#BEATRICE'S EXPRESSION IS SO GOOD

[yugelo]

"You all stand between me and Ava"

i don't even know if this is the right word but romance ugh

#warrior nun #warrior nun s2 #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice #THIS is incredible #beatrice is incredible #i wish i was good with words then maybe i could express why this scene is so crazy

[animasola86]

Come back to bed, baby!

Notes: This is a continuation of It is that time again, darling - set about a year later.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut // Words: 10.1k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: Dad!Seb is back and he actually managed to put his breeding kink to good use. Or did he?

WARNINGS: NSFW! MDNI! Vague mentions of pregnancy, birth and undefined postnatal aches (bedridden reader). Angst and guilt and PTSD. Dirty talk and marital sex (including oral and vaginal sex and a special breeding kink)! Also babies and breastfeeding. Proceed at your own risk!

Come back to bed, baby.

“Come back to bed,” you whisper with a sigh as you look from your finally sleeping twin babies to the man pacing the little room. Sebastian slips his hand through his already messy hair and messes it up even more, a concentrated, serious expression contorting his handsome features.

He throws you a slightly pained look and exhales loudly. “It's not going to work,” he mutters under his breath, furrowing his brows, now pushing both hands through his hair.

“Sebastian,” you whisper and beckon him closer, your arms outstretched as you shift on the bed. Your babies lie in their crib next to you, breathing deep and peacefully, completely oblivious to their anxious father.

He finally listens to you and sits on the edge of the bed, gently grabbing your extended hand and cradling it between his long fingers carefully. You share a deep gaze, a soft unspoken understanding of your situation.

When the twins were born about two months ago, it hasn't been easy on you, and you were forced to spend your days in bed ever since until your body would finally fully recover.

Even though the birth of Beatrice and Bernie (you luckily could convince your eager husband to drop the name Bartholomew before your baby boy was born) has brought two new joys into his troubled life, he has been conflicted ever since because despite having birthed him a pair of twins before, this time it has really taken a toll on you – and in typical Sebastian fashion, he blamed himself for putting those children into you in the first place.

Fortunately it wasn't as bad that you had to stay in St. Mungo's, but being at home, bedridden, only able to nurture your newborns while you were barely able to look after Benjamin, Archie and Anne, hasn't been easy on either of you. And on top of that, your combined money resources started to dwindle now that your firstborns were to attend Hogwarts in a few months.

Sebastian has taken two leaves from his job as Professor for Magical Theory since the two of you had decided to try for another child: one to spend entire weeks holed up with you in bed, using every waking minute to successfully fill you with his seed, and one right before you had given birth to your new twins, which has been prolonged due to the unfortunate circumstances of their birth and what it had done to your body.

But the most unfortunate thing about it all was the fact that Headmaster Black refused to properly pay him for his absence, despite his eager attempts to somehow work from home and still try to teach his students – and not even Professor Weasley had been able to convince the stubborn man to change his mind: if Sebastian wasn't able to teach and be present while doing so, he was not going to get paid, end of story.

You usually didn't need much money. Living in Aranshire, you had a loving community around you, always willing to help, be it with babysitting or providing you with food, yet the last winter had been rough on your little hamlet, and your own little garden had suffered greatly, despite all your attempts to save it with magic.

The biggest issue were the needed supplies Benjamin and Archie were to bring to Hogwarts, and even the second-hand options didn't come cheap. Yet you never despaired, even though Sebastian became more worried by the hour, the lines on his forehead deepening every day.

“We'll manage,” you whisper as you squeeze his hand lightly, tugging at it to tell him to come closer. He complies and climbs into bed with you, carefully settling his long body next to yours to not hurt you more.

You've told him a lot of times that you weren't hurting (too much) and that you needed him to cuddle you properly, but he has become a little wary whenever you would wince slightly and let out a groan. You've tried to be brave for him, but he quickly saw through your charades. You were never able to hide anything from him.

He inhales deeply and nestles beside you, his head resting on your shoulder as he gently wraps one arm around your body and pulls you against him, his touches so much more careful than you were used to.

You can barely remember the times when he would just grab you by the waist and drag you towards him, or when he held you by the hips, his fingers bruising your skin, while he would pound into you relentlessly. You even missed the spanking and choking you used to let him indulge in whenever he convinced you to by looking at you out of those damn puppy dog eyes. By Merlin, you missed seeing the mischievous spark inside his warm brown eyes the most.

It wasn't that you didn't have sex any more. Even during your pregnancy you couldn't stay away from each other for long, always needing the other close, very close even, but the bigger and rounder you got, the more careful he became until he barely dared touching you at all, afraid to hurt you or your precious cargo. And after your body failed to recover from the strain of carrying and birthing two very proper children, he downright refused to put you in harm's way, especially if it was him who might cause you said harm.

Over the last weeks you were able to convince him that you felt better, and indeed you did, even though you still felt weak whenever you had to leave your bed – which was to expected from lying there all day and all night, you told him. Of course you knew why he was so concerned, and it pained you more to have him go through the anxiety of seeing a loved one struggling than it pained you to breathe properly.

You raise a hand and try to flatten his messy locks before you give up and simply stroke his head. He breathes deeply against you as if the weight of the world would be on his broad shoulders. It certainly feels like it to him, no matter how often you'd tell him that you will be fine, that everything will be fine again.

“I could get a job,” you say after a long moment of listening to his and your babies' soft breathing, the warmth of his body comforting you, almost drowning out your worries.

He shakes his head instantly. “No, you have to focus on getting better again,” he mumbles into your chest, his hand moving up and down your arm. “I'll find a way to get paid again. There has to be a way! Just because I decided to stay home after my babies' birth... it's not fair... what horrible times we live in...” he continues, mumbling against you, his hot breath grazing your skin where your nightgown has slipped down slightly.

“I could knit or... weave or whatever else these ladies here do,” you say, ignoring his objections. “Or I can learn to make things knit themselves, and then we could sell what I made...”

He scoffs lightly, the sound a rare one these days. “No offence, darling, but you really aren't particularly dexterous when it comes to making things. No one wants to buy a pair of mismatched socks fit for a troll or a house-elf, not even house-elves would want to be given that...”

“I'm sure there's a market for it!” you say with mock-indignation before you laugh softly, the motion causing a deep rooted pain to jerk through your lower body. He notices your wince before you do and quickly leans up to place a warm hand on your stomach, looking at you with more worry lines etched into his face.

“You need to get healthy again first,” he whispers, almost pleadingly as he brings his face closer to yours, your noses touching as you feel his hot breath on your lips. “I need you to get healthy again.”

You inhale deeply and gently grab his chin, rubbing your thumb over the stubble that has gotten more over the last weeks. “I'm fine,” you tell him and close the distance between the two of you when you press your lips to his, savouring those sweet little moments where you can feel him close to you, each kiss reminding you of all those years you spent with each other, all the hardships you conquered, all the nights (and days) you had become one when your bodies moulded together in perfect harmony.

He leans back slightly, his lips ghosting yours as his dark eyes bore into your own. “Don't lie to me,” he says quietly, with a hard edge to his usually soft voice.

You hold his gaze. “I will be fine,” you correct yourself and pull his face to yours once more, needing to kiss him and forget about the aches of your body. He exhales loudly against you, but then shifts beside you and gently cups your face with his big hands as he kisses you back softly, still watching you closely out of half-lidded eyes.

You lean into his touch and close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his warm lips, his even warmer tongue as he slips it into your mouth, and his hot breath that always made you feel light-headed. Your fingers scrape over his stubble, the sound sending pleasant shivers down your spine as a quiet moan escapes your throat.

He leans back at the sound and your eyelids flutter open as you look at him with your lips tingling. There it is, the fire burning in his eyes, the desire to coax even more noises out of you. Despite not being able to touch you properly, he never fails to let you know how much he wants you, how much he adores you and cherishes you and desires you.

How much he wants to ravish and devour you if only he could.

You see him looking towards the crib where your babies still sleep peacefully. It had taken you three children to finally get the hang of how to properly make a baby fall asleep, though it certainly helped that Beatrice and Bernie seemed to be connected even after having shared the same womb. You sometimes find them lying together holding each other's tiny hands, and the sight always brings tears of joy into your eyes, making you forget everything else their birth brought upon you.

Sebastian's eyes linger on them for a moment longer, before he looks back at you, the fire still burning in his brown irises. And then a smirk grazes his lips, and you stare at it longer than you should, savouring the rare sight.

You are tempted to pull him back for another kiss, but then he gently cradles your head and makes you lie down again before he cuddles close to you, pulling your body half-way onto his as he presses his front against your rear. You shift against him, turning your head towards him. His arms are around you as he brings his face close to your ear, his breath ghosting your skin.

“Do you think they can hear us?” he whispers softly, the low timbre of his voice vibrating through your very core, coaxing a soft whimper out of you.

You shake your head, knowing that a troll could storm your house and your twins would still sleep through it. They'd only wake when they would be hungry, and luckily they had a set schedule, giving you a few more hours of peace, though the same couldn't be said about your breasts if you've read the look in your husband's eyes correctly.

As if willing your suspicions to life, you feel his hands moving under the hem of your nightgown, confidently sliding over your stomach and up to your plump mounds. His big hands barely fit around them any more, but it doesn't stop him from giving them the proper care they need. You lean against him and inhale deeply, licking your lips as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples carefully.

Despite his no-sex policy and giving extra care to not put a strain on your body, he still sneaks in the occasional grope as his slight obsession with your breasts never left his lust-filled mind. He adored them when you were a teenager with not enough flesh to fill out any proper dress, and he adored them more and more with every child you've given him and every gram of extra fat those same children have gifted you.

And you learned to crave his careful touches, the tender and the rough ones, even though the latter have become so scarce. With his arms snaked around your body, he fondles your soft flesh gently, rubbing his palms over it and rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers until they are hard and almost leaking. You take a shuddering breath as he leans his forehead against your ear and presses his lips to your neck, his tongue gliding over your pulse until he hums softly when he can feel your rapid heartbeat vibrating against him.

“Imagine,” he says quietly between kissing and licking your neck, while he keeps massaging your breasts with careful fingers, “the things we could do... with Ben and Archie in Hogwarts, and Anne with Edgar, and the twins sleeping peacefully...”

A soft moan escapes you. “I do that, every day,” you confess just as quietly. “It keeps me sane while I lie here... waiting to get better... waiting for you to push me into the bed again, bury me under your body as you bury yourself into me...”

He exhales loudly against you, the grip of his hands getting a little firmer as he grazes his teeth over your pulse. You shiver. “You mean when I bury my cock into your pussy,” he repeats with a dark chuckle. “You've gone soft on me over the last months. Where's that dirty mouth of yours?”

You give him a tiny smirk. “I have innocent babies around me all the time, I don't want their first word to be something like... that...”

He snickers against you. “Come on, these are British kids, they'll learn to talk like that soon enough anyway. They'll say cunt as if they'd be talking about the weather... Don't worry about them.”

You roll your eyes, inhaling deeply to push your chest into his hands as he's stopped groping you for a moment. “So what are you imagining while you lie next to me, unable to do the things you want to do?” you whisper as you turn your head to him, meeting his heated gaze.

He resumes his fondling, pinching your hard nipples almost a little too rough now. You take a sharp breath, and he stops for a second, but then continues nonetheless, seeing the blissful spark in your eyes.

“Oh, so many things... most of all I want to see you come undone in front of me, I want your eyes to roll back and your lips to part for those soft noises to come out and your face to contort in nothing but pure ecstasy. I want to see your body convulsing in pleasure after I rub you or finger you or lick you or fuck you...” He sighs and closes his eyes for a second, surely picturing the things he's just told you.

You let out a soft whimper. “I'd love to feel weightless again,” you then admit. “Floating so high it will rival any broom flight. I want to feel you twitching inside me, your hips jerking against me as you push so deep you'd prod my womb, and I want you to fill –”

He stills his movements and exhales almost angrily. Your eyes flutter open as you watch him with a frown. “No,” he says quietly and stares back towards the crib, slowly withdrawing his warm hands from your slightly aching breasts. “I... I don't think I can do that... ever again,” he whispers barely audible when his eyes wander back to your body, lingering on your lower half where the dull pain hums deep within. “I can't bear the thought of hurting you again, of making you go through all of that again... It was my seed that did this to you... You're in this bed because of me...”

“Sebastian!” you say almost sternly as you've had this conversation many times before. “I told you, it's alright. Look at your babies, they are as healthy as can be, and I will be too. I am here, aren't I? You heard the healer, it could have been so much worse, but it wasn't! I'm still here!” You grab his chin and make him look at you. “We've both wanted this, I wanted this, and believe me, I will do it again!”

“No, you won't! I can't lose you!” he pleads and presses his lips together, his eyes wandering away again.

The turmoil is etched deep into his features, and it breaks your heart seeing him like this. You know he wanted to add a “too”, and it hangs between you like a dark cloud of a past you both tried to work through, but never actually succeeded to do so. So many years after losing his sister it was still hurting him, and it hurt you even more not being able to help him through the pain. You've tried, everything, but it was a black spot on his soul that would never go away.

“You won't lose me,” you say softly, waiting for him to look back at you. When he does, you smile at him. “I'll always be here. I promised you, and I always keep my promises, you know that! I gave you five healthy children and I would have given you more. But I can't have you worrying so much, you know it'll only destroy you. And I need you, more than ever, all of you.” You pull his chin towards you and press your lips to his. “Even your seed in my womb,” you add in a low whisper against his mouth.

He furrows his brows despite your consoling words. It takes him a moment to consider them before he exhales deeply, his breath hot on your skin. “We'll have to be extra careful then, from now on, you know that, right? And I'll never stop worrying, you know that's part of my charm.” You smirk darkly at that, and you see the corner of his lips twitching slightly too. “But I have to admit, I missed filling you up to the brim...”

You laugh quietly, forcing yourself not to wince under the motion. “I missed that too... Do you remember those weeks we spent in bed? Weeks! It was all a blur at the end but I've never felt so exhilarated, so full, so weak and yet so elated to hopefully walk out of it carrying your child. Well, even if walking was not an option after all of that...”

He chuckles softly. “Oh, I always think back to that...” he purrs against your lips. “You've never looked better than with my seed seeping out of your pussy...”

“And all the positions we tried?” you go on, smiling happily as you think back, leaning your forehead against his. “I didn't even know half of them. But leave it to my bookish husband to teach me something while trying to hold his cum inside me...”

He smirks wider, tilting his head to kiss you gently. “And you know, there's even more we could try once you're feeling better,” he whispers between kisses before his lips move along your face back to your neck. Then his tone gets a little darker. “There's so much I still want to experience with you.”

“And you will,” you whisper back, grabbing his hair as he starts nibbling on your sensitive skin. “I'm here for it, for all of it. For you,” you add and press your lips to the top of his head.

He sighs contently and wraps his arms around you carefully as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath a little jagged as you feel his shoulders shake slightly. You swallow hard and rub his back when you can feel his tears dripping onto your skin.

Taking a shuddering breath yourself, you lie in each other's embrace for a long moment as you hold him as tightly as you can until he's calmed down again. Nuzzling your nose into his soft hair, you fill your nostrils with his scent while his warmth seeps into your body, relaxing the soreness you feel within.

“Sebastian,” you whisper quietly after yet another moment as he just lies in your arms, breathing deeply. “Let's make love tonight...”

He stirs slightly and slowly turns his face to you, his cheeks red and wet, and his eyes puffy, but on his lips you find that wicked smirk you've always loved about him. “What was that?” he asks hoarsely, his eyes boring into yours.

You return the smirk and raise a hand to gently wipe at his cheek. “I want you to put your cock into my pussy...” you whisper, blushing deeply.

He laughs softly and leans up to claim your lips for a heated kiss. You gasp against him, and when you do, he draws away and watches you closely. “Are you sure? Do you really feel up for it? I don't want to hurt you...”

You sigh and grab the back of his neck. “You won't. But I can't do much, you'll have to do all the work...” you tell him, chewing on your lips.

His smirk grows wider. “Not a problem!” he says with a chuckle. “No problem at all! Let me handle it, darling,” he adds excitedly and kisses you again, his hands back down at the hem of your nightgown to slowly push it up your body until he gently pulls it over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him.

He follows suit quickly, and you can only blink a few times, and he's suddenly naked next to you, his warm skin pressing against yours. His eyes roam your body for a long moment before he moves his hands carefully over your skin, starting from your hips upwards until he's back to fondling your breasts.

You let out a soft whimper and lick your lips as you watch him, shifting beside him until he pushes you gently into the mattress to stop you from moving. “Just relax,” he tells you quietly, smiling up at you as he lowers his head towards your tender chest. You inhale deeply and move right against his eager mouth as he closes his lips around your left breast, gently flicking his tongue against the hard bud.

Biting your lip, you throw a cautious glance towards your sleeping babies, but they are still breathing softly, tucked in and unaware of their parents' marital activities. When you look back at Sebastian, his eyes meet yours, and your cheeks warm up under the intensity of his gaze as he suckles softly on your sensitive mound.

The sight sends shivers down your spine, and you feel the heat pooling between your legs, the warmth even reaching the dully thrumming ache that binds you to the bed. Your hand moves down to stroke his hair as he moves his own to your right breast to give it the same attention he gives the other one as his long fingers knead your soft flesh carefully before he becomes a little bit more daring and pinches your nipple at the same time as he grazes his teeth over the one in his mouth.

You gasp and squirm slightly, your lips parting to let a soft moan escape you. His eyes remain on you as if he still worries about hurting you, but you only grip his hair tighter and push his head downwards, away from your breasts to a place you really need him. He complies a little reluctantly, licking and kissing your plump mounds and hard nipples as if saying goodbye to them before he moves his lips down between them until he presses his mouth to your stomach softly.

There he rests his head for a moment, his rough cheek on your abdomen as he listens into you like he has done every time you were pregnant with his children. Your fingers dig through his locks, gently caressing his scalp, and you feel him purring against you. His hot breath grazes your skin as he exhales loudly.

He leans up then, his eyes on you. “Do you really want this?” he asks quietly, worry etched into his face.

You nod, your fingers moving down to trail the line of his jaw, scraping over his beard, until you push your index finger against his bottom lip. “I want you,” you say softly and watch with reddening cheeks how he leans in and pulls your finger between his teeth, his tongue circling it eagerly as he sucks on it with his eyes sparkling.

When he releases it with a wet pop, he grabs your hand and plants more kisses on it until he presses his lips to the ring on your finger. “Anything for you, Mrs Sallow,” he tells you hoarsely and gives you an almost coy smile as he lets go of your hand and places it carefully on your stomach.

He then moves down and settles right between your legs, firmly pushing them apart with his elbows. His hot kisses on your hipbones make you whimper softly as you shift against him until his big hands rest on your thighs to hold you down gently. He moves his lips over your mound and straight to the throbbing bundle of nerves, his eyes wandering back up to you as he starts to suck on your clit.

You twitch against him, wincing slightly as the motion causes something to stir within you. He pauses slightly, holding your gaze, but you just smile at him bravely, hoping to encourage him to keep going. He does, eventually, his tongue flicking against your sensitive nub as he breathes loudly into the soft hint of hair above it. His hands rub over your thighs, his thumbs teasing at the insides as he keeps lapping at your sensitive skin, humming softly against it which in turn coaxes those sweet sounds out of your throat.

You close your eyes and lean your head into the pillow, trying to relax under his ministrations, when in reality you feel the tension building up in your stomach as your walls start clenching and unclenching needily. He seems to sense the contractions of your body and moves one of his hands along the inside of your thigh until you can feel his fingertips brushing against your folds, gently stroking your outer labia as he keeps sucking on your clit, his stubble adding to the friction that you so desperately try to chase.

A deep moan escapes you as he pulls the throbbing nub between his teeth at the same time as he sinks his finger into your slit, rubbing up and down through your slick before he pushes carefully against your entrance. When your eyes flutter open, his heated gaze is on you as he stills his movements against your clit and presses his finger slowly into your eager pussy, so much more gentle than he usually does it. He moves it around in teasing circles, literally testing the waters as he stretches your entrance slightly.

You take deep breaths, licking your lips, your chest rising and falling faster. You see and feel him swallowing against you before he pushes his digit deeper, slowly, ever so slowly, opening your tight channel. He halts the motion when he is knuckle deep in you, his fingertip pressing gently against your walls before he curls his finger slightly, the tiny movement causing you to gasp and twitch against him.

He brings his attention back to your throbbing nub as he keeps licking it with rough strokes of his tongue while he moves his finger within you, slowly in and out, over and over again, and it's the steady rhythm that drives you insane with need. You feel your walls tightening around him, yet before the tension eases, he slips his finger out, but only to push two of them into you now. You groan softly at the stretch and thrash your head back slightly as he starts pushing them in and out faster until he moves against you relentlessly.

Watching you from under his lashes, he leans back and replaces his mouth with his free hand, rubbing fast and tight circles around your clit while he fingers you with reckless abandon. You moan and whimper, the tension growing almost unbearable before it suddenly explodes into a bright flash of light, making stars dance behind your eyelids as you squeeze your eyes shut under the sensation, the low thrumming in your womb surprisingly only adding to the feeling of pure bliss as you succumb to his eager touches.

You come around his fingers, your hips jerking upwards as your body convulses, your lips parting to let a soft cry fall from them. While you still feel the tremors of your orgasm, you barely feel him pulling away from you until you feel and taste your own slick on his lips as he pushes his mouth against yours.

Grabbing his hair with a shaking hand, you kiss him back hungrily, your moans swallowed by his tongue as he presses it against your own. He rests on his arms, careful not to put any weight on your body as he hovers above you, his knees caging you in while his hard erection lies eagerly twitching on your stomach.

You meet his gaze during the soft wrestle of your tongues, and after a long moment, he leans away, giving you another peck, before he nods wordlessly and sits back on his knees to gently pull your legs out from beneath him and rests them on his thighs. You go a step further and carefully wrap them around his waist as you watch him breathlessly.

Yet before he brings his cock even in the vicinity of your pussy, he freezes, and you see a dark shadow crossing his features as he looks away for a moment. Only a few seconds later, he raises his hand and moves his fingers, guiding his magic through the air to open the top drawer of your night-stand before a small vial floats out of it and right into his big palm. He turns it between his long fingers and frowns.

“Will this still work?” he then asks hoarsely, looking at you with deep lines on his forehead as he shows you the contraceptive potion. “It's quite old, isn't it?”

You throw him a warm smile before you take a shuddering breath, still too worked up to breathe properly. “It'll be fine. I once drank a Wiggenweld potion I found in an old cave and it was fine. Come on, let me take it,” you whisper and hold out your hand.

He watches you with a raised eyebrow but then hands you the small vial, watching you cautiously as you uncork it and down it in one go, the warmth of the liquid settling in your stomach immediately as it magical properties spread through your body. Closing your eyes to breathe against the slightly bitter taste, you give him back the empty flask which he discards quickly.

You see him opening his mouth but before he can voice his concern once more, you smile at him. “I'm fine. Please, can we continue? I really need your cock right now...”

He inhales sharply before the slight shadow of a smirk graces his lips. Without another word, he puts one hand around his length and one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit once more for good measure to make your thighs twitch against him before he swipes his tip through your wet folds and then slowly pushes against your entrance.

You brace for his intrusion but as soon as he sinks his tip into you, you moan softly and lean your head back, your hands falling to your sides while you grip the bedsheets as tightly as your pussy grips him. He moves his hips further until he bottoms out inside you, his entire length buried deep within, prodding at your cervix. As he lets you adjust to his size, you feel blissfully full, smiling softly as you remember the countless times he's filled you out like this before.

He leans back down on his arms and slowly raises his hips, pushing your legs up slightly as he watches you closely. Your hands move to his wrists as you hold onto him, your eyes wandering over his face, trying to convey just how fine you feel. The look in his eyes is one of concern and concentration, and you can only imagine how hard he is fighting his natural instincts to fuck you senseless right now.

You cross your feet behind his back and gently grind your hips against him, giving him the go to start moving. He doesn't hesitate long, but the motions of his hips are deliberate, slow, careful, as he pulls out slightly to push back in, back and forth, in and out, his pace contrasting his heavy breaths. He is too considerate for his own good, and even though you admire him for his strength to hold back on your account, you want nothing more than to have him pound into you at the same pace as he has done countless times before.

You inhale deeply and close your eyes, remembering how he used to fuck you, with his hands gripping your hips or with his body flush on top of yours, pinning you to the bed as he ruts his hips against you, be it with his eyes on you or from behind with his hot breaths in your ear. You moan softly as the memories alone make your walls clench around him.

He seems to understand your need now and starts moving faster, his breaths strained as he grips the bedsheets next to your hips, still too anxious to touch you properly. Your hands move up his arms, and as you feel his tense muscles, you rub them softly. While he pushes his pelvis harder against you, slipping his cock in and out faster with your walls assisting him in pulling him deeper with each thrust, your eyes flutter open and you meet his heated gaze.

“I love you,” you mouth between soft whimpers, and he holds your gaze with dark eyes before he suddenly halts his motions and leans closer to you, his lips hovering over yours, and it's you who claims his mouth for a much needed kiss as you grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him towards you before he almost looses his balance and threatens to fall on top of you.

Yet it is exactly what you want, and you keep pulling him despite his obvious resistance. He looks at you, slightly out of breath, as if asking for permission, but you only wrap your arms and legs tighter around him until his heavy body is lying on yours, pushing you gently into the bed while his warmth seeps through your skin, calming the initial turmoil within you.

He captures your lips for another kiss as he starts moving his hips against you once more, the new angle giving him the opportunity to really rut into you, and each thrust sends shivers down your spine and rocks your body beneath him. You moan into his mouth while he cradles your head between his arms as he leans on his elbows, taking some of his weight off you.

Your hands hold onto his broad back, your fingernails sinking into his skin before you scratch them over it as he pushes hard and fast into you, every time hitting that sweet spot deep within, and you cry out against him, your noises muffled by his tongue pressing into your mouth. The tension builds as rapidly as he moves his cock inside your tight channel, and while he still pounds into you with almost desperate abandon, you come around him with a force that makes your entire body shudder and twitch beneath him.

The deep rooted ache in your stomach is silenced by the orgasm crashing through you, and for the first time in a long while you feel like yourself again, weightless and elated, happy in his embrace, happy with your body as it convulses as you want it to convulse: in sheer bliss and not uncontrollable bouts of pain. You melt into the sensation and are barely able to kiss him as his movements become even more erratic.

You groan against him, his heavy breaths mingling with yours, causing you to feel light-headed and dizzy, but in the best way possible, as you feel him thrusting into you, the tension in his body a telltale sign that he's close to climaxing as well. He is lost in the moment, leaning his forehead against yours, but before he gives you that final thrust, the tiniest of hesitations makes him freeze for a second.

You're quick to grab his face and look deep into his eyes before you whisper breathlessly: “Come inside me. Please. It's going to be alright...”

You see his lips moving, but no sounds come out, and instead he resumes rutting into you, frantically, definitely desperately, before he finally groans loudly and pushes hard into you, his tight balls pressing against your arse as he starts twitching inside you, emptying himself completely as thick ropes of cum shoot into your womb, the feeling as familiar as the sight above you. You caress his cheeks through his release before he collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands move to his back, and you rub it softly, soothing the red lines you left on his skin, as you hold him in your embrace while he slowly relaxes against you, his cock still throbbing inside you, your walls tight around him as if to embrace him as well, as if to welcome him back, eager to not let him go just yet.

Your heavy breaths ease slowly, and you close your eyes as you nuzzle your nose into his hair, relaxing beneath him. Yet when he suddenly stirs, his hips moving upwards as he gently tries to unwrap your legs from around his waist, you grab his shoulders and, against the ache in your thighs, keep your legs crossed behind his back. “Stay,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please...”

He lifts his head slightly and looks at you, his eyes wandering over your flushed face. You hold his gaze before you pull him towards you to claim his mouth. The kiss is lazy and comforting, coaxing him back into lying down on you, slipping his cock back in all the way as he breathes loudly against you. You hold him and kiss him, savouring his warmth for as long as you can.

“How do you feel?” he asks between kisses, his voice low and as hoarse as yours as it vibrates through your head.

“Better,” you reply, pressing your lips to his cheek. “So much better.” And it's true. With his weight on you, the pain within dulls to a barely there throbbing. “You know, I think all I needed to recover was your seed in me...” you jest quietly and move back to capture his lips.

He scoffs into your mouth, but there's a twinkle in his eyes as he watches you. His tongue keeps circling yours lazily before he moves his lips over your cheek and down your jaw to kiss your throat, his hands caressing your head, with his fingers tangling into your hair. “I love you,” you hear him mutter against your skin as he nibbles softly on your neck. “More than you think... more than I can bear sometimes... I would die without you...”

Your heart swells, with love and concern for him, and you rub his back in a soothing fashion as you fight back tears. A stifled sob makes it past your trembling lips nonetheless, and he leans up at the sound of it, looking at you with furrowed brows, a panicked look in his warm eyes.

You swallow and shake your head at him, pressing your lips together as you blink quickly. He reaches one hand up to cup your cheek and wipe at your wet skin. “Are you hurting?”

“No,” you whisper with your voice shaking. “I'm just... so...” You sob again and close your eyes, more tears spilling past your lashes. “I love you so much, Sebastian. And I'll... never leave you... I promise...” you manage to croak out between crying quietly. He puts both of his hands on your face and brings his lips to yours, gently kissing you as you shiver beneath him.

You kiss him back and slowly calm down again, leaning into his touches as you focus on him and him alone. Your breaths mingle in your mouths as you lean your forehead against his, a blissful dizziness pushing aside your worries.

“And... whatever comes our way... we'll manage... we'll deal with it... together,” you whisper barely audible.

His eyes are dark and swimming in emotions as he watches you, then nods slowly. “Together,” he repeats and takes a shuddering breath. “Always.”

“Always,” you say with him and smile warmly. He leans in to kiss you again while slightly shifting against you. You sigh quietly as you feel him moving within you.

For a moment he just looks at you as if to make sure you're still here before he gives you another peck and leans away then, undoing your connection so fast you can barely protest against the sudden empty feeling inside you. Your legs fall to his sides, twitching as they finally relax.

He rolls off you, but then gently grabs your shoulders and turns you onto your side as well until your rear is pressed against his front. He doesn't hesitate at all when he slips his cock between your thighs as he pulls you closer to his chest. You inhale deeply and snuggle against him, grabbing the arm he snakes around you.

You're both facing the crib now where your twin babies still sleep peacefully, their tiny breaths a comforting sound in your ears. Sebastian leans his head on your shoulder and inhales deeply as he moves his other hand to your stomach, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. A soft moan escapes you as you move against him, your thighs clenching around his hot member comfortably until you feel him harden between them once more.

As you turn your head slightly to watch him out of the corner of your eye, you reach one hand down between your legs and guide him back into your pussy, the familiar feeling of being filled out calming you immediately. He shifts against your rear as he pushes in as far as he can before he just rests there, holding you to his body, his hot breath making strands of your hair fly.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “I missed this...” you murmur softly.

“Me too...” he replies, his voice a low hum in your ear. “Do you think –”

“– we can do this more often now?” you finish his quiet question and smirk. “I sure hope so. No, I know so, because I do feel better, really. You make me complete, Sebastian,” you add and turn your head more to brush your lips against his cheek. He leans in and claims your mouth, smiling against you.

“So it was lack of sex that made you ill?” he muses with a smirk that is both mischievous and concerned, the duality of his emotions making you chuckle.

“It was lack of you,” you whisper against his lips.

“But I was here, I was always here,” he protests quietly, leaning back a little to look at you, slightly hurt.

You reach up a hand and caress his stubbled cheek. “You've been bearing the burden of our life alone for the past months, always worrying about my health and money and our future, and I feel... horrible for putting you through this, for not being able to do anything.” He opens his mouth to object, but you put a finger to his lips. “But I am here too and thanks to your intensive care, I am better, and we'll manage this together now, do you hear me? Let me carry some of your worries as well, please.”

He listens intently, his eyes boring into yours, the lines on his face deepening before they relax again. “We're not selling your hideous socks,” he then says with a smirk that reminds you so much of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

You laugh, both relieved at his calm tone and offended by his words. “Then we can go back to tomb robbing, how's that?” you suggest and poke your tongue out at him.

He stares at your mouth, then grins. “I promised you an honest life, so no, we'll not traipse through cobwebbed old caves ever again,” he says firmly, kissing your cheek as he leans away slightly, the hard lines back on his face. “We'll find a way. I'm sure there are still some people who owe you a favour or two.”

You snort at that as you think back to your days of helping everyone you met without the slightest hint of hesitation. “An honest life, huh? Sounds a bit like extortion to me,” you tease, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“It's called justice, darling. And it's only fair. You've done so much for so many people, me included, and you need to think of yourself for once.” His voice is low and a tad too serious for your liking.

“I'm a mother of five and a wife, I've had my time of thinking of myself,” you whisper. “It's us now. But you're right, we shouldn't be afraid to ask for help ourselves.”

“Not exactly what I said, but fine,” he agrees with a soft chuckle and kisses your jaw, shifting his hips against you as he presses his hand to your stomach.

You lick your lips and close your eyes, slowly going back to feeling the present instead of worrying or thinking about the future. His warm body moulds to yours as he starts grinding against your arse while your walls clench lazily around his cock.

“So, are you up for another round or do we just lie like this for a bit?” he whispers into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Why do I have the feeling that you want to make up for all those months we weren't able to do this in just one evening?” You chuckle softly as you turn your head to him, meeting his gaze, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

“You said you feel better. I'm trusting you that you're not lying to me. Are you lying to me?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“I'm not lying to you,” you whisper back, putting your hand on his as he rubs your stomach. “I do feel better and if you're fine with me just lying here, then please, go ahead and use me as you see fit.”

He groans into your ear. “Ugh, the temptation...” he hisses through his teeth. “Don't say that, I might not be able to hold back.”

“Then don't,” you challenge with a smirk.

He stares at you, breathing loudly through his nose before he closes his eyes and nods quietly. “If you insist,” he murmurs and moves his hand to your hip, digging his fingers into your skin, and you moan softly under the familiar sensation.

His other arm snakes around your neck and holds you gently pressed to his chest as he starts pushing his hips against your arse, slowly at first, then quickly losing all kind of control until he pounds into you with all he has. You melt into his embrace and moan louder, the tension within coiling up as your walls tighten around him.

Your eyes roll back as you cry out in nothing but bliss while your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, causing your body to shudder against his. His grunts are loud in your ear as he keeps thrusting into you, in and out, faster and harder, unrelenting until another wave of pleasure crashes over you.

While you float in the wonderful weightlessness of your release, he thrusts into you mercilessly, his movements much rougher than before as he slips back into his old behaviour, and you relish in the feeling of submitting to him fully. Your stomach fills with a warmth that is not just his seed as he finally stills inside you, pumping hot spurts of cum into your womb once more, but a warmth that exceeds the physical nature of his touch.

You feel safe and protected, completely at ease, knowing he is right there, pressed against you, holding you, caring so much about you that you could feed off his love for years and years to come. Centuries even, for all eternity for all you care. It's always been him, and through all the hardships in your lives, you've been together, and you've always come out the other end, holding each other, being together, no matter what.

You reach a hand up and grab the back of his head, your fingers digging into his hair as you pull him towards you for a kiss that hopefully conveys all those emotions swirling within your body. He breathes heavily against you, the hand on your hip easing its grip before it snakes up to cup your face as he kisses you back passionately.

You're lost in his embrace, sinking into his taste and smell and feel, almost completely oblivious to your surroundings. That is until you feel your breasts tensing up, just seconds before you hear a soft little squeak followed by a tiny little sob. Your eyes fly open and so do Sebastian's, before you both look towards the crib next to your bed.

Your twin babies stir, softly cooing. You breathe deeply against him, and without another word, he slips away from you, not caring about the mess you both created as he quickly walks to Beatrice and Bernie and leans over the crib with a soft smile on his hard features. You watch him as you roll onto your back and shift against your pillow, sitting up slightly. He picks up Bernie first, the little boy already sporting some of your features, while your baby girl definitely comes after her father.

He carries your son to your side and places him gently into your arm, lining him up to suckle on your breast. You look up at him shortly, noticing the almost envious look in his dark eyes that makes you smirk slightly before you wince when your baby boy starts nibbling on your hard nipple. Sebastian meets your gaze, before returning to the crib and gently lifting his tiny baby girl into his big hands, cradling her with his cheeks flushed.

When he puts Beatrice down in your other arm and docks her to your other breast, he looks at you lovingly before slipping next to you on the bed and supporting your shoulders as you feed his children. You inhale sharply under the eager sucking of your twins as you cradle them to your chest, trying to relax while you lean against your husband.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he coos into your ear, his breath ghosting your skin. “Look at what you're able to do, look at our babies...”

You do and smile softly, watching the tiny humans in your arms. In the end it was all worth it, all the pain and aches and those weeks and months you were battling against your own body. Seeing your children, healthy and eager to grow into this world, and seeing the soft expression in Sebastian's eyes, makes up for everything. You turn your head and brush your lips against his jaw before he leans in and captures them for a gentle kiss.

When he leans back, he smiles at you disarmingly, making your cheeks burn. He shifts against you as one of his hands moves over the tiny head of his son, while you gently rub your daughter's back as both of them still suckle eagerly on your breasts. For the longest moment you both watch them feed, content in each other's embrace.

Beatrice is the first to be sated, and when she lets go of your breast with a soft popping sound, Sebastian is already there to pick her up and lean her tiny body against his shoulder, as he stands from the bed and paces the room slowly, rubbing his daughter's back until a little burp breaks from her cute little mouth. You watch him, while you cradle Bernie in your arms, and smile softly.

“My good little girl,” he coos as he keeps walking her around the room, holding her gently to his bare chest. The sight warms you from the inside, and you almost don't notice when Bernie stirs against you, squirming slightly.

You lift him up and smile widely at him, meeting his curious big eyes, before you press your lips to his small forehead and inhale deeply, his sweet infant scent filling your nostrils. Next to you Sebastian is putting Beatrice down into the crib again and turns back to you, gently taking your son from your grasp, and repeats the motion he did with his daughter. Bernie's burp comes loud and immediate, and Sebastian's surprised laugh fills the room and your heart.

“That's my boy,” he chuckles and cradles his son in his arms for another moment while you start swaying the crib to calm your little girl, your eyes locked to the tall form of your husband.

You've always known he'd be a good father, and he even exceeded your expectations and became the best father you could have wished for for your children. He was always there, not shying away from doing anything when it came to his offspring, from changing diapers to bathing them or nursing them to sleep even if he was tired and exhausted himself. It was his unyielding love and support that convinced you to add to your family in the first place, knowing that he would always take care of your kids and you.

He notices your loving stare and smiles at you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he walks back to the bed and sits down on the edge, holding Bernie in his arms, as he leans towards you and presses his lips to your forehead. You take the infant from him and put him down gently next to his sister, who immediately stops her slight squirming. The twins cuddle together, and you gasp softly as they touch hands shortly after.

Sebastian wraps his arm around you as you both watch them in silent admiration. Leaning against him, you grab his other hand and hold it tightly before you raise it to your face and kiss his fingers, resting your lips on his ring. He hugs you tighter, breathing deeply. You snuggle against him and place your joined hands on your lap. He slips his fingers between yours and rubs your thigh with them before he turns his head and looks at you.

You look back, filled to the brim with happiness. His hand tightens around your waist as he pulls you closer to him until he lifts you onto his lap. You wrap your free arm around his neck when he suddenly stands from the bed and cradles you in his arms, a soft smile on his face as he carries you towards the small window of your bedroom.

“Look,” he whispers into your ear, and you follow his gaze through the old glass panel into your backyard, where your oldest twins play catch with a surprisingly nimble Edgar Adley.

The man you once assisted back in your teenage years has been a great help to your little family over the last decade and you couldn't be more grateful to him or his young wife for looking after Benjamin, Archie and Anne while you were bound to your bed, only able to look after your newborn twins while Sebastian has been looking after you.

Your gaze wanders on, and you find your sweet little daughter, the spitting image of yourself, sitting in the grass surrounded by her dolls and a stack of old books, while she moves her tiny fingers over a row of little flowers she braided together, completely oblivious to her brothers' playfulness. Yet when another boy approaches the fence, his hand held by a young blonde woman you know as Edgar's wife and the daughter of his late best friend Milo, she looks up curiously.

Sebastian chuckles. “Look at her, she's just like her mother,” he muses and kisses your cheek as he shifts you on his arms. “Completely oblivious to the world until a good-looking boy approaches and captures her attention.”

You scoff. “Remind you of someone, huh?”

“I was better looking,” he says with a smirk.

“And you weren't five when we met!” you laugh. “Though I'm sure you were already breaking hearts at that age.”

“Breaking hearts?” he repeats and looks at you slightly offended. “If anything, I was and am a heart-mender,” he adds and leans in to kiss you softly. “I did just cure you with my seed, didn't I?” he whispers under his breath and you blush deeply as you stare at him with your lips parted.

“Put me down,” you tell him softly after a moment of watching him closely, as you listen to the workings of your body, trying to distinguish your rapidly beating heart from the usual throbbing in your stomach.

He raises his eyebrows, but complies, gently setting you down until your feet touch the old floor boards. You hold onto him as you look up into his concerned face, your legs trembling slightly. His hands are on your waist, holding you just in case your body decides it isn't ready yet. But you feel surprisingly stable. When you put a hand on your abdomen, you inhale deeply, but the ache seems to have quieted down immensely.

“As weird as it may seem, but I think you're right...” you whisper and smile at him softly, but with your face flushed properly. “Though we shouldn't tell anyone about how I got better, okay?”

He laughs, the low rumble vibrating through your body. “We should also make sure you're properly healed,” he whispers and leans down to press his forehead to yours. “I might have to put in more...”

You cough slightly when you choke on your own spit at his proposal, but then reach up a hand and touch his face, your expression as serious as you can make it look while you feel yourself flooded with mischief and anticipation. “Yes, you might have to. Just to be sure.”

Sebastian's face lights up completely before he picks you up once more, wrapping your legs around his waist as he puts his big hands on your bum cheeks. You beam at him, your hands holding onto his shoulders. Slowly he carries you back to the bed, his eyes momentarily wandering towards the crib, but your twins are already sleeping again, fed and happy, their tiny fingers entangled, as their parents crawl back into bed.

When he puts you down on your back, hovering over you, you shake your head and motion him to roll around until you can lie on him. Once you rest on top of him, you smile down at him, cradling his face between your hands. He watches you with a warm smile as his hands come to rest on your hips, gently gripping your soft flesh.

You give him a short but heated kiss before you sit up on your knees, grinding your pelvis against his groin in slow circles while your chest bounces with every undulating motion. He sighs deeply beneath you, licking his lips.

“By Merlin's bloody facial hair, I've missed seeing you like this,” he whispers breathlessly, his hands moving up to grab your plump breasts, groping them with eager fingers.

You throw him a sultry smile as you move your wet folds over his hardening cock and reply with a breathy whisper: “Well, you better get used to it again. I have a lot to make up for.”

End notes: This started out with the idea to gather some prompts to write short smut or fluff or angst oneshots but then I got inspired to finally continue my Dad!Seb fic and here we are. The angst was real in this one, but also the tooth achingly sweet family life fluff.

By the way: Yes, I ship Edgar Adley with his late friend Milo's daughter. Listen! There is a blonde girl in Aranshire, maybe 8 or 10 years old, and I HC that it's Milo's daughter AND I see Edgar taking care of her after Milo's death (he did say he wanted to pay for her Hogwarts supplies one day) and when she grows up, they fall in love and have a baby boy and everything is happy! This story plays at least 13 years after we do that quest for him, so why not, huh? (Also did you know: that man with that sexy accent is voiced by the same guy who voices Victor Rookwood? WTF!)

As I mentioned in the first part (It is that time again) I borrowed the names of three of Sebastian's children (Benjamin, Archie and Anne) from @subastian-swallows, but added my own for Beatrice and Bernie (short for Bernard btw).

Seriously dude, five children! Two pairs of twins? Chill! His poor wife! No wonder she ended up bedridden! By the way: I have no idea about the topic and I didn't want to research too much because in the end it doesn't really matter, maybe it's even a magical malady, who knows. So please don't ask me about details! (I also have no idea if my descriptions of breastfeeding are anywhere near the real thing, so forgive me for my ignorance!)

And yes: she was healed by his magical cum, believe it or not. I don't make the rules, that's how the world works in my head!

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #reader insert #angst #fluff #smut

[bethanydelleman]

Both Pride & Prejudice and Much Ado About Nothing work so well as enemies to lovers because despite surface animosity, it's clear that both end couples really respect each other and for good reasons. I think you could even argue that with Beatrice, she spars with Benedick because she considers him a worthy opponent.

When Hero and Ursuala plot to make Beatrice fall in love, Hero instructs her to speak of Benedick and "praise him more than ever man did merit" and yet when Beatrice finally speaks, she doesn't disagree with their high praise, she says of Benedick:

For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly.

Benedick likewise after his eavesdropping on Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio's praise Beatrice says:

They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.

Similarly in Pride & Prejudice, once the misunderstanding about Wickham is cleared away, Elizabeth is able to acknowledge to herself how much she respects and likes Darcy:

She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both: by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

Darcy also finds that he admires Elizabeth, after initially dismissing her:

But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness.

All of these characters also hear and accept criticism of themselves. Both Benedick and Beatrice hear they are too proud to accept love, which they both overcome. Elizabeth learns that she judged Darcy without sufficient information and Darcy that his behaviour was not that of a gentleman. Their mutual acceptance of this criticism and their growth as people leads to their ultimate happiness.

Unfortunately, those who reproduce this trope often forget to build this foundation of respect and the acknowledgement, either personally or publically, that the characters have been wrong. Instead we get characters who mid argument begin ripping each other's clothes off. No growth, no understanding how they have been wrong, it just becomes "thin line between hatred and love" instead of "we grew towards each other".

#enemies to lovers done right #enemies to lovers trope #trope analysis #pride and prejudice #much ado about nothing #much ado about nothing day #growing towards each other #obviously the character growth is almost instant in Much Ado #but that's just a time factor #a lot more room in a novel #shakespeare #benedick #beatrice #elizabeth bennet #mr. darcy #fitzwilliam darcy

[ystrike1]

Holding You Captive - By Sena (7/10)

Painfully close. This is an otome isekai with a ton of potential and darkness in spades. The first five chapters are a creepy and thrilling tale of memory loss, deeply corrupt royal weddings, and obsessive love by design. Then snap it gets ruined. I'm in pain.

Our protagonist is a sad young woman, who was abused by her family. Her sister was the favorite, and she was the failure.

She is reincarnated into the body of a villainess named Beatrice. Beatrice was offered up as a vessel for a Divine Being. Divine Beings are souls from other worlds. Like our Protagonist! Occasionally, those souls fall into bodies that are offered up. Divine Beings give birth to strong children, and they are signs of good fortune. Beatrice was sold by her family because she was a disgraceful bully. They do not care if her soul is replaced.

Our sad protagonist awakens with blurry memories, and a prince by her side. He is her fiance. The wedding is in six months. His name is Rahich. He names her Regria. Why does he name her? Well, Divine Beings awaken with almost no memories. Only glimpses of their previous life. It's traditional for the groom to take control of the Divine One. Divine Ones do not know how to speak. They are alone outside of their promised marriage.

Rahich fully intends to make Regria, his manufactured destiny, completely his.

He bleeds toxicity.

He is curious.

His Regria seems a bit strange.

Divine Souls are attracted to Vessels they can relate to. Everyone is worried that the Divine One will be an awful tyrant, like Beatrice.

Rahich is confused by how docile she is, and how different she feels. His Regria is not Beatrice. He can feel it in his heart.

Love takes hold of him, but he only knows how to express himself in the most toxic ways.

He is excited to turn his bride into the perfect crown princess.

The perfect queen.

His only love.

The only partner that can complete him.

Thinking about their future together makes him mad with excitement. It's so strange and freaky to watch....because Regria cannot speak at all. She doesn't understand what anyone is saying, but Rahich is busy planning her entire life. Joyfully too.

There is no exposition dump for our protagonist. She's in a completely unknown world. One that steals souls from other realms for some twisted marriage tradition.

That tradition is steeped in blood and madness.

There are Divine Knights. Men and women with Divine Blood. There have been many Divine Ones, and many Divine marriages in the royal family. The Divine Ones make the royal line extremely strong and blessed, but it comes at a huge cost.

The children created by these unions feel compelled to repeat the cycle. They only feel fulfilled and whole when they take a Divine One as a partner. Sometimes the Divine Ones cry. They deny their Knight. It's not easy to call a soul into a vessel. The tradition continues only because the holy church dedicates vast resources to the Vessel summoning ritual.

If a Knight is completely rejected its over. He cannot have love at all. The children of the Divine can only be satisfied with brides from the Divine. If their Divine Bride match up doesn't work out...well...

Many Divine Knights have gone on insane violent rampages because of this.

Rahich is a completely manufactured yandere. He was born into a system that forces him to love only one special woman. His divine lineage will not allow him to feel deep love for anyone else.

Wicked.

He likes to see her messy and lonely.

He struggles with his desires.

He knows he must make her into a lovely Queen, but he's so excited.

He would love to keep her locked up.

He even gets her a collar.

***SHE STILL DOES NOT UNDERSTAND A WORD OF WHAT HE IS SAYING AT THIS POINT***

Regria eventually befriends a slave.

She does attempt to escape with him later, but wait!!! That's a good story!!! That could have been a great story, but I have grave news.

Sigh...

Regria doesn't get the opportunity to grow as a character by herself. She does not valiantly struggle to learn about her surroundings, while the prince coddles her. Nope. No.

Beatrice is still inside Regria.

Which means Regria gets a free pass. Beatrice is still conscious in the same body with her, so Regria doesn't have to learn or grow. Beatrice will spoon feed her secrets and help like a hired tutor and.....ughhhhhhh!!!!

I'm so annoyed by this one!!!!

Beatrice was killed off by her family. Sacrificed as a Vessel!! It was a neat idea with layers of potential!!!!!

I don't want Regria to have a free tutor inside her brain. I want her to strive to be Rahich's equal through her own merit.

I'm not finishing this one.

No. I'm too mad.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome #otome isekai #holding you captive

[simplyavatrice]

Really interested to know what your, say top 5, Alba being an incredible actress moments are? As in times when you feel you can truly see her talent and immense range. I mean you always can tbh, but which moments really stand out to you?

alright okay this is a great question and i'm in such a good fucking mood today (thank you toya turner)

so i'm gonna keep this in the warrior nun realm because that's most of what i've seen of her (outside a few episdoes of her portuguese shows and mrs harris goes to paris)

so top 5 alba acting moments

5. JEALOUS AVA - like let's be real, this moment made the entire fandom feral and alba's ability to convey emotion with expression is unparalleled and she went full fanfiction angsty jealous pining here and it was amazing

4. this whole scene when she asks bea to run away with her. the hopeful and almost terrified expression on her face the whole time she's talking about the life she wants to spend with beatrice away from all of this, and then the DEVASTATING reaction when bea tells her no is just heartbreaking

3. when mother superion tells ava that she killed herself and ava vehemently denies it because holy shit all she's ever wanted was to LIVE - like look at her, look at all the different emotions on display here. anger, frustration, heartbreak. ugh, so so good

2. THE LOOK, i have never seen some one physically capture the 'oh' moment like alba does here. where she finally sees beatrice out of her habit and with her hair down - smiling and dancing and being her true self. alba literally displays falling in love with a single look

this whole scene on the beach. from the way she takes in the ocean and breathes in the air, to where she goes sprinting across the beach because she finally can to finally just collapsing into sand and carrying so much unbridled joy she can't even contain it. alba made all of us fall in love with ava in this moment and us fighting so hard for season 3, wanting to see her get her happy ending, started here when we all saw how much she deserved it

#alba baptista #warrior nun #ava silva #avatrice #jdskafj;ksa

[webslingingslasher]

i think frat!peter would get insanely jealous whenever you fangirl over a fictional character from a movie or book. like the character does something romantic and you blush and rant about how cute they are, and peters just sitting there pouting like, “trouble, they aren’t even real!! im right here!!” i live for jealous petey 🤭 -🎨

i want a frat!peter so bad.

"hey, trouble, do you wanna-"

"shhh."

"did you just-"

"shush! nate's about to apologize to beatrice and i just know they're going to kiss!"

peter cannot believe this shit. you have a real, breathing human in front of you that you can kiss but your head is wrapped up in nate.

"why do we care about nate?"

you groan and carefully set your book down, "look, i'll explain quick but i need you to promise me you'll let me at least finish this chapter."

peter holds his hands up, "i'd never want to keep you from nate."

"good, thank you. okay, so basically nate is in love with bea, he calls her bea, it's so cute. but, he's the macho 'i could never love a woman they make man weak grrr' kinda guy but bea is enthralled with nate and won't leave him alone."

peter wonders if you see the similarities. you don't.

"and she follows him home one night cause she had a bad feeling and he got jumped and she like, kinda saved him? but then he got pissed at her for getting involved cause she could've been hurt! which means... nate likes her! and of course he pushed her away when he realized."

peter nods his head, "of course he did."

"right! and then bea realized he might not just be a bad boy, but a bad person, and now he's going to apologize and i just know they're going to kiss!"

"what if bea doesn't want him back? what if nate fucked it up for the final time? what if bea realizes it seems like she's the only one who cares about their relationship but really nate just sucks at showing how much he cares?"

your head tilts while you think over his words, you know he's pulling the 'let's say, hypothetically, my friend,' line.

"i think... bea is very expressive about her emotions and nate's doing the best he can and she recognizes that. i think she also knows there are other ways to show people you care, even if it's not as vocal as she'd like."

your answer was so raw, peter had to look away.

"a deals a deal, trouble. keep reading for your kiss, i'm doing laundry downstairs."

making grabby hands and puckering, peter walks from the foot of the bed to your side, supplying three small kisses.

"yup, nate's are still more exciting. imagine the kiss after admitting some deep, hidden feelings, petey."

he gives you another, "keep imagining, trouble."

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

bonus: running out of his room, skidding on socks and yelling down the stairs to him.

"peter, they kissed! they kissed and it was so worth the build up!" 

#peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #my writing #frat!peter drabbles

[god-mouths]

Scott pilgrim is a modern retelling of Dante’s Inferno, and I want to talk about it

Hi . Brought this up very briefly a while ago but i rewatched spto with friends last night and got my gears turning. I don’t usually make posts like this but It’s been on my mind and I want to share. Here we goooo. Under read more becwuse I wish not to disturb my beloved friends with a long post

First off, let’s start with theeeee obvious.

Say hello to our Dante and Beatrice.

I don’t think I need to go into this first one much, but Scott and Dante are of course the heroes(term used lightly. Scott is not a good person and honestly neither was fuckinh Dante of all people) of their respective tales, going through hell and back to win over this ethereal, “too good to be true” heavenly dream girl. Scott even dies to get her in the end, like Dante venturing down into the depths of hell, dying and then ascending to get to Beatrice. If I wanted to really stretch it I could say the dreamscape is a sort of purgatory but I don’t think there’s enough evidence for that one.

Next,

Our Virgil. What’s up, Wallace.

In the comics Wallace acts as a sort of guide to Scott. We end up seeing him less as the comic progresses, which I find lines up with Virgil having to part ways with Dante before he enters heaven. Not much to say otherwise admittedly. Love you though buddy

Now for the symbolism of hell. Since there are nine circles of hell, it obviously can’t match up one to one with the exes unless we add some of scott’s relationships to the mix, which both doesn’t make sense, causes this analysis to get stupider than it already is, and leaves some characters left over that already don’t fit in to these parallels.

Luckily, however, there are The Seven Deadly Sins. Going to be going in sin order rather than ex order here

Firstly,

MATTHEW PATEL - PRIDE

- the first boyfriend and the first sin very conveniently line up, which threw me off track because I thought the exes would go in the order of the sins. Enyways

- in the movies, comics, and shows, he is insanely flashy with how he presents himself. It’s the entrance, the dances, the expressive clothing (“that guy’s dressed as a pirate” “pirates are in this year!”, modifying Gideon’s suit to fit his color palette, the outfit he wore while kicking gideon’s ass). The theatre kid in him essentially

- taking the lead in the musical Knives and Stephen presented him with— they knew how to cater to him, because he views himself as the coolest bitch on the planet. Which honestly he kind of is but don’t tell him this

- so headstrong in his pride that he fucks up. Repeatedly. First to get killed, too cocky, spends all of gideons money “I’ve lost billions!”

- believes he’s entitled to Ramona as soon as he wins the fight against Scott

GIDEON- GREED

- I don’t feel like I have to explain this one but I will because I enjoy him greatly

- CEO, billionaire. Money money money mr rich

- literally “owns” or tries to excersize ownership Ramona in the comics and movie as if she belongs to him— with the glow, or with the chip implanted into her neck with his logo on it.

- has all of his past girlfriends cryogenically frozen. All for him none for anyone else. They should only love meeeeee.

- wants everything for himself in excess. Women, fame, money. Almost considered pride for him also but greed is more fitting

KEN AND KYLE- ENVY AND LUST

- holy shit this image has five pixels so sorry about that I’m on my phone and Google images sucks

- anyways of course they’re sharing sins

- not much to say here as they don’t show up much, and it’s easy to make the argument of envy or lust for ANY of the seven exes. These two were the hardest to figure out. Not as sure on Envy, but can definetly advocate for lust— playing around with women, thinking they were playing around with Ramona.

TODD- GLUTTONY

- this one was the easiest one for me. Like come on

- breaks vegan edge in the comics, movie, (vegan police), and show (Wallace breakup event 2 dead 5 injured)

- his whole persona revolves around food. Of course gluttony doesn’t always mean food but here it most definetly equates. Even when he’s vegan he always makes it a talking point of how superior he is to others because of this fact, only for it to blow up in his face when his enjoyment of non vegan food catches up to him.

ROXY- WRATH

- a very angry girl to be sure. Takes her emotions out using violence, attacking Ramona the first time she sees her, even though she is going out of the order of the league and supposed to be attacking Scott (although I guess that point is moot because they all think he’s dead at that point)

- “I’m bi-furious” line from the movie deserves a shout out here I think

- (completely justified) Unending rage against Ramona in the show, and scott in the comics and movies. She is PISSED.

Lastly,

LUCAS LEE- SLOTH

- also one of the easiest ones. Could have made an argument for pride (tries to prove he can land a sick ollie so hard that he dies) or greed (movie star who lives in huge mansion), but sloth ultimately fit the bill the best.

- even before we get into his reoccurring theme of “whatever” in the show, it’s pretty evident in the comics and movie that he doesn’t care enough to extend effort. He tells Scott he’ll leave him alone and say his ass got kicked if Scott gave him a twenty dollar bill, sends his stunt doubles to fight Scott in his stead.

- onto the show, he lets his stardom slip out of his fingers with his attitude, not even caring to read or memorize the script anymore (“is that why half the lines in your last film were ‘Let’s Party’?” “I uhh, read the title.” Etc). Just spends all his time messing around and skateboarding. The title of his episode is literally “Whatever”. He doesn’t give enough of a shit to care. Which. Respect I guess

Extra; the exes ARE referred to as “the seven deadly chumps” in the show.

In conclusion;

#Scott pilgrim #ramona flowers #Wallace wells #matthew patel #gideon graves #todd ingram #roxy richter #lucas lee #kyle katayanagi #ken katayanagi #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim vs the world #writing #not ocs #this took me an hour to write tghis is why there’s so many tags. #anyways thank you bye bye

[littleskrimp]

Can we just talk about the differences in Beatrice’s character between these two fight scenes?

In season 1, Beatrice is the one who is the moral compass of the group. She’s always keen on the mission and the mission alone. During that particular hallway fight, she only injured her opponents. The goal was to retrieve the divinium shield which doesn’t mean much to her personally but that doesn’t matter because it was a mission for the good of the OCS. So, she kept the damage to a minimum. Season 1 Beatrice puts her personal opinions and feelings aside for the good of The Order. It’s just how she operates given what we know about her past.

In season 2, we see parts of Beatrice start to open up (mostly due to falling for and being around Ava). There’s times where she lets her emotions get in the way of the mission. For example, when she kept Ava from detonating the divinium bomb. When the mission went to hell, she immediately retreated to her old way of thinking. She kept her personal opinions and feelings to the back of her mind. That’s why she said she couldn’t go with Ava when she told her to run and hide. In the season 2 hallway fight, Beatrice’s mind laser focused on getting to Ava. They had kissed for the first time not long before and everything after that became clear to Beatrice. She wasn’t going to lose Ava like this. It may not look it by her expression, but Beatrice is all amped on her emotions at this point. She warned those who kept her from getting to Ava because Beatrice is still the moral one. When they refused to walk away, there was bloodshed. All because she wanted to get to the Warrior Nun. HER Warrior Nun. Her Ava. ❤️

Also, the colors! The left side is blue which to me symbolized Beatrice’s stern and contained nature. It can often be seen as cold. No emotions. The right side is yellow. Maybe orange. Leads me to view this as Beatrice’s inner fire (like the woman in the bar said) burning to be free, finally being let out like an inferno. All emotions on high.

I love characters like Beatrice who walk the lines of nobility and who are considered the moral one. When it comes to those they love getting hurt/possibly dying, they unleash this deadly dangerous side to them in order to protect the ones they love.

#sister beatrice is a BEAST #sister beatrice #kristina tonteri young #avatrice #warrior nun

[lyn-js]

Dancing under the Moonlight | Prologue

Bradley Bradshaw x OC Reader (Nickname Honey)

Summary: After the Uranium Mission, Bradley Bradshaw decides he wants to settle down. Maybe even start a family at some point in time. But he felt so tired (and old) to be in the dating scene. That's until he sees a beautiful new bartender at The Hard Deck. Not only that; turns out she's Penny's niece, Beatrice. They both hit it off amazing, but for some reason, Beatrice isn't letting her walls down yet. But Bradley is going to get to the bottom of what Bea's big secret is.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, drinking, mentions of past abuse, fluff, eventually smut 18+, age gap (24 & 35)

You’re hiding in the closet in your bedroom. Scared for your life, trying to cover your mouth so he doesn’t hear you. You suddenly jolt at the sound of someone knocking on your door. But you don’t answer it, you stay inside not wanting to be found. A few minutes later you hear the door creak open, your whole body is pulverized with fear. You hear footsteps all around the room. But you finally hear someone call out for you.

“Bea…Beatrice, are you here?” you hear a female voice. You come to realize it’s you, Aunt Penny. You let out a gasp and start to let out all the waterworks from your body and start to sob uncontrollably. You hear her footsteps padding her way to the closet. She lets out a gasp of her own. Seeing you curled up with your knees to your chest, seeing the healing bruises on your arms and legs. She kneels and takes her hands and puts them on both sides of your cheeks, so she can fully see you.

“Oh, my honeybee. You’re safe now. Nobody is gonna hurt you ever again. Okay? I won't let that happen.” You just let her hug you. You miss having a warm embrace with you. You miss that motherly love and affection. You missed the one person who truly believed in you, and who wanted you to succeed in your dreams. You missed your mom.

You just simply nod, and let more tears run down your face, but you feel your aunt wipe away those tears, and give you a gentle kiss on your forehead. The next thing you know, you’re gathering all of your stuff that you can fit in Aunt Penny’s car. Including some of your clothes for work and some shoes. But before you went out the front door you ran over to where the TV stand was, untape your necklace that was on the back of it. You knew Zeke would look for anything worth anything to you and pon it off. But you would never let him take this away from you, your mom got you a necklace with a honey bee-shaped charm on it for graduation.

You took everything you needed and went off with Aunt Penny to Fightertown U.S.A.

(Bradley POV)

You were walking into The Hard Deck like any other normal night. You’ve been at this whole routine since the mission was a success. Ever since then, you haven't been able to sleep. Not being able to sleep alone for that matter of fact. You've always wanted to have somebody, somebody to come home to. To have a warm body next to you, someone to have a conversation with, actually talk about something other than work. Instead of walking into an empty apartment, falling asleep with no noise, slowly diving into an abyss of nothing. 

But now, you’ve found a group of friends that you can talk to, hang out with, and find a connection with people you haven't had in a long time. 

All of the squad was there, including Mav. We were all having a good time playing pool and darts, drinking, and making jokes with everyone. Until we see out the window, Penny pulls into the parking lot super fast. Then we all look over at Mav a second later when he gets a phone call from Penny. 

“Hey, Pen-” He stops talking, getting cut off by her, we can actually kind of hear her through the phone. “Hey, Hey… slow down hon. Okay. Okay, I’ll be right out. Bye, hon.” We all look at him in a confused state. Something wrong Mav?” Phoenix asks with a little bit of curiousness in her voice. Then all of us asked but with only our facial expressions. Then, he just gives us a confusing stair. Not knowing what to say after talking With Penny. “Rooster. Walk with me for a minute?” he asks looking at me. I just nod and leave the group to see what he’s looking for.

“What’s up, whaddya need?” I ask him with the same curiousness in my voice. “Penny…Penny’s niece is here, and she doesn’t want to go back to the house. She doesn’t want to leave her there. So, is it possible for you to just help me bring her into the back?” He asks you. You're just trying to wrap your head around your head the crazy information you've just heard. You just agree and walk out with him.

You both are out of the bar and slowly make your way over to Penny. When you do, you see her talking to someone. That must be her niece that Mav was talking about. you think to yourself. You see both of her legs on the seat, pulling them close to her chest, just looking out the passenger window staring into oblivion. You can see a little bit of the fading bruises on parts of her legs. You’re starting to put your fists into a ball, almost making them turn ghost white. Not a lot. Just a little though.

When you see Penny go around to the other side to collect her from the passenger seat, you see her cling to Penny, almost like she would disappear if she had let her go. But Penny just whispers to the girl sweet nothings and tells her everything is going to be all right. Then we walk both of them into the bar.

When we get in, the group looks at me and Mav. Wondering if we had any answer to what was happening. We just look back, and keep walking to the back where Penny’s office is. 

Once we get back there Penny sits her down and just wraps her in a hug and kisses her on the forehead. I start to daze out for a second, I can’t help when I see someone giving someone/thing else affection.

It always brings me back to when someone close and important to me. My mom. She would always make things feel better, and she would always make sure I felt safe, loved and cared for. When I lost her, I felt so alone, and like I had nobody else in the world to love and take care of me. Sometimes I wish she was still here.

But I snap out of my daze and focus on the situation before me.

(Back to your POV)

The only thing I can keep my eyes on are the pictures hanging on her wall, and some framed on the shelves. Some pictures were of my aunt and my mom when they were young. God, she looks so pretty. You thought to yourself when looking back at the same honey-colored eyes that you inherited from her. Others were of you when you were a baby, all the way up to a teenager. Graduation day, sleepovers with your best friend Chantal, and holding your baby cousin Amelia with her drool falling onto the front of your shirt. Even though you thought it was so gross, but you didn't care. You just wish you could just close your eyes and go back in time. Going back to when you were younger. When your amazing mom was alive. To when you were the most happy.

You just wanted to be left alone, curl up into a ball hide away from the world, and never be seen again. Not only were you embarrassed that you were about to start crying like a fucking maniac, but you look up for only a second, and you see a really cute mustached guy standing across from you. You’re on a fuckin’ roll Beatrice!! 

You see Penny crouch down on the floor to talk to you. “Hey Honey,” she said with a warm smile, I just muster up a half-one because you were feeling so tired and worn down. “I have to go back out just for a little bit, but I have someone who can wait here with you. Is that okay?” You don't answer just yet, but again you look up and see the cute mustache guy is still there. He smiles and gives a simple wave, not seeming too scary. You simply nod and she kisses you on the cheek “I’ll be back in a little bit Honeybee, if you need me, or anything just call out for me. Okay?” I just give a quiet “okay” and then she gets up to leave.

Both your Aunt Penny and the other man walk out the door to go back to work. Just leaving you and the Mustache guy alone. With nothing to do. “You speak up to him “You don’t have to stay with me if you-” he cuts you off. “Even though we’re not talking, it’s nice to have some company. Especially if it’s not with Bagman annoying the shirt out of everyone,” he says. I let out a little chuckle, but my smile fades a little bit when he tries to shut the door. “C-could you keep the door open… please,” I stand up and say a little loudly. He looks back at me and I cower back in the wheely chair. “Hey, hey it’s okay if you want to keep the door open. We’ll keep it open, we're playing by your rules. Okay?” a little bit of tension leaves your body, and you let out a big breath. Not knowing why you were holding your breath. You look up to him speaking again.

“Is it okay if I can sit next to you? I mean, on the floor if that’s okay with you,” he says pointing to the floor tile next to the chair. “Oh no, I don’t want you to sit on the ground,” you say wanting to put up a fight. But also kind of knowing you would lose because you couldn’t say no to this attractive, cute, and tall man. Snap out of it. You just met him, get your mind out of the gutter stupid!

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem, I’ve been cramped in an FA/18 for hours. Sitting on the floor in a small office is a piece of cake,” he says while kneeling and taking the spot next to you. You wanted to giggle a little bit because of course your aunt has a small office, and you look at this man that’s as tall as a fucking oak tree trying to sit on the small, maybe a little bit dirty floor. Also seeing him scrunch his long legs close to his body. Trying to get me to think he is living his best life right now.

“I’m sorry, but I know for a fact that you are so uncomfortable right now,” you say to him, and starting to warm up a little bit. “Oh come on, I am living the life right now. Somebody get me a margarita.” he quietly yells out the front door. That has me leaning back in my chair laughing, which leads him to laugh with me. 

After your laughter dies down a little bit, you both fall into silence, only hearing the rowdy patrons from the bar. You see him stick his hand out and start to speak. “I’m Bradley by the way. Bradley Bradshaw at your service.” You giggle a little bit more when his other hand comes up to his forehead to salute you. You were a little hesitant at first. Not wanting to fall into another trap. But for some reason, you feel sort of different around him. You feel a type of warm, and sweet comfort from him, you want to believe in yourself .He doesn’t seem so bad. But you try so hard to shove warm and lovey-dovey thoughts in the back of your mind. But you just can help it.

 Just when he was about to drop his hand back down to his side, you put your hand out too. “Beatrice Benjmine. Also at your service.” You also offer the fake salute, then you hear him chuckle and take your hand to shake. His hand feels so warm, and calloused against your small dainty ones. You could also see a big size difference in your hands too, wanting to know what was also big about him. OH MY GOD BEA, What are you doing!!!

You snap out of your mind and come back in the moment. You both are still looking at each other. Hands still together and shaking. But you both drop each other hands and fall into a light conversation until you hear Aunt Penny coming into the office telling you it’s closing time and heading home. You and Bradley both decide to get up so he can walk you and your Aunt out to her car.

When all three of you were outside and walking to the car you heard Bradley speak up and talk to you. “It was nice meeting you, Beatrice. Hopefully, I will see you again,” Once again putting his hand up to salute you. You start to giggle. “It was a pleasure meeting you too.” you salute back. After that he walks past you to get the passenger door open, you give him a warm smile and get into the seat. When He closes your door you see him through the window smiling at you and giving you a small wave. You wave back when Aunt Penny starts to pull away, but you can see him in the rearview mirror walking over to a blue car and getting in, maybe going home himself. But you just stare back out the window watching the waves roll to the shore with the moon sparkling over the waves.

You want to believe Bradley is a good guy, that he wouldn’t hurt you like Zeke did. But you have a sense of love and protection he would have for his other friends he was talking about earlier. You wanted to trust your mind, but you couldn’t just yet.

Even though you just met him that night, you wish you could form a good and happy friendship with Bradley. But being your usual crazy self, thinking in the back of your mind. Only to hope it can turn into something a just little more.

I hope you all like the prologue for this story. I have a big story line for Beatrice and Bradley.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you want to be added to the taglist. If I forgot anybody message me and let me know. You will be added.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @shanimallina87 @angelbabyyy99 @callsign-magnolia

Once again dividers are by @saradika

#bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm fic #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #tgm oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfiction

[u10como]

"Perils of High Society"

Brooke and Mark were dating for a year now. They met when they were both still college students working at McDonald's and immediately came to like each other. Mark never liked to talk about his family, so Brooke never pushed him too much, until one day he confessed: Mark was actually Marcus Bancroft-Agnelli, the heir to large hotel empire, who decided to handle his own life during studies, not relying on his family fortune. When asked about why he doesn't want Brooke to meet his parents He explained: His family has an odd tradition: All women in the Bancroft-Agnelli family had their arms amputated when they hit puberty, to signify their status of perfect trophy wives: Their bare armless shoulders proudly displaying the fact they never have to resort to manual labour - and never will. "Pretty terrible, right?" said Mark "Actually, " said Brooke, "It's kinda hot, you know?" "A what?" "Can you imagine me without arms? I mean, wouldn't i look really elegant? And if that's what it takes to meet your parents..." "Baby, you don't need to do that, i don't need you to be part of my family, in fact, i don't really want to be part of them myself..." "I know, but... i kinda want to, you know? I don't think i would be very much of a 'trophy wife' anyway, as that sounds a little posh and lazy and i would prefer to learn how to use my feet rather than just stand around being pretty, but i could do without my arms i guess..."

Two months later, Mark and Brooke came to attend a party at one of Bancroft-Agnelli five star hotels. Brooke, still feeling a little clumsy, but proud of her armless shoulders, was overwhelmed by everything around her. Being born in rural area just outside the city, she wasn't used to being anywhere this fancy and nothing Mark told her could prepare her for the reality. Entering the hotel's ballroom, they were aproached by two women: One young, dressed in grey uniform with white gloves, the other about fifty years old, with aura of authority and perceived superiority, dressed in white and gold, the dress showing her perfectly smooth armless shoulders.

"Mom, this is my fiancée, Brooke Miller. Brooke, meet my mother, Beatrice Bancroft-Agnelli" "Pleased to meet you, dear. I see my son finally came to senses and found himself a woman befitting of a proper Bancroft-Agnelli man." said Beatrice to Mark's annoyed eyeroll. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am" said Brooke, twitching her right shoulder in an instinct to accompany the greeting with a handshake." Looking at Brooke's gesture with a mix of surprise and disgust, Beatrice replied: "Oh dear, but look at you, you hold your body like an arm person!" "Mom..." Hissed Mark. "And those scars! Oh my goodness, did a butcher do that to you? I could have refered you to our family surgeon in France, his handiwork is ex-qui-site, you know? He would never leave ugly scars like these behind." "MOM.." said Mark, now significantly louder. "And that make-up, dear oh dear... I would fire that maid who did that to you, such a shoddy job..." "Ahem... Actually," replied Brooke before Mark could interject again, "I did that myself - i mean, it's not perfect, but applying make-up with a foot is harder than i thought..." "You did what?" said Beatrice with overly dramatic expression, her eyebrows so high up they could pop out of her forehead any second. "Oh my lord, sweetheart, you aren't some common working class cripple or..." "MOM! That's enough! Come on, Brooke, we're leaving!" Yelled Mark to his mother's astonishment and put his arm around Brooke's shoulders in a protective gesture, guiding her swiftly away towards the elevator. "I'm sorry, did i say something wrong?" asked Brooke with surprised expression and hint of tears in her eyes. "Not you sweetheart." replied Mark, visibly angry, but keeping his voice down not to upset Brooke even more. "She did!"

#armless #no arms #dsd #double amputee #amputation #arm amputee #amputee

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Now it's your turn :))

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

orchid ⇢ Oh gosh, I love sooooo many songs. A song I consider to be perfect... idk. I'll have to say Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey because it's my current obsession lol.

cactus ⇢ The Philosophy of Love. It's so cool. The Biblical Philosophy of Desire and Knowledge, Plato's Theory of Love and Becoming, The Medieval/Arabian concept of Courtly Love. They are all sooooo cool and sooooo fascinating and I love them all dearly.

bamboo ⇢ I go to school at home so I never really leave. And when I do leave to go somewhere on the weekend or such, I take a shower when I come home.

abelia ⇢ Not really, aside from this sterling silver cross necklace I got for my birthday last year. It's really cool and I love it hehehe

daffodil ⇢ So I have 3, all sisters. I don't really think i'm that similar to my older sister. Aside from sharing the same father, we're pretty different. With my two younger sisters, I look like the older of the two, however I'm nicer like the younger one.

mahonia ⇢ I try to take inspiration from literally everything. So... anything you can imagine lol. Whenever inspriation hits me I just start talking out loud. Usually it becomes a line for a poem. And i just recite that line out loud over and over until i get more lines. And then repeat. Usually i end up with a couple stanzas, constantly editing and revising in my mind the entire time until it's perfect. Or, near perfect as it can get.

chia ⇢ Me and my baby sister (she's 8 but always the baby) will constantly recite Benedick and Beatrice's lines to each other. Especially their first conversation in the play. Much Ado About Nothing is soooooo good loll. And then with @jordie-is-definitely-sane, we have incest is wincest lol. Because I love traumatizing her hehehe

sage ⇢ haha. I can't choose either. How could anyone??? I'm an aspiring actor, poet, and author, so obviously my favorites are theatre, poetry and prose fiction. But also music, paintings, sculpting, dance, et cetera all have such splendid things to offer as well. And i would love to learn how to do them all! They're all art and they all touch somewhere hands can't: into the deepest most inner part of your being. How one can say which is individually more touching? I can't fathom.

edelweiss ⇢ It's just my name + is definitely sane. Which is definitely a lie lol. My older one's were a lot more interesting but because of that i also constantly changed them lol. This one's more basic, but i'm never changing it

camellia ⇢ I'm not sure. I was happier as a kid, I used to run around more and talk more and I had a lot more friends irl. Now? I don't really know how to hold a conversation (T-T), I definitely talk less (not because i have less to say tho lol. Trust me I could talk for hours and I do when i'm alone), I definitely don't run around as much. Tho i'm not as sad about that last one. I have started dancing in the rain again like I used to so that's good :). I still read and write, in fact I do both of those even more then when i was younger. I still find beauty in everything. I still have an incredibly idealized view of nature and childhood. I still have a deep sense of needing to be myself (who that is? idk. but i need to find it) I think deep down I'm the same person. Just, kind of mellowed. I can't think of childhood and growing up without think of Trenton Lee Stewart's Riddle of Ages; he says that he doesn’t believe we become different people as we age. No, he says he believes that we become more people. We’re still the kids we were, but we’re also the people who’ve lived all the different ages since that time. And I think that's a beautiful sentiment.

jasmine ⇢ No. Absolutely not. If I loved it, im going to watch/reread it a thousand more times.

ivy ⇢ Body language, eyes, mouth, tone, the language they use (are they talking differently then usual), hands, etc.

chamomile ⇢ Books, chocolates, sweaters/hoodies, necklaces and bracelets (i love expensive shiny stuff but also that homey handmade stuff. I eat it up), MONEY$$$$$ lol. But like seriously.

aloe vera ⇢ I just want to know and be known. Which, though it sounds really mundane to others, I think is actually one of the most special, transcendental and divine things one can do in life (can you tell I've been studying the philosophy of love lol?). I genuinely believe in the Avicenna's concept of the ennobling power of love. With all of my heart.

palm tree ⇢ I mean... I can't really think of one? I love the Percy Jackson series and I love Luke so, i guess him? I have strong thoughts about him (bbg hates the West so much but is such a western tragic hero lol), he's so fascinating as a character and even moreso as a concept lol

nutmeg ⇢ My rooms pretty basic so no lol.

papyrus ⇢ I don't have one T-T. So i just picked a random song: ICU by Coco Jones. I associate it with @mera-mann-kehne-laga. No context.

taro ⇢ I'd probably tell them that I'm writing poetry, I'm working on 2 books, and that I scored a 28 on the ACT. I'm very bad at conversation so I probably just let them talk and listen to them, ask them questions to prod them, etc.

Thank you for the ask @memory-the-unconscious <333

#ask game #this is me #personal aesthetic #kaleb aesthetic

[needserotonindealer]

Connectinon Between Childhood Trauma and Enneagram

I've decided to share some of the stuff I learned about the childhood experience of all Enneagram types, and how this experience shapes us into a certain type. All this is based on some of my observations and studies plus backed up with some info from the books: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon and The Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

And do keep in mind that it’s just a general pattern and observation - while it’s a lot more common for a certain type to have such a childhood experince, nothing is set in stone. 

Type 1

A person could have been shaped into a One based on the experience from their early childhood where they had strict and controlling parents, which from early childhood showed the little One that they have to be responsible person, that is more mature than their peers:

Early in life, One had a painful experience of feeling criticized. When this happened, he felt pressured to conform to others’ standards of good behavior. One unconsciously tried to cope with the pain of feeling judged and punished by proactively monitoring and criticizing himself before others had a chance to. He internalized the standards others applied to him and tried to be good and do the right thing all the time. He began to feel that he had to be perfect to be seen as worthy and that he had to work hard to control himself in order to be “good.”

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Alternatively, One could have had Incompetent, naive, and/or immature parents, which showed the little 1 that they are incapable of taking care of them, so this child had to grow up too early, and become the “adult one” themselves. Type One is part of the Frustration triad, which was dissatisfied with their parental figures. They could also have been frustrated with too many rules in the family, so they developed their own vision of how things should be:

The disconnection from the protective figure, and what that person symbolized, was of central importance to the development of the superego: these children felt that they could not rely on the structure and guidelines provided by their family of origin. They may have experienced the rules of the family as arbitrary and unfair, or too strict, or too unstable. Whatever the particulars, Ones were dissatisfied and frustrated with the structure and limits that they received from the protective-figure and so felt that they had to develop their own guidelines.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Type 2

All the attention and focus of type Two goes towards love and care because, as children, they felt unloved, not needed and uncared about (which is more of the case with an unhealthy childhood experience).

As Two grew up, she experienced bad feelings when some of her needs weren’t met by the people around her. Sometimes when she was hungry, no one came to feed her. Sometimes when she got hurt, no one realized she needed comfort. And when she felt her deep need for love, she often felt that she did not receive it. Two tried to find the love she needed by expressing love for the people around her. She tried to get them to take care of her by taking care of them. If she was very pleasing, helpful, and supportive of others, she thought, they would want to be very pleasing, helpful, and supportive of her. They might remember to take care of her. To get the love she needed so much, Two found herself doing all she could to please the people in her world.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Alternatively, type Twos could have been slightly more connected to the protective figure, as opposed to the more nurturing one, or they may have grown up without a nurturing figure altogether. So Twos learned to take up on a role of a nurturing figure themselves.

Since the orientation is toward the protective figure who represents the qualities associated with patriarchy— authority, structure, discipline, guiding the child in the ways of the world—the child began to identify with the complementary, matriarchal role. Young Twos learned to become "little nurturers" as a way of gaining safety and security in the family system. In other words, they believed that if they could nurture others in their family sufficiently, they could win the affection and protection of the protective-figure. This relationship with the protective figure sets the stage for a similar orientation toward everyone who can give Twos the love they want.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Type 3

The strong impulse to achieve, be better and be praised that type Three craves stems from their childhood experience, where they were only (or mostly) loved and given attention when they somehow stood out from their peers, particularly for their accomplishments.

Three saw that she was praised for what she did, not for who she was. Everyone around her got very excited and happy when she successfully completed her homework, or did a trick in gymnastics, or won a game. But when she expressed her true emotions, when she felt sad or disappointed or hurt, no one paid any attention to her at all. She felt lonely and scared when no one recognized her or cared about what she expressed from her heart. People seemed to like her when she accomplished things; but they acted as if she didn’t exist when she was just being herself. Three found a way to make sure that she wouldn’t feel alone or fearful anymore. She discovered that she had the ability to sense what people valued and then magically turn herself into exactly that.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Alternatively, Threes are also part of an Attachment triad because they were very connected to the mother (or the mother figure) - basically, anyone that praises and admires them, showers them with gifts and compliments, and they got so attached to this person from early childhood that they learned to act in a way that will receive this positive affirmation.

As young children, Threes were connected to the nurturing figure, the person who in their early development mirrored them, cared for them, and provided affection and a sense of the Three's personal value. This person is usually the Three's mother or a mother-substitute, but not always. In some cases, the mother may have been largely absent, physically or emotionally, and it fell upon the father or a sibling to nurture the baby. In other cases, a nanny or grandparent may have fulfilled this role. In any case, it is important to understand that the nurturing figure is the person who cared for the child and who provided mirroring. In their formative years, Threes learn to tune in to the desires and hopes of their nurturing-figure. As adults, Threes continue to play out this pattern learned in early childhood. They seek out people whom they admire and esteem to give them validation and admiration.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Type 4

As young children, type Four felt a loss of connection with their parents. Similar to type Two, they felt that they were unloved and not needed, but unlike Twos that were ambivalent to their parental figures, Fours felt completely disconnected from them. Moreover, type Fours started to believe (or were even directly told) that the parents are no longer connected and appreciate them because of the Four's fault, that they are somehow to blame. Maybe they were a child of a younger couple that has the kid too early and then blamed the Four, maybe claiming that them being born ruined all the opportunities for these now-parents. Four could have also started to think on their own that since the parents no longer like and care for them as much, then there must be something wrong with them, that they are not like everyone else.

Fours are disconnected from both parents. As children, they did not identify with either their mothers or their fathers. ("I am not like my mother; I am not like my father.") They may have had either unhappy or solitary childhoods as a result of their parents' marital problems, divorce, illness, or simply because of personality conflicts within the family.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Even more often there could have been a sibling rivalry in the family, where Four was the older sibling, and all the attention was given to their younger sister(s)/brother(s) while they felt abandoned, so they felt the need to somehow stand out to be noticed.

A baby was born. It was as if Four’s perfect world ended. No longer was she the center of her parents’ attention. No longer was she the most special child in the world. When she wanted someone to play with or a hug, everyone was busy taking care of the baby. She felt unimportant, alone, and ordinary. Four made sense of this terrible new situation by believing that she must have done something wrong to cause the loss of connection with her parents. After all, they didn’t seem to care about her the way they did before. It must have been her fault. They must have discovered there was something wrong with her. This new baby must somehow be better. What other explanation could there be? Four’s new way of thinking caused her some pain and distress, but gradually she got used to feeling bad—and sad. And, she reasoned, if it was her fault that she had lost the connection she had once felt—maybe that meant she could do something to make things right. Maybe she could somehow make a connection with others and the world again by showing everyone how special she was— or by making them see how much she was suffering by acknowledging that she wasn’t as special as she had thought. Over time, Four tried different ways to rebuild the connection she had lost. She tried to get people to see her as special again.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Type 5

In their early childhood, Type Fives felt an almost smothering influence of their parents: they could have been way too involved in the lives of their child, too clingy, giving them little to no privacy, and constantly invading their personal space, leaving too little room for Fives to withdraw and be left alone. That is what developed a Withdrawal stance in type Fives, as they started to realize that if they will let other people way too close, that they start to get too overly involved in other people’s lives they will also start to lose that independence and will again be overwhelmed with people’s attention and demands. So Fives learned to not only minimize their needs but to also avoid investing in a lot of relationships.

When she was young, Five tried to create true heartfelt connections with people. However, those people had a tendency to invade her space when she felt like being alone. And then they weren’t around when she really wanted them to be. Both intrusion and unavailability were a cause of constant concern for Five, which made it hard for her to know what to do to relate well to others, especially when she felt intruded upon or neglected. She secretly felt inadequate and different from others. Trying to find ways to connect with them just frustrated her. Again and again, people either left her when she felt she needed them or they didn’t allow her to be alone enough. As time went on, Five finally gave up and disconnected more and more from others and from her feelings. Five found she felt calm and comfortable when she spent time by herself.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Not only that but too much care and attention from parents, and their clinginess made Five think that they are caring so much because the parents think that Five is incompetent and incapable to deal with their own problems, and Fives also start to believe that as well. So they started to gather knowledge and hone skills to be safe in the world and to be able to deal with problems that could arise.

Type 6

Since their early childhood Sixes were either were constantly told that the world is a dangerous place and people are unreliable, to the point that parents almost instilled fear in them: “the monsters are hiding under your bed”, “I will tell a police to come to get you if you will behave inappropriately” etc or the Sixes experienced a traumatic or life-threatening event which made them think that they always have to be careful, that the wolves are after them, things can easily go wrong, so the Six child always has to be cautious.

As Six grew up, she had a few experiences that made her feel afraid. Her mother once forgot to pick her up at school. She was frightened by a movie that showed people being killed. She started noticing all the things that could go wrong and learned that sometimes bad things happened. The world started seeming more dangerous and more threatening to her. Six became paralyzed with fear and doubt. She wanted to feel safe and carefree as she had before, but that didn’t seem possible. The world seemed like a fundamentally dangerous place. The only thing that seemed to help was to imagine all the bad things that could happen so that she could make sure they didn’t. But any feeling of safety that brought her was only temporary.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Alternatively, Sixes may also have a strong and protective father figure, on which they relied the most, who protected them. So losing the support of such a strong father figure and being left alone in a scary world was especially terrifying for Sixes, hence why they became the Attachment type that seeks to build connections to feel safer, like with their protective figure from childhood.

As the result of their formative experiences, Sixes became connected with their protective-figures. The protective-figure was the adult in the child's early environment who provided guidelines, structure, and sometimes discipline. This was the person who occupied the traditional patriarchal position in the family. Most often this was their fathers, or a father figure, such as a grandfather or teacher, but in many cases the mother or an older sibling may actually be the protective-figure. As children, Sixes wanted the security of approval by their protective-figures, and felt anxious if they did not receive it. As they grew up, their connection with their protective-figure shifted to an identification with substitutes for this person, such as civil authorities or belief systems from which they could obtain security.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Type 7

From early childhood, Sevens felt rejected by the parental figures the same way Fours may have, but while Fours felt that parents didn’t connect to them because there is something wrong with them, that the Four is somehow to blame, Sevens felt that parents were way too busy with their life and work to pay as much attention to Sevens as they may have wanted. Sometimes, parents may have even brushed them off when the Seven was in need or pain, or the parent’s indifference to the child caused the Seven that pain, so they learned to avoid the hurtful feelings as much as possible.

One day, when Seven was paying close attention to a bee that was walking on his leg, it stung him! He burst into tears and looked around for someone to comfort him. He tried to tell his father about it and perhaps receive some comfort, but his father was angry about something and told him to “go away.” So he went to his mother, but she was busy doing something and said she “didn’t have time” to hear about something so insignificant. These responses made Seven feel even more pain—almost more than he could handle.

Seven hadn’t had much experience with pain, and he didn’t like it. So, to get away from these unpleasant sensations, he retreated into his own imagination. He started thinking about things that made him excited—watching clouds as they passed through the sky or playing with his best friend. In fact, Seven found that he was good at imagining fun and interesting things. As time went on, he became adept at diverting his attention to these thoughts whenever any kind of pain threatened him.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Alternatively, Sevens may have encountered a serious trauma as a kid, that made them feel like they would be deprived of something, so to avoid fear of being deprived they started to adopt a more gluttonous attitude, fearing that what they need to survive may be taken away from them.

Some other childhood deprivation, such as poverty, war, being orphaned, or a long illness, may have shaken their expectation that the good things of life would be given to them. There may have been an absence of the nurturing-figure at a critical stage, or some accident that shook the child's faith that he or she would be adequately supported. It may also be that Sevens naturally need a great deal of contact and stimulation which may be more than the nurturing-figure can provide. Thus, for whatever reasons, the fear of deprivation becomes the fundamental motivation for this personality type.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Type 8

Type Eight’s childhood experience may resemble one of type Six, where they felt or made believe that the world is dangerous, and people are out to get them. However while Sixes developed a more neurotic and cautious stance, thinking that they will be safe if they have someone to rely on or an ideology/law to follow, type Eight decided that they will be safe if they become strong and could face these challenges themselves, without relying on anyone. Moreover, while Sixes may have had a protective figure that could defend them when needed, Eights felt no protection from their parental figures, or sometimes these parental figures may have been abusive themselves.

Early in life, Eight had an experience in which she needed protection and there was no one there to take care of her. Sometimes there were things she just couldn’t do by herself, even though she was bright and capable for someone so young. The people in her life that were bigger than she was didn’t seem to notice when she needed to be cared for, listened to, or fed. And a few times, when one of the older kids hurt her, no one saw that she was little and needed protection. So Eight learned—the hard way—that she had to take care of herself. If no one else was going to do it, it would have to be her job. She would have to get big—fast! (Too fast.) She would have to be strong. She would have to be powerful, even though she was still small. Sometimes people around her fought, and they didn’t notice she was scared. So she would have to be fearless, in addition to being big, and strong, and powerful.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Also, Eight could have had the opposite childhood experience from Twos, where Twos had a stronger protective figure so they had to become the nurturer, Eights had a stronger nurturing figure, so they decided that they need to become the protective figure themselves.

Eights learned that they could maintain some kind of connection with the nurturing-figure and fit into the family system by functioning in a role that was complementary to the nurturing-figure. The nurturing-figure represented (and therefore "owned") the qualities associated with motherhood: warmth, caring, nurturance, approval, gentleness, and sensitivity. Thus, the Eight identified with the complementary patriarchal role, and learned that the best way to get some sense of value, affection, and nurturance was to be "the strong one," the little protector, the one that others turn to for strength and guidance, especially in a crisis.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

Type 9

At some point in their childhood, Nines felt that their desires, wishes and opinions are not important or listened to. When they tried to express what they wanted, their parents may have shut that desire off, bruising it aside, or choosing for them under the pretence that they know better. At first, Nine could have protested against that, but when they started to understand that the more they protest the more arguments and conflicts it will cause, damaging their relationship with the parents, the more they began thinking that maybe what they want is not worth all the drama and discord that disrupts their inner peace. Instead, it was better to go along with what others wanted, and find comfort in other parts of life.

Nine woke up one day feeling alone and disconnected. He felt frustrated at having been left by himself and wanted to register a protest against whoever had pushed him out on his own. But this made him even more uncomfortable. There were others nearby, but they seemed somehow distant. This new sense of being separate felt lonely and scary. If he was no longer connected to the world around him, how could he feel any sense of belonging? When Nine tried to complain about this new and disturbing situation in order to re-establish his connection with others, no one would listen. Those around him spoke louder and had more important things to say. They knew what they wanted and argued to get it. They didn’t seem bothered by the fact that they were separate—and that their arguing made them more so. They didn’t seem to care what Nine was saying. He tried speaking louder and protesting more, but no one paid attention. After a while, he simply gave up. If they weren’t going to listen, he might as well go back to sleep. At least there was comfort in sleep.

From: Enneagram Guide to Waking Up by Beatrice Chestnut.

Alternatively, Nines could have lived in a very intense or unhealthy environment, that damaged them emotionally. So in order to keep their peace and sanity in one piece, they learned to numb their feelings, to protect themselves.

If their early childhood was torn by strife and dysfunction, holding all of the painful and conflicted feelings and messages inside them was almost intolerable, so average to unhealthy Nines learned to dissociate—to remove themselves from the immediacy of their feelings and thoughts so that the inner turmoil they absorbed did not overwhelm them. At the same time, they learned to tune out the conflicts and pain of the external environment, a strategy familiar to many children. This is like the young person who blocks out the sound of her parents fighting in another room by singing a song to herself or remembering happier time.

From: Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery by Don Richard Riso & Russ Hudon.

#enneagram #enneagram 1 #enneagram 2 #enneagram 3 #enneagram 4 #enneagram 5 #enneagram 6 #enneagram 7 #enneagram 8 #enneagram 9

[possibilistfanfiction]

Chef Au! A date night with fast food (chosen by Ava) and cheap wine (chosen by Bea)

it's not that beatrice's little chef outfits aren't simultaneously endearing and also hot, but when you open your front door and see her in sunglasses and a comfortable crewneck sweater, light, loose pants cuffed casually — although you're sure she was exacting about those too — and sneakers, you realize that you've kind of been missing out. or, really, maybe, she's a fuller person that you could've ever really imagined, only seeing her at her restaurant and a few vineyards nearby you'd tasted at together.

she smiles, a little hesitant, and hands you a simple, beautiful bouquet of lavender wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine. 'from my garden.'

'that's so gay,' you say, before you can stop yourself — but then she laughs and scratches at the back of her neck and you lean forward to kiss her cheek. 'i love them,' you amend. 'thank you.

she nods. 'of course.'

'let me put these in some water and then we can head out.'

'you can dry it, if you want.' she clears her throat, nervous and fidgeting with her watch. 'it's good for simple syrups and reductions. or baths.'

'that sounds dope. i love baths.' you wink and know she's blushing as you put the bouquet on your entry table — artfully cluttered — and then lock the door and turn back to her. 'ready?'

'yes,' she says, unlocking a practical and perfectly spotless electric small bmw suv, and then opening your door for you.

'why thank you, sir knight.'

she rolls her eyes and closes the door, then walks around to her side. 'where to, your royal highness?'

you grin, take her hand in yours while she starts the car. 'arby's.'

'fair enough.'

'i was going to pick panda express, but that seemed... weird?'

she laughs, which delights you. you don't think you've ever heard her laugh like that before. 'i love their orange chicken, honestly. but that's a god tier secret, okay?'

you mime zipping your lips and throwing away the key, which keeps a smile on her face. while she's driving, you get to take in the whole of her, greedily: her dark brows and the gentle sharp of her jaw, the soft buzz of her hair, the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of her sweater, the freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. and her hands: sure and precise, even just on the steering wheel. she's beautiful, and you're a little overcome. you count your blessings that you wore your favorite bralette and overshirt, wide-leg jeans that make your butt look incredible. your eyeliner is perfect and when you're at a red light, she turns and smiles at you like there's no one else in the world.

it knocks the breath out of you a bit, and you cannot start crying over how pretty a girl is within seven minutes of a first date; you thank your lucky stars when she fiddles with her phone and then some music starts to play.

'shit,' she says, scrolling desperately.

'carly rae?'

'i didn't mean to play that. i don't even know why it's in my liked songs.'

'here,' you say, and put your hand out for the phone because the light is about to turn green. you laugh when you see every single carly rae jepson album fully saved in her liked songs, and you take in the delicious pink of her cheeks when you look over at her with a laugh. 'well, emotion: side b is probably the best album of all time, so no judgement here.'

she bites her bottom lip.

'what were you trying to play, though? what did you think would, like, seduce me?'

'who says i'm was trying to seduce you?'

'well, the gay little flowers, for one. and the fact that you agreed to this silly plan in the first place.'

she waits until the next red light to lean over the console and kiss you — short, and gentle, and very sweet — and you revel in the feeling.

she backs away and turns her attention back to the road in front of you as you start to move again. 'is it working?' she asks.

you laugh.

/

you settle into her trunk after she parks on the overlook; she's put comfortable blankets and pillows in it so you can eat and watch the sunset, and it's tender and thoughtful and she puts a little fisherman's beanie on that softens her, even more, and it's all driving you a little bit crazy.

'well,' you say, after you both settle in with your chicken fingers, curly fries, and ranch — your order, which she'd promised she would eat — 'please break out the perfect wine to pair with the best dinner of all time.'

she nods very seriously, going along with your antics; beatrice is ultimately extremely serious in the kitchen, even if her food is playful: she hasn't gotten to where she is — one of the youngest chefs to be nominated for a james beard, among a billion other accomplishments she refuses to mention and you had only found out about through a recent write-up about the soft opening of her restaurant — without incredible determination and focus.

she's more playful than you had imagined, full of laughter and willing to be silly; willing to indulge the goofy idea you'd had for this date. she reaches around behind her and pulls out a small cooler filled with ice, then presents the wine with a flourish: 'only the very finest three dollar trader joe's chardonnay. it pairs wonderfully with chicken.'

her little posh accent and her genuine smile make the whole routine even better. 'that is... incredible.'

'you know,' she says, 'i've never failed an assignment.'

'now that i believe.'

she fishes out two red solo cups — which makes you laugh even harder — and unscrews the top of the wine before pouring it carefully. 'do you want to give your review?'

you go through the motions of how you would normally taste a wine, all a little exaggerated. you're one of the most sought-after sommeliers in the world: you can make or break vineyards and their yearly releases; you've been a part of a handful of opening restaurants that have won every award in the book. and, even with all of that, 'this might be one of my favorite bottles of wine i've ever had.'

bea scoffs. 'this wine is absolutely horrendous.' she pulls apart a chicken tender and dunks it in ranch, though, eats it without any complaint.

'sure,' you steal one of her fries even though you have a whole pile of your own. 'but the company elevates the entire thing.'

she turns toward you, the sunset fading orange behind her, turning her eyes gold. 'you make everything better.'

it makes you a little breathless. 'plus, you have to admit, these chicken fingers slap.'

it gets her to laugh, just like you'd wanted. just like you think you could spend your entire life wanting. 'maybe we'll put this pairing on my menu, then.'

'lilith would love that.'

'you know, it could be worth it, just to see her face.'

you scoot closer to her, talk about how her partnership with a local farm is going, how she's sourcing her cod from a fisherman nearby; you talk about your favorite vineyard, a tiny one tucked into the oregon coast — and those things are safe. those things are more of what you already know: she cares deeply about the earth and how her food fits into it; you want to share a stormy grey day and perfect pinot noir at a firepit with her.

and you eat your greasy fries and drink wine that is surely going to give you a headache in the morning. you talk about how she felt finally herself when she finished cooking school and took a job on the line, young and eager and fabulously talented, at a kitchen where she had support, where no one yelled at her, where she had a mentor that cared. you talk about the wine grapes you remember your grandfather growing in your small back yard, how you would eat them when you were small and describe the taste while you sat on your mom's lap. she teaches you her favorite word in chinese and you teach her your favorite word in portugese.

the sun sinks below the river, and you love her.

'do you — ' she bites her bottom lip — 'do you want to come back to my place? for dessert?'

'depends,' you say, and watch her face fall for a split second; you kiss her jaw to rectify that, 'what's on the menu?'

she huffs a laugh. 'i bought nestle chocolate chip cookies, for the occasion. they're in my freezer.'

'oh, fuck yes,' you say. 'i'm so in.'

'and, my company.'

'well, yeah, sure.' you roll your eyes playfully and pull her in for a kiss: cheap wine and grease and the softness of her skin under your fingertips. 'and that too.'

#restaurant au #honestly i'm calling it that bc i don't wanna leave ava out but i simply cannot spell sommelier right on the first try to save my life #avatrice fic #prompts #wn #one day i will research how one becomes a sommelier but for now... imagine whatever you want. i'll get to it lol #they're... very gentle & funny. no angst here

[simplyavatrice]

I know we talk a lot about how attractive alba is, and she IS, but she’s probably one of the most talented actors I’ve ever seen. And she deserves all the recognition I hope she gets from this year coming. Ever. like babygirl how do you make those expressions?? how do you do that with your eyes??

alba's talent is insane. to be so good at what you do that a show stops giving your character an inner monologue because you are skilled enough to convey every emotion needed without needing it spelled out is special.

we always talk about the 'oh' moment and how she manged to capture that energy better than anyone ever has

but the scene that always stands out to me is the one in the apartment with beatrice when they're forced to leave and how she displays ava's vulnerability and fear of being cast aside - of being too much trouble

there's a moment in this scene where ava apologizes for what happened, and then immediately after it beatrice apologizes to her and ava makes this little sound in the back of her throat, like shock, because it's the first time that anyone has ever apologized to her - told her that she wasn't the whole of the problem. that her fears and insecurities were understood and that she wasn't shamed and abused for not knowing how to live in the world

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE SCENE ON THE BEACH IN SEASON ONE - THAT IS A FUCKING MASTERCLASS OF MAKING YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH A CHARACTER

she is so crazy talented and i really really hope we have the chance soon to see what more she can do and that the rest of the world catches up to what we already know about just how special alba baptista is

#alba baptista #avatrice #i want so much success for her

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 379. brb x oc

a/n: LET ME POOOST (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: just some suggestive stuff uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367/368/369/370/371/372/373/374/375/376/377

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@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

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-

Nicole was a good baby, a great baby…but,she was a baby. So when she sees something shiny or something that calls her attention, she’ll go for it. She watches as Beatrice and Rooster walk around inside the house.

A day after his promotion, he was almost ready to leave again. Beatrice frowns, leaning against the wall as Nicole waddles over Rooster’s coat - the medals shining as Bea hung it on the wall- “When are you leaving?” she asks.

Rooster arches his brow, “In a week. Everything is still…going since I just got promoted.”

“Do you know for how long you’ll be deployed?”

Rooster sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered Beatrice's question. "Not exactly," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It could be a few months, or it could be longer. It all depends on the mission and how things unfold."

Beatrice's heart sank at Rooster's words, a wave of anxiety washing over her "I hate not knowing," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rooster reached out to take Beatrice's hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know, baby," he murmured, squeezing her hand tightly. "But we've been through this before, and we'll get through it again. Together."

Beatrice nodded, forcing a smile as she looked up at Rooster. "Yeah,you're right," she replied, her voice filled with determination. “And…you are a LC now,right?” she smiles more, albeit still nervous, “...is…it possible it’ll be more dangerous?”

Rooster nodded solemnly, his expression serious as he met Beatrice's gaze. "Yeah, it's possible," he admitted, his voice tinged with concern. "With the new rank comes new responsibilities, and that often means being on the front lines more often."

Beatrice's heart skipped a beat at Rooster's words, a surge of fear coursing through her veins. "Oh…I…I'm already so worried about you, and now knowing that you'll be in even more danger...it's almost too much to even think about."

Rooster reached out to cup Beatrice's face in his hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Hey, hey, look at me," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "We knew this was a possibility when I joined the Navy. And while it's not easy, we've always found a way to make it work. We'll get through this together, just like we always do."

She frowns then leaned into Rooster's touch, seeking comfort in his embrace. "I know," she replied, her voice choked with emotion. "But it doesn't make it any easier. I just...I don't want to lose you, Rooster. You mean everything to me."

Wow, what a fucking way to make both of them feel like shit. She winced internally for saying it outloud, “I’m sorry,I…it’s not fair for me to say this.”

Rooster's heart ached at Beatrice's words and he gently wiped away a tear that had escaped her eye, his touch tender and loving. "Hey, don't apologize," he murmured "You have every right to feel scared and worried. But I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to come back to you, safe and sound."

Beatrice nodded, her throat tight with emotion as she leaned into Rooster's embrace. "I know you will," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I'll be here waiting for you, every step of the way."

“I know,gorgeous.” he whispers, kissing her forehead, looking down just in time to see Nicole touching his coat, the shiny medals with wide eyes, ‘Listen, you know how it is,right?’

“I do.”

“I’m not saying to get used to it, hell I sometimes need to get better at it but…I’ll be back,for you.” over time he started to believe in himself even more, perhaps the fear of ending like his dad did finally diminished, “For all of you,okay?”

Beatrice nodded, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the man standing before her. "I know you will," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "And I'll be counting down the days until you come back to us."

‘It won’t be until a week.’ he kisses her forehead before he lets her go, leaning down to pick Nicole and kiss her cheek loudly, the toddler gurgling and giggling as he does so, “We still have time until then.”

“Yeah, you are right.”

“For example,today,.” he spins Nikki around, leaving her upside down with her little legs kicking in the air, “We are going to go to the doctor and see how the twins are,right?’ she nods, “It’ll be all good, you won’t even blink and I’ll be back home.”

“I know.” she smiles, “I can’t help it, I worry about you a lot. And I worry even more if I can’t see you.”

Rooster's heart swelled with love at Beatrice's words, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I understand," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "But I promise you, I'll stay in touch as much as I can."

Beatrice smiled gratefully at Rooster, "Thank you," she replied, her voice tinged with emotion. "That means a lot to me."

With a final squeeze of Beatrice's hand, Rooster stood up and set Nicole back down on the ground, her giggles echoing through the room. "Alright, little one," he said, his voice playful as he tousled her hair. "Let's go get ready to take your siblings to  see the doctor."

Nicole clapped her hands excitedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Doctor!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Looks like someone's excited," she teased, reaching down to scoop Nicole into her arms. "Let's go get ready, sweetheart. Can you get the twins,Roos?"

Rooster nodded, a smile on his lips as he watched Beatrice and Nicole head towards the oldest Bradshaw’s room. "Sure thing," he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I'll go get them ready while you and Nicole get ready, okay?"

Beatrice smiled at Rooster, before disappearing through the door  "Thank you, Roos."

With that, Rooster made his way to the twins' room,he pushed open the door and was greeted with the sight of the twins, sound asleep in their cribs.

Rooster smiled tenderly at the sight of his sleeping children, his heart overflowing with love for them. He carefully picked up each of them, cradling them in his arms as he whispered soothing words to them.

"Good morning, little ones," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their foreheads. "It's time to wake up and get ready to go see the doctor."

The twins stirred awake at Rooster's touch, their eyes fluttering open as they gazed up at him with sleepy smiles. Rooster chuckled softly, his heart melting at the sight of their adorable faces.

"Hey there, sleepyheads," he teased, gently rocking them in his arms. "Are you ready to go see the doctor?"

The twins giggled in response, reaching out to grab at Rooster's fingers as he carried them out of their room and towards the living room. Beatrice and Nicole were already there, getting ready to leave for the doctor's appointment.

"Looks like we're all ready to go," he said, his voice quiet. "Let's head out and make sure the twins are healthy and happy."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, a warm smile on her lips as she took Nicole's hand in hers. "Sounds like a plan," she replied,"Let's go make sure our little ones are in tip-top shape. I already put everything else in the car."

“Perfect,” he says as he sets Gavin and Aurora in their respective carriers, “No,no,” he smirks when she tries to help, “I can carry them, just focus on closing the door,gorgeous,sounds good?”

Beatrice chuckled softly at Rooster's insistence, nodding in agreement as she focused on closing the front door behind them. She couldn't help but admire the way Rooster effortlessly carried the twins, he looked so…attractive, my god.

With the twins securely fastened in their carriers, Rooster and Beatrice made their way out to the car. Beatrice helped Nicole into her car seat before climbing into the passenger seat herself, while Rooster carefully loaded the twins into their car seats in the back.

He walks around and towards the driver’s seat, smiling at her, “Ready?”

Beatrice smiled back at Rooster, latching on her seatbelt. "Ready as I'll ever be," she replied, “Everyone is latched back there too.”

Rooster nodded, his smile widening as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The car hummed softly as they made their way towards the doctor's office, the early morning light casting a warm glow across the landscape.

As they drove, Beatrice couldn't help but steal glances at Rooster, admiring the way his hands gripped the steering wheel…and she couldn’t help but remember how those hands—at the base…well.

Rooster glanced over at Beatrice, catching her eye and smiling warmly at her. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, his voice filled with curiosity.

Beatrice blushed, feeling a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. "Just how lucky I am to have you," she replied honestly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're an amazing father, Rooster. And I love you more than words can say."

Rooster's smile softened at Beatrice's words, his heart swelling with love for her. "I love you too," he murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Gonna make me blush,gorgeous.”

“I do try.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts as they made their way through the quiet streets. Beatrice couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the pit of her stomach, the fear of what could happen to Rooster weighing heavily on her mind.

Rooster glanced over at Beatrice, sensing her unease. "Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "Are you okay? You seem a little quiet."

Beatrice forced a smile, trying to push aside her worries for the sake of their children. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Just a little nervous about the doctor's appointment, that's all."

Rooster reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch warm and comforting. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice gentle even thought he knew it was more than that. "Everything will be fine. The twins are healthy, you’ll see."

Beatrice nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. "I know they’ll be okay.”

Rooster smiled reassuringly at Beatrice, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I promise," he said sincerely, "I'll be right there with you every step of the way. And if there's anything wrong, we'll  figure it out."

"Okay," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Rooster."

With that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their journey to the doctor's office. The streets were quiet and empty, thank god, which was a surprise considering it was the beginning of the week, “So.” she begins, tapping her thighs, “You said you’d be more, you know, ‘in the front’ now that you got promoted…what does that include exactly?”

“You mean,mission wise?” she nods and he purses his lips, “Hm…well…do you want the boring version or the short version,gorgeous?”

Beatrice chuckled softly at Rooster's question, her curiosity piqued. "I'll take the short version, please," she replied,. "I trust you to give me the highlights."

Rooster grinned at Beatrice's response, "Alright then," he began, his voice laced with excitement. "Basically, my new role involves overseeing a team of pilots and coordinating missions with other branches of the military." he mutters, “I think I said that before, but…basically,yeah, it’s a lot of shit going on.”

“...okay,sorry,” she laughs softly, “I’m just…really trying to not worry already and I’m failing…already.”

Rooster reached over and squeezed Beatrice's hand again, his touch warm "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I've got your back,okay?”

“Okay.”

“Really okay?”

She chuckles softly, “...yeah,really okay.”

Rooster leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to Beatrice's forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. "Atta girl," he whispered, “We’ll be alright,I promise.”

With that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their journey to the doctor's office. As they pulled into the parking lot of the doctor's office, Beatrice felt a surge of anxiety wash over her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as Rooster parked the car and turned off the engine.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly, his gaze soft and reassuring as he looked at her.

Not really. Not really…she didn’t know why this time it hurt to imagine him far away, away from her, away from her protection - god what was happening with her anyway? She trusted him, she trusted how good he was…hell she was overreacting.

Are you? the goblin voice whispers in her ear, You sure?

And she inhales, shakily, slapping on a small smile, “I am, yeah, let’s go,Roos.”

#im happy yall are still here #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[quietblueriver]

fingers crossed for your writing! prompt for you: mask

Hi!! Thank you so much for the prompt and the crossed fingers. Very happy to be writing Avatrice again. Here’s a short, soft thing and a play on both mask and masc that’s hopefully not too far off the mark. 💜💜💜

Ava leans against the doorway and watches as Beatrice stares at a black t-shirt that she assumes came from the basket of clean clothes beside the bed, lips pulled down at the corners, a few locks of newly shorn hair falling over her forehead with the angle. Ava wants to tuck it back, run her own thumbs over the buzzed sides in that way that makes Beatrice close her eyes and breathe a little deeper.

“Hey,” she says more quietly than she normally would, smiling gently as Bea’s attention snaps to her, body visibly tightening in the moment it takes for her to assess Ava’s threat level. Once a soldier and all that.

“Sorry to surprise you.” She sticks out a socked foot and wiggles it, thick pink and purple stripes on display. “Got a comfy assist with my stealth game. Camila was not joking with this yarn.”

The tension leaves Bea’s body as she lifts her left leg from where it hangs over the side of the bed to wiggle back with her own pair, a more muted blue and gray sticking out from the bottom of gray sweatpants. She doesn’t say anything, but she puts the shirt down and shifts on the bed, tucking socked feet criss-cross underneath her knees and creating a space that Ava fills happily, crossing her own legs so that their thighs are pressed together.

“You good?”

“Yes,” Beatrice offers quickly before she catches herself, shrugging a shoulder at Ava with a small smile. “Mostly,” she amends, and Ava indulges her earlier impulse and presses Bea’s hair back from her forehead before running her thumb over the clipped hair just above her ear. As she’d hoped, she gets fluttering eyes and a content sigh.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Brown eyes blink open and she runs a hand through her hair before turning her head to face the mirror that hangs from their closet door. Ava’s eyes follow, and they meet in the glass, Ava leaning over to rest her chin on Bea’s shoulder.

“‘Sup, handsome?” Her breath tickles Bea’s cheek and she rolls her eyes even as she smiles that smile she saves for Ava, a little bit of pink in her cheeks.

Her eyes drift and Ava presses a kiss to her cheek before settling back and giving her some space.

“I look like my uncle.”

Ava stops fiddling with their duvet, brings her eyes slowly back to Beatrice in the mirror. She’s waiting for her, lips turned up just slightly and eyes soft, and she dips her head a little to let Ava know it’s okay to keep looking, to keep checking.

And she does, eyes tracking the movement of Bea’s chest and the twitch of her toes where they’re pressed under her knee, a flash of soft blue wool.

“Jacob. His name was Jacob. He was…” The shift in her expression as she searches for the words she needs brings her lips to a pout, but her tone isn’t sad or angry when she finds what she’s looking for. “I wanted very badly to be like him, when I was small. He laughed a lot, and he was very smart but he didn’t…he didn’t use it to make me feel small. He was silly with me, in a very intentional way. Always sought me out and asked me questions and told me jokes that…well, you would have liked them.” Ava sticks her tongue out at her and Bea looks a little proud and a lot fond. “Exactly. I didn’t know what to do with that, but I liked it.” She pulls at the silver chain around her neck, the ghost of a prayer. “He died when I was eight. A car accident. I think…looking back on his funeral and the people who were there, I think maybe he was…like me.” Her jaw clenches, determined, and Ava loves her as she says, voice firm, “Gay. I think he was gay.”

Ava moves a hand to the small of Bea’s back, and Bea puts a hand on her knee, skin warm through the fabric of Ava’s leggings.

“It…as far as I know it was a surprise to my father. Uncle Jacob always brought dates to the big Christmas party and to all of the family events, beautiful women that were funny like he was and talked to me like they cared what I had to say but also like I was still a child, like I was only expected to be a child. One of them snuck me extra cake when my mother wasn’t looking, but when she winked at me, suddenly I couldn’t eat anything else.”

She’s blushing a little, and Ava presses her lips to the cotton covering her shoulder, smiling into it.

“Uh-huh.”

The blush deepens, and Ava smothers the rest of her grin against Bea, grasping and squeezing at her forearm to encourage her to keep talking.

She does, smile dimming a little as she says, “They were there at the service, those women, but so were a lot of other people I’d never seen before, all in a big group together.” Her fingers move against the fabric of her sweats, tug at her black tee, the twin to the one discarded a few minutes ago. “They were in the back of the line to greet us, at the wake, and my father was so…” Fingers run with agitation through already mussed hair. “He was so rude to them, Ava. Gritting his teeth and saying nothing when they offered condolences and shaking hands hard enough that he made people wince. I went to the bathroom and heard two of them talking about how it wasn’t any wonder ‘Jay’ lived like he did. I’d never heard anyone call him Jay before, and I didn’t know what they meant, but I knew better than to ask my parents.”

She swallows and Ava covers the hand on her knee with her own, quiet because she’s not sure if Bea is finished and she is trying her very best these days to give Bea the same space that Bea gives her to say what she wants to say. Even if it makes Ava squirm with the desire to comfort, to fill the silence.

“We left the wake as soon as we could without it being socially unacceptable to the people my parents cared about. My father was so angry on the ride home that my mom was afraid to talk to him, and…” The shaky breath makes Ava so fiercely protective that the halo starts humming under her skin. “After he pulled me into the car, I made myself as small as I could. He went into his study and slammed the door when we got home. They never talked about Uncle Jacob again. It was like he died twice.”

“Bea.” Her hand moves to rest between shoulder blades, presses in in comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

Beatrice smiles at her in the mirror before breaking their connection to turn and kiss her. The angle is a little awkward, their bodies having twisted over the course of the conversation, so she moves to fix it, adjusting so her knees are pressed to Bea’s thigh and making her hands at home on the sides of her neck. When Beatrice pulls back, she backs herself against the headboard and lifts an arm, and Ava’s chest is tight with affection as she moves into the space and settles, hand gripping the front of Bea’s shirt a little possessively. They’ve had this now for months, this bed and this apartment and this time together without world-ending bullshit, but she’s still not used to the luxury of it, of open, unapologetic affection, of Bea’s heartbeat steady under her ear, of time stretching out instead of bearing down.

“It surprised me, when I looked into the mirror and saw him.” Her voice is quieter like this, and Ava feels her words as she says them, cheek pressed against her chest. “In a good way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Fingers run through her hair and Ava lets her eyes close. “I wish I could have known him. I wish he could have known me.”

Ava nods against her. “Me too. He sounds way better than the rest of your family, not that that’s a high bar.” The words slip out thoughtlessly but she doesn’t want to retract them. They’re past pretending Ava wouldn’t halo blast Bea’s parents into the nearest body of water on sight and mostly past Bea feeling guilty for wanting her to. “I’m sorry you didn’t have him for longer.”

“Mmm.” It’s a little absent. A beat. “I used to be a nun.”

Ava opens her eyes at that, pushes up a little to raise an eyebrow at Beatrice.

“Oh yeah? I didn’t know.”

Beatrice pokes her in the ribs and she giggles as she settles back down.

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice softens, quiets. “I understand him. Or I think I do. Why Uncle Jay lived the way that he did.”

Ava splays her hand across Bea’s ribs.

“You used to be a nun.”

“Yes.” Lips touch her hairline. “I am glad that I’m not anymore.”

Ava presses her own lips against the body underneath her. “Me too.” She traces a pattern on Bea’s ribs. “I think he would be proud of you. Of who you are. Of how brave you are.”

Her body moves with Beatrice’s exhale. “I think he would have liked you.”

Ava pulls her chin up to rest against Bea’s sternum and grins her best roguish grin. “Well, I’m very charming.”

Her stomach swoops at the look Bea gives her, adoration undisguised and voice earnest. “Yes. You are. You’re wonderful.”

The kiss is short but sure, leaving Ava a little breathless. Affection thrums in her veins, and she pulls and pushes at Bea’s body until they’re reversed, Bea’s head pillowed on her chest and Ava’s fingers running through short hair, scratching at the nape of her neck. She runs her fingers under the silver chain and turns her head to watch their reflection. Bea’s eyes are closed, her breath slowing, and Ava takes the opportunity to look at her, sees for a moment Sister Beatrice as she was when Ava met her, ashamed and hiding so much of herself, desperately trying to be what everyone wanted and needed her to be.

Her heart breaks a little, for little Beatrice who became Sister Beatrice and for a man she never met. She blinks away the specters in the mirror and sees Bea again, soft and sleepy and brave, and presses a kiss of gratitude to her head.

#avatrice #avatrice fic #wn prompt fic