat up and kneaded her ass, his face close to her right cheek.  He wasn’t sure what came over him but he slapped that cheek, making her gasp, then leaned forward further and lightly kissed the welt that started forming.  Y/N moaned this time, her hands tightly wrapped around his wrists.  She pushed him back and sat back on his lap.  She started grinding her hips into his, her hands supporting herself on his knees.  Bucky helped guide her hips where he wanted them, the crack of her ass enveloping his covered cock so perfectly it had his eyes rolling.

“Buck?  I found the exit nearest you.  Where are you?”  Steve’s voice rang in his ear.

“Almost there,” Bucky said as evenly as he could.  Steve copied and Bucky silenced his earpiece.  Y/N leaned back so they were cheek to cheek, Bucky’s panted breaths huffing against her face.  She pulled his hands to her thighs, which he immediately started gripping roughly.  “Fuck, honey,” he groaned, watching her grind against him.

“Honey?” Y/N said, her voice airy and sultry like it was on stage.

Bucky nodded as she slid across his cock just right that his hips rutted up against her.  Y/N smiled and kept grinding on him that way.  Bucky’s hands slipped up her body until his covered metal hand cupped her left breast and his flesh hand wrapped around her throat.  He was losing all sense of self, just enjoying this pleasure while he still could, almost forgetting the danger they were in.  “Sweet and smooth,” he murmured, his metal hand rubbing her breast then down her stomach, “like honey.”

Y/N whimpered as his voice dropped.  She grabbed his metal hand, pausing when she saw it covered by the faux skin, but then brought it to her mouth. She stuck her tongue out and licked his pointer finger slowly, swirling around it then sucking his middle finger into her mouth with it, licking and sucking them together like it were his cock.  That combined with her gyrating hips had him growling into the crook of her neck as his hips jerked and he came in his pants.  Y/N gasped around his fingers but kept sucking them as he jerked a couple more times with how much he was cumming.  He’d never seen something so erotic, and he kissed her neck as his breathing evened out.

Y/N slightly turned her head and looked behind him.  2 minutes.

“We need to go now,” Y/N said.  She quickly stood up and put on her robe, grabbing a bag that was hiding under the couch across from them.  Bucky cleared his throat and tried to fix his ruined pants as he stood.  He looked at the timer and then turned his earpiece back on.  

“Steve, we’re coming out now,” he grunted.

“Ready when you are,” Steve replied. 

Bucky grabbed Y/N by the arm and led her to the door.  He opened it and looked out into the hallway.  Seeing no one coming he opened the exit door next to them and held it open for her.  Just as Y/N stepped out and was one foot out the exit, Kingpin rounded the corner.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted as he started running towards them.

Y/N gasped and looked panicked as Bucky pushed her out the door.  Steve was in a car right next to it and Bucky hurried her inside and slammed it behind himself.  “Go!” he yelled and Steve took off.

Kingpin burst through the exit door when they were already halfway down the alley.  “GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!  I OWN YOU!!” he yelled.  Bucky looked back just as he saw Kingpin pull out a gun.

“Duck!” he yelled and pushed Y/N’s head down.  

A shot rang out and ricocheted off the bulletproof back window, making Y/N scream.  Steve peeled around the corner and they quickly drove away.  They circled around, taking different twists and turns.  When they were sure they weren’t being followed Steve headed back towards the compound.  

Bucky couldn’t relax, his head on a swivel as Steve continued home.  The car was quiet until a small sniffle came from Y/N.  Bucky’s head whipped toward her and his expression softened.  She was still hunched over, like she was afraid she could still get shot.  Tears poured down her cheeks as she clutched her robe tight around her.  She was shivering.  Bucky sighed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him.  She flinched at first, looking at him with wide eyes, but then she melted against him, tucking her head against his chest as she cried.  He held her close, rubbing her arm and whispering comforting words into her hair.  

When they pulled up to the compound Steve quickly turned around in the car.  “Y/N, are you okay?”

Y/N sighed and sat up, wiping at her eyes.  “I’m fine, thanks Steve,” she whispered.

Steve gave her a long look then turned to Bucky.  “You good?”

“As much as I can be,” Bucky shrugged.

“Alright.  We’ll meet in the conference room tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.  All of us,” he looked at Y/N pointedly.  She hung her head and nodded.  “Go clean up and get some rest, the both of you.”  He exited the car and headed inside, leaving them behind.

Bucky grabbed Y/N’s bag and exited the car, holding the door open for her.  She followed him out and trailed behind him as they walked inside.  Thankfully everyone was either away or had gone to bed already so they weren’t bothered as they headed to their suite.  The elevator ride was deafeningly silent, and the walk down the hallway was eerie with the thud of their footsteps echoing.  When Bucky opened the door he let Y/N enter first and they were greeted with Pepper sitting on the couch.

“Welcome back, how–” she stopped when she saw Y/N.  “Y/N?  What…?”  She walked over to her and reached out a hand, pushing back some of her hair.

“I’m fine,” Y/N waved off her concerned look.  “It was just…a lot.”

Pepper looked over her tear stained and makeup streaked face and then down her body at her outfit.  Y/N closed the robe again.  “I thought you said you were done with the burlesque club.”

It sounded accusatory and Bucky stepped forward.  “Pepper, don’t.”

“I was,” Y/N spoke up, giving Pepper a hard glare.  “My friend needed help.  I told her I’d cover this one shift so she could audition for a new place that’s not owned by the same person.  He’s dangerous.  I was…helping a friend,” she sniffed, her lip trembling.  “I will not apologize for that.  But I will apologize for not making everyone aware of what I was doing.”

Pepper nodded then turned to Bucky.  “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes,” Bucky said resolutely.

“Fine.  But no more,” Pepper said, looking back at Y/N.  Y/N nodded.  Pepper sighed then walked around her and headed for the door.  “Winnie’s been fine.  Fell asleep about two hours ago,” she said as she opened the door then shut it behind her.

Bucky and Y/N stood silently in the front room.  Bucky walked toward Y/N’s room with her bag.  She slowly followed him.  He entered the room and set the bag down on her bed before turning back to look at her.  She was looking anywhere but at him, her arms still wrapped around herself.  Bucky watched her for a moment then stepped toward her.  He lifted her chin with his finger and gazed deeply into her eyes.  “Are you okay?”

Y/N gazed back at him, her makeup smeared and her cheeks still flushed.  She gave him a sad lopsided smile and shrugged one shoulder.  “I’m fine.  Thank you, for helping me,” she whispered, her voice coming out hoarse.  Bucky waited to see any lie in her eyes, but after a moment pulled his hand away.  

“Okay,” he said simply.  “Get some rest.  We can talk about all this tomorrow.”

Y/N sighed again, closing her eyes and nodding.  Bucky was about to step around her but stopped himself.  He stepped closer to her again, lifting his hand to cup her cheek.  Her eyes flew open and she stared at him with wide eyes.  His eyes searched her face, flicking between her eyes to her lips and back.  He leaned forward slowly, waiting for her to react or pull away.  When she didn’t he took that as a good sign and closed the gap, kissing her cheek, so very close to the side of her mouth.  He pulled away and stared at her lips for a moment before looking back up at her eyes.  Her mouth slightly hung open, her own eyes focusing on his lips.  

“Thanks for the dance,” Bucky said, a small smirk lighting up his face.  He dropped his hand from her face and stepped around her as she gasped lightly.  When he turned to close her door she was staring at him with a stunned expression.  He winked and closed the door behind him.

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

[beiasluv]

Hello! Do you take request for platonic relationships? May I request for a fic where the reader is Neteyam’s twin and they died instead of Neteyam? Thank you!

neteyam x sister!reader

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

a/n: yesss, i love platonic relationships, hope u like it :)

warnings: curse words, death :( and ye bad grammar bc i am potato 💀

masterlist

enjoy!

the tale of jake sully and neytiri began a long, long time ago. until now, they had a been blessed with a baby or should i say babies

the future child of the toruk makto bear great responsibility since a youngling. even the childbirth was not private, the clan gathered around the suffering neytiri to celebrate their heirs.

neytiri screamed as her voice cracked; she squeezed jake’s hand tightly, as if she wanted him to bore the pain. jake, who was helpless to his wife held her tightly and made an attempt to calm his own beating heart.

“a boy!” the first cry echoed the forest floors and a blue baby wailed.

“neteyam!” jake held his baby high up the ground, as an offering back to eywa. and like she had noticed, the wind blew heavily among the trees.

“neteyam!” the people of omaticaya chanted as they celebrated.

jake held neteyam against his mother, “he is so precious- ma ja-!”

“neytiri!” she held his hand tightly for the second time. “what is wrong? are you injured?” he looked for mo’at and she came hurriedly.

“this can’t be!” mo’at raised her hand high towards eywa. “ewya had blessed them with a twin!” “Tsleng kä! (eywa gives)”

“Tsleng kä!! (eywa gives!)”

…

“y/n!” jake held you up in his embrace.

“y/n!” the people chanted. as if eywa acknowledged her blessing again, the woodsprites surround your body and flew off into the wind.

a twin can only be so different yet so similar at the same time. you both inherited loyalty and obedience from your parents.

however, the eldest daughter can never deny that they are a daddy’s girl. and neteyam is a mommy’s boy. a fair trade

jake will always have a soft spot for you in his heart. the firstborn daughter of a toruk makto carries a great burden all the time. he had to prepare you since young to learn how to hunt, speak intellectually, and the importance of your people.

he will call you his ‘babygirl’ when you are going through tough times and it helps calm you down 👀

you would say you guys are both calm and collected. but if compared with each other, neteyam is still leaning towards his brain, but you leans towards your heart.

you are more emotional than neteyam and for good reasons.

whenever he gets too harsh on lo’ak, you were there to support and push him up. (sorry neteyam, but we know who is lo’ak’s favorite twin here)

however, twins are twins. you guys can fight each other and screw up one another, but you are always there to back him up.

“no, neteyam, can not have my food, but here is my liver if you are going to die.”

neteyam, being the eldest he is, is very protective of his twin sister. your human hand gained a lot of unwanted attention from the other na’vis. he made each and everyone of them to learned their lesson if they decided to judge your precious pinkie.

he is very picky of what you wear and where you go

“no, you can not wear that, cover up,” he whined.

“please, as if you are not showing your whole upper body,” you slapped his abs.

“no, this is different!” he raised his arms. “there are boys drooling over you wherever you go! do not think i didn’t notice.”

“it is normal of our culture! na’vis wear this!” you complained.

“i’ll tell mom you’ve been seeing a boy out,” he raised his eyebrows.

“nete! we are just friends!”

“then cover up.”

“fine!”

whenever the boys are in trouble, you have to go bring them back. dragging them by their ears are your favorite method.

now, they’ve learned when does your footsteps mean trouble from mom and dad.

“shit! she’s coming! run!” lo’ak tapped his brother.

“neteyam! lo’ak! i am not covering for you this time!”

“then, catch us!”

“don’t make me count!”

buttt, you still covered for them because they are your beloved brothers.

patching them up most of the time. kiri is also there to help you patch them up.

kiri and tuk are your angels for lifeee. teas? spilled. you guys have girls night all thetime.

the girls like to roam the forest floor and sometimes the lab. you knew kiri and grace have a special connection, and you were there to support here through the hard times.

kiri is your spiritual sister, Period. she loves to nap in the forest with you and swim in the waterfalls.

tuk is your baby, she is so supportive and lovely to be around. your baby sister who backs you up all the time.

when mom and dad goes too harsh on you, neteyam and tuk is always there to hold you up.

spider tho. no particular comment. you had always smelled stinky feelings towards him since the beginning, but seeing your siblings grow fond of him you didn’t say anything.

he is very friendly, to the point of being weird to you. you remember to keep a distance from him

bantering with neteyam all. of. the. time. who’s older or younger, classic. who’s taller, well, you kinda gave up after puberty hit him like a BUS

you are also protective of him. girls are always surrounding him with gifts and flowers. some even took an extra step to spy him through you.

nope, not happening.

-spoilers!!-

the metkayina welcomed you guys with hospitality and same hostile behavior. which you didn’t mind, considering your dad brought much trouble to them.

you tried to be invisible to most of the people, staying away on the beach, swimming alone, or watching the sunset.

ao’nung took advantage of your solitude to make friendship. easy to say that your brothers are not happy with his attempts.

you agreed to talk with him as long as he stop bothering kiri, which he agreed swiftly. he didn’t agree swiftly to stop bothering neteyam and lo’ak, tho. but he gave in in the end.

“you have to breath in from here,” ao’nung grabbed his abs, sort of what flexing, you noticed.

“okay,” you breathed in deeper than you normally do, earning a chuckle from him seeing your puffed cheeks.

“not your cheeks, here,” his hand claps your area of shown stomach. unknowingly, his hand was burning on your skin.

“are you sick, ao’nung? your hands and face are burning,” you touched his forehead.

“oh! no! definitely not! i am fine!” he flinched his hands back. “so- sorry.”

“hey! great! you are learning to apologize!” you giggled at his words.

“only to you,” he mumbled under his breath.

“what?”

“oh, nothing,” he replied.

“y/n! let’s go! dad’s calling!” neteyam ran over to you. “look who’s here, trying to get my sister?” (giving the eyes)

“you shut up!” ao’nung retorted back.

“hey! he’s not and don’t call my brother that, you guys apologize to each other…nete”

“s..sorry” “sorry”

for someone with ego as big as his, you taught him to become more selfless. the way your father taught you since a youngling. his parents were amazed by your successful attempts and welcomed you heartwarmingly.

his sister, tsireya, welcomed you with love and affection. she is quite the opposite of her brother, which you appreciated it quite a lot.

whenever your mom needs a second hand you will always be there for her. hugging her daily and giving her comfort. neytiri sings you daily to sleep just as it was in the jungle.

…and the war came, that demon you always loathed.

“y/n! y/n! no!” neteyam tried to keep your head above the water as he is fighting against the wave himself. “bro! take her!”

“shit!” lo’ak took your body on his ilu and cradled you in his arms.

“fuck! she took the shot for me, lo’ak! what am i going to do!”

“should’ve left her dead, bro,” spider said emotional-less.

“SHUT UP! TAKE HER TO DAD NOW!” neteyam commanded lo’ak who hurriedly tightened his grip on you.

“couz, do you know what the fuck did you just said!” lo’ak called his ilu to take off while neteyam is holding on to its harness.

“she said she will sacrifice herself for her family, and this is what exactly what it is!” spider shouted back. “she wants to be with eywa! back when we were younger!”

“we’ll get back with you, spider!” neteyam shouted as he fought back the waves. “you are fucking mad! she’s our sister! I’ll never lose her to a fucking bullet! pray for yourself that I’ll not pluck your eyeballs out!”

…

“DAD!” lo’ak called out jake on the rock. “bro watch her head!” lo’ak, neteyam, and tsireya lowered your body softly on the rough surface. everyone can hear their heartbeat as well as the liquid in their teary eyes.

“fuck, pressure! apply pressure on her!” jake took neteyam’s hand and place it on her blood soaked chest. neteyam placed his shaky hands as heavy as he could on your chest to stop your blood.

“it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” your dad muttered to your fading sight.

“d- dad, i want to go home,” you sobbed, as each word hurts to mutter out.

“i know, i know, we’re going home,” he smiled softly at you, trying to keep himself together.

“no, no, no, no, no,” neytiri held your body tightly. she cradled your face in her soft hands. you remember these soft hands, they are the one who brought you to bed every night, the ones who took care of you when you are sick, and the one who held you when you first broke your heart. now you felt as if you are breaking their hearts.

“i- i- mom- dad-“ you can’t help but your body is shaking hardly.

“yes, sweetheart?” “yes, babygirl?” your mom and dad replied softly and everything blacks out.

…

“no! nooo! y/n!” neytiri screamed her heart out, her hands traveled around your head and held it close to her chest. as if she is trying to retrieve her last memory like the first time she was breast-feeding you. “my child! my daughter!”

your brothers held your body close to them as well. neteyam taking your hand and knitting his ring with your pinkie finger, “you promise! you promised!”

“neytiri, neytiri,” jake held her closely. “they have our daughters, i need you to be strong.”

“let’s take our daughters back.” from that moment on, her eyes became as emotional less as a robot, grabbing her bow she took off.

“stay with your sister!” jake commanded.

…

“what are you doing, mad animal! i don’t even care for that child!”

“A CHILD FOR A CHILD”

part 2

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, 🤍

[a-random-weeb]

Can I request ADA Yandere Dazai with a ADA fem reader?

imagine Yandere!Dazai kidnaps fem!reader cause he had enough of stalking. Acting all friendly in the ADA with her, only for reader to act oblivious to his advanced to court her. Fem!reader waking up after being drug by the Dazai, laying on an unfamiliar bed, being chain. Dazai walks in explaining all his love for her. Suprise suprise, fem reader explain he doesn't have to kidnap her and she was willing on staying for Dazai and proving her love for him

you basically just wrote the whole thing for me LMAO

But heres your summery but ✨longer✨ (Just like my di-)

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, Yandere themes, a littllllee NSFW mentions and I think that's it

Disclaimer: this is not romanticizing Yandere stuff, this is fanfiction and is never ok in real life

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't enough anymore. No, he needed more. Sure, he loved stalking you, watching you eat, sleep, game, whatever. He needed you to notice him, his affections, his love. Every day he watches you smiling and laughing with Kyouka, playing with Nanami, and having fun with people who aren't him. Every day he desperately tries to impress you, to make a move, but you always squirm around, looking away and leaving. He wish he knew why. He couldn't take it anymore, so he did what he had to do... He had to make sure he was the center of your attention.

Your eyes slowly flutter open, glancing around the monotonous room. Sun beams pour through the window, reflecting off the plain, white walls aswell as the hardwood floor. The flickering ceiling light and the soft, blue bed you lay on seem to be the only decor in the room. You try to sit up only to realize your wrists and ankles are restrained by chains. You try to stay silent as you attempt removing the chains from your limbs, hoping to not alert any unwanted attention to whoever brought you to this place. You find your efforts to be in vain, both removing the chains and being quiet, because you here footsteps approach the room.

"Hey Belladonna~" You watch as a hooded man enters the room. You can't hold your tears in as you violently thrust against the chains, attempting to break free.

"What the hell do you want?!" You scream, your eyebrows furrowing as big, salty tears stream down your face. The panic and fear overwhelm you as the anonymous man chuckles. He removes his black hoodie, revealing his true face.

"Dazai...?" Your eyes widden. Your emotions were all over the place now, anger, betrayal, confusion, anxiety, fear, panic... Too many emotions at once... He smirks at your squirming, "Why the long face dear?" You flinch as he approaches you, kissing your tears away, "I'm not gonna hurt you!"

"Get away from me-" he quickly covers your mouth with his palm.

"Shhhh, I'll explain everything." He smirks, but his face is tinted pink. "you see, I've liked you for quite some time. Everytime I went to flirt or make a move, you would avoid eye contact and leave. I've been stalking you, so I know you haven't noticed me... It's so cute when you touch yourself, or read smutty fanfiction at 3 AM, or laugh at a cat video. I can't get enough of you, so I had to take matters into my own hands... So I drugged you and kidnapped you, it was the only logical thing to do!" You think his actions were the opposite of logical.

"Dazai... do you know why I avoid eye contact and squirm?" He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. You sigh, "It's because I love you idiot!" Dazai's whole face turns red, "Y-you what?"

"I love you!" And like that, your both blushing messes. Dazai would've never suspected that the reason for your avoidance of him was because you liked him! He looks overjoyed as he pecks your lips.

"So if I untie you, you won't try to run?" You shake your head, "You didn't have to kidnap me or tie me up! All you had to do was confess!" Dazai eagerly unties you, pulling you to his chest.

"I love you..." he whispers.

"I love you too..." You smash your lips against his, excited to live your new life with him.

[echantedtoon]

Deadly Vow

Even in the middle of your revenge being complete, Jester reminds you that your deadly vows still remain in tact until the very end.

(This is based on Ending 1: Our Vow- Until Death Do US Part. Coverart is from Pinterest and not mine. Warnings for death and killing mentioned.)

"I no longer have need of your services."

"Is that right?"

It had been months since the time you died only to be revived and then had your revenge on everyone who wronged you. It was only the beginning really. 

Ever since you were a little girl you've done everything right. As princess and next in line you were prepared for only one thing and that was to become the perfect young lady. You think they resented you for not being born the strong male heir they wanted to have and instead would have to pick someone else from one of the other noble families to marry you and become their true heir. After all a woman in their eyes could never inherit their throne. Not like a man could. So you had done everything you could do to please them. You studied everything you could do to make yourself come off as a proper well bred lady. Learning to dance in those uncomfortable shoes, laugh at suitors' ridiculous jokes no matter how obnoxious they were, making yourself fond over men that your parents expressed interest in even if you hated their entire being, forcing yourself into those ridiculous dresses and make up because that's what you were expected to look like...

And yet it was NEVER good enough for them. Never good enough for anyone. All of your efforts only seemed to make them more angry of you even though you were doing more than they expected. 

In the end they were so fed up with your existence that they made the choice to end your life other than imprison you or vanish you. Both would've been preferable fates, at least then you would've been free to stop pretending to be something else you weren't. Your personal side being the one to do the deed. And leaving you to be brought back in the back of a wagon as they carted you off like unwanted cargo. If you only hadn't been born in the royal family maybe nothing would've happened.

But now you sat here in what remained of the crumbling throne room and just stared blankly at him. The demon who had done all the destruction. First ones to go were the ones who transported you away, then your parents, then your old personal aide that did the job, and then anyone the demon dam well pleased. Over and over day after day until the castle and the kingdom as a whole was swallowed up until nothing else was left but a smoking husk of what once was.

You nodded before the red and blue haired jester demon. The one responsible for it all. "Yes. You've done everything I asked you for and in turn I gave you the destruction you wanted so badly. My end of the deal is done and in turn yours is as well. So we have no more need to be in servitude to one another. I release you from your promise to me."

Instead of taking the obvious way out, he hummed tilting his head bells jingling on his hat. "Hmm. That would make sense....but I have no interest in in leaving what's mine." Those deadly eyes narrowed. "Isn't that right, my dear little wife?~"

Wife. 

You'd forgotten about that.

As a princess you were expected to be married. More like married off. It was your date to be married off to someone else who you probably would never love. All under the guise of being for the 'better of your people and kingdom' and then to be nothing but the perfect little supportive wife to him for the rest of your lives and produce him many heirs. It was a date you being trapped didn't want but made peace with doing a long time ago and would've done it at one point in time.

To force yourself to wear whatever gown your mother pick and force yourself to smile and laugh in mock happiness as your father walked you down the aisle after the bridesmaids and flower girl and ring bearer. Force yourself to repeat rehearsed vows your mother wrote for you in advance and say I do to a stranger you'd never love. And thank everyone for coming to 'the happiest day of your life' and force yourself to scarf down too sweet wedding cake and cry over tacky decorations you'd have no say in picking. 

But now none of it mattered really. You ended up promising your hand to the demon before you. A princess and a jester. An ironic comical fate. He was suddenly upon you, grabbing your hand while the other looked around your waist pulling you against him as he grinned a smile that was both malevolent and full of want for you.

"After all all this destruction wasn't part of any deal. It was my wedding gift to you ~ As I said before, let this be my marriage vow and promise to you, my dear.~"

[antebunny]

find me in the future

After so many reincarnations and reunions, Wei Wuxian’s soul is so attuned to Lan Zhan’s soul that all it takes for Wei Wuxian to remember his past lives is making eye contact with Lan Zhan. He never remembers a life before the first one where he met Lan Zhan, which is probably for the best. You have to start somewhere. 

Of course, as the centuries fly by and Wei Wuxian collects reincarnations like Pokemon cards (fantastic new invention, he’s finally born in the right century!), it takes longer and longer for him to recalibrate to centuries of memories getting dumped into his previously innocent nine-year-old brain. (Always nine years old. Can’t ever get away). 

This is Wei Wuxian’s excuse for why he doesn’t immediately run to Lan Zhan after making eye contact with him on a crowded street. Well, one of many excuses. There’s also the part where he’s a tiny little nine-year-old orphan (again?!) tossed between the bodies of many, many stampeding adults, all attempting to reach for Lan Zhan. He’s above them, of course; Lan Zhan cultivated to immortality so long ago that now he doesn’t walk, he glides, or floats, or flies. The result is the same: the god-like light-bearing lord appearing before his people, who fall over themselves (and Wei Wuxian) in their eagerness to be blessed by his presence. 

By the time Wei Wuxian struggles to the front of the crowd, Lan Zhan is long gone. 

Okay, so here’s his problem: Wei Wuxian is not immortal. Mo Xuanyu’s body, if it ever possessed the potential to cultivate to immortality (doubtful), had that potential beaten out long before Wei Wuxian came to own it. Unfortunately, back then, he and Lan Zhan, still young and naive (ha, funny what perspective time gives you), truly believed that with enough effort he could succeed where so many had failed. 

Instead, Lan Zhan was forced to watch as his beloved withered, wrinkled and finally grew still while he remained as pristinely young adult as ever. To make matters worse, Jiang Cheng also cultivated to immortality, proving that Wei Wuxian’s original golden core had that capability. The ensuing guilt from both of them–Jiang Cheng for having Wei Wuxian’s core, Lan Zhan for encouraging Wei Wuxian to cultivate to immortality with him–and loneliness as the only two immortals of their generation brought the two of them together, which Wei Wuxian still thinks is kind of cute. They’re like frenemies now, who know how to work with each other instinctively and will defend each other to the death (or a death–no, bad Wei Wuxian, not funny) but still hate each other’s guts. 

Over the centuries Wei Wuxian has been reborn as just about every type of person. Some lived entire lives without ever even hearing of Lan Zhan. Some never learned to write, much less cultivated a golden core, some were widely beloved, some were scorned, and some found their way back to Lan Zhan.

If Wei Wuxian is being completely honest–and he’d never share this brutal honesty with any of his loved ones–those lives are the worst. Inevitably, Wei Wuxian’s new body lacks the capability to cultivate to immortality, and his loved ones who have are all forced to watch for the thousandth time as Wei Wuxian sputters and stalls until his body inevitably gives out and he dies. Old age, Wei Wuxian has come to learn through vast unwanted experience, is an unlucky way to go. No, better to go out in a blaze of glory, for a cause or for a people. The death is temporary and he will be remembered by people who love him. Making his loved ones watch his slow demise when he knows that he will never reach immortality in this lifetime is nothing short of torture.  

Perhaps that’s why it is such a surprise when little nine-year-old Wei Wuxian (Zhang Xinyin, or William Zhang, in this lifetime, he’s Chinese again but he speaks Cantonese now for a total of twelve languages, nice) hunkers down in a quiet little corner of the orphanage and discovers that this body has the highest potential to cultivate to immortality of any body he’s ever had, including his original. 

The practice of cultivation fell out of use many, many centuries ago. Wei Wuxian is on his own for this one. The good news is that he’s an expert at forming a golden core at this point, perhaps more than anyone else in the world. So all Wei Wuxian has to do is find a stable way of life for the next decade or so, which supports a child practicing an esoteric art like his life depends on it, and then he can worry about finding his family.

That is, of course, easier said than done. 

“Will! Hey, Will!” 

Wei Wuxian startles out of meditation (if only Lan Zhan could see him now) when he hears one of his new friends calling his name (well, one of many). He had spread a blue rubber yoga mat out on the green concrete rooftop, hoping to find some peace and quiet wherein he could meditate and nurse that slowly-budding golden core in his chest. 

Freckles, or Ruddy, or Rush, or Chen, pokes his little cherub-like face over the roof edge. (Everyone Wei Wuxian’s age–biological age–looks like a little baby child to him, and everyone in the world seems impossibly young. It helps that he likes kids, and they tend to like him). 

“What troubles you?” Wei Wuxian calls as he stands up.

So the last time he learned English it was quite different, okay? Sue him. He’s relearning it. 

“You’re so weird,” Chen informs him as he picks his way between cracks and loose sand and dust. “Were you meditating again?”

“Yes.” Wei Wuxian pounds a fist to his chest twice. “I will be stronger than anyone. You will see.”

Chen only rolls his eyes. “Okay, Bruce Lee. Anyways. Lynch is asking for you.”

A very nice white lady who is unfortunately named Ms. Lynch came to volunteer at their school to teach. Wei Wuxian likes her, and to his surprise he likes the woman who runs the orphanage too. He’s had a bad run with orphanages in the past but this one is okay. No funding, of course, and understaffed, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t need adult supervision. (Somewhere on a different continent, Jiang Cheng sneezes loudly). 

“Yeah? Whatever for?” Wei Wuxian follows Chen down the ladder and misses Chen rolling his eyes again.

“Dunno, go find out.” 

Wei Wuxian takes a few shortcuts on his way through the school building. He goes to public school, of course, as do all the kids from the orphanage, but Wei Wuxian is their star. A shining example of what orphans can be if they apply themselves. The kids all think he’s weird, which is fair, because he is, but the (other) adults think that Wei Wuxian is a studious little goody-two shoes. The truth is that Wei Wuxian has learned how to solve problems discreetly and how to cause trouble without getting caught. And that he’s only well-adjusted in the sense that he’s had dozens of childhoods; one more isn’t going to mess him up too terribly. 

Ms. Lynch is poking around her computer (absolutely amazing new invention, Wei Wuxian was definitely reborn in the right century) when Wei Wuxian skids to a stop by her desk. 

“Hello, Ms. Lynch.” Wei Wuxian beams in a way that he knows she loves. “Chen said you were asking for me?”

Ms. Lynch closes out of a few tabs and turns in her swivel chair (another great new invention), brushing straw brown hair behind thick plastic glasses. “Yes, I heard that you have been trying to learn cultivation all by yourself, can I ask what sparked your interest?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “It seemed interesting.” He really wants to become immortal this lifetime in order to save people who he cares about deeply a lot of grief. “It’s fun.” 

“I see.” Ms. Lynch clearly isn’t satisfied with this answer, but she nods and smiles all the same. “You know, I wrote about the ancient practices of cultivation for my senior thesis, and it’s quite dangerous to do without supervision. Have you considered joining a class?”

“Uh.” Well, actually, Wei Wuxian could teach that class better than probably anyone else in the world, except maybe for Jiang Yanli, but it’s irrelevant because he certainly doesn’t have the money to afford it. “Noooo?”

“Hm.” Ms. Lynch smiles again, in a gently disapproving kind of way. “Well, I know that they can be expensive and quite a hassle, but I just wanted to make sure that you aren’t taking anything you learn from the internet about it too seriously. A lot of it is misleading and you can really harm yourself.”

Wei Wuxian is fighting for his life on the Wikipedia pages for cultivation. First, because he’d hoped that leaving some kind of coded message there could catch the attention of someone in his family and lead to them finding him. When that didn’t work, Wei Wuxian started combating misinformation (a losing battle) while having the reputation of that Wikipedia editor who put random gibberish in for fun. 

“Oh, I’m not,” Wei Wuxian chirps. “It’s all for fun, Ms. Lynch. I promise I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Ms. Lynch says, mostly sincerely. “I don’t mean to discourage you. It’s wonderful to see you taking an interest. Most kids your age have no interest in stuff like that.”

What she means is that cultivation is the ancestral practice and cultural heritage of his people. Because Wei Wuxian was born into the right social group: there are maybe a couple hundred thousand of his people spread across the globe, in little diaspora communities with varying levels of wider acceptance. Wei Wuxian’s family–the ones who have cultivated to immortality–are their leaders. Mysterious, reclusive figures who almost never interact with outsiders yet are beloved within their communities for how steadfastly they’ve protected them over the centuries. A lot of people outside the community think they’re a cult, which is probably fair, all things considered. 

It’s funny. Wei Wuxian has never been closer and yet never felt further from his family than this lifetime. A real chance of cultivating to immortality, a place in the only group of people with access to the famed (or rumored) immortals, and his reputation has never been better; his people celebrate his birthday every year (or they celebrate the excuse to party, same difference) and pray for his reincarnation. Yet if he–William Zhang–claimed to be the legendary Wei Wuxian’s reincarnation, no one would believe him. They’d ignore him as a loud-mouthed kid, at best. At worst, well, Wei Wuxian isn’t going to test that. In no situation would they–the community leaders–reach out to the immortals on his word. 

Instead, Wei Wuxian slinks back to the bedroom he shares with Chen and two other boys (he doesn’t miss being a girl, but damn could they keep a room clean) and wonders if Sizhui has gotten Lan Zhan an iPhone yet.

Maybe it’s for the best, Wei Wuxian tells himself. Reuniting with his family while in the body of a child will be awkward. Especially with Lan Zhan, who has been attracted to Wei Wuxian in whatever body they reunited in but is obviously not attracted to children. Wei Wuxian is not looking forward to spending years lusting after his own damn husband while Lan Zhan can only see a child. Yes, it’s definitely for the best.

Even if Wei Wuxian is terribly lonely. 

So the years pass. Wei Wuxian cultivates a golden core, gobbles up modern slang like he was born for it, learns how to code in Python, and enters high school with an end goal: immortality by age twenty-four. The current record-holder is Wen Qing, who cultivated to immortality at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the lucky bastard. She reincarnated in the 1500s into the perfect set of circumstances: a second-eldest son of a wealthy family who practiced cultivation. Her family patriarch was one of the community elders who semi-regularly communicated with the immortal cultivators. The year when Wen Qing was brought along for the first time, Wen Ning took one look at her and said “jiejie” and that was that.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian has to beat her record. 

Some of them choose to forget.

Over the centuries Wei Wuxian and the others have encountered countless reincarnations of people they knew from their original lives. (And important people from future lives too, but those were never quite the same. There’s something about their original lives that always sang like an unfinished symphony, an epic story not yet fully written, even though Wei Wuxian lived a full life). Sometimes the choice is made for them not to help them remember. Such was the case for a reincarnation of Jin Guangyao, found in 556 B.C. by Wen Ning and Sizhui. Sometimes they choose to move on, like the reincarnation of Jiang Fengmian found by Jiang Yanli. They leave him alone nowadays, whenever they find him. His soul is not so attuned to anyone else’s as to have the strike of realization that hit Wei Wuxian on that crowded street. 

The worst is when they reunite, live happily, and still choose to say goodbye. Nie Huaisang reincarnated in Italy, dragged Wei Wuxian off to France to learn Impressionist painting, and still chose to reenter the reincarnation cycle. Wei Wuxian, whose body that decade could not even form a golden core, simply could not understand Nie Huaisang’s unwillingness to cultivate to immortality. He still doesn’t. 

Humans have orbited the moon. For that alone, it is worth it. He only wishes all humans could feel how far they’ve come.   

Even those that chose to become immortal have retreated from the world. So many lifetimes, so many childhoods, so many parents and lovers and children–it’s impossible to care equally forever. The world feels so much larger when you have been an Egyptian farmer during the reign of Cleopatra, to whom the pyramids were ancient history, and one of the slaves who built them, and a Finnish soldier who fought on skis against invading Russians in 1939. In the face of such grandness, how can one tiny community, one family, one person matter?

It’s a blessing and a curse. Wei Wuxian has had good parents and bad parents and everything in between until he finally figured out how it works. He’s grown up in enough families with pet dogs that he’s lost his fear of them. On the other hand, he has had so many friends in so very many forms that he struggles to convince himself they truly matter. They’ll all be dead within the century, anyways. 

Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng have the opposite problem. They only have one life, the original, to remember, even as that life’s length stretches far past the boundaries of a normal human lifespan. Their main link to the world, Wei Wuxian knows, is him. Sizhui and Jin Ling drag them out for enrichment exercises, and Jiang Yanli can usually get her way if she sets her mind to it, but it’s still guilt over Wei Wuxian’s second life as Mo Xuanyu that keeps them here. 

The 21st century slams in, a rush of technicolor and lightspeed and skyscrapers (and like all centuries, war, disease and death). The tale of the Yiling Patriarch vastly outstrips the size and weight of Yiling. The Burial Mounds are a nice forest now. Hundreds of thousands of people hope for his return. And still Wei Wuxian cannot manage a single immortality-sized golden core. 

The opportunity sneaks up on Wei Wuxian. Shamefully, he needs the obvious spelled out before he can see it. 

“You going to the cultivation tournament?” 

Wei Wuxian was actually studying calculus. Seriously, it’s crazy how much people have proven about math since the last time he–wait, cultivation?

When Wei Wuxian digs his nose out of his textbook, Ian is smirking at him, and Chen is blinking innocently. Ian slouches over the library table so he can push the textbook shut.

“Eh, probably not worth it,” Wei Wuxian dismisses. He’s not learning cultivation so he can dunk on some kids who only learning cultivating without the cultivation. 

“You sure?” Chen butts in, now smirking too. “I hear winner gets to meet the immortals.”

Ian grins when Wei Wuxian’s mouth falls open. The kid has no idea what’s going on with “the immortals” or cultivation–he’s pretty sure that Ian thinks he and Chen are deep in a religious cult with weird beliefs but normal holidays–but Ian  gleefully abuses the effect it has on Wei Wuxian.

“Sounds made up,” Wei Wuxian says suspiciously.

“No, no, it’s true!” Chen insists. “They hold it every twenty-five years. Or they say they will. They haven’t done this before.” 

It’s very hard to get very old immortals to do something new. What changed? 

The answer smacks Wei Wuxian in the face as Chen pulls out his phone and shows an official-looking announcement, shared around their community, to Wei Wuxian. It’s the internet. Previously, Wei Wuxian lived entire lives without ever hearing of cultivation. Now, anyone with an internet connection will probably run into the term at least once. Now, Wei Wuxian’s family can reach out, through screens and cables and the casual interest of millions, to him.

They’re doing this for him.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t read Wikipedia articles. Lan Zhan regresses into a fugue state whenever Wei Wuxian’s not around. Maybe Wen Qing had the idea, maybe Sizhui put it together. Because they’re still reaching out, still waiting for Wei Wuxian to come home. 

This is his chance. 

[zachfoxx121]

Okay so I really really really like Russell Adler

Here are some of my favourite headcannons for him. (Featuring other cold war characters)

Alright so first up is his past!! Bro was born in 1937, between WW1 and WW2. He knows both German and Russian, so I like to think either his mom or dad (hell, maybe both) are immigrants from around those areas of Europe. To push that, his file doesn't say where he was born, just the date he was born. And a language is arguably easier learned if its in a household than in a book. Pronunciation and all that. Maybe his parents/one of them were Jewish too, and thats why they immigrated to the USA? It's also debatable if he was even born in the USA, since as I before mentioned, his birthplace isn't filed.

This headcannon is kinda borrowed, I cant remember who I original saw say it, but due to Adler's scar he has trouble/can't smile. It happened after 1968, but before 1981. When you ask him how he got his scar, he doesn't give a truthful answer, like Parks had said. "Oh I had trouble with a girl," "missed and fell," or "a tiger got me." My biggest guess, just from how it looks like a shrapnel wound, is its probably embarrassing. I like to think it was from a mine, maybe even a helicopter accident. But due to its position, it mightve damaged some facial muscles, and makes it hard to upturn a side/both sides of his lips. With scars, depending on how deep, nerve endings get fucked up and make it hard to move certain muscles, yknow?

This ones a bit silly, and has to do with Bell (I always play Bell as male, so sorry if I say "he" instead of "they" as their pronoun.) because I'm such a sucker for their relationship. Since Bell just kinda gets dumped on him, and their about the same build/height, I like to imagine he just dumps all his old/unwanted clothes into Bell's closet. In his file people he works with have described him as fashionable, and I don't know how good he gets paid, so he might go through clothes pretty fast to keep up with the times.

(Also for fem Bell, I imagine it's the same as this but with Park's old/unwanted clothes.)

Building on that, hes probably fashionable so wherever he is he doesn't seem out of place. With his scar it may be a bit difficult to blend in, but if he wears stylish enough clothes thats probably what grabs people attention more. "That guy had such a nice jacket," "did you see his shoes?" Even the difference between his '81 look and his new '91 do good to show his ability to keep up with fashion.

This headcannon is a bit more for Bell, but depending on which occupation you give them (CIA, MI6, ex-KGB) I like to imagine thats the accent they have post brainwash. With CIA, he has Adler's accent, and MI6 he copies Park's. With ex-KGB just a russian accent, which would probably be more realistic since it can be difficult to literally change an accent, but bro was experimented on so much it could have!!

I mention Adler in that because I like thinking of Bell saying a word and everyone being like "why'd they say it like Adler", because even in the USA theres so many accents!! Like even Mason and Woods have slightly different accents, especially if you think about the og voices in bo1.

This headcannon is a bit sad (and a big spoiler for the end of the "Good Ending"). After Adler shoots Bell, I think he stayed to make sure Bell was really dead. To make sure they bled out. In that though, I think he let Bell have one of his cigs, even smoked with him while he died. "Least I can do for you, kid." He didn't let Bell die alone. I really think it was hard for him to kill Bell, but he just had to shut the feeling down because it was (most likely) an order. Even though its probably more likely he shot Bell in the head, better than Arash did.

Anywho thats all I feel like typing out rn have fun with these some of them are constantly playing in my head!!!! :)))

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Hi there. I'm sorry if I'm doing this the wrong way. I've never requested anything before. (i want to put a trigger warning for self harm)

I was wondering if you could do a Kate Bishop and female reader angst/comfort where they've been dating for a bit. Kate comes home early from duty with cliny to surprise her and finds her self harming. If you can't or its too dark I understand. I struggle with self injury and a story with Kate comforting her girlfriend who struggles with mental health sounds nice.

Scars to Your Beautiful

Summary: You thought you had time to get it under control, a dark secret that not even your girlfriend knew about. But now she knows.

Please read the warnings as some topics in the this story can be triggering for some. As always you are enough and I am here if you need someone to talk to!

Warning: mention of past and current self harm, act of self harm, verbal abuse from parents, anxiety, Kate being a good girlfriend, reader has bad mental health

Word Count: 3.2k

“Sweetheart,” you looked up at your girlfriend’s voice. Her eyes flicked to yours and the small razor blade in your hand. What was she doing at home? She was earlier.

5 Days Ago

You dropped your bag to the ground with a groan. It seemed heavier daily, but you were one step closer to graduating. Then you would be free—free from strict professors, free from anxiously waiting for a paper or test to be graded to pop up on the portal, free from the endless pressure your parents placed on your shoulders to carry on your family’s legacy.

You slumped down on the couch, and your girlfriend’s dog rested his head on your lap. The action made you smile. “Hi, Lucky baby,” you whispered, scratching his head. His tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. “When do you think your mom is going to be home?” The one-eyed Golden Retriever jumped on the couch and laid on you, forcing you to lay back. “Lucky,” you laughed. “I have to do homework.” Instead of getting up, he placed his head on your chest and closed his. “Unbelievable,” you mumbled, but his breathing soon brought you to an unwanted nap.

Soft fingers running through your hair slowly woke you up. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and saw Kate with a smile on her face. “Hi, sleepy,” she teased. “How was your nap?”

“Good but unwanted,” you sat up and put your arms around her neck. “Your dog held me hostage and forced me to take a nap,” you felt her body shake from laughter, and her arms locked you into place. “Katie,” you whined. “I have to get up and do homework and cook dinner.”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’. “Homework can wait, and I ordered food. So now you can cuddle with your girlfriend.” You huffed, but Kate pouted her lips and gave you the best puppy dog eyes.

“Cuddling does something nice,” you gave in and rested your head on the crook of her neck. Kate reached for the remote and played the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You loved these moments. With her training, your classwork, and other extracurricular, it was hard to have these moments of peace. Still, anxiety began to creep into your bones as the seconds ticked to minutes, and the list of assignments was not getting any smaller. Kate touched your neck and dug her fingers into the knots. You melted against her. It was unfair how easily she could turn you into a puddle. You stayed there until the food was delivered and had to part away from the warmth of your girlfriend to eat your Chinese food. She allowed you to change the show to SVU while you ate.

“I leave for a mission tomorrow morning,” you said, dropping the chopsticks you were using. They said it should be about a week.” A week without her would be the longest you both would be apart.

“Whose going with you?” You asked.

“It’s a small team—me, Kamala, America, and Peter.” The urge to ask more died on your lips. Kate never told you what the missions were in the name of keeping you safe. It was hard to wonder, especially when nightmares woke her, and you had to clean her wounds. Instead of rattling off a hundred and one questions, you placed your food on the small table and wrapped your arms around her.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me in one piece.” It was a hard promise to keep, but you needed to hear her say.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she kissed your temple. “You are my home, my one and only. I’ll always come back to you.”

*

The universe must have liked fucking with you. As soon as Kate left for her mission, one bad thing happened after another. You received a horrible grade on a group project you were stressing over because your other members-only did the bare minimum for their part. Pleading your case to your professor fell on deaf ears because you passed. A passing grade wasn’t good enough. You needed to be perfect.

Then, your internship kept piling more and more work on you because they claimed you were the most responsible and could handle the workload. The cherry on top of the shitty sundae was a phone call from your mother.

“It seems that Dr. Narvaez hasn’t received your application,” you rolled your eyes at your mother’s tone. “Is there a reason for that?” Lucky greeted you at the door, making walking into Kate’s apartment difficult. But you greeted the one-eyed dog with a forced smile and a pat on the head. You toed off your sneakers and dropped down at the small table.

“Because I didn’t send it in,” your confession was met with silence. Sometimes, you preferred your parents constantly yelling or belittling you over the silence.

“And why is that?” You played with an arrowhead that Kate left.

“I don’t know if I want to work for Dr. Narvaez,” you said honestly. He was a friend of your father’s and owned a private practice catering to high-end clients. It would be good money but different from the work you wanted to do. You wanted to help people, not rich saps who wanted Botox.

“Are you serious? Your father gave up a lot to secure you that spot.” You bit your lip, stopping the sigh. It was what they wanted, not you.

“I want a break,” you told her and crossed your arms on top of the table. “Kate and I are thinking about taking a vacation.” The Bishops had a cabin up north, and she wanted to take you right there after graduation. She scuffed at the mention of your girlfriend. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That girl doesn’t know what’s best for you. Not like your father and I,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. It was the same argument every time. “If you do not work with Dr. Narvaez, you will not have a successful future. You will amount to nothing. You will not only be a failure to yourself but your father, brother, and me.” This type of rant was what you were used to with her. Not praise or support or a gentle reminder that she loved you. All she would do was remind you of how much of a failure you were. If she said it so many times, it had to be true. Right?

Your mother’s degrading words echoed in your head. Worthless. Stupid. You were a disgrace. An embarrassment to the family, and you were going to amount to nothing. You were a mistake. A nobody compared to your brother. They consumed you. Everything seemed to spiral out of control. You needed some aspect of it back. It was a behavior you weren’t proud of that started in middle school. For the six months you were with Kate, you had no need to resort to destructive habits. Kate grounded you. She kept all the negative thoughts away. You found the razor blade in your jewelry box. A hidden compartment at the bottom was perfect because Kate had gone through it all the time.

So you sat on your shared bed with your pant legs rolled up. Your fingertips danced over the faint scars that decorated your skin. Sometimes, Kate traced the lines but never asked where they came from. It was second nature as you moved the sharp razor across your skin. The red of your blood bubbled to the surface. The pressure you’ve felt for the past day and a half disappeared. Finally, you felt like you had control.

The behavior continued over the next two days. Every time you brought the blade out, you promised yourself it would be the last time. It never was, but you had time to get your habit back under control. You had three days, then Kate would be home, and you wouldn’t need it anymore. You had to get everything under control, so you thought.

Present day

“What-what are you doing back?” You asked. You tried to keep your voice steady, but panic raced through your body.

“We got done early,” her voice was surprisingly calm. “I wanted to surprise you.” Her hair was damp, and she was dressed in a purple tracksuit. She must have taken a shower at the tower and rushed over here. Slowly, she closed the distance between you and here. There was enough space so you wouldn’t feel trapped. “Sweetheart, can you hand me that?” She pointed to the razor in your hand. On instinct, you gripped the blade, and you felt it cut your hand. “Please, baby, give it to me.” Her voice was firm, but you heard the plead.

“Katie,” you whimpered and dropped the blade into her outstretched hand. The world seemed to collapse around you. Your legs began to shake, and Kate caught you before you hit the ground. No tears fell from your eyes. A blanket of numbness covered your body.

“I’m going to lift you so we can get you all clean, okay?” You nodded, unable to open your mouth. Your stomach dropped as Kate quickly picked you up and walked to the bathroom. Goosebumps formed on your skin when she set you down and turned to get the first aid kit. Her body shook as she exhaled, looking at the new cuts on your thighs. “This may hurt, but I’ll be gentle, okay?” Again, you gave her another nod. You expected the sting of the antiseptic, but you felt nothing. How long have you been numb to it?

“None are very deep so that you won’t need stitches,” Kate explained. You knew that. Even in your mind-numbing haze, you knew to be careful. There was one night during high school when you cut too deep and stole your father’s suture kit. You learned that night your hands were steady enough to become a surgeon. “I’m going to clean your hand now,” without a response, she didn’t reach to take it. “Baby,” you forced yourself to look into her blue eyes. “Can I see your hand?” You nodded and gave it to her. There was a small cut, nothing compared to the ones on your legs. She cleaned it, placed a badge, and kissed your hand. “I’m going to ask you something, and I won’t be made no matter the answer as long as you are honest with me. Are there others?”

You wanted to lie. All you had to do was say no, and when she went to bed, you could clean the cuts that scattered your arms, but the lie tasted like poison. It made your stomach twist and throat constrict. Before Kate, lying about this was easy. It flowed off your tongue so quickly that even you believed it. With a quick nod, you tugged off your long-sleeved shirt. It was one of Kate’s old college shirts. Your girlfriend scanned your upper half. Again, her body shook as she exhaled. “Okay, thank you for being honest with me, baby. I’m going to clean these too.” You nodded as she kissed your forehead.

Quickly, you put your hand on the back of her neck and kept her close. You knew they needed adequately cleaned, but you needed her close. Everything felt so cold. “Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Need you,” you mumbled. “Katie,” you whined. “Please.” Your throat burned as you tried to keep your tears at bay. Kate hushed you and brought you into a tight hug.

“I’m right here, sweet girl. I’m not going anywhere.”

Once Kate deemed every cut was cleaned, she helped you change into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. She carried you to the living room, sat on the couch, and covered you with a blanket. You whined when she pulled away. “I’m going to order food and get you some water. I’ll be right back.” You wanted to protest. She just returned from a mission, and you should be caring for her, but there was no energy in your body. When she entered the kitchen, Lucky jumped on the couch beside you. You ran our fingers through his fur.

The action was mind-numbing, the repetitive motion of his fur through your fingers. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but Kate returned with a pizza box, and Lucky jumped to the ground. He wasn’t far, just by your feet. “Are you hungry?” She asked. You were, but your stomach twisted and turned. Dark thoughts filled your mind of how undeserving you were. “Just a few bites. I got your favorite.” She opened the box, and it was your favorite. You took a small piece, and with every bite, Kate kissed your forehead and whispered positive words in your ear. You had another slice, and once Kate ate, she put her arm around your shoulders and brought you closer. A conversation was on the horizon, but you were in no mood to talk about what led you here. It would only lead you to spiral more.

“I know we have to talk,” your voice was soft. “Can it wait? I want to cuddle with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” you felt her sigh. “I love you, baby girl. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Katie.”

*

You woke up in your shared bed with Kate. The archer was fast asleep, and at some point, she separated from you in the night. You smiled at how peaceful she looked so different from when she came home. You got out of bed as quietly as possible and went to the kitchen - making breakfast was the least you could do. There was little in the fridge. In your slow mental breakdown, you failed to fill the fridge. Come to think of it, that pizza you ate was your first meal since Kate left for her mission. God, your mother was right. You were worthless.

Deep within the freezer, you found a bag of frozen fruit and decided to make an acai bowl. So you divided the fruit, making sure Kate had more strawberries than blackberries, and placed it in the blender with some Greek yogurt. Thankfully, Kate was a heavy sleeper, and as the mixture was being blended, you started a fresh pot of coffee. Once it was blended, you poured the mixture into bowls.

It was on instinct. You picked up the two still-good bananas and the knife from the drawer. It was an action you’ve done 100 times, but this morning you hesitated.

Your eyes were trained on the knife every time you cut the fruit. It was dangerous to be this close to something sharp after last night. Dark and dangerous thoughts started to fill your head. You wondered how the knife you held would differ from the small razor blade you used. It could be deadly. “Sweetheart,” you snapped out of your thoughts. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly and set the knife down as your hands shook. “Sit, please. I made breakfast.” She sat at the table, and you placed the cut-up banana on top with some leftover granola you found. You brought it over to her with a coffee, and you quickly turned around to get your breakfast and return to her. You ate in silence. Occasionally, Kate would grab your hand and squeeze it. You wondered if she needed the reminder that you were here.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said and sipped your coffee. “I thought I’d get it under control before you came back.” Kate moved her thumb on the back of your hand.

“How long has this been going on?” You sighed, brought your knee up to your chest, and rested your chin on top.

“Since middle school, but I stopped when we got together. You made me feel grounded despite all the pressure and stress,” you explained. “When you went on the mission, one bad thing happened after the other.”

“Tell me what happened,” you told her about your lousy grade from your professor, the extra work your internship pilled on you, and the comments your family made. When you brought up your family, Kate tried to keep her face neutral, but her blue eyes turned stormy. She’s met your parents a handful of times and you knew how much she hated how they treated you. Once you were done with your story, it sounded foolish. It was typical pre-adult responsibilities; people were going through much worse. But Kate had a soft smile that almost caused the dame you were holding to break.

“You are so loved, baby girl. You are smart, beautiful, and kind. My world is so much brighter with you in it,” you felt your bottom lip tremble. Still, it was hard for you to believe. “Come with me,” she pulled you to your feet and towards the bathroom downstairs. She flicked on the lights and put you in front of the mirror. Her arms wrapped around your waist. “Look in the mirror,” you struggled to say, but you looked at yourself in the mirror. “My beautiful girl,” she mumbled, kissing the part of your skin uncovered by the hoodie. Her hands were warm as they moved under your hoodie and rested on your stomach. The warmth made you melt against your girlfriend’s solid frame. “I will say some sentences, and I want you to repeat them for me. Can you do that for me, baby?” You were a little hesitant but nodded. However, Kate gave you a stern look that said use your words.

“Yes, Kit Kat,” you smiled, using the nickname she hated. She tickled your sides, and your laughter danced off the bathroom walls.

“Okay, okay,” she said once your laughter turned to quiet giggles. Kate let out a shaky breath and turned her attention to the reflection. “I am strong,” you pouted when she expected you to say it back. It wasn’t true. You weren’t strong. At this moment, you felt so weak. “Come on, sweetheart, say it back to me.” You sighed.

“I am strong,” you mumbled. There was no belief in your words but Kate kissed your cheek.

“Good. I’m so proud of you. Alright, next one. I am smart,” she continued with more phrases. Each one was different from the next, but they had the same idea: I am confident, brave, and loved. Every time you repeated a phrase back, your voice was stronger, and a small part of you started to believe it. “Last one, beautiful,” she whipped away your tears with her thumb. I am enough.”

“Katie,” you whimpered. It was almost painful to say or believe. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she squeezed you tight. “Say it.” She encouraged you and rested her chin on your shoulder. You closed your eyes. “I am enough.”

“I am,” Worthless. A disgrace. Dumb. “I am enough.” It was so soft. “I am enough.” The second time was stronger. “I am,” Loved. Beautiful. Strong. Brave. “Enough. I am enough,” you cried. Kate was quick to turn you around and pulled you into her arms. You clung onto her back as you sobbed into her shoulder.

“You are baby. You are enough, and I will remind you every single day.” It was hard to believe. After years and years of verbal abuse from your family, those thoughts weren’t going to disappear overnight. But you were stronger than them. You were better than them. You were enough.