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seresinhangmanjake · 9 months

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Methods of Love and Trust

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: For the first time, Jake is allowing his mother to babysit his children by herself. He's terribly nervous, but he promised you a date.

Warnings: implied smut. I think that's it, really.

Notes: this is a combination of two asks/comments from @rosiahills22 and @matisse556 for the Oh, Baby Series. I changed some tiny details, but I hope you guys like it :)

Words: 1755

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"Jake," you quickly snapped, but your husband didn't tear his intense stare from the sight before him. He only hummed. A lame acknowledgment compared to what you were wanting from him. "Stop being weird and let's go."

You felt ridiculous, tugging at the cuff of Jake's sleeve the way your daughter did when leading him along on some adventure. She, however, was much more successful in her attempts. Thirty minutes had passed with you trying to guide your husband out the door, but his feet were planted, his stance sturdy, his eyes glued to your son in Eliza Seresin's arms.

"I'm not being weird, I'm just–" he paused before his next word. Smart of him, you thought. You both knew the end of that sentence was nonsensical. I'm just watching, checking, making sure my mother doesn't kidnap or harm or neglect our children when our backs are turned. With the way he was acting, it seemed to be the only way that sentence could complete.

"You're being silly, baby," you replied. "Stop looking at your mother like she has bad intentions. You’ve wanted her to move here permanently for years, remember? You were finally able to help her find a house she loves, so what's going on with you?"

Jake turned away from the window where his mother and children were in clear view in the backyard. "I know," he agreed. "And I do want her here. But alone, Honey? With our children? Their safety, their lives, in her hands?" He made a face and shook his head. "I'd like it better if Gram were here with her."

Your freshly painted fingernail scratched at the bow of your top lip before you crossed your arms. "Look, baby, I don't want to say that you sound unhinged exactly, but perhaps paranoid? Just a tad?"

"Honey…" was a little whine.

"We knew the day would come when your mother would have to go solo. What happened to that trust you were working on?" You asked, and his shoulders instantly fell. Stepping toward him, you placed your palms flat on his chest and leaned in close. "And me? You promised me a date. Last I checked, that involved dinner and beach sex, and I've yet to receive either."

The mossy green of his irises flashed then darkened, and you grinned with pride. If anything could get his mind off his troubles it was the thought of rolling around with you in any position, in any location, at any time. And you enjoyed having that power. Though despite him being smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it, you knew it was rare that sex didn't also have him imagining a third little Seresin. A topic you'd been putting off, and would continue to do for as long as possible.

"Jake, she is here to babysit so we can go have some fun of our own. Don't let me go unsatisfied," you said, throwing in a pout as your fingers fiddled with one of the buttons of his shirt.

"When have I ever left you unsatisfied?"

"Never, yet. So it would be a shame to break your winning streak, don't you think?"

—

"Baby, why are you stressed again? You were perfectly at ease twenty minutes ago," You said as you adjusted your bra strap and tucked it back under the cap sleeve of your dress.

Jake's hands were tight around the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the road.

"Twenty minutes ago I was balls deep inside of you. That tends to quell my stress, Honey. But my balls are back in my pants now and I have to remember that my mother is the only one protecting our babies at the moment."

Brushing the leftover sand off your knees, you snickered. "Protecting them from what?"

"Anything. Everything!"

You placed a hand atop his on the steering wheel, and the gentle touch encouraged his following deep breath. He released the right side of the wheel to intertwine your fingers, then brought your hand to his lips for a kiss.

"Jake, I know your mother wasn't much of a caregiver when it came to you," you continued, "but she wouldn't let anything happen to our children. After accepting her back into your life, she wouldn't let you down."

His lips parted then closed. They thinned from their tight pressing together before he expelled a long sigh. "Not intentionally…but I know."

With a smile, you pulled his hand into your lap and let your index finger trace along one of the veins showing under his tanned skin. You caught a few tiny rough grains when you made it to his wrist.

"You're still sandy," you said.

"Pretty sure my fly is still undone, too."

You chuckled as Jake pulled into the driveway of your home.

A wave of relief washed over you when you noticed his subtle grin. You were proud of him on your date. He’d set his concerns aside so you could give one another the long-awaited and well-deserved attention you’d both been craving since your son was born. And you’d definitely had your fun. But more than that, despite his anxiety, you'd managed to calm him during your short drive home, which meant he hopefully wouldn’t be charging in head-first on the hunt for his mother's mistakes. With luck, he'd simply thank her, check on his children in their beds, and call it a night.

"Well, zip up mister, so we can go see our babies."

—

The house was silent as you walked through the door and kicked off your heels; almost seeming uninhabited if not for the lone light emanating from the living room that was just out of sight. The low glow reflected off the creamy color of your walls, making it easy to find your way down the main corridor.

“So?” Eliza asked, setting her book aside. “How was your date?”

You didn’t glance behind you when you sensed luck was not on your side. Without a doubt, Jake was scanning the area. For messes? No. His mother was practically pristine. For a droplet of blood or two from a minor injury? Unlikely. Surely you’d be greeted with the sobbing of your children. Nevertheless, you let him look around. If it meant realizing he was proven wrong then it was worth holding back the minor scolding.

“Great, thank you,” you replied. “Needed.”

“I’m sure.”

Her eyes flicked over your shoulder to her son, her hands starting to awkwardly fiddle in front of her.

“Eve isn’t in bed,” Jake finally said. He moved over to the couch where your daughter was passed out on her stomach, a small mark of drool dampening the cushion. Sitting beside her, he brushed her blonde curls back out of her face.

“Um…no,” Eliza began. “She wanted to wait up for you and since it’s a Friday I figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Poor thing said Mama and Daddy always kiss her goodnight. She got that adorable pout on her face and crossed her arms and refused to move from that spot, but she was exhausted. The Little Man is tucked away though. Went down very easy.”

“Well, I appreciate you doing this, Eliza,” you said. “I know there’s a lot of energy to wear out.”

She waved a hand. “I’m always happy to watch my grandbabies.”

A few beats of tension-filled silence passed, you standing across from your mother-in-law while Jake continued to rub Eve’s back. You thanked her once more and she nodded before heading for the door. When her back was to you, you nudged Jake in the shin with the tip of your toe.

As if expecting it, he looked up at you with an expression that could only be described as mildly irritated with a healthy dose of pleading in his stare, but you didn’t let him off the hook. Your head nodded toward his mother as she reached for her purse.

Jake sighed and stood. “Mom,” he called. Eliza turned. Her nerves were not so easily concealed. “Thank you. Truly.”

The smile that slowly formed on her face was beautifully genuine. The wideness of her lips and natural narrowing of her eyes from the act deepened the wrinkles in her aged face, but they were hardly noticeable compared to the radiance emitting.

“Any time, sweetheart,” she said. “Really.” Then she was gone.

Jake twisted on his heel, eyes meeting yours. “Fine. You were right.”

“Baby,” you chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I know it’s hard.”

He accepted your hug, pulling you further into him and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You and our babies are the best thing that ever happened to me, Honey,” was a whisper against your skin. “Entrusting someone else with two-thirds of that is like leaving a couple of limbs behind when I walk out the door.”

You understood that feeling all too well. However, relying on others’ help after you’d had Eve without Jake by your side allowed you to adapt much quicker than him. You wouldn’t ever deny the little twist to your gut whenever you were without Jake or your children, but while acknowledging what your husband was experiencing, you learned to be the strong one. For him and the kids.

Your bodies suddenly began to sway, back and forth to the deep humming of an unrecognizable tune; or what you thought was unrecognizable until the stringing together of a few known notes. The song you danced to the day you were married.

“You’re a sap, Jake Seresin.”

“You knew that when you married me.”

The agreement was on your tongue but a sleep-laced “Daddy” interrupted before the words could pass your lips. Eve was sitting up on the couch, both fists rubbing at her eyes, a yawn contorting the other dainty features of her face.

When Jake moved out of your arms to lift Eve up in his, her head fell on his chest. Her mouth parted the slightest, her eyes remained closed, and when Jake said “Dance with me and Mama, baby girl,” you knew she was already back asleep.

He returned to you and snuck the arm not holding Eve to his side back around your waist. You did the same. One around his hip, the other snuggling your daughter even closer.

“I love you, Honey,” Jake whispered as the three of you continued your gentle swaying.

“I love you, Jake,” you replied.

Then the humming resumed to fill the small cocoon of space.

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

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katethewriter · 2 years

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Wish We Could Be Like That

Pairing: WandaNat x fem!Reader

Words: 5k~

Summary: Your relationship with Natasha and Wanda is a secret, but does it have to be?

Based on the song “Secret Love Song” by Little Mix

A/N: This was originally gonna be a one shot, but I got a little carried away. So I’ve broken it into 3 parts. This is my first time writing for the MCU. It’s also my first time writing a reader insert… so please be gentle :)

********Font Cheat Sheet:********

~Song Lyrics~

*thoughts*

Dream Sequence

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Part One Part Two Part Three

“What will we say?” you ask your girlfriends of six weeks.

The three of you lay on the roof of the compound looking up at the night sky. Natasha lies on her back with you pressed close to her side, head resting on her shoulder. Wanda curls around you with an arm wrapped around your waist from behind.

You’ve had the compound to yourselves for the past two months. The rest of the team being off on a lengthy mission.

A part of you expected to spend the two months as a permanent third wheel without the rest of the team there, but that lasted half a day. Really, you should have expected as much. You had been drawn to both of them from the moment you joined the team a year ago. Quickly you had bonded with the women and they became your close friends. But now, you were basically living alone with the world’s most perfect couple, and the rest of the team wasn’t here to act as a buffer when needed. However, it wasn’t awkward at all. The three of you instantly fell into a comfortable rhythm. There wasn’t a couple… plus you. It was just the three of you.

Two weeks into the two months, the two of them asked you to join their relationship.

The weeks since have been like a perfect dream. But unfortunately, that dream that is coming to a close. You had avoided the conversation as long as you could, but now it was inevitable. Tomorrow the rest of the team will be returning, and your momentary solace will end. When they left, Natasha and Wanda were in a relationship, engaged to each other, and you were very much single. Now, they are returning to the three of you as a trio. As much as you don’t want to admit it, the thought terrifies you.

“We can just tell them,” Natasha answers. Her hand tangles with yours.

“But what will they say?” you worry. You trust the team to be accepting, but fear still creeps in the back your head.

Poly relationships aren’t exactly common. That was the reason the three of you had danced around your feelings for so long. You had originally buried your feelings for the two of them. They were in a very committed relationship after all. You were convinced that pursuing the pair would lead to a mess that would leave you without two of your closest friends. You didn’t even know this was an option until the two of them approached you. When they kissed you, nothing had ever felt so right. Still, you have no idea how the team will react.

“What will they think? I mean… to them, you two have been together for years… you’re engaged, and all of a sudden I’m just an extra who came out of nowhere and-“

“Hey hey,” Wanda interrupts. She lifts her head, looking down at you tenderly, “detka, we talked about this…”

The two redheads had gotten engaged only a few weeks before you joined the team. The moment they saw you, you took their breath away. When they really got to know you, their feelings only grew. After months of quiet pining and a couple long conversations later, they had decided to pause their wedding plans to pursue you as a third member to their relationship.

Working up the courage to talk to you about their feelings proved to be much harder than they expected. Two months alone with you in the compound seemed like a sign from the universe that now is the right time. After you admitted feelings of your own, they knew they had made the right decision. You know the length of their relationship before they kissed you has no bearing on how much they care for you. They’ve spent hours reassuring you of that, but insecurities still take root in the back of your mind.

“No, I know, I know,” you’re quick to reassure Wanda. The Sokovian rests back on the blanket again, pressing her cheek to the back of your head. Her arm around your waist tightens, and the closeness calms you, “… I’m just saying…”

“So, we don’t tell them,” Wanda offers. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. That option doesn’t feel right either.

A part of you would be relieved not to face the reactions of your team yet. There’s another part of you that knows with complete certainty that this relationship is what you have been looking for your entire life. How can you possibly keep that a secret?

Silence stretches between the three of you. Your breathing lines up. It’s the kind of unity the three of you found in your weeks of privacy. The way you just meld together seamlessly.

Natasha is the one to break the silence, “…I get it...” You look up to her, silently asking her to ellaborate, “this thing we have is still new… Don’t get me wrong! It’s amazing… and beautiful and waaayyy long overdue…”

The last part pulls a big hum of agreement from Wanda, and you chuckle at the two of them.

“…but its new. We’re still figuring it out ourselves. The thought of someone else ruining it before its really began is scary.” You nod against her shoulder. She presses a kiss to your head, “We don’t have to say anything yet, not until we’re ready.”

There’s relief in knowing that you aren’t the only one worried about the team’s reaction. You lean up, grabbing her lips in a kiss. After a moment, a whine escapes Wanda’s lips. The sound makes you chuckle, and you’re forced to break the kiss with Nat. You turn to find the most pitiful pout on the Sokovian’s face. You roll your eyes before kissing her already puckered lips. The kiss is slow and gentle. When you break the kiss, she bumps her nose against your cheek. The three of you settle back into each other.

“For now…” Wanda grins, but you can’t see it, “we get to keep you all to ourselves.” At the last word, she begins tickling you. Nat joins in. Their fingers dance along your sides, as you thrash between them. After making you beg, they finally relent. You rest against each other again. Your girlfriends both press a kiss to your head.

You relish this time with your girlfriends while you can. Keeping your relationship a secret wasn’t ideal, but you know the three of you will figure it out together.

~We keep behind closed doors.~

You walk into the common area to grab something to eat before you begin mission prep. Your eyes immediately find Wanda cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Last week you would have gone to her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind, burying your face into her neck. But that was last week before there were more eyes than just yours around. The rest of the team returned to the compound three days ago, and you are still struggling to adjust. Not able to reach out for your girlfriends the same way you could when you three were here alone.

You survey the room. Sam sits at a table, tinkering with Red Wing. Yelena and Kate sit at another table working on mission reports. With a sigh, you go to pour yourself a cup coffee. Mug in hand, you lean against the counter next to Wanda, sure to leave an appropriate amount of distance to be considered friends. “Morning,” you smile as you bring your cup to your lips.

She turns to you with a large smile, “Good morning *detka*,” you hear her add the name silently in your mind, and it makes you smile wider. “What are you up to today?”

“Mission prep this morning,” you say, and you don’t miss the way the corners of her mouth turn down at the statement. You leave tomorrow morning. This was your first mission without one of them since you’ve been together, and neither of your girlfriends are happy about it, especially it being a solo mission. You continue with your plans for the day, hoping to distract her, “then I’m training with Nat before lunch. This afternoon, I’m supposed to meet Tony in the lab. Then of course there’s movie night tonight. You’ll be there right?”

“Of course,” she looks up for a moment to smile at you, before continuing her task. You stay there, content to watch her cook. A loose strand of hair falls into her face, and you fight the urge to tuck it behind her ear. To say you’re mesmerized is an understatement. You clear your throat to grab her attention. Then, you think loud enough for her to hear, *you look beautiful today, baby.* You smirk as a blush fills her cheeks.

Just then Steve and Natasha enter the kitchen, back from their morning run. The widow’s gaze instantly land on the two of you in the kitchen, both her girls in the same place. She makes her way over. She greets Wanda first. “Hello moya lyubov,” she wraps her arms around the younger woman, pulling her chin in for a quick kiss. You look away from the moment too private to be witnessed by a “friend”. You try to hide the frown of wanting a good morning kiss too. You know that keeping your relationship a secret was the right move, but that didn’t make it sting any less. “Good morning y/n,” Natasha’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to find the Russian looking at you with nothing short of adoration. Wanda continues cooking, this moment a private one of your own for just you and Natasha.

The look in her green eyes has the corners of your lips turning up in a smile, “good morning. Are we still on for training later today?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

~Every time I see you, I die a little more.~

In your defense, it started off as training.

You’re sparring with Natasha. It was the third go when she caught you in a hold with your back held tightly to her front. You try to twist out of her grip to no avail. After two more attempts, you know that she has won this round. ‘If you can’t beat them…’ you think as you push your hips back, devilishly rubbing yourself against her center.

In an instant, she turns you attaching her lips to your neck. Training in one of the spare gyms gives her confidence. Its smaller than the gym reserved for the Avengers that you typically use, but, that gym is open to the entire team at all times. You two had witnessed firsthand two days ago the danger of training in such a public place. You were nearly caught several times, by wayward glances and surprise entrances.

Glancing to the door, your hesitation lasts for less than a moment. You drag her face up to yours, grabbing her lips with your own. You moan into her mouth, finally getting to kiss her. You’ve had increasingly less chances to do so since the rest of the team returned. You’ve missed this, and the grip she has on your hips makes you believe she has too.

Neither of you are paying attention when the door to the gym slides open. Like the snap of a rubber band, the two of you separate. Natasha walks to the edge of the sparring mat, nonchalantly reaching for her water bottle like she is taking a swig between sparring rounds. Taken by surprise, you do the only thing that comes to mind. You turn away from her and whoever just walked in the door, doubling over in faux pain, “God Nat, that one hurt. Ever heard of pulling your punches while you spar?”

“Cute.”

You turn around quickly to find Wanda standing in the doorway. She sports an unimpressed, but ultimately amused smirk, “nice save.” You sag in relief, glancing over at Nat who wears a similar look of relief. Though she quickly smiles, shaking her head at your antics. After an awkward moment of the three of you standing in silence, Wanda taunts the two of you, “oh please, don’t stop on my behalf.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to your Sokovian girlfriend, “you come to join in?”

Wanda shakes her head. “No,” making her way into the gym, she leans against the wall, “I just came to enjoy the view.” She waves her hand. A red mist appears by the door, locking it to anyone from the outside. The satisfied look on her face makes you chuckle, and Nat is on you instantly, reattaching herself to your neck. Your eyes close at the feeling, all you hear is your heart pounding in your ears and Wanda’s giggles from the other side of the room.

~Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls.~

Everyone is gathered in the living room, and by everyone you mean everyone. Team wide movie night was not an activity to be taken lightly. You barely all fit into the room, but you do fit. Every member of the team scattered across couches, chairs and the floor, huddled around the same large screen Tony had installed for this purpose.

Since you were leaving on a solo mission in the morning, everyone agreed to let you pick the first movie. Of course, you pick y/f/m. You settle on the floor between Yelena and Peter, adding your own commentary and jokes all throughout the movie.

About half way through the movie, you can feel eyes on you. Slowly, you take a peak at the rest of the group, until your eyes fall on the couch on the complete opposite side of the room. You lock eyes with two particular red heads across the room. Everyone else is engrossed in your movie selection, but they only have eyes for you.

Of course, they aren’t paying attention to the movie. They’ve seen it, a few times actually, during your time alone in the compound. They know the story, the characters, the plot. Tonight, they’d much rather watch you as your face lights up at your favorite lines or the smile you crack when you make the same jokes they’ve heard. Smiling in adoration, they just soak up the sound of your laugh and the feel of your joy from a far.

When your eyes meet theirs and they know they are caught, they only smile wider. Wanda scrunches her nose, and Natasha winks at you: a silent hello from each.

You have to duck your head to hide the blush and smile creeping across your face.

You look at them once more, and you try to ignore the ache in your chest. Seeing them curled up on the couch together, sharing a blanket, practically sitting in each other’s laps. Everything in you screams to go join them. That’s your spot right? …next to them?

You feel the itch of tears gathering in your eyes, so you turn you attention back to the movie, praying to any god above that no one, especially your girlfriends, notices the shift in your demeanor.

~It’ll never be enough.~

“Call us whenever you get a chance,” Natasha requests… again.

“I will,” you reassure her… again. “Jeez, you’re acting like this is some long scary deep-undercover mission,” you try to lighten the mood.

The quinjet is wheels up in ten minutes, and your girlfriends have pulled you into their room for one last goodbye before you go.

“It’s barely a week,” you repeat, “I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me.”

Wanda cups your cheek with her hand, “we miss you already.” The sincerity in her eyes wipes away any smart ass remark you could make. You lean forward to kiss away the concern on her face.

“I’ll be careful,” you rest your forehead on the Sokovian’s. You try to catch her eyes, but she keeps them screwed shut. Like if she doesn’t open them, then you won’t go. You turn your head to Natasha who has attached herself to your side, “I promise.” You lean in to capture her lips in a last kiss. When you pull back, they wrap you in a hug so tight, it feels like they are trying to memorize the way you fit perfectly between them.

You can’t help but think that this is where you belong.

~Its obvious you’re meant for me.~ ~Every piece of you it just fits perfectly.~

You return a day early, working a little faster so you could get back to your girls.

You descend the steps to the laundry room. There’s a basket full of mission clothes tucked under your arm, but you could care less about laundry at the moment. The real reason you ventured here is already at the bottom of the steps.

Your curiosity peaks at the music that fills the air. It’s normally silent down here. You round the corner, and then you see her.

You knew you would; Friday said you would find her down here. You still revel in the sight: Wanda, all by herself, dancing slightly to the beat as she folds laundry. The piece of clothing she’s holding looks odd against the rest of her and Nat’s clothes. Its familiar and you tilt your head slightly. You can’t stop the question from escaping your mouth, “is that my sweatshirt?”

The sokovian completely freezes, except her head which turns to you rapidly. Her wide eyes take you in, “Y/n?” Her jaw drops open. The garment falls from her hands completely forgotten. You barely have enough time to drop your basket before she launches herself into you. “You’re back!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around your shoulders, clutching you to her chest.

All you can do is laugh and hold her, “I’m back.” You stay there, breathing in her scent as she buries herself into your neck. When her grip does start to loosen, you pull back to kiss her. Its starts as a simple hello kiss, but she quickly pulls you in to deepen it. When she swipes her tongue against your lip, you open your mouth. You allow her this moment. You know full well that if the roles were reversed you would need the same. She takes her time, exploring your mouth like she’s missed the past five days, not stopping until the need to breathe is too much for the both of you.

Your girlfriend sighs, holding you close to her, foreheads resting together. “Does Nat know?” she asks.

You nod, “she met me in medical.” At that, Wanda pulls away from you. She opens her eyes to fully take you in, scanning you for injuries. That’s when she notices the cut and stitches right at your hairline. You see the moment her eyebrows knit further together, but you stop her. “It’s nothing, baby,” you smile and kiss away the frown on her lips, “I’m fine, I promise.” You kiss her twice more.

Wanda eyes the injury once more before she sighs and nods, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you bump her nose with yours, a playful glint in your eyes, “those were some pretty sweet dance moves.”

The redhead rolls her eyes and tries to push you away.

“No seriously,” you stop her, holding her close as you begin to sway to the music that’s still playing through the speakers, “how’d that go again?”

It takes another minute of coaxing, but eventually you get Wanda dancing. The two of you twist and twirl around the room. Its complete bliss to be in each other’s presence again without a care in the world. It reminds you of when it was simple during those weeks you had alone without the prying of outside eyes. The upbeat song fades and a slower melody takes its place. You grab Wanda’s hand twirling her away from you, before pulling her back. Your arm wraps around her waist. Together you sway side to side.

Standing chest to chest, you stare into each other’s eyes, “you didn’t answer my question.” She tilts her head in confusion. You chuckle, “is that my sweatshirt?”

Wanda’s cheeks flush instantly, and she ducks in slight embarrassment. “It smelled like you.” Your heart melts, and you bring her in to kiss you again.

The kiss lasts only a few seconds, before the sound of footsteps on the stairs has you pulling from each other.

Wanda returns to the forgotten piece of clothing she was folding when you entered. You retrieve your own basket of clothes forgotten at the bottom of the steps.

As you grab it, you glance up to see Clint pause halfway down, a bag of laundry thrown over his shoulder. You ignore the quirk of his eyebrow. “Hey Clint,” you turn and make your way to an open washing machine.

“Hey y/n,” he makes his way down the stairs and enters, assessing the room immediately. You desperately try to calm your pacing heart and act normal. You’re sure that you’re caught when you feel the archer’s eyes on you. You chance a glimpse at Wanda. She looks as composed as ever… almost like nothing even happened.

~Every second, every thought I’m in so deep,~

“Had enough yet?” you taunt Nat as you have her pinned faced down on the sparring mat. It’s the first time you’ve trained together since returning from your mission. You’ve been cleared by Dr Cho weeks ago, but Natasha still refused to spar until today. She’s been going easy on you the whole time. It was cute at first, but now you just want a real fight. So, you’ve resorted to antagonizing it out of her.

Apparently, it’s working.

With one swipe of her foot, she breaks out of your grasp. In an instant, your back hits the ground. Your girlfriend is practically straddling you. One knee digs into your hip, her other leg holds yours at uncomfortable angle. Your right arm is twisted and trapped between your back and the mat. Natasha holds your left wrist tightly above your head. Her other hand grabs your throat. “This better?” she hovers above you. Mockingly, she looks down with a satisfied smirk, “this what you wanted? To lose?”

“I don’t know,” you confidently lift your head closer to her, “you on top of me feels an awful lot like a win.” You watch her pupils blow wide open with lust. She looks like she is about to devour you when the sound of the door opening stops you both. Only you can hear the quiet growl that she emits.

For a moment, you return to sparring. You try to break out of the hold, but instantly know it’s no use. You tap the mat, and Nat releases you from the hold. She stands offering you a hand, and you allow her to pull you to your feet.

Turning, you find Yelena entering the gym, eyeing the two of you. “There you are, sestra,” the blonde barely spares you a glance, “y/n y/l/n.” You nod in her direction, trying to hide your confusion at the sudden cold shoulder from one of your closest friends.

If Nat picks up on it, she doesn’t show it, “here I am. What’s up?” You take this opportunity to let out some frustration on a punching bag while your girlfriend and her sister speak.

“I’m taking Kate out for dinner tonight,” the younger woman says, “I thought you and Wanda could join. It would be like a… what is it called? A… duo dinner… thing…”

“A double date?” the redhead asks.

The blonde throws a hand up, “yes! That! A double date!”

“Tonight?” Natasha’s eyes flick over to you to see if you had heard any of that. When your eyes meet, she knows that you did. You can see the hesitation in her expression. She’s gaging your reaction knowing the two of you and Wanda already had plans to spend the evening together.

You had planned the entire date, not telling them where you were going or what you were doing. It’s the first real date you’ve been able to go on in weeks. Between missions and training, there hasn’t really been a chance for all three of you to sneak out of the compound at the same time. To say you were looking forward to it is an understatement.

“I already have plans tonight, Lena,” the older sister tries to object.

Yelena throws her heads back and lets out a groan, “No! What plans??” She waits, but doesn’t get an answer. She steps closer to her sister, “just cancel, please sestra. I need you there. Our last date was a disaster, I need you and Witchy as a buffer just in case I put my foot in my mouth.”

Nat throws another look your way. You both know that Yelena isn’t gonna let this go. You sigh and put on your best smile, ‘Its ok’ you mouth. Silently giving her permission to say yes. The redhead’s usual cool expression slips for less than a second; in that moment, guilt drips from her face.

As quick as it appears, its gone again, but not before Yelena notices the shift in her sister’s attention. She glances over her shoulder, but you’ve already returned to attacking the punching bag. The younger widow turns back to her sister who’s composed expression is back in place, “come on, Tasha, please.”

The older woman rolls her eyes and shakes her head playfully, “What time?”

You continue your assault on the punching bag while the two sisters continue to talk on the other side of the gym. Your hands begin to hurt from the force you’re putting behind your punches. You know they’ll be bruised tomorrow. You’re not mad at Natasha. It’s not her fault, and you told her it was ok. Hell, you’re not even mad at Yelena for wrecking the date you have been planning for two weeks. You’re just frustrated at the whole situation. This wouldn’t be an issue if you could just accompany your girlfriends on this double date, but that’s not an option.

Five minutes later, the two widows have discussed all the details of the evening. Yelena runs out of the gym to begin getting ready for the date, barely waving goodbye to you as she leaves. The moment the door closes behind her, Natasha makes her way over to you. “I’m so sorry, Malyshka,” she stands behind the punching bag, holding it still while you continue to take swings. When you don’t say anything, she speaks quickly, “look, we don’t have to go.”

You laugh, “yes, you do.” You stop your work out and look up at her, “you just told Yelena you would go.”

“I can cancel. I’ll tell her Wanda is sick,” she counters, “we can still go on our date.”

You raise an eye brow at her, “and when she sees both of you walking out of the compound later tonight?” The red head opens her mouth to argue, but you stop her. “Hey babe, look at me. Its ok. I promise, its fine,” you reach out for her hands. You try to muster the most reassuring smile you can, despite the disappointment you feel. You were really looking forward to tonight, but you hate the sad look on Nat’s face. You can’t bear to add to the guilt she is feeling. “We can go on our date another night, and it will be just as perfect,” you shrug. You bring her hands to your lips and kiss them in a way that you hope is reassuring.

“Are you sure?”

You roll your eyes now, “yes babe, I’m sure.” You lean forward to kiss her gently, doing all you can to convince her its ok. You pull back, but leave your foreheads together. “Now,” you look at your girlfriend and wait for her to open her eyes. When she meets your gaze, you smirk playfully. Quickly you turn her towards the door, “go tell Wanda, so the two of you can get ready for your date.”

She doesn’t budge.

“Go,” you slap her ass, “have fun. I’ll be here when you get back.”

That makes her move. The widow jumps and makes her way to the door, “ok, ok. Can we come see you later tonight?” She looks back you one more time with a smile, “we’ll bring you dessert.”

You throw her a mischievous wink, “you are dessert.”

~But I’ll never show it on my face.~

Once she’s gone, you drop the facade. Your smile falls, and you clench your jaw. You focus back on the punching bag, and you don’t even try to pull your punches. Letting out the frustration with each hit. You don’t register the pain until you see red smearing on the surface of the bag. You pause, looking down to find your knuckles split and bloody.

“Shit.”

On your way to medical to have Cho take a look at your torn knuckles, the sound of your girlfriends’ voices stop you in your tracks. Their whispering is hushed, and you know you should probably not be listening in on their private moment. Still, you listen silently from around the corner.

“No.”

“Moya lyubov-“

“No Nat,” Wanda insists, “we’re not doing that.”

The widow tries to reason with her, “Malyshka, its already been arranged. It’s decided.”

“I don’t care. I’m deciding. I am not going.” Wanda stands her ground, “We haven’t gone out all together in almost a month. I am not canceling the date with y/n to go on one without her.”

“Wan, y/n already canceled our date.”

The younger woman pauses, “why?” You wince at the hurt in her voice.

“She was there when Yelena asked me. I couldn’t say no to Lena without telling her why we couldn’t go, so y/n told me to say yes,” Nat’s voice is laced with defeat. She wraps her fiancé in a hug to soothe her, “I told y/n we’d bring something home for her. We’ll go see her when we get back and spend all day tomorrow making it up to her.” She presses a kiss to the other woman’s head, “I don’t like it either, but this is how it is right now…..” Natasha releases a long sigh, “We need to get ready to go.”

Wanda’s shoulders slump and her voice breaks, “I don’t want to.”

At that, you decide you’ve heard enough. You turn and continue your trek to medical swallowing the lump in your throat. Fighting tears the whole way.

~But we know this. We got a love that is homeless.~

Part Two

Series Master List

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximov #wlw #wanda x natasha #wandanat #fem!reader #wish we could be like that

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

can i request jealous mark (tmc) and a highly oblivious reader oneshot? he’s showing signs he jealous badly and y/n doesn’t seem to notice

Ngl I was heavily debating on whether to have Cesar be human/alive or his alternate, but....I don't see much of human ces so I went with that!

..........

Mark wasn't the most extroverted person, and certainly not experienced in dating whatsoever.

It took him ages to work up the ability to ask you out on a date...and even longer for you to realize he didn't mean that as "a friend". You genuinely thought he wanted to hangout like you did every other day.

But thanks to Cesar's intervention, that confusion was quickly cleared up before the end of the night, sparing you both from feelings of rejection and awkwardness.

Only then you realized "oh shit, we were actually on a date" and reassured him that you genuinely liked him back, offering to take him out next time to make up for your oblivious behavior.

He was a forgiving guy, so he accepted it, and from there on the relationship grew.

Of course, he sometimes struggled to express his emotions. At the end of the day, he still felt like that loner kid who always clung to his notebooks and the cross necklace he never left home without..unsure of what he should be doing now that he had a partner. He'd worry about whether he was doing the right things, so he'd often turn to Cesar for further advice.

You usually initiated most the romantic gestures, which he'd sometimes try to mimic. For instance, you'd write positive messages and his favorite psalms on sticky notes to leave in his locker; and the next day, he left notes in yours.

It was sweet, and you reassured him you appreciated them.

On the weekends, Cesar continued hanging out with you both, often tagging along as a wingman for dates. Obviously you weren't going to keep the two from being best friends, so you didn't mind it at all as long as he didn't feel like a third wheel.

However as time went on, Mark slowly began to notice that the man who helped him confess to you...

Was also the same guy he started becoming jealous of.

He could see how often Cesar's jokes made you laugh, or when his friendly teasing caused you to playfully slap his shoulder, unable to hide the grin on your face.

And for some reason..it stung.

Sure, he was one of the popular kids, the most charismatic, the guy everybody in school wanted to be friends with. This was how he always acted around him and you.

But to Mark, it felt like a thorn was permanently stuck in his side, wishing he was the one who made you laugh and joke around the most.

It was easy for Cesar, yet difficult for him somehow.

Some nights, he'd lie awake wondering what he could do differently...or if you're better off dating him instead.

Of course he wasn't going to tell you this and tried pushing down those envious feelings, thinking they'll go away in their own.

Yet it only got worse after the Alternates became more of a prevalent threat.

Stricter curfews were set in place throughout several counties, and more people were urged to stay inside their homes and keep their television usage down to a minimum.

This meant that you, Mark, and Cesar spent a lot more time together, staying at each other's homes and never leaving a single person alone for too long. If you absolutely had to go out, it'll be as a group.

For tonight, though, you were all spending it at Mark's place, trying to find ways to pass the time.

Cesar, being not too concerned about the Alternates, suggested watching a horror movie, popping the VHS into the cassette player while you got some popcorn before joining him on the sofa. You liked the idea and believed it to be a good escape from reality.

Mark, on the other hand, thought you two lost your minds.

"Did you guys just..forget that entire broadcast?" He bluntly asked when you invited him over. "We shouldn't even be having the TV on..let alone a scary movie. Turn it off."

"Mark, relax. It's fine." Cesar waved his hand, brushing off his friend's concerns. "It's a cheesy monster movie. Nothing's gonna crawl out of the TV and get us."

The brunette just frowned back at him, not liking how close he was to you yet being unable to do anything about it. "You don't know that."

"Just c'mon over here, dude." He sighed, noticing that your gaze was fixated on the screen, watching the monster stalk its first victim. "Who else is gonna protect [y/n] when the scariest part-?"

As if on cue, the shrill scream of the victim and the monster's horrific roars startled you. It made you jump and instinctively cling to the closest person.

Who happened to be Cesar.

Moments later, you realized your mistake and immediately shuffled away, bashful as he laughed at your reaction. "S-Sorry. That just..really got me. I didn't expect that!"

"It's all good. Now Mark, you can-"

However, when you both looked at Mark, you could see he was fuming, as though on the verge of screaming in rage. But then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, before mumbling something under his breath.

"What's up, hun?" You tilted your head, wondering what was wrong.

"I said I'm going to bed. You and Torres can do whatever the hell you want. I'm done trying."

"Wait, we can find another movie!" You tried calling out to him, but your words fell on deaf ears as he stormed out of the living room, disappearing down the corridor.

Seconds later you heard the door slam shut, and Cesar became tense, feeling his heart drop.

He was only trying to help Mark become a more confident boyfriend, but it seems he just made things ten times worse. He never called him by his last name unless he was extremely pissed off.

Maybe he went too far.

"You should go talk to him.."

"About what?" You looked at him, confused. "Is he mad we didn't listen to the broadcast?"

"...I feel like it's more than that."

Although your friend sounded quite vague, you decided to take his advice and leave for Mark's bedroom, telling him that he can keep the movie going.

After you reached your boyfriend's door, you knocked a few times, stepping back as it swung open and revealed an angry-looking Mark. But upon seeing you, his gaze softened. "Why aren't you with Cesar?"

"I was worried about you." You pointed out.

"...really? I'm surprised." He averted his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Can we just talk? I wanna know what I did wrong."

He was silent for a moment, forgetting that you were very dense and didn't see the obvious signs.

But he invited you inside, and after shutting the door you sat down on the bed together. Mark was still quiet as he tried to figure out what to say, wringing his hands together in an anxious manner.

You, on the other hand, decided to list out everything that could've possibly upset him this much. No matter what, you're not leaving until you wrestle the truth out of him.

"If..it's about us not listening to the broadcast-"

"No..no..it's..not that. I want us to stay safe but..that's not why I left. It's a stupid reason, now that I think about it..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did it...have anything to do with Cesar?"

Finally, you hit the nail on the head.

Thank god.

Mark was eventually able to admit how much he disliked the closeness you two shared even though it was Cesar who pushed him to ask you out. It was hard for him not to sound like a possessive asshole, but he felt like that's the impression he was getting when he saw your frown.

Great. Now you're probably gonna argue with him about much he was overreacting and how he didn't need to storm off like a child.

But instead, you hugged him..much to his shock.

"I'm so, so sorry, hun. I..I never even noticed until now." You pulled away and looked at him, feeling guilty that you never realized this. "But you know I'll always choose you over him, right? I'm sure he didn't mean to act that way."

"I know, I know. It's how he is." He sighed, his shoulders slightly relaxing. "I just...I wish I could be as confident as him. I hate being so uptight and paranoid all the time...and when I see him making the better jokes and moves, I.....l-like I said, it's stupid-"

"It's not stupid. I promise." You took one of his hands into yours, squeezing it gently. "I'll admit, it's kinda cute seeing you get jealous. I never thought you had that in you."

A blush formed on his face. "....m-me neither. So..are you sure that-?"

"Mark. I love you, and you alone. Cesar's a funny guy, but you're protective, polite, and honest. And I admire that. You don't have to be like him or anybody else, okay?" Smiling, you kissed him on the cheek. "We can go watch something else if you want, or if you wanna stay here."

"No, I'll..go watch that movie with you. But I'm gonna be the one protecting you from now on." He huffed, gaining some newfound confidence.

You just chuckled softly, taking his hands and pulling him up to his feet.

"Now that's the Mark I know and love."

#clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #mark heathcliff x reader #mark heathcliff #cesar torres

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pedrettilov3r · 1 year

Text

HATE TO LOVE.

pairings: chad meeks-martin x fem!oc

summary: enemies to lovers. the two couldn’t stand each other, but when ghostface is after their friendgroup they find themselves forced to work together to survive.

SCREAM 6 SPOILERS

CHAPTER ONE:

Nellie didn't know why she thought coming to this frat party with Tara would be a good idea. They had met during orientation week and bonded over the fact that they were both new to the city. The two had been inseparable since then, and as a result Nellie had spent most of her time with Tara's friend group.

She had quickly become a permanent part of the friend group, clicking with almost everyone in it. The only person that she hadn't managed to get along with was Chad. From the moment they met they found a way to get under each others skin. Mindy would always say that they needed get over their own pride and just be friends like everyone else but they refused. At some point, everyone had grown used to their bickering and Chad and Nellie had no intentions of stopping. It quickly became a competition of who could get the last word in.

Currently, Nellie stood alone at the frat party Tara had managed to drag her to. The Carpenter girl had insisted that Nellie couldn't spend Halloween alone in her apartment, to which she had disagreed, but eventually she gave in to her friends pleading. She looked over to where Mindy and Anika sat on the couch, cuddled up together, yeah she wasn't really in the mood to be a third wheel tonight. Tara had gone to get a refill a couple of minutes ago and had yet to come back. Nellie figured she probably just went to the bathroom but she kept an eye out for her friend.

As Nellie wandered around the frat house trying to find a quiet corner her eyes landed on Ethan and Chad. Chad had been trying to hype Ethan up and get him to flirt with a girl and Nellie playfully rolled her eyes at the two. Chad's eyes met hers and suddenly she knew there was no escaping an interaction with him. She sighed and walked over to where the two stood.

"Hey Ethan, nice costume." She reluctantly turned her attention to Chad "Oh and you're here too."

Chad scoffed and rolled his eyes

"Did you forget half your costume at home or something?" Nellie said

Chad let out an annoyed laugh challenging the girl's remark, "Oh please, don't act like you don't find me irresistible"

"God, you are so full of yourself -"

"Guys! It's Halloween, can you please just have a good night stop fighting for once in your lives?" Ethan interjected

"No." The two said in unison

Anika then walked up behind the three of them shifted their attention from the previous argument.

"Hey big guy, you're needed." Anika said directing all her attention to Chad.

He quickly followed behind the girl and Nellie joined soon after because she was quite a nosy person and didn't want to know be left out of whatever was going on.

Anika led them to the stairs where they saw a very drunk Tara walking up the stairs with a guy none of them knew. Nellie immediately tensed, she did not like this at all.

"Hey partner, Tara's good down here," Chad stated, grabbing the guy's attention.

The guys scoffed, "Sorry but I didn't catch that."

Nellie rolled her eyes, annoyed at the games this guy was clearly trying to play.

"Yeah, you did," Nellie said. Chad shared a glanced with her, clearly as annoyed with the guy as she was.

Tara stepped forward "No guys, it's fine. I want to." she said defensively

The guy stepped forward putting his hand and Nellie's shoulder, "Yeah see guys, she wants to." the guy said, clearly mocking them.

Nelli felt her blood start to boil when the guy turned and grabbed Tara by the arm, aggressively pulling her up the stairs with him.

Before she could act Chad grabbed the guy, pulling him away from Tara and shoving him off the stairs.

"Why don't you get your fucking hands off." Chad threatened the man

A fight quickly broke out between Chad and the creep as they shoved and yelled at each other. Tara tried breaking it up but it was no use. Everyone gathered around to watch the fight continue to escalate when Sam suddenly emerged from the crowd and pushed the boys apart.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," she turned to the creep "I'm just gonna tase you in the balls real quick,"

Everyone gasped as Sam tased the man and he fell to the floor in pain. Nellie stared at the scene in front of her and did her best to hold in her laugh at the man crying on the floor in pain.

"Don't ever lay hands on my sister." Sam threatened as the man screamed

"FUCK YOU. YOU BITCH"

Tara finally spoke up "Sam." Sam turned to face her sister "Are you fucking kidding me. You're stalking me now?" Tara questioned her sister angrily and stormed off.

Nellie stared at Sam "For what it's worth I thought that was fucking cool." Sam just stared at her as she looked like she was about to cry and walked out to follow her sister.

"Great job," Chad remarked sarcastically and patted her on the back.

Nellie glared at the boy, "fuck off Martin."

Thank you to anyone who reads this!!! This is my first fanfic so please be nice and leave a like and comment if you enjoy it<3

#chad meeks martin #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks x reader #mason gooding #scream #scream fanfic #scream 6 #scream vi #original character #oc x canon #scream oc #fan fiction #enemies to lovers

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presidentlokis-hornyhelmet · 7 months

Note

idk if your requests are open but your laufey pavitr fic literally made me shed tears -- can i please request a pavitr fic based off of "My Love Mine All Mine" by Mitski? thank u ❤

My Love, All Mine

🕷MASTERLIST💔

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x reader

Tags: One-Sided Attraction, Grief/Mourning, Unrequited Love

Summary: How many times can a heart be broken? As long as it trusts, or as long as it loves?

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay pls forgive me y'all 🙏 ;_;

Also read on AO3

The bustling city around you is lost to the souls who enjoy it. The morning is cold, the breeze chilling your bones but you don't care. You let the bright rays hit your skin, the tears falling down your cheek as you watch the graveyard in grim silence.

Nothing cuts deep like a love untold. And each time, somehow, it hurts more.

The wind blows brown leaves away, twisting and turning as they land on the dull tombstone. You brush off the dust with your hand, sitting down, unable to stop the tears flowing. The dent of engraved letters feel rough and icy against your fingertips. It feels wrong.

He shouldn't be here!

It wasn't supposed to happen, not to him!

One year ago today, he.. he died. And took with him your very life.

You want to cry so hard, you want to scream and shout but you're worn out. Throat gone sore, eyes tired and dried up but the sorrow never left. Heavy bags have formed under your eyes tainting any happiness left.

To the world he may be Spider-Man: a hero demised, to his family he may be Pavitr Prabhakar -a son lost- but to you, he was a friend, a savior and much, much more.

You loved him more than words could say, more than feelings could express; you loved him with all your heart, alone.

After his death, you used to come here with Gayatri, Pav's girlfriend, and grieve together. But as months passed she had moved out of town for the sake of her mental health, wanting to move on. Perhaps she got her closure; maybe you didn't, and that's why you could never forget. Or maybe, because this was all you ever had and you wouldn't let go.

Even if it was gone.

My baby here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth

The little touches that meant nothing to him, the inside jokes, the longing eye contacts that always meant something more to you.. the ghosts of memories past haunts in shattered pieces. How many times can a heart be broken? As long as it trusts, or as long as it loves?

So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for him?

He was the first one to like you for being Yourself. Pavitr brought a new perspective to your life. He showed you love when no one would, he gave you a hand when no one else did, he let you know you were valid, he showed what you were worth, he pulled you up from the dumps.

Pavitr gave hope to a withered, trampled rose; he made you come alive.

Except he had Gayatri to reciprocate it. You had to reserve yourself to just enjoying the unfortunate fate of being his friend, swallowing your feelings, however intense they were. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him -even if it hurt you.

You used to sit there, third-wheeling them and just being a spectator of everything you've ever wanted: Him. So near yet so, so far away.

Why you hurt yourself that way and still got addicted to it, you never knew. Maybe you loved the pain, maybe it was the kind of drug that keeps you alive. It had you going, looking forward to enjoying the littlest things in life, the most insubstantial interactions and most trivial of feelings. It made life brighter in general, it gave a weird rush in your veins. The possibility of it growing into something more toying cruelly with your gullible heart.

The pain, it was indescribable; like a crown of thorns squeezing your bleeding heart to the last drop. It hurt, and it felt so good.

But this was a different kind of pain. It's permanent and it's... forever. This wasn't the drug type of pain, this just came in and ripped the life from your hands, leaving you soulless; empty.

This is kind of pain that tears you apart limb from limb; a pain that leaves you broken forever.

The moonlight shines bright upon the edge of the cliff, illuminating the red and blue colored mask in your hand. you run your fingers over it again and again, feeling the material. The eye-lens are so wide and bright, expressive just like him. You let the stray tear slip down, tasting the salt on your lips.

The moon is full, but you feel empty.

He's here, he's here with me. He's gone nowhere. He's here, he's here!

You won't move on; you can't move on. You're stuck and you can't help it. You embrace yourself around the knees and shudder, crying.

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you?

You lean back and lie down on the grass, never taking your eyes off the moon, the beauty radiant. Perhaps one day you would go there too? Become a star in the sky and shine down on people like you, yearning for the tiniest bit of love. Is love that expensive?

Perhaps that had been too much to ask. Or maybe some simply must not ask.

Clutching his torn mask to your chest, your eyes droop as you slowly drift off to sleep, the radiant face and shining hair of Pavitr Prabhakar bleeding into your thoughts. He's here, he's here.

So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you

There is a price we all must pay and yours cost yourself. But you're not left with nothing.

Your love you own; only your love, all yours. And thus it remains forever.

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love, my, my, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine, all mine

_________

Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading ♡

A/N: I am working on all the others, thank you so much for requesting and waiting! (hopefully i'll post them soon too!🤞)

#pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr x reader #pavitr x you #pavitr Prabhakar x male reader #pavitr prabhakar x female reader #pavitr x fem!reader #pavitr x gn reader #pavitr x male reader #pavitr prabhakar x fem reader #pavitr x y/n #pavitr prabhakar x y/n #astv #spiderman india

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 11 months

Text

first love // smiling as I burn

🎶 smiling as I burn by capsize

(AU) Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[a/n] just a filler part for now but its gonna get difficult from here on out, if you want your feelings hurt look out for the next part! hopefully coming by the end of the week

[warnings?] hurt feelings (I promise it will get better... at some point)

first love masterlist here!

For such an ungodly hour of the morning anyone would’ve thought you’d drunk your weight in coffee beforehand, that mixed in with a ten hour flight was a blackout waiting to happen. However, Robin couldn’t be mad by your energetic exterior which strongly juxtaposed her somewhat agitated mood, after all she knew what you and Steve shared was special and as much as she hated cliches, you were meant to be.

It had taken months of difficult conversations over multiple bottles of wine for you to even admit that you still held feelings for the chocolate haired boy. It wasn’t a secret amongst the group but more of an unspoken thing that you kept buried deep inside, to be dealt with at a later date except the date had come. In less than a month you’d be turning thirty and joining the “thirty, flirty and thriving” crew although for you it leaned more towards the “thirty, unflirty and crying” crew. Hopefully Steve could change that for you and not just because of the pact you’d made almost ten years ago.

“Thank fuck, one more minute being the third wheel to the lovebirds and I would’ve gladly thrown myself out the car, ruined the hair and all.” The unmistakably boyish voice of Eddie echoed through the quiet terminal entrance. Unable to process his words Robin had thankfully shot him a glare before grabbing ahold of your shoulders and pulling you towards the nearest restroom, aware Eddie would be stalling the pair for the sake of your sanity that quickly slipped away.

“Are you okay?” Robin’s usually husky voice replaced by a softer and almost pitiful one. You were pretty sure the world has stopped spinning, unsure if you could even speak or if you were stunned into silence. The only feeling that rushed through every fibre of your body being an uncomfortable ache that settled deep into the roots of your bones as if making a permanent home there. Loss and grief hitting you and for what?, for someone who was never yours in the first place. Not only had you missed your chance at possibly being more than a best friend, but now you’d also lost the opportunity to tell him explicitly how you felt. The self-doubt weighing down on your previously worn out and tired heart as you pondered on how exactly you were going to survive a ten hour flight let alone a week with both Steve and his girlfriend.

“Look I’m sure its not that serious after all he would’ve told us if it was. And you know what Eddie’s like, he probably misread the whole situation.” Attempting to get any sign of life from your statuesque state, the only give away that you were in fact breathing and alive being the gentle rise and fall from your chest and the uncontrollable blinking in an effort to stop the tears that pooled at the corners of your eyes from falling like a waterfall.

“You reckon Eddie has any pills on him right now?” Breaking the dragging silence. “Shit, maybe I should just go check before he scoffs them all.” You babbled trying anything to keep your mind from racing with thoughts about the man who stood less than 20ft away with what seems to be the love of his life, wrapped in his stupidly comfortable arms probably listening to the annoyingly calming beat of his heart, the heart that also most likely beat just for her, like she was the reason he was alive. The reason for being.

Fuck it was going to be a long trip.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

[a/n]Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and encouraged!

other works available here!

want to be tagged in the next part? leave a comment

taglist: @freezaz123

#stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things fics #stranger things fanfiction #steve x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve the hair harrington #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery #pbs-thedesecrated #steve imagine #stevie <3 #pbs-firstlove

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swallowtailed · 8 months

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palisade 25 !!!!!!!

you know, i don’t think it was until the very end, when the title theme came back in (and, god, i love that song), that i actually thought: they did it. phrygian won. the sun’s gonna rise on palisade tomorrow—and on every other planet in the galaxy. mechanically, narratively, the crew had all the cards and they played them damn well. a change is gonna come. it’s already here. they won.

i was initially thinking about reading this arc as a story about death and rebirth. that’s a big part of it, but the question the pcs actually face is: are they willing to confront the possibility of their own deaths to fight for the future they dream of? (figure before the cadent, phrygian and authority—hell, trying to take down the combustor in the first place.) and that wouldn’t necessarily be the crucial question, except for the fact that the empire has pushed them and itself to that point. the divine principality uses death and destruction to prevent radical change and possibility. but the blue channel (palisade, the cause, millennium break) envision the future and set out toward it, going hand in hand with their own deaths, their own lives. and they fucking win. it’s just a really good opposition.

and on the note of rebirth, figure’s new class and new look (and new ghost pal) are fantastic. really cool to see that choice framed as a stance on their relationship to power and care, and also obviously the perennial aesthetic whips. (i did think at first that their mech’s transformation was a “congrats on the new playbook” present. u know, black hole themed mech.)

also, literally ever since meeting perennial i’ve been thinking, uh, she doesn’t seem evil or chaotic or imperial, she seems really cool actually? and i am SO PLEASED to be right. she doesn’t turn the wheel, she knows the wheel turns and she wants to break it!!! (which is perfect for figure—third chances, breaking cycles.) also there’s something from an earlier faction ep that has stuck with me—perennial wants to go home, whatever/wherever that is, but she can never go home… the wheel turns in one direction, huh? anyway, i’m really, really excited to see more of perennial in the back half of palisade :):):)

and phrygian. i loved their ending, genuinely—even though the fact of their loss was so expected as to be barely discussed (which felt a little hollow), they still got that stunning victory at the very end. their ten-thousand-year plan: all forty-one hundred stellar combustors going out like so many candles. (permanently, on a narrative level, because phrygian won that. their legacy is safe.) and to see the final roll come together—this arc was also about the power of friendship, okay, and that particularly includes help rolls and crew rolls, and realizing in the essential moment that you literally cannot lose even though you’re gambling with stars and planets. it’s just… it’s such a good win.

also pleased to have an answer to my question of how they were gonna manage tension between the two plotlines: just be extremely silly on the sun plot! and stand at the precipice of the narrative as a team. truly i do admire this table’s approach to storytelling.

and i am so, so excited—not just for the next faction turn and the next downtime—but for everything that comes next in palisade and the divine cycle as a whole. it’s gonna be good.

#fatt #palisade #palisade spoilers #friends at the table spoilers #fatt lb #hello world #i am actually not back from the woods yet but i have cell service and many thoughts #so hello :)#i listened to this episode over the past few nights in a bunkhouse on top of a mountain #under the glow of a bright green exit sign #just trying not to gasp or laugh out loud because everyone else was asleep #wild atmospheric experience. very appropriate tho

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kinetic-elaboration · 2 months

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February 29: Drawer Excerpts

Well I have given up on this week for sure! It's fine. It's fine! We're almost to the end.

In the spirit of giving up, I have decided to post some excerpts from my drawer fic. I may regret this because I do really like that all 100% of it is just mine and secret. But this will be without all the context (the context is crack btw). And I'm proud of some of these sections of characterization and would like to share them.

So, some favorite excerpts:

“Hey,” Jane greets her. She means to sound normal, but there’s real surprise, and real warmth too, in her voice. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to,” she answers, looking down at her feet as they walk down the front path. “That’s why I didn’t ring the bell.”

Supposed to. As if she wasn’t the one who ran from the room. As if she had spent half the weekend wondering if Jane were mad at her. Jane’s always understood Daria instinctively, from that first history class sophomore year, when she gave her smart-ass description of Manifest Destiny and Jane just knew: the new girl was no ordinary brain. She had that snarky confidence that comes from not trying to be liked, the kind of outcast confidence that lands a person in self-esteem class, unflinching honesty and a hint of dark humor—no ordinary brain and no ordinary girl, but her type of girl. A girl she could invite over to her house on the flimsiest of pretexts, just so they could hang out. A girl she could communicate with through simple shared looks. A girl who saw her lonely, solitary afternoons and immediately offered spend them with me. The friendship was so easy and effortless.

Now for the first time Daria has walls up that not even Jane can peer over or knock down. She’s never found her so inscrutable. Even during the Tom thing, when she’d had that nagging, paranoid feeling all the time, like her best friend and boyfriend were sneaking around behind her back—even then, Daria had never shut herself off or run away. It’s a strange thought, now, that maybe this is what she seems like to other people all the time.

Daria’s fatal flaw is that she will shut herself off from any concept that her brain’s brain cannot comprehend. Like everything that happened last Saturday. Or the Tom stuff last year, until it boiled over and scalded her. She’ll tear the whole world apart when she understands what she’s looking at, when it’s not about her, but otherwise—avoidance city. She won’t ask and she won’t prod and she won’t even accuse, because all of that would be a sort of confession.

That’s how she can sit at the edge of Jane’s bed and flip through the channels and not say a word, even though the silence doesn’t feel like quiet between them normally does. More like stiff and awkward, like the type that used to wash over Daria every time she got within ten feet of Trent.

It was Jane. Jane, who had understood her so perfectly and so fast that she’d become Daria’s best friend within days. Jane, whose absence from her life would mean a return to the sort of abject loneliness she just can’t live through again, the acceptance of a permanently-solo life resigned to the collecting of glass animal figurines—and possibly real animals—in a small home slowly taken over by newspapers and stray fur. Jane, who she’s clung to so hard and needed so much that she even fell for the guy who fell for her. Sure, she and Tom have the same taste in books and movies and the same deadpan sense of humor, but more than anything, what they’d always had in common was Jane. They’d both gravitated to her from the start. Jane Lane, the coolest girl in the room.

Pairing off with each other and leaving her behind—she must have felt like the odd one out. But it was never like that at all.

It’s not like they’re making out in front of her or anything, but she almost wishes they were. In the face of their quiet, subtle intimacy, she feels like the worst sort of awkward third wheel. Once upon a time, she ran all the way to Ashfield to avoid even the possibility of this feeling, of finding herself in a situation like this: her ex so casually cozy with another person, with her best friend, right in front of her. The weirdest part is somehow Daria herself, though. Because she knows Tom from experience, the feel of his arms around her, the weight of him, his hand on her leg at the movies or holding her hand at the red lights when they’re out driving in his rust bucket of a car. She knows the ease of him, the normalcy of it. But she’d never fully accepted the idea that Daria could want to be held. Even less that she’d want to be the object of such casual possession, out in public, where just anyone could see.

#the year 2024 #2024: excerpt #anyway if this interests you tell me because i can be convinced to post #probably

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hrrgrve · 2 years

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tommy walks in on steve and billy making out. without him. the without him part is what he tries to convince himself he’s hurt and angry about. but he knows it isn’t.

tommy likes billy. really likes billy.

but billy likes steve. he says he likes tommy too but… he doesn’t believe him.

tommy used to like steve. until billy came into the picture. but billy liked steve more. but he told tommy he liked him too…

that’s why he convinced himself to like both of them since they’d been dropping comments about wanting tommy to join them.

it was nice at first. the attention. affection from the blond. but as months went on, the knot in his stomach, the ache in his heart whenever he’d see billy and steve at it—even if tommy was there with them—grew. he couldn’t do this. it wasn’t fair to them. to think tommy liked being with both of them. when the person he really wanted to be with was billy. he just couldn’t stand another second watching them, tongues tied, hands exploring each other’s bodies. “just watch us. it’ll be hot” they said.

tommy didn’t think so. every second was agony. having to pretend that it turns him on when it in-fact does the opposite. just makes him want to curl into a ball and cry. lock himself away from the rest of the world.

getting hard while watching them was especially difficult. he always blamed it on how he was more of a physical contact kinda guy—not voyeuristic. not the fact that seeing billy’s mouth on steve’s neck was breaking his heart too much to bare.

he never really felt as if he was part of it. them. always thought he was a third wheel, no matter how much he joined in. just there to watch and yearn. it was cruel in a way. but they didn’t know so he couldn’t blame them. he could tell them but they seemed so happy to perform for him. he just wanted to make them happy. they thought he enjoyed it. he hadn’t given them any reason not to.

but he couldn’t do it anymore. his heart couldn’t take anymore of it. and this….this broke him.

he stared at them. they didn’t seem shocked, panicked, worried. didn’t even look like they cared while tommy cared too much.

just smiled at him. opened their arms and request he join.

he ended up walking out. hearing billy cry out his name—as much as he wanted to run to billy and touch him, kiss him, hold him likes he’s his. he couldn’t.

he felt pathetic. crying over it. he agreed to this. why is he crying over something he knows would happen? that he agreed to let happen?

billy never did that with tommy, though. never kissed him when they were alone.

but he does with steve. he knows because he’s seen them do it. oh no, him catching them having some one-on-one this time isn’t the first.

but on this particular day he just couldn’t cope anymore. he felt awfully unloved.

a strong hand gripped his arm and spun him around. his eyes met billy’s.

“tommy…what’s going on? are you okay?”

…are you okay?

“i can’t do this anymore, billy.” his voice was trembling as was his bottom lip. he bit back a sob.

“what do you mean?” billy sounded almost sad. almost, of course. i’m sure he was secretly cheering at the prospect of tommy leaving them to it permanently.

“this…thing with you and steve. i can’t. it doesn’t even feel like you want me there anyway—”

“—woah, woah!! tommy…what makes you think we don’t want to be with you?” he held tommy’s face so delicately, as if he was trying to hold tommy together before he completely shattered.

“you never do that with me, bills. never! it’s always with steve!! every time!! every goddamn time!!” his voice raised but the quiver was still evident. billy’s eyes were wide.

“you never kiss me! ever! unless fucking harrington is there—kissing you!” realisation seemed to be hitting as billy’s face changed, his own eyes started to water. he knew he’d fucked up in some way. “tommy…”

“and that’s not even the worst part..” he was full on sobbing now. he could barely see billys face through the tears pooling in his eyes.

“before you showed up, i had this massive crush on steve, couldn’t get enough of him. i would’ve done anything for him. until he left. i thought maybe my crush on him would come back when we agreed to do this whole three-way thing but..it didn’t. i like you, bills. but you like steve…and it’s okay…but i can’t. do. this anymore.” the tears fell. billy’s hands hadn’t moved from tommy’s face. billy looked hurt.

he didn’t want to hurt him. that’s not why he was doing this. he was doing it so they wouldn’t have to pretend to want him anymore. wouldn’t have to pretend that the only reason they even bothered to ask tommy if he wanted to join was because every time he saw them together he looked like a kicked puppy.

billy was silent.

“tommy! billy!” steve’s voice rang in their ears. he ran to catch up with them.

“hey…what’s going on?” steve looked between them. tommy saw anger flash in billy’s eyes.

“looks like freckles chickened out—” his voice was malicious.

“—what? what are you—” before harrington could finish the blond continued.

“—can’t seem to handle not being the centre of attention all the fucking time.” he spat the words at him.

oh.

“billy…what the fuck, man?” honestly, steve sounded disappointed. but tommy didn’t care. not anymore. he told billy how he felt and it was getting thrown right back into his face like it meant nothing.

it was like billy was waiting for something. maybe waiting for tommy to scream at him. throw some mean comment at him. punch him. but he got…

nothing.

“i’m going home.”

tommy didn’t look back. decided that was it. he didn’t care anymore.

even if his heart was broken..

#idk what this is #ik i said i want soft tomgrove but i gotta throw a little of angst in there come onnn #tommy hagan #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #IK THIS IS REALLY LONG IM SORRY #though i did write most of it at 4 in the morning yesterday i literally just added a paragraph to sort-of-finish #this is sorta loosely based on personal experience 🥲

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nicklloydnow · 7 months

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“Watching events unfold this weekend in Israel, I thought back to a feeling that I first felt more than two months ahead of Russia launching its war in Ukraine. That same sense of dread is, if nothing, more firmly entrenched in my chest today. The feeling is still nebulous. It’s as if we are all watching a catastrophic car crash and simply don’t have the vocabulary to describe it.

(…)

“Autocracy versus democracy” does not usefully describe the moment. It feels like a discarded line from some kind of late-night brainstorming session. Its purpose was ostensibly to organize thinking — to name a threat and to allow for collective action. In the cold light of day, it reads like self-regard.

(…)

But many woke up on Saturday to the palpable fear of a real threat. Towns and small cities overrun by well-organized militia. Scores of civilians shot dead. Hostages abducted. As I write this on Monday night, the IDF is still fighting battles in Israeli population centers. Soon enough, it will be waging a Stalingrad-like fight in Gaza, doling out horrific human costs in pursuit of retribution. And that’s if no other nasty surprises are looming. The prevailing consensus is that 9/11 is the correct historical parallel for Israel. If Hezbollah enters the fight in the coming days, the 1973 Yom Kippur War will be a more apt comparison.

(…)

No, it’s not about democracy versus autocracy. The wheels are coming off. Our predecessors bequeathed to us a period of unprecedented tranquility. They were not infinitely wise in getting us here — no wiser than we are. But we grew up used to it in ways they could never imagine. We assumed order was normality, that peace was what naturally arose when power-hungry hyperpowers minded their own business. A better and more just world was there for the taking, if only we were moral enough to push for it.

The overarching metaphor in one of Robert Kagan’s recent books is fundamentally correct: order is a garden to be tended, but the jungle is the norm. I still hold that his moralistic “authoritarianism versus democracy” paradigm is misguided. Morality has nothing to do with it. Pessimism about progress — a conviction that nothing is permanent — is a far better guide.

My friend and former colleague Walter Russell Mead penned a prescient column earlier this year. He put his finger on the failings of the Biden administration’s fundamentally optimistic worldview. He pointed out that China, Russia and Iran are eating away at the existing order.

From the outset, the administration knew that the American-led world system was in trouble, but it underestimated the severity of the threat and misunderstood its causes . . . Two years later, the Biden administration is struggling to manage the failure of its original design . . . Russia isn’t parked, Iran isn’t pacified, and the three revisionists are coordinating their strategy and messaging to an unprecedented degree.

The Biden folks really are the third Obama administration. They fundamentally believe that the moral arc of the universe bends towards justice. At the limit, they see our primary task is to make sure we don’t stand in the way.

It’s time to abandon those good feelings. Our holiday from history is over. Or at least it needs to be over.

The Wall Street Journal ran a strong editorial today calling on the United States to get on a solid war footing. I’ve made a similar case for months now. Given how the Ukraine War has progressed, I’ve argued that President Biden needs to stand in front of the nation and tell the American people that the free lunch is over. We can no longer enjoy the massive “peace dividend” we reaped in 1991. It’s time to embrace that the world is dangerous and unforgiving. Prepare for the storms that are coming.

(…)

The Europeans were perhaps rattled in the first weeks of the war, when everyone thought Kyiv would fall in a fortnight. Even German Chancellor Olaf Scholz was saying how German thinking about security was undergoing an epochal transformation. That didn’t last. And even reports that Russia is by some measures now militarily outproducing both the United States and Europe combined hasn’t altered the mood.

Make no mistake, this isn’t just European decadence. We here in the United States are no less complacent. We talk about shared values and how we must support the Ukrainians until the end. But (not-so) secretly, we are glad that they are dying instead of us. Apart from a handful of military veterans and foolhardy enthusiasts, there are a vanishingly few people putting their lives on the line for a common moral cause. Though we say this is our fight, it’s really not.

Why? We come full circle. “Democracy” is not a real cause, “autocracy” is not a real threat. Or, to put it more carefully, that binary does not resonate today in ways that would have you put your life on the line. Not in the way it did during the Cold War, anyway. Safe peaceful street protests against domestic despots-in-waiting? Sign me up. I’d love to re-enact 1989. But as a unifying narrative with real stakes? It’s misaligned. It misidentifies the problem in some non-trivial way. Everyone feels that disconnect, and shrugs when it is invoked. This is not an assertion, just an empirical observation.

But something is happening. I feel it. I think many others feel it. The jungle is growing back. And we naive civilized folks, we couldn’t even start a fire without matches, much less feed or defend ourselves in the wilderness.”

“The larger context is that the U.S. and its allies now face two regional wars provoked by rogue states that are increasingly aligned. Israel and Ukraine are on the front lines, but the risk of an expanded conflict is real. Iran is feeding weapons into Vladimir Putin’s invasion in Ukraine. Mr. Putin is a junior partner of the Chinese Communist Party, which could try to exploit the moment in the Pacific.

The strategic and political point is that the return of war against Israel isn’t an isolated event. It’s the latest installment in the unraveling of global order as American political will and military primacy are called into question.

The President now has an obligation to increase the defense budget and stop treating the U.S. military as a political wedge to feed the American welfare state. For three years Mr. Biden has proposed cuts in defense spending after inflation, even as the world has become more dangerous.

The President can stop the budget games—the demands that every dollar on U.S. forces be matched with another for solar panels or food stamps—and work with Republicans to rebuild U.S. military power. That package should include aid for Israel, Ukraine and Taiwan. It should feature a generational effort to expand U.S. munitions inventories, from 155mm artillery to sophisticated long-range antiship missiles. Ditto for a plan to build more U.S. attack submarines for the Pacific.

Already officials are leaking that the U.S. may struggle to supply both Israel and Ukraine with artillery or other weapons while also deterring China. But America can either meet the moment or regret it later when the world’s rogues attack other allies, or U.S. forces deployed abroad, or even the homeland.

(…)

As for Republicans in Congress, they will have to get serious about governing and elect a new Speaker with dispatch. They need to isolate the Steve Bannon acolytes who treat shutting down the government for no good reason like a personal power play. Americans may be among Hamas’s hostages, and the GOP should support Mr. Biden if he sends a military mission to rescue them. The world needs to see that the U.S. can unite in a common security purpose.

(…)

The growing global disorder is a result in part of American retreat, not least Mr. Biden’s departure from Afghanistan that told the world’s rogues the U.S. was preoccupied with its internal divisions. But too many Republicans are also falling for the siren song of isolationism and floating a defense cut in the name of fiscal restraint. The Hamas invasion should blow up dreams the U.S. can “focus on China” and write off other parts of the world.

Donald Trump didn’t rebuild U.S. defenses as much as he claims, and his political competitors should say so. Former Vice President Mike Pence was correct when he said over the weekend that the awful scenes abroad are what happens when political leaders are “signaling retreat from America’s role as leader of the free world.” Nikki Haley sounded similar notes.

They seem to know what time it is. The rest of Washington needs an alarm clock.”

“Exactly 37 years ago, on a bleak outlook overlooking the Atlantic, the two remaining Cold Warriors met in Reykjavik and proposed the almost unthinkable — to rid the world of all nuclear weapons.

Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev began a dialogue that set in motion a series of summits that would ultimately not achieve this bold objective but resulted in what many historians cite as the beginning of the end of the Cold War.

However, the question remains: to what end?

While the Cold War came to a close, the threat of nuclear war did not. The global nuclear arsenal had reached its peak in 1986 with over 63,000 weapons in circulation compared to 12,500 today, according to the Federation of American Scientists.

But the number of missiles is immaterial, as today’s weaponry is five times more lethal than Big Boy and Fat Man — the two bombs dropped on Japan at the end of WWII.

In addition, the range and mobility of the current arsenal have expanded significantly with the ability to reach any destination — from London to Moscow to Washington — in a matter of minutes, wiping out millions of people instantaneously.

(…)

The subsequent arms race that ensued between America and the Soviet Union led to the doctrine of Mutual Assured Destruction, or MAD, that served to handcuff both sides with the premise that “if you fire on me, I’ll fire on you.”

A flawed concept to be sure. Yet the MAD strategy (which it truly is) remains the primary nuclear conflict deterrent today.

Adding to this MADness is the nonchalant manner that a large part of the world has adopted toward the threat of a nuclear conflict.

The possibility has shifted to the back of our collective psyches allowing us to focus on more important issues crowding our agenda.

A case in point is the most recent Republican presidential debate. While there were several questions around Taiwan and Ukraine, there was no specific reference to the “what if” of a nuclear engagement.

(…)

As a child of the Cold War, I can still remember the air raid drills in my community and hiding under my school desk.

That clear and present danger had lurked over the civilised world’s head but has since dissipated into the ether.

One would hope bright minds in political capitals around the world are gaming how to avoid a nuclear conflict.

But that notion calls to mind a moment when President Reagan after being briefed on the concept of Mutual Assured Destruction posed the simplest of questions, “What is Plan B?” to which his advisors had no answer.

And today as we celebrate their famous meeting in Iceland almost four decades later it is time again to ask our leaders — “What is plan B?””

#israel #gaza #russia #ukraine #war #world war iii #wwiii #nuclear war #stewart mackinnon #damir marusic

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scribbuluswrites · 2 years

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The Boxing

Friday is here, and it is time for the final chapter! I’m so glad to wrap this up, but I’m also sad to see it finish. Thank you guys so much for reading along. I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it and getting to know these characters.

As always, all of your interactions are greatly appreciated. They all just fuel my little writer’s fingers to keep typing away. :)

Katarina sat in her car for nearly thirty minutes, trying to convince herself to just go in the damn house. She hadn’t been to Oakland since she’d rented the place to one of Happy’s aunts before they moved to Charming.

Delilah had always paid rent on time, and Kat didn’t have any doubts that she’d keep the place in great shape. She only charged her a small amount for the house, keeping the rent very low in exchange for keeping some of her personal items in the garage. Katarina had even left all the furniture and cookware, only taking her clothes when she’d moved.

Now that she’d decided to make her move south more permanent, Kat had come back to finish boxing her personal items and officially sell the house. She’d clung to the tiniest hope of coming ‘home’, but now, Katarina knew it was certain that she’d never move back to Oakland.

The other woman had sensed that this wouldn’t just be a simple paring down of items. So, she conveniently booked a trip to visit one of her kids in Nevada. Kat knew she was intentionally giving her alone time, and she appreciated it very much.

Kat rested her forehead on her steering wheel for just a second, pushing down her nerves at seeing all of the old memories the house contained. She pushed her car door open quickly, not giving herself any more time to worry.

The chipped gold doorknob brought a grin to her face as she twisted it to open the front door. She remembered the many arguments that Dorothy, Happy’s mom, had triumphed in with him regarding changing the doorknob. Kat didn’t fully understand it, but the older woman was very attached to it.

The interior of the house looked very different, the living areas and kitchen having been repainted. Kat had given the ok on the updates, but she hadn’t seen the results. The soft grey-blue colour made the house feel more modern and open. It was a perfect compliment to the new stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.

A tiny part of Katarina missed the original melon orange wall colour. She’d hated it when Dorothy selected it, but she’d never argue. After nearly four years here, Kat had started to like the colour, mostly just associating it with the closest thing she’d had to a real mother.

The rest of her loved the updates and the way that it no longer felt like her home. It made things easier, and Kat relaxed a little bit at the total lack of familiarity. She’d been worried about the memories of cooking in the kitchen or watching Wheel of Fortune every single night in the family room.

None of that happened, though. The recliner and worn leather couch had been replaced with new furniture, everything sleek and shiny now. Even the old ceiling fan was gone, taking away the funny squeak it made after Happy had accidentally bent one of the blades while cleaning it.

The garage, however, was filled with ghosts and memories. Kat had to pause in the doorway, contending with the spectre looming large out here.

She trailed her fingers over the top of Happy’s old toolbox, opening the third drawer. Tucked inside was a faded photo of Katarina from her college graduation. She had a wide smile on her face and one hand clutching her mortarboard hat to keep it from blowing away in the wind, sitting sideways on the familiar Harley.

Kat’s eyes moved over the rows of silver tools, the ratchet and socket set still perfectly in order. Coco could probably get good use out of these, but she just didn’t want to bring them into their new life. It felt better to start fresh, start new.

She shook her head, clearing away her sadder thoughts, and moved on to the boxes. Most of them were her old things from Washington, and the rest were items she’d bought for this house that didn’t fit into the apartment in Charming.

Katarina discovered all sorts of old clothes and blankets, embarrassed at the hand-me downs she’d worn back then. She laughed to herself as she pulled out a purple shirt with embroidered flowers. This entire box would go straight to charity. There was no way Kat was going to let Coco see her in anything like this.

The next two were much the same. They contained all sorts of strange little knickknacks and cheap jewellery she’d never use again. She sorted them a little more coherently and labelled them, moving them to sit just inside the garage door for easy access once she was ready to pack them up to take to the drop-off point.

She was blowing through her packing and organising at a much faster pace than she’d anticipated. Kat felt pleased that she’d likely get through all of this in another hour and be able to get back on the road today. It was a long drive, but she didn’t want to stay the night if she didn’t have to.

After another hour, Kat had it narrowed down enough to fit all of the things in her car. That had been her original goal. She wanted to shrink her old life into a small pile that could fit in the boot and prevent her from borrowing a truck.

She reached for the roll of tape, finished with her last box. It was just a little out of reach, and instead of grabbing it, she accidentally bumped it, sending it rolling under the toolbox. With a groan, she stood up and stretched, walking over to retrieve it.

The tape wasn’t the only thing under the toolbox. Pushed to the back and well-hidden was a shiny metal box. Kat’s curiosity was piqued, and she stretched her arm as far as she could, managing to get ahold of it.

It was padlocked closed, and she pulled open each drawer, hoping to find the key. There was nothing remotely key-like hidden amongst the tools. Kat frowned a little, holding her breath as she tried to pick the lock. She hadn’t picked a lock in years, and she bargained that it might be a skill she’d just remember.

A few more minutes of fiddling and the lock popped open. She briefly felt proud for accomplishing it, but then, Kat immediately regretted opening the stupid thing.

The lid opened with a creak, revealing a packet of letters held together with a rubber band. Beneath the letters were a few more faded photos and the serpent ring Kat had left behind when she and Happy split up. Taped to the inside of the lid was a note in his messy scrawl. ‘This is the I’m dead box.’

The first envelope contained Happy’s will and the deed to his house in Charming. Katarina took a few deep breaths, keeping her emotions firmly locked away. The next envelope, and the five after that, contained letters. Multi-page letters Happy had written to finally get out all of the things he’d never been able to say out loud.

“Happy,” she sighed, skimming through the letters. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to read, and memorise, them or if she’d really rather forget them. She folded them back up, snapping the rubber band back in place.

Kat closed the box again, not locking it. She’d get a different lock at some point so that she could open it. She shoved the little metal box into one of her cardboard ones, carrying it out to her car to join the others.

She sent Delilah a text, letting her know that she’d finished her packing and clearing. The other woman wasn’t due home for another two days, but Kat just wanted to be sure she knew. And, she wanted to let her know it was all finished. The house was officially cleaned out and hers now.

Katarina leaned against the side of her car for a second, staring at the house again. For every bad memory, she remembered two good ones. Living in Oakland had been the closest Kat had ever been to having a real family. Now, she had a second chance at a very different type of family.

The drive south to Santo Padre felt much shorter than the drive north had. As she got closer to her apartment, Katarina started to feel lighter. Things here felt fresh and new, like she was evolving into a better version of herself.

Coco’s bike was sitting in the car park at her building, and she smiled at the thought of coming home to him. She carried two boxes up, leaving the last one with the metal case inside her car. That one would need to wait until she had a moment to hide it in the back of her closet, needing to conceal it from herself more than Coco.

“Hey, you all packed?” he asked, walking out of the kitchen to greet her. Kat nodded, dropping the boxes down just inside the front door. She didn’t say anything, just throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder.

She stepped back after a few long moments. “Sorry,” she said quietly, rolling her shoulders back. It felt strange to have so many emotions swirling.

“Nah, it’s good, dulce. I get old lives,” he shrugged, hoping his calm energy would settle into her as he held onto her hands.

“You might not talk a lot, but, damn, you’re incredible at this understanding thing,” she grinned. Kat looked like she wanted to explain, but Coco didn’t let her. He already knew enough.

“I love you,” he said softly, moving his hands to cup her cheeks. “New life shit,” he encouraged, brushing his lips against hers. Kat put her hands over his, visibly relaxing.

“I like that. New life shit,” she repeated, nodding.

Tags: @gemini0410 @scuzmunkie @woahitslucyylu @chibsytelford @withmyteeth

(my taglist is so far out of date. If you’d like to be added or dropped, please let me know!)

#coco cruz #johnny coco cruz #mayans #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc #happy lowman #faking it #mayans imagine #coco cruz imagine #mayans fx

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sarah-kena · 1 year

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Feeling like ish

Does it ever happen, that you're having a great day, you're doing something you like and out of nowhere, it hits you.

It's not really guilt, and not really sadness, you're not depressed, and you're not worried. It's just a feeling of "I feel like shit." and I can't explain it. It's not like I have something I should feel bad about, I just do.

And then I look into the mirror, and even though I thought I looked okay 5 minutes ago, I suddenly see all my imperfections. My smile starts to fade and my eyes dart across my face trying to figure out what was it exactly that I thought looked good.

But it's more than physical, sometimes I feel like it's not only my face, but my jokes, my contributions to a conversation, things that I have to offer. Why do I even try?

I feel like an emo teenager- going back all the way to my younger years. Now, I'm not saying this because it's "in" or "relatable", it's honestly what happens and it brings my mood down so much.

A few weeks ago, I went to a party with a friend and a new guy she's dating. Everything went well, until I had to go to the bathroom. These intruding thoughts overtook my mind and as I looked at myself in the mirror I felt ugly, and that I was a third-wheel, neither of them wanted me there (when in reality, I invited them), no one at the party really wants to talk to me, no one would notice if I left (only they would hours later when they wanted a ride back). As I stepped out and saw everyone doing their thing, paying no mind to the girl with the red hair staring at everyone, my brain convinced itself that everything I thought was right.

Weren't adults supposed to have it figured out? Living a stable, happy life?

How to stop these thoughts? I mean, surely, there must be a way.

Well, I hope God knows, because I certainly don't.

Instead in wallowing in self pity, I sucked it up, went back to my friend and her guy and pretended the voice in my head was not speaking to me any longer.

But how to make it go away permanently?

#voices #self pity #lonely

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coochiequeens · 2 years

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Reproductive choice is so much more than access to abortion. It’s also knowing all the risks of childbirth and way to heal after birth.

“You’ve got two minutes to make your decision.”

The delivery doctor looks up from between my legs. I gaze at the ceiling and focus on a fluorescent light, trying to push my fear into its glow.

“What are the risks?” I ask.

“If you have an emergency c-section at this stage, the primary risk is permanent damage to your uterus and risk of hemorrhage,” the doctor replies. “If I deliver with forceps, there’s a chance your baby may have a small amount of facial bruising. If you go with forceps, it’ll be over in a matter of minutes.”

I choose forceps. Twelve people suddenly appear in the room: doctors, nurses, paramedics, students. They line up solemnly against the back wall. Someone wheels a tray of gleaming metal instruments to the bottom of the bed.

“Right,” I hear. “One big push.”

Then there she is. My daughter. Pale and silent. Then red and screaming. I hold her as I shake convulsively, in a stupor after 50 hours of labor.

Two doctors spend an hour sewing me up. I don’t understand what is happening to my body, only that my baby and I have made it to the other side. Alive. At that moment, that is enough.

“You have a severe third-degree tear and a shattered tailbone,” my obstetrician tells me later that day. “Keep icing it. Use Dermaplast. See me in two weeks. You may experience fecal incontinence, so I’m going to refer you to a pelvic floor therapist.” He glances at my exposed stomach, riddled with a furious network of stretch marks. “Oh dear,” he grimaces. “Your poor belly.”

A critical fact I did not know at the time is that about 90% of people who give birth vaginally will experience tearing. Tears are classified in grades of severity, from one to four. The more common first- and second-degree tears involve lacerations in the vaginal and perineal tissue. With third-degree injuries, the tear extends from the vagina to the anus. In a rarer fourth-degree tear, the laceration extends from the vagina through the perineal area and anal sphincter muscles and into the rectum. Interventions such as forceps and vacuums can significantly increase the risk of a severe tear.

When the epidural wore off, the pain was indescribable. Back at home, I waddled around with my newborn strapped to my chest, legs as far apart as they would go, giant ice packs falling out of the flimsy mesh underwear provided by the hospital. Simply sitting in a chair sent pain shooting through my body. Getting out of it took an agonizing ten minutes. I didn’t dare look at my Frankenvulva in the mirror.

When I went back for my obstetrician appointment two weeks later, it turned out that one of the stitches wasn’t sewn correctly and there was a piece of skin hanging where it shouldn’t. It had to be burned off. A shadowy sense of shame began to surround me. Despite the traumatic nature of the delivery, I felt okay talking about my birth and my broken tailbone. But the fact that my vagina had ripped almost to my ass? I didn’t really discuss it with anyone ― including my husband.

“Simply sitting in a chair sent pain shooting through my body. Getting out of it took an agonizing ten minutes. I didn’t dare look at my Frankenvulva in the mirror.”

I felt as though I’d been neutered. Unsure of how I could ever even entertain the idea of having sex again. Convinced that the pain would last forever (ultimately, it took over two years for me not to be aware of it).

Every time I peed, I had a water bottle on hand to help dilute the searing sting. Like so many other women, I just dealt with it in silence. My pelvic floor therapy sessions petered out as I went back to work a couple of months later. I could barely make time in my schedule to pump, let alone take a cab into downtown Chicago for twice-weekly appointments.

Well, this is motherhood, I thought. The moment a child is born, the mother stops being the patient. We’re expected to smile. Be grateful for our baby. Be quiet. Just deal with it.

Many women don’t realize that childbirth can involve such extreme injury. Fortunately, that’s starting to change. In 2018 ― a year after I gave birth to my daughter ― Keira Knightly wrote a personal essay about her first childbirth experience. “My vagina split,” she wrote. “You came out with your eyes open. Arms up in the air. Screaming.” She wrote that women are then expected to hide: “Hide our pain, our bodies splitting, our breasts leaking, our hormones raging.” In 2020, Chrissy Teigen tweeted in response to people complaining about taking PCR tests, “My vagina was ripped to my asshole giving birth to Luna. I had a vagasshole. Fuck your swab pain.”

The rise of celebrities talking about their own birth injuries helped catalyze a tide change in the types of conversations I heard around me. Other mothers began to talk more openly about the brutality of birth. I joined in, galvanized by the knowledge that I was not alone. Instagram became a hub of support and community, with pages such as Life After Fourth Degree Tears dedicated to sharing people’s stories.

One day in 2019, two close friends and I were frustrated by the fact that we still couldn’t go to our local Walgreens or Target to pick up items to help our other new mom friends heal during their fourth trimesters. So we decided to do something about it. We innovated and secured two patents for our dream postpartum recovery underwear and a suite of ice/heat packs specially contoured to fit between the legs or over the uterus. They can be inserted directly into the underwear and stay in place to help with tenderness and swelling. We wanted to ensure that the next wave of people giving birth had access to a more functional and therapeutic option than the mesh hospital freebie.

Yes, tearing is almost certainly going to happen if you have a vaginal delivery. Most people will have a first- or second-degree tear. The more severe injuries ― which are far more challenging to recover from ― are uncommon (about 6 in 100 births) and scary to contemplate. But not talking about it means that many people have trouble getting adequate information prior to delivery and feel unprepared and unsupported during recovery.

Now knowing firsthand the risks and severe consequences of tearing in childbirth, here’s some advice I’d share with other mothers-to-be:

1. Knowledge is power.

Educate yourself on the risk factors of severe tears and incorporate prevention and aftercare strategies into your birth and postpartum careplans. You cannot actually prevent a significant tear ― it’s largely due to forces outside of your control, such as the size of your baby and your anatomy. But seeing a pelvic floor therapist in the months before giving birth may help reduce recovery time after delivery, no matter how severe the tear. Perineal massage and stretching prior to delivery may also help with muscle pliability and help mitigate the impact of the tear.

2. Be your own advocate.

During delivery, you can ask your doctor, doula or midwife to support your perineum with their hand as you push, which has been proven to help reduce the severity of tearing. Press for a proper diagnosis and review of your injury (many moms I know were told they had a tear, but had no idea to what degree). If you suspect something is wrong, don’t brush it away: You know your body best. Talk to your doctor.

If you suffer from a major tear, request regular check-ups with your medical provider until you are fully healed. If you are working and still in discomfort, speak to HR and see if there are ways for your company to help support you as you heal. And if you think you may have PTSD from your delivery experience, reach out to a mental health professional. There are some incredibly effective techniques to help resolve feelings of anger, grief and shame that can arise from a difficult birth.

3. See a pelvic floor therapist after delivery ― no matter what.

Every OB-GYN, doula and midwife I’ve ever spoken to says the same thing: They wish pelvic floor therapy was mandatory and accessible for every single person who gives birth. Book some sessions for a couple of weeks after your due date in advance. You’ll be glad you did.

4. There are ways to ease the pain.

Ice therapy is proven to help ease discomfort and speed up recovery time. Sitz baths are a blessing. Stool softeners are your best friend. Use a peri bottle when you pee to help dilute the sting of urine. Donut cushions arereally helpful, too, as they prevent your vulva/perineum from coming into direct contact with your chair.

5. Know that you are not alone.

Research indicates that women’s pain levels after experiencing a second-degree tear or greater can be linked to their risk for developingpostpartum depression. Combined with the intimate nature of the topic and how so many of us don’t feel comfortable talking about our vulvas in general, it’s little wonder that so many women feel isolated and alone in their pain. But you are not. The statistics alone prove it.

You do not need to suffer silently, as so many of us have beenconditioned. By talking, sharing and ensuring we have the means to take care of ourselves ― and each other ― mothers and birthing people can find a connective, collective resilience and invaluable support system to help us as we move through the pain, onwards to the other side.

Mia Clarke is a writer and the co-founder of the women’s health innovation company, Nyssa, which released its bestselling FourthWear Postpartum Recovery Underwear in 2019 and has been featured in Forbes, Vogue, Fast Company and more. She also edits Body of Knowledge, a new content platform dedicated to interrogating the under-discussed realities of womanhood and has written about miscarriage for The Washington Post. Prior to working in women’s health and innovation, Mia was a music journalist and the guitarist in the British indie rock band, Electrelane.

#Pregnancy and childbirth #childbirth can result in injury

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