#Nobody else in my known family is able to do this; not the women or the men. Apparently I've got fucked up anagens.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi there!

I was wondering if you could do a yandere RoR with the reader being the daughter of either Acnologia (Fairy tail) or Whitebeard (One piece). The reader being the kindest person there is, but have a wicked temper.

Like when they fight their opponent (a rather cruel god) and they try to attack their family and they lose it and unleash their power and rage on them.

And that gains the attention of the gods and humans.

Gods: Thor, Poesidon Buddha, Loki, Hercules and Hermes

Humans: Lu bu, Jack the Ripper, Raiden, Sasaki Kojiro and Leonidas

-The strongest man in the world, one of the strongest and mightiest of pirates, who commanded a massive crew full of powerful individuals, calling them his family, his sons and daughters, was an opponent none wanted to cross unless if they had to.

-Of all the children he laid claim over, there was only one who was biologically his, his daughter, Y/N. She was tall, beautiful, and just as powerful as her old man.

-Normally level-headed and a good leader, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, earning her respect and power young, but she did have one little weakness- her temper.

-You weren’t known for losing your temper often, but when you did…. There was usually a lot of property damage, usually a couple of deaths, and lots of people crying, begging for forgiveness.

-However, you had a pretty good lid on your temper, only losing it for a few small things here and there, so your crew, your family, had learned quickly to avoid those triggers, and if someone else caused you to pop off, they would be safe, as they all knew to stay a safe distance back, away from the carnage.

-You lived a life full of adventure and fun, and died doing what you loved, sailing, being pulled to Valhalla, as you were deemed someone worthy of coming.

-You enjoyed your time in Valhalla, being able to meet new people, make new friends, and battle strong opponents, and while you did miss your family dearly, you knew they would yell at you for lingering on them rather than sailing forward like your dad always taught you to do.

-You weren’t like a lot of the other women in Valhalla, you were crass, talked back, could drink almost anyone under the table, and you loved to fight, you had no issues getting hurt if it meant you were going to get a good brawl out of it.

-This is what led Brunnhilde into seeking you out to fight in Ragnarok, fighting alongside with other champions of humanity for it’s very survival against the gods.

-You knew that gods existed, being in Valhalla for so long, and while there were many good ones, ones you could call friends, there were ones who were cruising for a bruising and you had been feeling a little antsy here as of late, mainly because you weren’t getting the challenge you so desperately wanted.

-Your opponent was cocky, seeing a woman, despite her not looking dainty and delicate, but he was arrogant, immediately thinking that this was going to be an easy fight.

-People were cheering loudly for you, those you had befriended and those who knew of your power, many of them knowing full well who was actually going to win the fight.

-Your opponent laughed obnoxiously when he heard your dad’s name, “Whitebeard?! What kind of stupid name is that?!”

-Many people groaned in the audience, immediately handing over their losing bets to their friends; it’s not that they were betting against you, but they were betting on how quickly this fight was going to end.

-He was not prepared for you to come flying across the arena at him and throw a harsh right hook across his face, sending him flying back into the brick wall behind you.

-You glared darkly, a murderous aura surrounding you as you cracked your knuckles, stalking towards him, “Nobody talks about my daddy like that.”

-You won your match in a little under two minutes, not even using your weapon with your Valkyrie partner, you did it with your bare hands.

-While you assure her that you were fine, Brunnhilde dragged you to the infirmary to get your knuckles wrapped up, as you had busted them open pretty bad during the beat down.

-A knock came to the door of the room you were in with two nurses, one working on each hand, and your eyes lit up as a man walked in and you beamed, “(Love)!”

-Couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing you getting patched up, walking in but not bothering the nurses, “Have to say Y/N, it was pretty hot watching you go feral for once.” You pouted lightly up at him, showing your softer side, “Nobody gets to talk about my papa like that!” he chuckled, as he knew that was a fact, that’s how he met you, seeing some cocky upstarts insulting your father which led to a one on however many there were with you walking away the clear victor with no major wounds. He asked you out right after that for a drink, which you accepted and the two of you have been nearly attached at the hip. He respected you heavily, you were not to be underestimated and he demanded respect for you if he felt like you weren’t getting it. Keeps PDA to a minimum but behind closed doors he’s a total cuddle bug. Once you were free from the nurses he picked you up like you were a delicate maiden, making your face blaze brightly. He thought you were adorable when you got so shy, but now that you won your fight, he was treating you to a drink- you earned it!

            -Leonidas, Lu Bu, Thor, Poseidon, Hermes, and Raiden

-Knew not to coddle you, but you could see the worry in his eyes, even if he didn’t say anything, sitting nearby, “How’s the hands?” you grinned, flashing him a wink, “They ache so good- bastard got what he deserved.” He chuckled warmly, finding your humor comforting. He knew that you were going to win, but he was still nervous watching you fight, not wanting you to get hurt as you were important to him. You knew of his worry but said nothing out of respect to him, something he did appreciate. Your hands were stiff from the bandages, leaving you not able to use them really easily, but (Love) was happy to help, letting you sit on his lap, holding your mug of ale for you, enjoying your after fight feast he prepared for the two of you. He praised your fighting skills, showing what you were able to do without a weapon but also while overcome with fuming rage. He knew of your triggers that would set you off, unintentionally setting a few off himself, but now knew better. Adored you, showers you with love and praise and just makes you feel so happy and dainty, but at the same time knows full well you will throw hands with anyone if they were to disrespect you, your father, or (Love).

            -Buddha, Hercules, Loki, Jack, and Kojiro

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror leonidas #ror lu bu #ror thor #ror poseidon #ror hermes #ror raiden #ror buddha #ror heracles #ror loki #ror jack the ripper #ror kojiro sasaki

[dominantmasculine]

Ok let me make this clear. Being a stay at home girl is not the proof of femininity. As much as I adore and endorse women who want to stay at home and be housewives and mothers, it is not the be all and end all of femininity.

Not everyone has the financial situation and luxury to be able to stay at home. Not everyone wants to stay at home. You can be perfectly feminine and prioritize your role at the home, your family, your Husband, and your children, despite having to go outside of the home to work, or follow an intellectual passion.

Having said that, the one thing I do not agree with and do not support is the notion that "you can have it all, ladies". The preachery that you can be a CEO and an astounding wife and mother all at once.

No you cannot.

And this is not pointed at women in particular or to suggest that they have limitations in their capabilities. Nobody can, not even men. If a man chooses to be a CEO, then it is a known fact that they will compromise somewhere else. They will be absent more than once, in their wife's sickness, in their children's school meetings, in their daughter's prom and their son's graduation.

There are only so many hours in the day, and there is only so much a single human can handle. You cannot, in fact, have it all. The only people who say things like these are utterly priviledged women/men disconnected from reality. If you go and see their lives, they have an army of nannies, they have 5 secretaries running around at work, their children go to private schools, they have personally hired chefs making meals, they have drivers taking their kids wherever they want. To think that means they are "achieving everything" is absolutely delusional.

Which means, it is very important to think about what tradeoffs you make in life, and what you give up for what else. Personally, I would not sacrifice my family and my children for anything, but perhaps for someone it makes sense; perhaps hopefully such a someone is commited to a vision, path, and purpose of greater societal good - good for them if it be so.

[ecoamerica]

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[ratasum]

1,13 and 25 for Pyxsi from interview questions

OC Interview Questions

1. Who makes up your family? How close are you to them?

"Just my mom. I never knew my dad, so it was just me and her for a long time. I... haven't really spoken to her. Not since I left Rata Sum, anyway."

She tugs her ponytail for a moment, brow furrowing.

"...I don't really think she'd want to hear from me right now anyway. Doubt she'd be too proud that I dropped out and went and joined the Inquest. She deserves a way better kid than I was ever able to be, and maybe she'll find someone who can give her that. I hope she does."

13. You’re given an unlimited budget to build anything you want! What do you build and where do you build it?

She seems to think long and hard about this, squinting and scrunching up her nose for a moment or two.

"...I think I'd build a library. Somewhere secret... safe. I'd collect all the stories of all the skaalds I could find and fill the library up with them. Somewhere I could read all day and never be bothered. I'd probably fill it with nice blankets and soft places to rest... places to make food and drinks. A live in library kind of, I guess."

25. Freebie! Come up with your own question for the character to answer! - Are you a romantic?

"Oh absolutely not. I've known too many men who only wanted one thing and then would leave you hanging, and too many of the women I've known are as liable to stab you in the back as anything."

She sniffs indignantly, pulling on her scarf for a moment.

"It's better to be alone, anyway. No one can turn on you when the winds change, nobody can hurt you. It's the only way to survive in this world. You look out for yourself because no one else is going to look out for you."

#oc asks #pyxsi

[mongrel-mage]

Something that I wish I'd known about before starting testosterone was how differently I would feel socially. While I could talk about what happens now that I pass and whatnot, what I specifically mean is the emotional downsides of being perceived as male re: my relationship with other people. Growing up being socialized as female, I took for granted the amount of physical affection I was free to give and receive. I could greet my friends with a hug. We could lean against each other, link arms, hold hands, fix each other's hair or clothes or a hundred other little touches that nonetheless conveyed emotional closeness. There was so much platonic affection that I never thought about. It was the same with family members. I could hug them, cuddle against them, express the need for affection.

I almost never get hugged anymore, not unless I ask for it, and more often than not it is assumed that I'm only doing so because there is something wrong. I've had my grandparents ask me if it was still okay for them to hug me, to kiss me on the cheek. I don't feel like I can hug my friends as a greeting or a farewell for the fear of being seen as Less Of A Man. What used to be an oasis of human contact is now a void. Not only that, but think about how often women/femme people are able to compliment each other. "You're so pretty," "you look great," "love that color on you," and so many other things. When I presented as female, I was the recipient of compliments from friends, family, sometimes people I didn't even know. That hasn't happened a single time since I transitioned.

The only sort of emotional and physical affection a man is socially allowed to receive is from an intimate partner. Nobody else, or you're somehow Less Of A Man, you're perceived as gay, you're called any variety of shitty things.

Masculinity includes emotional starvation. There is a great post that I'll link that talks about this more eloquently than I can, and I want to give credit where it's due (will include a transcript below the cut).

Does this mean that I regret my decision to transition? Absolutely not. Does it mean that I wish I was still perceived as a woman? Hell no. But the potency of this loneliness took me by surprise, and I think that it's something that we need to talk about more.

[Tumblr user skaldish]: Still bothered by the US cultural idea that men can only be non-romantically intimate with one another in war-like or competitive circumstances.

[Tumblr user skaldish]: I'm pretty quiet about the fact that I'm a transman usually, but holy shit I need to tell you about the culture shock I'm going through because it's blindsiding me.

There's a huge sense of social isolation that comes with being perceived as male, because now people are subconsciously treating me as a potential predator. All strangers, no matter their gender, keep their guard up around me.

It made me realize that there is no inherent camaraderie in male socialization as there is in female socialization--unless, of course, it's in very specific environments. And the fact that I don't amnbiently experience this mutual kinship in basic exchanges anymore is an insanely lonely feeling.

You know how badly this would have fucked up my mind if I had grown up with this?

[Tumblr user skaldish]: It's 4:30 am and I'm mourning the loss of a privilege I didn't even know I had.

[Tumblr user skaldish]: Anyway, I'm going to figure out how to navigate this. Don't know how yet, but I'm gonna.

[Tumblr user azaloset, in a comment]: If you figure it out, can you share your insights? This is a fundamental as to why I'm in the closet.

[Tumblr user skaldish]: Absolutely, because it's an extremely sticky issue.

Frankly, this is something I would've never understood without living the experience.

It's now blatantly clear to me that most cis men probably experience chronic emotional malnutrition. They're deprived of social connection just enough for it to seriously fuck with their psyches, but not enough for them to realize it's happening and what's causing it.

It's like they're starving, but don't know this because they've always been served 3 square meals...except those meals have never been big enough.

This deprivation comes from all sides of the aisle, by the way.

In the case of women: When I'm out in public and interact with women, all of them come across as incredibly aloof, cold, and mirthless. I have never experienced this before even though I know exactly what this composure is--the armor that keeps away creepy-ass men.

As someone who used to wear it myself, I know this armor is 100% impersonal. Nobody likes wearing it, and I can say with absolute certainty that women would dump the armor in favor of unconditional companionship with men if doing this didn't run the risk of actual assault. (Trust me when I say women aren't just being needlessly guarded).

But I only have a complete understanding of this context because I've experienced female socialization. If I hadn't, I would've thought this coldness was a conspiracy against me devised by roughly half of the human population. Even now, with all that I know about navigating the world as a woman, I'm failing to convince my monkey-brain that this armor isn't social rejection.

And as for male socialization? Again, it seems taboo for a ma to be platonically intimate with men for reasons I have yet to fully understand, but I think it boils down to a) the fact society teaches boys that it's not okay to be soft with one another, and b) garden-variety homophobia. Our media only shows men being intimate with one another when they're teamed up against a dire situation, and I'd bet real money it's a huge reason why men gravitate toward activities that simulate being teamed up against an opposing force.

But men are not machines of war. Yes, testosterone absolutely gives you Dumb Bastard Brain, but that just makes you want to skateboard a wagon down a hill or duct-tape your friend to the wall, not kill someone.

The human species looks so much colder standing from this side.

I can see how men might convince themselves that their feelings of emotional desperation is personal weakness as opposed to a symptom they're all experiencing from White Imperialism. Because this human connection, this frith, is as essential for our wellbeing as water is.

So sick. How sick. I want to destroy this garbage.

#terfs fuck off #this is not an opportunity for y'all to start up with your bullshit again #but anyway #yeah emotional malnutrition sucks #my kingdom for a good long hug

[crystalkleure]

💪

I have stupid-long hair, it literally touches my ankles. I haven’t had a proper haircut in, like...more than a decade now. Not counting chopping the split ends off occasionally.

Wish it could stay that way, but 5 ft of hair is maybe a little too much hair for someone who is only 5′1′’. I think I’m gonna get it trimmed Just A Little Bit before I end up tripping over it.

#Nobody else in my known family is able to do this; not the women or the men. Apparently I've got fucked up anagens. #Makes all the girls so fucking jealous lmao oh no #They Don't Know #I almost busted my ass on some stairs the other day and also this shit just gets everywhere. I am constantly slamming it in doors. #.Replies #KittyKittyHunter #Kitty #I mostly refuse to cut it out of Old Fury at the fact that my mom used to hold me down and cut my hair against my will when I was little #She gave me the ugliest haircuts and I got bullied for it mercilessly while I was still in school #Still angry about that and don't like people touching my hair #About me yo

[caitimetravels]

she’s insignificant

chapter 2: welcome home

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of drugs and alcohol, poor parenting

masterlist

“number eight! this is serious! if you do not train properly you will not be allowed to join your siblings on missions.”

“number eight! that’s not how you behave!”

“no, number eight! how many times must you do this before you get it right?”

“no! not like that, number eight! you must be quicker, smarter, stronger! you’ll be a liability”

“no! again, number eight!” 

“number eight!”

“number eight!”

she wished it was stop. the yelling. the shouting. the insults. the pain. the training. all of it. her head hurt. she could feel the anger swirling around, growing. control. she needed control. relax.

she took a deep breath. again. again. she pushed herself over and over until she collapsed. she worked herself to the bone only to always be left with disapproving stares. the scowl. the glare. and then she was alone, forced to pick up the broken pieces and put herself together. she didn’t have her other siblings. their family dynamic wasn’t much of a family dynamic but just once she wished one of them could be there. even just to see what she was going through. it hurt that she was alone. she hated alone.

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

“um..” luther slowly stood, unsure. “i guess we should get this started” he looked around at his siblings sitting in parlour. they all sat separately with klaus making drinks at the bar in the back.

“are we having a family meeting?” y/n stepped into the room, confused. she paused as realisation crossed over their faces. “..you forgot me”

“sorry, y/n, we didn’t mean-” allison started, trying to defend them. y/n shook her head.

“no, no, don’t apologise. it’s okay.. let’s just get this over with” she waved off any concern, taking a seat beside vanya. in her lap sat a familiar book. 

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

“you’ll be okay” ben spoke softly, gently bandaging y/n’s arm. he gave her a small smile. the pair sat in the back of the library, secluded and separate. the others were too wrapped up in themselves to care. 

vanya stepped over a moment later. she frowned at the tears on y/n’s cheeks. taking a seat beside her she offered them the cookies she had stolen from the kitchen. they weren’t meant to have any until dessert but ben and vanya found this much more important. y/n sniffled, taking the cookie in her good arm. 

“thanks v” she gave a watery smile, eating a big bite of the cookie to stop the sobs about to escape her mouth. ben and vanya shared a frown over her head. 

“should we read something?” ben offered, pulling a random book off the shelf behind him. y/n merely nodded, she needed this to calm down her raging emotions. these two were the only two who understood. if her emotions went haywire so would her powers. 

“hm, little women? i didn’t think dad would have this” ben smiled at the cover. 

“pogo got it for me” y/n murmured softly, listening to her brother’s soothing voice as he read. she smiled, they were always able to calm her down.

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

“so, i figured we could have some sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown, say a few words” luther started again, “just at dad’s favourite spot”

“dad had a favourite spot?” allison asked, confused. 

“yeah, you know. under the oak tree” luther nodded, eyebrows furrowing. “we used to sit out there all the time.. did none of you ever do that?”

“will there be refreshments? tea, scones” klaus interrupted, walking to join them with a cigarette between his fingers and a glass of alcohol in his other hand. “cucumber sandwiches are always a winner” he waltzed over beside y/n who smiled at his laid-back attitude.

“what? no” luther shook his head, “and put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here” 

“is that my skirt?” allison questioned, looking down at klaus’ attire.

“what?” he mumbled distracted. he put his glass down before turning around. “oh, yeah, this. i found it in your room. it’s a little dated but its very breathy on the.. bits” he gestured.

“listen up” luther put on his leader voice, commanding as usual. “there’s still some things we need to discuss, alright?”

“like what?” diego snapped, obviously sick of this.

“like the way he died” 

“and here we go” diego rolled his eyes and luther glared at him.

“i don’t understand.. i thought they said it was a heart attack?” vanya spoke up, confused. klaus plopped down onto the couch now, wrapping his arm around y/n.

“what? he had a heart attack?” y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, she hadn’t been told that. they all looked at her, surprised.

“you didn’t know?” allison asked softly,

“no? you did?” 

“that’s only according to the coroner” luther chipped in, still pushing his theory.

“well, wouldn’t they know?” vanya raised an eyebrow.

“theoretically”

“theoretically?” allison asked.

“look, i’m just saying at the very least something happened. the last time that i talked to dad he sounded strange” 

“oh, tell us please” klaus gurgled through his drink, not at all serious. y/n would have laughed if she didn’t see the real reason luther was bringing this up. he thought one of them did it.

“strange how?” allison continued to push, incredulous. 

“he sounded on edge, told me i should be careful who to trust” luther frantically tried to convince them.

“luther” diego sighed, standing “he was a paranoid, bitter old man. he was starting to lose what was left of his marbles”

“no” he quickly shook his head, turning to him. “he must have known something was going to happen. look” he looked over at klaus. “i know you don’t like to do it but i need you to talk to dad”

klaus rolled around, disagreeing, “i can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like dad can you stop playing tennis with hitler for a moment and take a quick call” he waved his cigarette around, sitting up and letting go of y/n.

“since when? that’s your thing”

“i’m not in the right frame of mind!”

“you’re high?” allison looked up,

“yeah, yeah!” klaus laughed, nodding his head, “i mean how are not listening to this nonsense?”

“well, sober up, this is important” klaus merely sighed, “then there’s the issue of the missing monocle” 

diego scoffed, “who’s give a shit about a stupid monocle?”

“exactly, it’s worthless” luther was only digging himself a bigger hole, “so, whoever took it i think it was personal. someone close to him, someone with a grudge”

“yes, cause that’s all we need” y/n rolled her eyes, exasperated “more grudges”

“where are you going with this?” klaus narrowed his eyes, confused.

“well, isn’t it obvious, klaus?” diego sneered up at luther, “he thinks one of us killed dad”

luther opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out. it was true.

“and i bet your top suspect is little y/n” diego pointed a finger right at the said girl. she froze.

“what?”

“you do!” klaus sat back, shocked. 

“how could you think that?” vanya stared in disbelief.

y/n stood abruptly and everyone watched as her eyes turned black. the same way they used to when she had trouble controlling her emotions. they watched as she quickly shook her head, storming out.

“great job luther” diego mocked, “way to lead” then he begun to walk away. 

“that’s not what i’m saying” he tried to defend himself but nobody listened.

“you’re crazy man, you’re crazy.. crazy” klaus stood too, picking up his drink. vanya went to walk away, following diego.

“i’m not finished” luther attempted to stop them. 

“okay well sorry, i’m just gonna go help y/n murder mom, i’ll be right back” he commented sarcastically, walking away. 

“that’s not what i’m saying-” it was no use.

y/n curled up beside ben’s statue, book pressed against her chest. she took deep breaths, trying to regain control. her breath came out shaky as she rocked slowly. eventually she relaxed, leaning into the side of the statue. her cheek pressed against the cold concrete. with a final sigh she looked up at him. 

“hey..” she spoke softly, “i brought our book” she gave a weak chuckle, showing the statue the book she had been cradling. 

“i finished again.. should i start again?” 

diego stood in the doorway, watching her talk. he frowned, she was so sweet. it wasn’t her fault she was born with such a horrible curse. he understood why she got along so well with ben, they both hated their powers. it made training unbearable for them. she begun to read aloud, still leaning into the statue as she sat on the gravel covered floor. with a sigh he walked away, she would be okay, she just needed time. 

time didn’t heal y/n, no matter how much she wished it would. she didn’t have anybody, everybody left her. she had to get over everything all by herself. her words started to come out stuttered, her voice cracked. slowly she begun to sob, tears wetting the pages of her book. she wiped them from her face, standing up. she had to be calm.

she spared one last glance at the statue before walking away.

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

“number eight, you must always keep your emotions in check” reginald scolded, glancing up from his notebook. he scribbled something else, ignoring her watery eyes.

“b-but i can’t” she sobbed out, she was young. her siblings were allowed to show emotion why couldn’t she?

“then you are weak!” reginald snapped his book shut, raising his eyes to glare at her. the words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did. she was never enough, she was always going to be weak. she needed to do better, to be better. to be strong. 

--

“emotions, number eight” the girl supressed her smile at the name her mother had just given her. he wouldn’t even use it. her face fell blank.

“emotions, number eight” the girl took a deep breath, no anger. nothing. you cannot feel. she closed her eyes for a moment, controlling her urge to destroy something. she opened them to see a confused diego. this wasn’t how she was meant to react, he had stolen the ring her mother had given her. she just walked away. 

“emotions, number eight” she caught ben’s eye across the table. he nodded softly. she breathed calmly, no dessert. she was weak, she didn’t deserve dessert. five frowned from beside her, looking between her and their father. something was wrong.

“emotions, number eight” reginald turned on her. she stood, hands gripping the table until her knuckles turned pale. how could he let five go? as she raised her head she heard gasps from her siblings. pogo and reginald shared a look as she glared at the latter, taking a moment to calm herself. it wasn’t working. she was struggling to keep her emotions at bay, she couldn’t supress them. “y/n..” vanya whispered as she ran from the table. she couldn’t do it. he was gone and she hadn’t stopped him.

“emotions, number eight” she couldn’t do it. not this time. she shook her head. her eyes filled with tears. she couldn’t. “number eight! emotions!” she shook her head again, all she could feel was pain. it was her fault. she let him die. her siblings must hate her. her father hates her. ben would hate her. she let him die. she watched him die. 

“number eight! your emotions!” reginald’s voice got louder and she heard herself scream. everything was crumbling. he was gone, it was her fault. “number one, do it” 

it was all.. her fault..

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

on her way to the staircase she paused. her eyes lingered on the painting. five’s painting. she felt herself move without wanting to. she stepped into the room, looking up at her brother sadly.

“i’m sorry” she frowned, “i’m so sorry, five. i shouldn’t have let you go. i should have gone after you. i’m sorry, you must be so alone and i lied. i’m sorry for lying.. i should have done better, i should have listened to dad.. i couldn’t bring you back and it’s all my fault. it’s always my fault.. i’m sorry five, i’m so sorry..” 

“sweetie?” she looked over to see grace. “who are you apologising to? did something happen to you?” the blonde robot walked over, glancing over her to see if she had hurt herself.

“oh, no, it’s okay mom” she smiled fakely, trying to reassure her mother. “i was just thinking out loud. nothing to worry about”

“oh, alright, sweetie” she smiled again, “how about something to eat?”

“i’m okay, thanks. i think i’m just going to rest” grace nodded, allowing her to leave.

she wouldn’t be okay, not until she could stop blaming herself. she took one last look at five' picture before she closed her eyes, trying to stop her tears. when she opened them she appeared in her bedroom. she quickly shut the door, locking it. at least in here she couldn’t do anymore damage.

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“number eight” reginald’s voice was disappointed but y/n couldn’t find it in herself to care. so what if she was a failure, she had always been one anyways. “you are no longer allowed to go on missions with your siblings”

she didn’t raise her head. he wasn’t done. this is what she deserved. “you will instead be working on locating number five”

she froze, staring up at him in shock.

“what?”

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a flash of blue light outside her window broke her out of her thoughts. she stood from her bed, glancing down at the courtyard. it couldn’t be..

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x sibling reader #tua x sibling reader #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader

[nazukisser]

BUTTERFLY LOVERS

🦋 . . . ⇢ aoi yuta x fem!reader

Synopsis; After many attempts of begging to your father to allow you to go to the academy, albeit you were required to dress like a man, you were finally able to fulfill your life’s dream to be a woman who was a scholar. After meeting a young man named Aoi Yuta, you find yourself in a haven- you were studying as you wished with the man you loved. However, that wouldn’t last as long as you wished.

Pairing; aoi yuta x fem!reader

Tags; major character death, disappearance, set in the 2nd century, arranged marriage

Word count; 6319

Notes; This was written for my 100 followers collab, HALCYON. (It’s still open for anyone who would like to join!) You may also find many Looking Glass references here. Thank you to @lisxdumbr for the quotes used~!

As far as everyone knew, women were not to become scholars. Women were to be wedded off at a maritable age and bring honor to their families by having a wealthy and powerful husband. Even if society told you that you couldn’t, you didn’t see why. You were more intelligent than any of the men that you were around, even your brothers who had a more extensive education than you. You had higher test scores and had the ability to solve the issues they were unable to. You were perfectly qualified to be the scholar that you felt you were destined to be. Thus, you were going to do it. Nothing was stopping you apart from your father, who would bring you back if you did it yourself, no matter what. He was pretty much the only person who had such power over you, but there wasn’t much to worry about. After all, he had given you anything you wanted for your entire life; even an education- which the people praised him for giving you such a thing when you asked. He was known for the love he had for his daughter- and it would make perfect sense that he would give that to you as well.

Thus, as per usual when you demanded something, you walked yourself over to his office at his end of the estate, and knocked on the door. He answered right away, and he allowed you to come in. The guards opened the heavy wooden doors for you. Nobody wanted that post, for you would come all too often and they’d have to use too much of their strength for such a menial task as opening the door. You walked up to your father, and with that face, he knew you wanted something. He knew you, and that was a surprise to nobody.

“What would you like, my dearest daughter?” he asked, looking up at you from his desk, filled with ink, brushes, and countless scrolls, with others stacked behind him on the shelves.

“Father, I’d like to go to the academy to become a scholar,” you put on that “pretty please?” smile that usually got you what you wanted.

“... would you like to marry a scholar?” he asked. He must’ve thought you wanted to actually just go there to meet a man. “I can arrange for some nice men to meet you; you don’t need to go anywhere.”

“No! I’d like to become a scholar.” you asserted, once again. You thought you had made that perfectly clear in your previous statement, but apparently not. It was true that it was unheard of for a woman to become a scholar in all of history, but it couldn’t be that unbelievable for an accomplished woman such as you.

Your father looked at you once again, in utter disbelief. You understood that this clearly meant “no”, but you had no clue why.

“... I’m sorry my daughter, please leave for now. I have quite a lot of work to complete. I will see you at dinner later,” he looked back down to resume his work, and you were escorted out of the door. You ran all the way to your own quarters, grabbing a scroll along with ink and a brush. You were going to write him an essay explaining why you were qualified and that there were absolutely no issues with you becoming a scholar. You could bring great achievements to the family as well; perhaps your father was truly stupid- not that anyone else would agree with that statement, as someone who the emperor would occasionally ask advice from.

You spent the entire day writing this essay, and as the last drops of ink dried on the paper, you had this letter sent to your father before dinnertime. You hoped he’d read it before dinner and give you an answer during, but to your surprise, he was busy enough that he ignored your essay until dinnertime. He read it when he finished his meal and sighed. You were being stubborn, sure, but he also made a decision that made absolutely no sense. Thus, that was going to be changed.

“Listen, you’re a woman. You can’t be a scholar; women do not become scholars,” he sighed.

“Older sister! You wish to become a scholar? Why would you?” your younger brother asked, scared out of his mind by your request. Your mother simply sighed. Was it really so surprising? Even with your great wisdom?

“Yes, I wish to become a scholar, Yunru,” you replied to your brother. “It is a prestigious position, and it is something that I do enjoy.”

“Father, I do not understand why women cannot be scholars. I am smarter than even my brother, and many have called my wisdom almost comparable to yours, which is revered all across the empire. If I were a man, you would be eager to send me to the school. Yet, you reject me because I was born a woman,” you pleaded.

“As I’ve said, women do not become scholars. I cannot send you to such a place-” he tried to reason with you.

“Why? Is it illegal? I have not heard of such a law, and I am versed with the laws of the country,” you reasoned in return. Your father sighed, and he still refused your request. Thus, you stormed out of the dinner hall, and you locked yourself up in your room. You hung a scroll outside the door, which read, “I will not leave this chamber until Father grants me permission to study to become a scholar.” You were going to stay there, and if anything happened to you, it would be absolutely their fault. You were winning either way- revenge or simply getting your wish.

You stayed in your room more days than ever. You let no maids in your room, and you passed the time by writing stories and studying. You didn’t let them bring food to you either, for a more impactful effect. While you did get hungry, you had hidden a few snacks in your closet, so those were enough to keep you alive for a few days without a real meal. Of course, you loved the meals the chef cooked, and you’d ask him to make your favorite when you came out. But first, you would stay until father issued an apology and let you go to the academy to study.

In due time, as you expected, an apology scroll was delivered, and you were allowed to study in the academy. It detailed the steps you’d have to take to become a scholar, and while somewhat annoying, they were nothing compared to the excitement that you would feel when you finally become a scholar. You did have to bring a maid with you, and you selected Liling, a maid you could more easily dress as a man. You both had to dress and act like men, which you would gladly do for your dream.

It wasn’t long before the preparations were finished, and you were on your way to the academy. You quickly packed your bags, bringing only a few items- you actually didn’t want to be reminded of home too much. You said goodbye to your family, saying “Yes, from today on, I’ll be happy.” It may have implied that you were unhappy before, which was somewhat true. But in the future, you were going to be happy, and there was nothing to worry about. It was the most exciting day of your life, and you talked to Liling the entire way through. She was so tired of you talking that she fell asleep, but you couldn’t blame her. She was a pleasant one to talk to, and you liked her quite a lot.

“Oh, Liling, we need new names. We have to use manly names now. I’m going to use… Y/N. What about you?” you asked when she was awake. You turned your head from the window to her.

“I’m not quite sure my lady; I’m so good with male names. Maybe you could pick one out for me?” she responded.

“Hm… how about Liwei? It means profit and greatness- you like money, right?” you suggested, laughing just a little.

“You know me too well, my lady… ah- I should call you the young master from now, yes?”

“Yes, of course. I am a man now, the heir to my father’s estate, yes, yes.” “Haha, yes, absolutely, young master.”

When the two of you arrived at the academy, you were greeted by a staff member and were given a tour, which ended at the dorms. It was bigger than expected, and the library was absolutely impressive, even compared to your own library at home, which was quite nice in all aspects as well. Your father had booked the two of you a room of your own; all rooms were shared, so the best he could do was give you and Liling- now Liwei- a private space. After getting settled in, you decided to explore, which Liwei gladly did with you. It was really nice, for once, to walk without the watching eyes of the guards and maids at home. It felt free; it was wonderful.

“Young master, why don’t you try to make some friends instead of simply looking around? I think it would be nice to have a lot of people to talk to,” Liwei suggested, and you took it. Thus, you went around, greeting everyone and striking up conversations. You wouldn’t be able to do this as a woman; you would be called all sorts of names if you did. But your brother did this and was loved by all, and it was refreshing to enjoy something he had been able to enjoy all his life. You greeted all kinds of people: people from the north, people from the south, people from different wealthy families, people who wanted to be there, people who wanted to go home, and people of different ways of speaking. It was a really great insight to see people from all kinds of places in one place; for not a moment did you regret your decision.

You had to eat dinner before the sun had finished setting, and you and Liwei headed to the cafeteria to get something to eat. On your way there, two boys with strange orange hair and green eyes caught your attention, but you had to eat dinner before the cafeteria closed. It would close soon, so you had to eat quickly.

It wasn’t long until you got your classes sorted out, and you were scheduled to attend your classes sooner than you thought. Time passed more quickly to you, or maybe it was because you were having more fun; you were more free. The classes were different from the private tutoring you received at home, and it was actually pretty nice for a chance, even when there were a lot of people listening to the instructor. One of the classes you had on your first day was Confucian Principles, where you met one of the orange haired boys again. He was pretty cute, and his style was unique too; you’d never seen someone who looked like him around campus, besides the other one who looked like him. They were probably brothers.

You usually sat next to Liwei, but she had sprained her ankle while the two of you were having a race around the campus, so she was resting in the dorm room while you were in class. You planned to take notes and share them with her later. So, you decided to sit next to this guy; he seemed really nice, so you figured that it would be nice to take the seat next to him .

“Hello! I’m Y/N, do you mind if I sit next to you?” you asked, your hand on the chair next to his. He responded with a “mhm” and a smile, and you took the seat for yourself. He wasn’t uptight like a lot of people; he seemed human, free. He seemed like someone who wanted to live for himself, and that was something you admired about him right away.

“I’m Aoi Yuta; it’s nice to meet you!” he greeted you back. “And over there’s Hinata.”

“Hinata..? Who..?- ah, is that your brother?”

“Yes!”

“Class is starting now. Stop talking,” the teacher started class and everyone stopped talking. While he was talking, you still were able to take notes, but your mind was somewhere else; it was on the boy next to you. He was unique, and that was what was on your mind. Somehow, he was a breath of fresh air, one that was made of comfort and freedom. You didn’t know how, but he was a comforting presence. You wanted to talk to him, but the teacher was still talking. It was a new feeling, since you always had taken your lessons alone. The teacher was too focused on his lesson to find out if you weren’t paying attention, but he could hear any talking that happened in the room. But what if you weren’t talking, but writing? It would be like really short letters that were received instantly, since he was right next to you. You decided to try it.

Hey, are you listening to the teacher? - Y/N You wrote that on your paper, and shoved it close to where he would see it. He instantly got the message and wrote under it.

Yeah, but what about you? Are YOU listening? - Yuta You smiled as you got that message, and you quickly replied back.

Well, yes, but I already learned it, hehehe. Where are the two of you from? I’ve never seen any people like you before -Y/N

The two of you continued to pass notes to each other all throughout class, but it was okay. You could fill in the rest of the notes later. What was important was that you made a friend, a friend that you felt happy to be around. In women’s circles, you were to be friendly to everyone you didn’t want to make an enemy of, and you had to be careful of what words you said. Each and every meeting was a battlefield, against families who wanted to use their own personal gain. But with Yuta, it was genuine; it seemed like he wanted to be friends with you, that he liked you for who you were instead of your family name and honor. Perhaps it’s because you had a different identity now, but it was truly nice- and freeing.

As class ended, the students packed up to move to their next class, and you didn’t share any class times with him. “Oh, hey, would you like to join me for lunch later?” you asked, hoping to talk to him more.

“Yeah, sure! Do you mind if I bring my little brother along?” he responded, as he hurriedly rolled up his scroll.

“Why not? The more the merrier.”

“Great! See ya then!”

You waved back at him, and the two of you parted ways to go to your next classes.

Time flew by, and you headed to the cafeteria. As you walked, you smiled; you’d be able to see Yuta again!

“Boo!” someone yelled as they tapped your shoulder, causing you to flinch. It sounded like Yuta, but he wouldn’t be this energetic at this time of day, you’d thought. You look behind your back to see who it was, and it turns out it was the brothers arriving together. As you entered the cafeteria, you looked around for the food you wanted to eat. You ordered what you wanted to eat, and it turned out that the two of you ordered the same dish. You and Yuta laughed together, and when you went to get a table. You sat across with your food, with a plate for Liwei sitting next to you. You’d bring it to her after you ate before going to your afternoon classes.

All throughout lunch, you talked with the twins, about various topics. It wasn’t even school related, like you had done with the other people when you had tried to socialize with everyone the day you had arrived at the academy. They flowed naturally; it was easy to keep in conversation with them. Though, when the topic of your family and home life came up, all three of you were vague about it. Many openly boasted about their family’s achievements, but not any of you. You wondered what happened in the Aoi family, but you didn’t want to pry, especially since you had no need of telling who you really were. It was known that your father had just a daughter and a son, and you weren’t going as your brother.

The table was loud, and you were glad that none of you got scolded for it. It was probably one of the most fun conversations you’d ever had; you hadn’t laughed like that. There was never a time you hadn’t purposely laughed; all of them were an intentional action decided before it was done. Perhaps this real laugh was why everyone is told to imitate them.

During class, the two of you talked a lot- on paper, of course. The two of you had never gotten caught, and you didn’t intend to. In fact, you didn’t know if it was punishable, because there was no rule regarding that. You could use that to your advantage… especially since it wasn’t bothering anymore (It was mutual between the two of you, so none of you would be counted as being bothered). In any case, class became more of a hangout for the two of you than a class, and since you could simply study it on your own later, nobody really found out- except maybe the people sitting behind you. Maybe they saw; you didn’t know. They didn’t say anything.

You also often met at the library; your father had rented a private study room there, and you enjoyed it to the fullest, with Liwei, Yuta, and Hinata. Your father had rented it for you because you said you enjoyed studying alone, and he wanted to give you a big space to do that in. The dorm room was fine, since it was just Liwei, but you wouldn’t refuse this nice space. After all, it was right near all the scrolls you needed, and it was normally quiet. You couldn’t be as loud as you could be, of course, but the walls were thick enough that you could have a conversation without someone overhearing from the next room over. That was really nice; you never realized how nice privacy was before this. Sometimes, you would study, and other times you’d just hang out. You and Yuta would sit by the desk and doodle on paper while talking or just staring out the window while you talked; they were really quite calming.

“Liling, are… you failing?” you asked as she studied.

“Yes, young master. I’m not as smart as you, as I’m just a maid…” she sighed. She still needed to pass to stay though, and you weren’t going to let her go. Okay! New mission: raise Liwei’s grades.

“Alright! From now on, I’m going to teach you everything,” you put your hands to your hips.

“You don’t need to do that… just teach me the things I don’t understand.”

“That sounds better, actually. You know what, what if all three of us held study sessions and you tagged along during the break?” “Three of us?” “Me, Yuta, and Hinata.”

“Oh, the Aoi twins.” “Yeah. They’re pretty smart.” “That sounds great… but why am I just tagging along?”

“Wait- hold on. We three are going to become teachers. Yes, we’re going to teach you what you don’t know. And if there’s nothing for us to teach, we’ll just study for ourselves!”

“Are you sure?” “Yeah! We’ll go ask them tomorrow at lunch.”

“That sounds amazing! Thank you so much.” “Hehe, I’m not letting my best maid go just yet.’ “Ahaha, thank you, young master.”

The two of you met up with the twins at lunch again, as per usual, and you greeted Yuta with your shared hand clap. It was something the two of you would do, and it was fun. It was a greeting the two of you shared, and you loved it. Other students questioned it and found no use for it, but it was just for fun. There didn’t need to be any other reason to do anything as harmless as that. Some people said it was annoying, but they were maybe just jealous that they didn’t have anything like that for them and their best friends.

“Hey, Yuta, Hinata, I was thinking we could have a training camp during the break,” you suggested.

“Really? Sure, why not?” Yuta agreed. You were glad he didn’t pry; you knew Liwei didn’t want her grades to be known to everyone else in such a place.

“Yeah! Let’s do it; it sounds like a great idea!” Hinata was in on the idea. You all cheered to the group study sessions over break, and everyone was going to get smarter. Though, you were more excited to be spending more time with Yuta.

You made great use of the library room during this time; as everyone was on break, they took the time to go to town, sightsee, or simply rest- actually, the people who lived more nearby visited their family. Though, a lot of people came from places far across the empire, so many stayed during the break. You stayed there pretty much all day, either joking around or diligently studying, and Liwei would flick your heads whenever you fooled around too much. Somehow, you and Yuta talked to each other a lot, whether you were studying or not, leaving Liwei and Hinata to themselves. Whenever you remembered about them, you felt bad for ignoring them, but they had quickly learned to simply leave you alone when only Yuta was on your mind. Perhaps the same was for Yuta; they reacted the same to him as well.

One thing you did was that if everyone didn’t get something, you’d all think about how the previous scholars did it and everyone went to find the answer. Whether it was from the materials, you figured it out, or found someone who was willing to explain it to you, if you found it for the group first, you didn’t have to pay for lunch or dinner, either meal that day. It was a fun game, and one time you and Yuta had found it together, so both of you had gotten free dinner that day.

“Young master…”

“Yes, Liwei?” “I… something’s been weighing on my mind, and I haven’t been able to focus lately. I thin- I think I’m going to skip classes today, just to get myself sorted out. I’m sorry I’m not able to serve-” “Stop right there, we’re both skipping.” “Huh? No, you want to go to class, right?”

“Yes, but you’re more important to me. Who else has been by my side for this long? If I don’t take good care of you, I’m a failure of a master. Plus, I can call in sick too. I’m good at pretending; Yuta’s a good teacher at that. I’ve been learning all kinds of odd skills from him; it’s surprisingly fun to learn something useless. Anyways, in any case, we’re going to sort this out together, okay? Don’t worry about me; I can learn the material on my own anyways.”

“Thank you…” Liling cried on your shoulder, and you hugged her. All you could do was to hold her now and call in sick, which you did.

It took a while for her to calm down; you didn’t know what kind of news she received to have such a reaction. “Okay… I think I’m ready to talk about it.”

“I’m all ears, Liling.”

“I… think I like Hinata- but wait- I know that I can’t be with him. I’m here thanks to you, and I should be grateful that I got to be here. I’m just a maid, and he’s the son of a nobleman…”

Around lunch time, someone came to deliver food, and you pretended to be sick again just to keep up appearances. After classes ended, Yuta and Hinata dropped by, to check if the two of you were alright- no one had seen you all day, so they were worried about the two of you.

“Helloooo, anyone home?” they knocked on the door. You could tell it was them right away; you didn’t even bother looking sick to them. You opened the door, and you were greeted by a hug from Yuta. It was warm, and you melted in it. It had been a stressful day, and you didn’t want to let go.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked, not having let go yet.

“Mhm… I’m fine, just uh, tired I guess? It’s been… a long day, for me and Liwei.” you separated from the hug.

You looked at Liling and Hinata, and you decided that it would be best if they talked it out. You took Yuta’s hand and bolted out of there, until you weren’t in sight. You found yourself outside of the school, entering the forest that was nearby. The school was at the edge of town and the forest was an easy place for the sounds of nature to be heard; many of the scholars liked having gardens and nature around. It was private too; not many actually went deep into the forest at all. Before long, you stopped to catch your breath, and it was a while until you had realized that you were still holding Yuta’s hand. You quickly took it back and looked away, trying to think of a response as to why you did that.

“Uhm-” Yuta pulled you into a hug, and you hugged him back. He knew exactly what you needed. You stood there, enveloped in his warmth. His presence was comforting, and the two of you stood in silence- a comfortable silence. You could feel each others’ breaths, but it didn’t feel weird. In fact, it was a sign that the both of you were at least somewhat okay.

“... Y/N, do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Mhm,” you nodded your head, but you still didn’t let go. You told him what Liling had told you- and who Liling really was, though you didn't really tell about yourself- you knew he probably had a really good guess of who you were. Though, you weren’t ready to talk about that. The time would come… eventually. You did feel bad for telling him without Liling, but she wouldn’t mind; after all, it was the Aoi twins. Would they tell? Of course not. And plus, she probably told Hinata all about it already.

“... I… think we should let go…” you said, pulling away from the hug you had been standing in for who knows how long. He pulled back as well, and the two of you started to head back. After a short while, the awkwardness subsided, and the two of you began to talk and joke around as normal. It wasn’t long before the conversation the two of you just had was behind you, and you enjoyed each other’s company once more.

“You know, I’m so glad I met you, Yuta.”

“Really? Ahaha, I’m so glad I met you too, Y/N!”

“Mhm, thanks to you, I’ll keep moving forward, I’m not alone.”

It wasn’t long before the two of you returned to the dorm, to find that Liling and Hinata had already parted ways. You waved off to him, saying, “Good night! I love you!” and he responded with that adorable laugh of his. He set off to find his brother, and you kept Liling company. You wanted to ask what had happened, but you decided not to. She seemed to have found some kind of closure, and if you were to ask, you might have just opened it up again. So, unless she was going to tell you, you didn’t ask.

“Young master, there’s a letter from home,” Liling handed you a letter that had arrived for you. You weren’t expecting anything from them; it wasn’t time for their monthly check-in letters yet. As you opened it, you knew you were going to be disappointed. You sighed, and you opened the letter. It described that you were to return home, and you were to be wedded with the son of a rich family of the city closest to yoru village. You couldn’t believe this. After all this, living the life you wished to live, your dreams were taken away from you. Last time, you were able to- though childishly- with that tantrum. This time, faking your own death might be necessary. However, it would be quite a pain to do such a big task… and it would put shame on your own name as well. You hug Liling, knowing that she’ll be brought home as well. You had lived your best life in the academy, even though it was short. You were given fresh air, rather than the stale stench of strict society.

Perhaps you had your fill of life; now it was time to do your inevitable duty. It was something you had always hated; in fact, you were hoping it wasn’t going to happen, that your father loved you enough to not do this to you. But you were mistaken. Heartbreak after heartbreak; such was life, you supposed. You began to pack your bags, leaving no one notice. You couldn’t face Yuta with such news. You inquired about what Liling was going to do, and they were going to do the same. A carriage arrived for you the next day, and during class, you quietly got ready to go aboard to go home.

“Y/N! Wait! Where are you going?” his voice broke near the end of the sentence, and you almost burst into tears. Perhaps it was better that you became the villain instead, that he could move on from you and that he’d live a happier life without you.

“Yuta, the next time you see me, don’t trust me. I lied to you. Who I am isn’t who I showed; I will be returning now,” you said. You mouthed where you were going to him, perhaps as a way of begging for help. You didn’t want to do this, and perhaps, he could tell. Maybe he’d save you- but he probably couldn’t. What you said earlier wasn’t a lie, technically. You did lie to him; you lied to everyone in that school. You were returning to your old image. The you that existed during the time you spent in the academy was a different person, and it was going to stay there. There was nowhere you could show that anymore, so it minus well be dead. You got in the carriage with Liling, who was already crying. You consoled her as it started moving.

“Young ma- my lady, are you sure you aren’t going to rebel like last time?” Liling asked.

“... I don’t think I can escape this one, Liling. Though, I think I might’ve hurt his feelings by leaving so suddenly- but if I’d stayed longer, who knows what I would’ve done…” “I think you are.”

You froze. “Is it true? Am I only hurting him with this?” “Yes, my lady. Yes.”

The tears couldn’t stop.

“Hinata, I’ll be gone over break, and I’ll be missing for a few days after. Sorry… please cover for me.” Yuta rushed out, leaving a note on his brother’s desk. Yuta ran to town to find a carriage, and he finally found one going the way he intended to go after hours of searching. It was raining, and he was soaked, but he didn’t care. He was going to find you as soon as he could. The ride there was long and bumpy, but it was nothing compared to what was going on in his mind. It had only been a few days, yet he felt so empty. He missed your smile, your voice, the way you never wanted to let go of his hugs. There were things left unsaid, but was it better if they weren’t? It was a wonder, how you got him to do things he would have never imagined doing before. Skipping classes? Leaving Hinata like this? Leaving and maybe not being able to come back?

When he arrived, he immediately asked for you, but he was very quickly turned away by the guards. No outside men were to come in contact with you until the wedding. He then asks to see Liling, who was brought to see him. “Hi.” “Oh, Yuta. What can I do for you?” Liling spoke in the monotone voice she always used to greet guests, void of life. She was like a completely different person; he saw nothing of the girl who had cared for you during the time you were in the academy.

“What’s happening? Where can I see Y/N?” Yuta needed to see you. There was this feeling, the feeling that if he didn’t meet you now, he’d lose you forever.

“Yuta… there’s no escaping this one. She’s smart, but she can’t find a way to escape the situation. She would’ve wanted to escape from this too, but she can’t.” “What can I-” “The best you can do is propose to her and hope that the arrangements for the previous marriage hadn’t been settled yet. I’m not able to provide any other information. Good luck, Yuta.”

She escorted him to the guest room, where he waited until your father came to receive him. You were popular and had many marriage requests from many neighboring cities, but he had never come across one who had come himself. That was something that he admired; it was something he did for his wife. When he had to make a decision, though, it was always house over family. House over family. He would use what he gained from his esteemed achievements for his family, but he would never do something for his family that put the family name at risk. It was the only thing he could do for his ancestors.

Yuta was soon kicked out after being rejected and told to never return. “It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.” he mumbled to himself as he walked back out to go somewhere, go anywhere. He didn’t have much purpose left. Hinata would probably be fine without him. He broke into tears. It wasn’t long before he felt numb, empty. He found a place to rest, somewhere at least somewhat comfortable. He wanted to laugh, laugh a pity for himself. He couldn’t do anything, anything for the one he loved. All he could do is laugh at himself for his own incompetence. Yet he couldn’t even laugh. He had forgotten to.

“Maybe I could just sleep it off. Yes, I just need to go to sleep. I just need to go to sleep again. That’s it. I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling better.” Then and there, he fell asleep and never woke up.

“My lady, wake up. It’s the day of your wedding; we need to get you ready for it,” Liling woke you up. You groaned, not wanting to be separated from the covers. You were dreaming, dreaming of Yuta. Ever since you had left, you had dreamt of him every day. You dreamed of a life with you and him together, but you knew you couldn't do that. Inevitably, it fueled your urge to resist, though your mind told you that it was impossible- and it was right. There was no point in doing something that only brought negative effects in the hope of an imaginary positive outcome.

During the day, you were dolled up; maids from your mother’s chambers prepared you by putting on your makeup, dressing you in your dress, and placing bedazzling gold and jewels. Your wedding dress was bright red, a symbol of love and luck. That’s what it was meant to symbolize, but nothing about this day had any love or luck. It was planned, hard and cold.

When you had finished, you were placed in a carriage to be sent to your future husband’s town, where you were to spend your entire life. It was raining, pouring, too much for your carriage to continue. It may have been a bad omen, but no one spoke about it on this day. You got out of the carriage, and Liling held an umbrella above both of your heads. You were curious to see who was in the tomb which laid on the side of the road, and as you approached it, a dreadful feeling emerged. A name was engraved on it: Aoi Yuta. You ran from under the umbrella, off the stone pathway and into the muddy grass field. You were soaked, but it never once crossed your mind. You went inside, to find a coffin, presumably Yuta’s. It was painted pitch black, and by the looks of it, it was painted very recently. Guilt hit upon you. What would’ve happened if you had simply resisted your father? It wasn’t worth it anymore, living like this. What was to care about, if you couldn’t breathe the air of freedom you so longed for? Was it worth it to live without it?

You approached the coffin, your footsteps ever so audible. As your hand neared the paint, it opened just so slightly, and you used your hand to open it further. Yet, it was empty.

When Liling arrived at the tomb, she went inside to look for you, only to see two orange butterflies exit into the newfound sunlight.

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ qian ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

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#enstars #enstars x reader #aoi yuta #aoi yuta x reader #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars #aoi yuta x you #aoi yuta x y/n #enstars x you #enstars x y/n #aoi yuta angst #enstars angst

[mosswillow]

Hey I saw that your requests for headcanons are open so if it's not a problem for you I had this idea in my head on how would the Avengers react on reader having pierced nipples(I was thinking about Tony, Steve, Thor, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Peter, Wanda, Vision, Dr Strange. If they are too much you can write whoever you want or if you have any idea for anyone else go fo it) And so like I had it in my head as if reader is kinda new in the team and now one really new that until one day she wore a crop top without a bra and they were showing. Like after a bath or in the morning right after she woke up, and the team isn't really fond of her so they aren't making any comments about it, just their thoughts. It's okay if you don't want to or can't write it but thank you in advanced

a/n- Oh my goodness. I wrote this whole fic (I know the ask was for a head-cannon but Inn this case a fic actually felt easier.) then came back to post and realized it's not what you asked for. 🤦‍♀️ I'm so sorry Anon, it's also been months I think that you've been waiting. They're supposed to not like her and it's all in their heads. I wrote it with them all reacting to it verbally, and they like her. Send another ask and lmk if you want me to redo this. I'm going to go ahead and release what I already wrote for now.

Here now - Steve Rogers x Fem reader. (plus a little bit of Tony, Sam, Thor, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Bucky, Peter, Wanda, Vision, and Dr. Strange.)

Warnings - dark(ish), 18+ adult content, nipple piercings.

They’re never up this late, or at least they haven't been since you moved in with them. You’re the new girl still and while they’re all kind to you, you don’t fit in. It’s like they’re a family. They have history together that you just don’t. They’ve been through so much together while you just kinda just fell into it. Literally.

Yeah sure, you have super strength but it’s not something you want. Unlike most of the others, your power was something you were born with. You’ve never wanted to be a hero, you just want to be normal.

One day you were walking home from work while watching some stupid cat tik tok. You tripped and fell into this guy, tanging together with him on the sidewalk. When you looked up the entire avenger squad was running your way. Then you noticed the blood. The guy was covered in it. He had this look in his eyes that felt off. You didn't think, just punched. Your fist collided with his face, giving a satisfying crunch before he could scurry away.

Captain America got to you first and to your surprise chewed you out for your recklessness, it was quite the out of body experience. According to him, you shouldn’t have been on your phone while walking. He didn’t even say thank you or anything for catching the guy. But oh, how it made you feel with him standing over you all big with his muscles and piercing blue eyes. You should have been offended by how he was treating you but instead found yourself turned on.

Knocking out an evil villain made you a target, or so you were told. Your options were to join the avengers or live knowing that someone would probably show up in your life and either kill you or turn you into a weapon. You didn’t have much of a choice but to go with them.

That was a month ago. Since then you’ve mostly tried to stay to yourself.

Today, or rather tonight, you crave ice cream.

The freezer is always filled with all sorts of treats so you’ve made a sort of routine a few nights a week where you sneak out and eat a dessert.

You plop a hefty spoonful of vanilla ice cream into a bowl and bring the sweet treat to your lips, moaning at how good it tastes. Someone coughs and you look up into dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sorry, was this yours?” you ask Sam.

“No, you’re good, keep going.” He says, smirking as he steps back and crosses his arms.

You pause for a few minutes trying to understand what’s happening.

“Where’s Cap?” he asks.

“I don’t know?”

“Woah,” Tony’s voice rings through the air. you look up to see the whole crew walking in sans Vision and his highness, Captain America.

They look at you like you’re naked or something and it makes you feel more and more uncomfortable. Then you realize that they’re not looking at you, they’re looking at your breasts.

Fuck.

You look down and remember you’re not wearing a bra. They don't know that your nipples are pierced, or didn't know. Now they do.

“Hey, what’s everyone doing in here?” Vision walks in and looks around, knitting his brow in confusion. He looks at your nipples but doesn't seem surprised. “I don't understand.”

“I’ll explain later,” Wanda says quietly.

“Apparently nobody here has seen a nipple piercing before.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s just a surprise to come in here and see you showing them off in that little outfit. I should have known, the shy ones are always the ones with fun surprises.”  Tony says.

“You should have heard her moaning a few minutes ago,” Sam chimes in.

You should walk away but your feet won’t move.

“We’re looking respectfully. Wanda says.

“I’m looking a bit disrespectful.” Natasha says. “Sorry, ”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” Bucky asks.

“You can't ask that Buck.” Bruce chides.

“I think I’m going to go to my room.” You finally say, moving towards the hallway.

“You don’t have to leave. I’ve come across many women with piercings, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  Thor laughs.

“Yeah, don't leave, stay right there and moan more.” Clint adds.

“Well now she’s definitely going to leave,” Peter says, glaring at Clint. "and she was just starting to warm up to us. I'm tired of waiting for-" He's elbowed by Natasha.

“Children. Actual children.” Stephen sighs.

“Cap’s going to be pissed,” Tony says.

“Why?” you ask, stopping and turning around.

“She doesn't know,” Peter says.

“Know what?”

“He obviously has a thing for you,” Wanda rolls her eyes.

“So?”

“He’s old fashioned, doesn’t like anyone walking around barely clothed, let alone his girl. He gets jealous.” Bucky shrugs.

“We’re also not really supposed to have piercings,” Peter adds.

You slowly back away. “Ok, well this conversation was weird… let’s not do it again.”

You slink back into the hallway and almost reach your room when you’re pushed against the wall. You’re used to being able to push anyone off but Steve is even stronger than you. Warmth pools in your belly as you realize that you feel totally powerless for the first time in your life. Fuck, why does this turn you on so much?

“Did it hurt,” Steve whispers. He brings his fingers to a nipple and plays with it, making your knees go weak.

“When I got it, yes.”

“And now?”

“It… It feels good.”

“Good,” he purrs, groping at your breasts.

He reaches around you and opens the handle, pushing you in.

“You’ll have to get rid of them,” he says frowning.

Fire is ignited inside you.

“You can’t tell me not to get rid of them just because of your stupid sexism.”

“Oh, you misunderstand,” he says “I like them. If it was up to me you’d keep them,”

“Then why?”

“Combat and piercings don’t mix,” he shrugs.

“Piercings or not, don’t wear this outfit out of your room again,” he brushes a finger over one of the piercings. “And yes, I’m definitely being sexist.”

“I-” your breath hitches as he leans into your ear and takes a lobe in his mouth, “But you like it, don't you naughty girl?” He whispers.

You bite your lower lip and flutter your eyelashes. You should say something, anything. He backs off of you and opens your door.

“Welcome to the team,” he smirks before leaving.

#dark!avengers x reader #dark avengers #dark!steve rogers #dark mcu

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

[dragon-of-dreams]

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

 Wordcount: 2,800

 In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

           After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

           What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

           According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

           You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

           You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

           Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

           So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

           Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

           You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

           “Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

           “Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

           On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

           The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

           At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

           As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#dark!Bucky Barnes #dark Bucky #dark!Bucky #Bucky x reader #dark!Bucky x reader #marvel #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #prompt #captain america #the winter soldier #cafe au

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

#anti yashahime #anti sessrin #sesshomaru is rin's dad #papamaru #hogosha 💖 #the sequel may not be canon but sunrise can still burn in hell

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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[maswritingblog]

Unexpected - an Oberyn Martell oneshot

Summary: After spending one night with Prince Oberyn Martell, Cecilia returned to her father’s castle with every intention of pretending she hadn’t had the best night of her life. That is until she discovers she is with child, just in time for Oberyn Martell to pay her family a visit.

Warnings: None, really. Just a feeling a worthlessness, pregnancy if you are triggered by that.

{A/N: I got the idea for this from a dream I had, figured I should write it out. It is VERY long, I apologize. This could also potentially become a series if people want it to.}

It had been a bad idea, of course it had. On the list of bad decisions she’d made in her life, this one may have just beat them all. But she had been mistreated her entire life, made to feel like she was nothing and would always be nothing…and he had treated her like she was something so precious. Gods, she had felt so much better in his presence for one night than she had felt with her family her entire life.

But it had only been one night, and she had returned to being nothing the next morning, her little secret tucked away in her mind to think about only when she was in her chambers late at night.

Secrets found a way of coming to light, though, and hers decided it would make itself known in such a cruel fashion.

She had thought she could put it behind her, go back to living a meaningless life as if it had only been a fantasy, but then she realized she had missed two of her cycles. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with a child, or how she would even manage; her family would surely use this as more reason to torment her. Worst of all, they probably wouldn’t even attempt to marry her off to save her honor because she just wasn’t worth it.

Her already insignificant name would mean even less once it got out.

So, she hid it away, just like that night, and for another missed cycle it seemed like a decent plan, but she knew there would come a time when she would not be able to hide it anymore. She needed to do something, needed to help herself the way no one else would help her.

She planned to run away to a place where no one knew her. At least if she was on her own, she could lie and say her husband had perished and left her to raise the child alone; on her own she could attempt to save her reputation.

The morning of the day she planned to leave, he arrived.

Her father had announced as they were breaking their fast that they would be hosting the Prince of Dorne and some of his people as they passed through on their way back home. She had nearly choked on her food when she heard.

She had never thought about seeing him again, never imagined that was a possibility. The racing of her heart was not enough for her to give up on her plan of escape, however, she would never assume a prince would want anything to do with a child he had sired one night in a city that had not been either of their own.

There was to be a feast in honor of the prince’s arrival, she would simply slip out while her family was distracted.

~~~~~~~

That evening, the festivities had begun. She had already packed a small bag of only the things she thought she could not live without and stashed it somewhere close to the servants’ entrance; she would wait until the right moment and slip out through the many passageways she had played in as a child. She knew the castle like the back of her hand, it would be easy.

She had not expected how seeing him again would make her feel. As she stood with her family waiting to greet the prince and those traveling with him, her heart was pounding in her chest. When she spotted him, walking forward with a beautiful woman on his arm, she felt her knees might buckle.

Oberyn was still as handsome as he had been that night, more beautiful than anything that deserved to be within the walls of a home she had grown to hate so much. Her father was first to greet him, but she could hardly hear the words he was saying with the rushing in her ears. It wasn’t until her father began to present her sisters that she focused.

As he introduced the oldest, Rosalia, and the middle child, Emilia, he boasted about each of their talents in whichever hobbies they had taken up as Oberyn simply nodded in acknowledgment from where he stood.

“And, finally, my youngest, Cecilia.”

Her father didn’t brag on any of her accomplishments, though she had just as many as her sisters, and it didn’t surprise her in the least.

The prince’s deep, brown eyes, eyes she could remember above her so clearly, were on hers, and if he remembered her, he did not indicate it in any way. His expression flickered briefly at her father’s lack of words following her name, and the lips she knew too well parted.

“I’m sure this one has talents of her own, as well.” He said simply, that accent washing over her.

She hoped he wouldn’t notice her blush, but naturally he did.

“We have prepared your rooms, as well as a feast for this evening.” Her father ignored the comment.

Oberyn nodded. “Ellaria and I should like to settle in after a long journey, but a feast sounds wonderful.”

Servants were ushered forward to lead them away, and Cecilia tried not to think too much about how his eyes lingered on hers as he moved passed her, Ellaria’s eyes also studying her curiously.

She wondered if she knew about that night.

~~~~~~~

The festivities were in full swing, and Cecilia found herself nervous. She watched people dancing from her seat at the end of the table, far away from her father and their royal guests, and waited for her moment.

She hoped nobody would notice, that she could escape before she had to look Oberyn in the eyes again. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it if he approached her.

The time came once her sisters were asked to dance by two men from a neighboring family that had come for the feast. With the two older women away from the table, it was acceptable for her to stand as well. She moved slowly, skirting around people in the room until she reached the doors.

The final glance she took wasn’t hesitance to leave this place, she had left it a long time ago, but to make sure there were no eyes on her. As usual, she was forgotten by everyone.

At least that’s what she believed.

The hallway was dark, the torches not having been lit yet since everyone was in the great hall. She didn’t need light to find her way, though.

There was a large portrait hanging on the wall that looked like an ordinary painting of one of her three times great-grandfather, but behind it was a passageway that had been used long ago for allowing servants to navigate the castle easier. It hadn’t been used for that purpose in many years, but she had found herself in it several times.

Before she could so much as slide the portrait aside, a voice stopped her.

“I thought you might save me a dance.”

She stiffened, heart suddenly racing in her chest at his voice. It had haunted her dreams in the best way for many moons. She faced him, knowing this would either delay her escape or stop it all together.

“Your Highness.” She addressed him, dropping into a curtsy quickly.

Even in the hallway only lit by moonlight, he was beautiful.

He stepped forward, a playful smirk on his lips. “I thought I told you to call me Oberyn?” he mused. “Your Highness is so formal, especially for someone who has known me so closely.”

Gods, he must know what his voice did to her, there was no way he didn’t.

Cecilia took a steadying breath. “I did not think you would remember someone like me. I thought it best to pretend formalities were still necessary.”

He was still moving towards her slowly, eyes raking her frame in a way that almost made her shiver.

When he reached her, his hand lifted to brush her hair off her shoulder, the tips of his fingers ghosting against the skin of her neck and setting her on fire. “How could I forget someone like you?”

He said ‘someone’ differently than she did. She did not put much value in it, while he seemed to make the one word seem like everything.

“Will you join me for a dance?” He asked, those haunting eyes flickering over her face before locking on hers.

Her father would certainly love to see his least favorite child dancing with a prince instead of her older sisters, he would be most displeased with her. If only he knew how she had done much more than dance when she had met him, that she carried the proof of that inside her.

As much as she longed to show her family up by dancing with him, she knew she couldn’t if she wanted to leave. Fortunately, she had spent her entire life saying just the right words to placate those around her, to keep them happy enough to leave her be.

“I would love to,” she told him with a small smile. “I just need a moment alone, away from all the noise.”

Unfortunately, he had more to say. “Your father has spent the entire night trying to push your sisters on a prince, and yet he has not said a word of his youngest.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead offering him a small smile. She was sure it didn’t meet her eyes. “My father would never wish to push me on anyone, least of all a prince.”

Oberyn frowned, brows furrowing at her words. He looked confused, even a bit concerned, and he glanced back towards the great hall for a moment before his eyes were on her again. “And why is that?”

Cecilia shrugged one shoulder, trying to fight back the sudden nausea; whether it had anything to do with her condition or with the thought that she had just exposed her father’s hatred towards her to Oberyn wasn’t clear.

“Ask him yourself and I am sure he would have plenty to say about it.” She replied quietly, feeling small even under his warm gaze.

He seemed to notice her change in mood, the frown on his face deepening with worry, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Cecilia—"

She needed to leave, she didn’t have much time and her window was closing. She interrupted him, even though it would be improper in any other setting. “I would very much like to dance with you, Your Highness. Would you wait for me in the great hall?”

Though he had more to say, and still appeared concern about her words, he seemed to understand she wished to be alone. And maybe he sensed something else, because his hand slipped into hers and he brought her knuckles up to brush his lips against them.

“I will wait all night if I have to.” He told her softly, accent lilting and warm eyes caressing the features of her face once more before he backed away. His eyes stayed on hers a moment longer, and then he turned and disappeared back into the party.

She moved quickly, slipping through the opening behind the portrait and letting it fall back into place behind her, a tear slipping down her face as she realized she would never see his beautiful face again.

~~~~~~~

Many moons later, Cecilia was settled into a village a long journey by sea from her own home. She found herself happier around the people in the village than she had ever been at home, and they treated her better than she probably deserved.

The story she had spun, of a husband who had passed and left her with nothing more than the child growing in her womb, was believed by everyone she had told it to. The elderly man and woman she lived next to took good care of her, doting on her the way she had always dreamed her family would. The only thing she hated was the looks her swollen stomach received from those around her, the pity for a woman alone with child. She was close to having the baby, it would only be two more moons if her calculations were correct.

One day, she was returning from the river with a wooden basket of linens when her neighbor approached. The elderly woman gripped her arm firmly, leaning in close to whisper to her.

“There’s a man in your home.” She told her, causing Cecilia’s heart to drop. “I offered him tea at our home while he waited, but he insisted. He seems awfully important.”

Her first thought was that it was her father. While he would not care she was gone, he might care about the way her disappearance had no doubt tarnished his reputation. If he had come to collect her, she was not sure what she would do. Or what he would do when he saw she was with child.

She thanked the woman and waited until she disappeared into her home before she looked down at her stomach. Her dress was a little loose, but not loose enough to hide the roundness there. She held the basket in front of her and hoped it would be enough to conceal it.

But when she entered the house, she was surprised to find it was not her father who had come for her.

Her shock at seeing a prince of all people sitting on the old furniture that he been gifted to her by her neighbors was almost enough to make her drop the basket, but the idea of him knowing was enough for her to tighten her grip.

“Your H-Highness?” she choked out. “What are you doing here?”

Oberyn motioned for the guard that stood on the other side of the room to leave them. Once the man had stepped outside, Oberyn’s eyes were on her. “I waited for our dance, but you never came back.”

She felt only a slight hint of shame. “Is that why you are here? To dance?”

He stood from the dusty lounge and stepped towards her. “I am here because I heard some rumors that concerned me.”

Cecilia gripped the basket tighter.

“The servants at your father’s castle have a hard time keeping their mouths from running. Ellaria heard something quite interesting about you.”

He was stepping closer, and she moved backwards for every step until her back hit the wall and she felt trapped. He knew, how could he know? How could anyone back home have known?

“Your handmaid mentioned that you had not had your cycles in several months. That you had returned from your trip to a neighboring country with something more than what you were supposed to.”

Gods. Why had she not thought of that? She should have pricked her finger and smeared blood on her sheets to hide it. How had she been so stupid? And now what? Would he be angry at her? Would he want to hide her away so nobody would know of his indiscretions?

Her throat was tight, she could not even bring herself to respond, not even to try and deny it.

“If that is true, then you have taken something very important to me, and hidden it away.”

Important?

He was in front of her now, and he reached forward to grasp the basket, pulling it from her arms despite her reluctance to release it. As he placed it on the floor, his eyes were trained on her stomach, where his suspicions had been confirmed. His face didn’t appear to be angry, but perhaps he was just good at hiding his emotions.

“Did you know that night? Is that why you left?” he finally asked, eyes meeting hers once more.

She blinked her burning eyes, a couple of tears dropping down her cheeks as she swallowed. “Yes.”

He studied her for a long while, his face remaining the same as it had been when he had begun speaking. Finally, his hands raised towards her face, causing her to flinch hard. He froze.

“I would not harm you.” He assured her, eyes softening before he brushed the tears off her face gently and cupped her face in his hands. “Why did you run?”

His gentleness was startling and unexpected. “My-My father, he would have been angry. He would have hid me away in some far tower, at least if I hid myself away I could be free.”

Oberyn’s thumb brushed the apple of her cheek before his hands dropped from her face. “I am sorry you had to leave your home because of me. Why did you not tell me that night that you were with child?”

She swallowed, and found her face felt cold and lonely without his hands there. “You are a prince and I am…nobody important. I did not want to ruin your reputation. And I did not think you would care.” She said honestly.

There was a small grin on his face. “You do not know much about me, do you?” he wondered in amusement, turning to wander back to the lounge, although he did not sit. “In Dorne, bastards are cherished as much as those who are born within wedlock. In fact, I have eight bastard daughters of my own, and I love them each very dearly.”

Cecilia tried not to show her shock too much, for fear he might mistake it for something else. Eight daughters? And he genuinely loved them and cared for them? Raised them and acknowledged them as his own? Maybe she had been really wrong about her idea of him.

“I would like for you to come back to Dorne with me.” Oberyn continued.

She finally found her voice. “Y-You want me to go to Dorne?”

He nodded. “I will care for you and the child. A new baby would be very welcome, my youngest is already on her fifth name day.”

“Y-You want me to go to Dorne?” she repeated, still in shock.

Oberyn offered her a gentle smile, returning to stand in front of her and taking her hands in his. His eyes were warm and welcoming. “I would never force you to join me, but believe me when I say that I would very much like to know you. And to know our child.”

It wasn’t what she was expecting when she had found him in her home. She expected anger, expected him to disown the child immediately and never wish to see her again. She did not expect him to clearly love the child so much already, to want them in his life.

She stopped thinking about it and nodded. “O-Okay. I’ll go to Dorne with you.”

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal imagine #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell smut #pedro pascal smut #mywriting #pedro pascal

[dadsbongos]

late night for a sinner

Movie/Game/Show: The Devil All The Time Dynamic: Arvin Russell/Reader Warnings: religious overtones cuz it’s this movie, described and enacted violence (against teagardin), preston teagardin (and all his sexual assault-y/manipulative bs) Notes: uhm people got married at like 20 in the 50s and i assume arvin is about 20 so no i will not apologize for making you his wife, my country-accent writing is bad(?) idk Summary: Arvin’s a protective man, especially when it comes to those he loves. ~~~

“Somethin’ ‘bout that preacher don’t feel right,” (Y/n) murmured to her husband as they stood outside the doors of the church, “Gives me a shiver right up my spine.”

Arvin nodded along to her words, watching as his grandmother and sister shook hands with Preston Teagardin - fancy name for a guy like him. A guy who gave women chills. He reached into his dress pants pocket and plucked out a cigarette before placing it between his lips, “Watch yourself around him, darlin’.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for Lenora, too,” (Y/n) crossed over the creaky boards of the church's stoop as people began exiting, her hands coming out for the man’s tie, “Did you loosen this durin' the sermon?”

“Too tight,” he let the woman adjust his tie, “You know how I feel ‘bout comin’ to these things.”

“I know, I know - hey, I don’t like comin’ either, but it means a lot to Ms. Emma and Lenora,” pulling back from the tie, (Y/n) placed her hands on Arvin’s shoulders, “‘Sides, someone’s gotta watch for that blasted preacher, and I think we’re the only ones who will.”

Removing the cigarette from between his lips, Arvin leaned over to kiss his wife’s forehead, pulling away to ask, “You take my light outta my pocket when you pressed my pants this morning?”

“Maybe I did,” she shrugged, grinning, “Maybe even I think you shouldn’t be smokin’ outside a church.”

“Maybe,” Arvin nodded, “Maybe.”

Emma and Lenora finally came out of the church and started towards the family’s truck, the two women got into the back with Arvin and (Y/n) getting into the front to finally head home. Lenora leaned forward as her brother started the truck, “You shoulda been in there for the goodbyes.”

“Oh?” turning her head and leaving her cheek pressed to the headrest, (Y/n) quirked a brow at the teenager, “What happened?”

“Reverend Teagardin said he’s interested in meeting you,” Lenora beamed at her sister-in-law.

“Just her?” Arvin pulled out of the church parking lot, “Seatbelt, Lenora.”

“I got it, I got it,” the girl waved off before returning to her previous conversation, “But yeah, just (Y/n). He was talkin’ about putting together a church choir. Thinks (Y/n) would have a pretty voice.”

“She’s got a pretty voice but she ain’t singin’ for no church choir,” Arvin’s brows furrowed, white-knuckling the steering wheel at the mere idea of that damned preacher trying to get close to his wife, “Not in that man’s church choir.”

“Let the girl speak for herself,” Emma cut in, “Thought I raised you better than that.”

Pursing his lips, Arvin turned to (Y/n) for a split second before returning his stare to the road, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she looked back to her sister-in-law, “You singin’ in the choir, Lenora?”

“I’d love to try.”

Clenching her jaw, (Y/n) thought over her choices. Leave Lenora to sing in that choir - leave her sweet, naive little sister-in-law in that preacher’s hands for far longer than was typical or wanted… Or, suck it up and sing for the bastard.

“I’ll sing with ya, sweetheart.”

Arvin sighed quietly, glad none of the women in the car heard him over the rumbling of the truck’s old engine. To distract himself, and by proxy the women in the car, he suddenly changed the topic, “This damn old truck. Gonna hafta fix it up or take it in.”

“You’re gonna take it in?” (Y/n) tilted her head.

“Thing’s old; I’ll do as much as I can, darlin', but sometimes there’s only so much I can do. You know that.”

“I’ll need to go with you,” the truck jumbled with the rocky bumps of their home’s pull-in, “Pick up a few things for dinner.”

Lenora felt her heart warm and lips quirk into a smile at her brother and sister-in-law. They weren’t so into the church as her and Grandma, in fact - Lenora’s certain they only played along to please her and Grandma, but watching them was nice. Nothing to play along to, just a simple, pure expression of adoration between the couple. Arvin was never a man known for something as soft and tender as love but (Y/n), since the two were in grade school, was easily able to pull it out of him.

From high school sweethearts into married lovers. It was overjoying to know someone else was looking after Arvin.

“I’ll check up on Mr. Earskell and be right out.”

“No, no, (Y/n),” Emma shook her head, taking the woman’s hand as she was assisted out of the truck, “I’ll handle things. You and Arvin go on and stay out here.”

She didn’t bother fighting against the older woman, she was the matriarch of the family - she was just the rule maker. It was only fair.

“You don’t hafta keep callin’ em Miss and Mister,” Arvin came out and around to the hood of the truck, “They’re part a’ your family now.”

“Feels improper,” (Y/n) rebuffed, standing beside her husband, “I’m just thankful they’re lettin’ me stay here.”

“And why wouldn’t they?” he knew why she felt that way - her own family was insufferable and he could barely stand being around them for a dinner - he couldn’t imagine having to live with them.

“Let’s not open that can of worms today, huh, love?” (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips as she watched her husband look over the truck’s interior and drag over his tools and oil.

“Don’t joke ‘bout that, love,” despite his words, Arvin was smiling slightly, “Poor fishermen work hard to get those worm cans.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” she sarcastically relented, peeking over the man’s shoulder, “Wish I knew anything to help you.”

“I could teach you a thing or two.”

“Maybe not now, baby.”

Which, of course, was code for ‘I’d rather not. Ever.’ but politely.

There was silence between the married couple as Arvin worked until he sighed and planted his hands on each side of the open hood, head hanging low as he murmured, “You’re really goin’ to that choir?”

“We both know I gotta be there for Lenora.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll still be worried to hell ‘bout you,” he turned to face his wife, restraining himself cupping her cheeks and smearing grime over her, “Both a' you,” then he finally admitted as to why he was so apprehensive, “I’ve been watchin’ him.”

“You what…?!” she whisper-screamed, coming in closer to her husband, “Arvin Eugene Russell, you been what?”

“Watchin’ him,” Arvin almost regrets the admission at the sight of his wife’s shock, “He’s a no-good-sonofabitch, (Y/n). Messin’ around with a young girl behind his wife’s back. She’s good to him, (Y/n), she cooks him dinner and she does her best to keep him happy. He’s no good to her. He’s no good, at all.”

(Y/n)’s brows furrow, “Cheatin’ on his wife?”

“A girl from Lenora’s class. He’s worse than a cheater,” he turned back to the hood of the truck and quickly said, “We’re takin’ it in.”

“Why haven’t you said anything yet?”

“Nobody will ever believe me, (Y/n), you know that. Everybody here loves that damn radio bullshitter.”

Nodding quietly, (Y/n) fisted a hand in her skirt before turning towards the home’s door, “I’ll tell Lenora we’re goin’.”

The topic is ultimately dropped as they leave into town. As they take the truck in for the shop and as they pick out items for dinner that night and even on the walk home. Reverend Preston Teagardin didn’t come up again, neither did his affairs or his disgustingly, sickeningly low age preference for said affairs.

They weren’t the only people in town on watch of their new preacher in town, they were just another young couple walking home.

Even as dinner passed and time for rest came - as they pressed into bed and huddled together in the cold night. Teagardin was temporarily forgotten, pushed to the backs of their minds as they slipped into slumber.

And when Arvin darts up from bed after another nightmare over finding his father’s body that fateful night, (Y/n)’s thoughts are solely on her husband. Bringing him back into the present, where he’s not in the woods finding his father knelt down in front of their makeshift church but instead in bed with his loving wife. With his sister down the hall. His grandmother at the end of the corridor and his great-uncle's own room across from theirs. He’s in a home that isn’t going anywhere - he’s with people who won’t leave him, not any time soon anyway.

It’s not until the next day, after Lenora’s first day back at school for the week had finished and her daily visit to Hellen Hatton-Laferty was over, that Teagardin even peeked back into the couple’s brains.

“If that sonofabitch touches you or Lenora, tell me,” Arvin whispered to his wife, hands holding hers tightly before she went into the church for choir practice, “I’ll make sure ain't got no hands to touch you, or Lenora, or any other unlucky woman.”

“I’ll come right to you, honey,” (Y/n) was quick to confirm for her husband, “Promise.”

“Good,” he cups his wife’s cheeks and pulls her into a tender forehead kiss before going to his sister and giving her a tight hug, “Be the loudest one there, got it?”

Lenora chuckled quietly, patting her brother’s shoulder, “You know I can’t do that.”

“You can.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) goes up the stairs and pulls one of the double doors open, “You just shouldn’t, ain’t that right, Arvin?”

A teasing shrug and he’s walking off towards the car while Lenora follows her sister-in-law up and into the church.

Teagardin is sitting in one of the pews with his back turned towards the two women.

There’s nobody else in the church despite having been told this was the meeting time. It’s silent. Preston still hasn’t turned to the two.

Lenora is fidgeting beside (Y/n) the longer the man stays quiet. The younger girl nervously bunching the skirt of her dress in her fists. Her brows drawn tight in confusion and lips pressed into a thin line.

(Y/n) steps forward, ignoring the nerves urging her to run and encouraging her knees to buckle underneath the weight of her body, “We’re here, preacher.”

His head lifted, a smile coming over his lips, an unnatural smile - one she’d imagined on the devil when he tricked another soul into his claws. Preston comes to a full stand and approaches the women, “I didn’t expect both of you to come.”

“I wanted to support Lenora.”

“How wonderful.”

~~

“Preacher’s dirty.”

“What?”

(Y/n) sighed, sitting up in bed and looking down at her husband and whispering into the night air, “Teagardin. He’s just as dirty as you said.”

Immediately, Arvin was also sat up, no longer tired and now entirely focused on his wife, “What happened?”

“Tried touchin’ Lenora ‘til I stopped him. Grabbed me. I got us out of there and now Lenora’s tryin' to figure out how to tell Ms. Emma.”

Arvin stood out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants over his boxers, slipping on a shirt and his hat before heading to the bedroom door and slipping out of the room. (Y/n) followed after, eyes wide and brain springing into panic as she watched him tug on his shoes. Hurriedly, the woman put her shoes on as well while Arvin snuck out of the home, her continuing to follow after him.

Once they were in the car, (Y/n) turned to Arvin as he pulled out of the driveway, “What the hell are you doin’? It’s late, you can settle this tomorrow, can't ya?”

“No. It don’t matter if he’s with his wife or at the church, I’m puttin’ that bastard in his place. I hope that woman leaves his ass,” he shook his head, “Rotten fuckin’ bastard.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

The man was silent as he drove towards where he knew the Teagardin residence was. Every few minutes he would take off his cap and run a hand through his matted hair - if he could force himself to do so, he could almost pretend this was a nice drive with his wife. A simple late-night cruise through town with the love of his life, but then he would remember exactly why they were on a late-night cruise. A peek at (Y/n) would remind him, she must be frightened to all hell - it must’ve been awful to be in that church. Be near that rotten man.

And Arvin’s rage was freshly re-lit.

“Is this the right time?” she remembered each time her husband had repeated the phrase from his father, it was usually enough to sway him from acting out at that moment.

“Best time there is. He’s asleep - won’t be expectin’ us.”

(Y/n) settled into her passenger side seat, turning her head to stare out the window, “How’re you gonna get him out?”

Arvin was silent once again, fingers tight against the steering wheel as they pulled up to the bend at the end of the preacher’s street. He got out of the car and stormed towards the Teagardin home with (Y/n) trailing after.

It wasn’t long until Preston came stumbling out of his home with Arvin banging on the front door. Cynthia was out soon after her husband, clinging to the door frame.

“Late night for a sinner, kids,” Preston rubbed at his eyes, “Can this wait ‘til the mornin’?”

“You try touchin’ Lenora?” Arvin was blunt, he didn’t like sugar coating and he didn’t like the people who did it. Turning, he gestured to (Y/n), “Tried touchin’ my (Y/n)?”

Immediately, Preston’s eyes widened, “Now, now, I- I didn’t do nothin’ to those two.”

“Callin’ my wife a liar?”

Cynthia looked between her husband and the younger couple on her lawn, “What’s this about, Preston?”

“You just go inside now, Cynthia!” the preacher called back to his wife, “These two are full of delusions!”

“Arvin, let’s just head home now - you can take care of this tomorrow…”

Shaking his head, Arvin only approached the older man further, “My wife ain’t no liar. And those hands ain’t free of sin.”

“Go inside, Cynthia!” Preston shouted at his wife once again before turning back to the other man, “You won’t say nothing. I will have your lives ruined. Who will the town trust? Me, or two scruffy children who married straight outta high school?” he gives a forced chuckle, shaking his head and pointing at (Y/n) with a shaky hand, “Your wife… she- she… your wife is delusional. She’s crazy.”

Arvin Russell had been fighting nearly his entire life - he learned from his father and he continued on far after his father passed. Preston Teagardin had never been an athletic boy nor had he been confrontational by any means, preferring to hide in the shadows and smile his way out of trouble.

It wasn’t a mystery as to how Arvin managed to land Preston on the hard ground, chest pressing into the dirt and hands tightly wound behind his back in Arvin’s hold.

He didn’t know what he was looking for in the man. He didn’t know what he wanted from the preacher. He couldn’t kill the bastard - he still had a sister and wife to look after when his grandmother and uncle could no longer. Was it admission? Was it a promise to not even look at the women of Knockemstiff? It wasn’t an apology, he knew that - because there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be giving out forgiveness.

“You take back what you said,” Arvin grunted out, pushing his body harshly into Preston’s back and hoping it’d hurt as much as when boys did it to him on the playground, “You take back what you said about my wife, you hear me?”

“She’s crazy!”

Arvin took a hand into the preacher's hair and smushed his face deep into the dirt, “If I- “ when Teagardin’s whining got too loud, Arvin let his head up before roughly smashing it back into the ground, “Fuckin’ listen when I talk. You listenin’?” he waited for a nod of confirmation before continuing, “If I even hear your name in the same sentence as my wife’s or my sister’s, I’ll bash your fuckin’ brains in, hear me?”

“Arvin!” (Y/n) finally screamed out to her husband, hands landing on one of his arms and pulling, “Arvin, you let him go!”

“He deserves this, (Y/n)!”

“I know, but dammit Arvin, you’re gonna get the sheriff on you, let’s go home!”

Giving one last thunk of Preston’s skull into the ground, Arvin stood and kicked the man’s ribs before nodding at Cynthia with a brief ‘goodnight ma’am’ and returning to the car.

“That was a dumb thing you just did, Arvin Russell,” (Y/n) scolded, rather lightly, as her husband drove.

“I don’t regret a damn thing about it, (Y/n) Russell.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she reached over and snatched his cap before fixing it over her own head, “I’m proud my husband cares so much.”

“Least I could do for the woman of my dreams.”

#arvin russel x you #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russell x you #before you start about how women were treated poorly and arvin speaking over yn would be normal in the 50s i want you to know #i literally don't care cuz i wrote it :) and i leik feminism so yeah :)

[soulmate-game]

“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn’t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #brucinette

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 8

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut 

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

For Baekhyun, the first half of the week was spent preparing. For the first date of all first dates. A first date that would be heart flutteringly romantic, yet private and comfortable. Exciting, but also intimate. Something where he could talk to you, where he could touch you if he wants, where nobody else could see and judge. But also somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to bend you over and take you if you decided to start teasing him again. That would need to wait until after the date, for which he also had big plans. 

 Endless phone calls were made. Flowers, chocolates, and champagne needed to be bought. His mind was set, this date would be nothing short of perfect. So perfect in fact, that you would have no choice but to fall for him the same way he’d fallen for you. The man was dedicated. 

First though, he needed to ask you in a way that would guarantee a yes Baekhyun, I would love to go on a date with you, and not just an ‘okay’. 

His first stop was the florist, owned by his friend Minseok. It was a quaint little shop where he knew he’d be able to get a perfect custom arrangement with all your favorite flowers. Little did you know Baekhyun had used his professor status to look up Mia’s school email, and had been in contact with her in order to make sure he got the best possible things to fit your preferences.  

“Lilies and roses, those are her favorites. As many of them as you’ll give me.”

Minseok ended up putting together a box, a wide white cylinder overflowing with lilies and roses in all shades of white, red, and pink. It was big, a bit extravagant, and quite expensive. But Baekhyun did not care, if anything he was trying to go as over the top as possible, to really show how much he cared and wanted to make this special. No purchase was too large, no gift too much. 

The chocolates were imported from Switzerland. A large box with endless flavor varieties, each one more delicious than the last. The last time he’d had them had been on vacation in Europe, and it was not so easy for him to get his hands on them outside of the EU. But after a few phone calls, he had them on their way over with 2-day shipping. 

Baekhyun wasn’t one to usually spend much money at all. Not because he didn’t have it, he just didn’t feel the need. He had a nice home and a nice car. There wasn’t anything he regularly bought, aside from food. Most purchases would either be related to movies and games online, or would be for his friends. 

But he loved spending money on you, because for the first time in his life there was a girl who cared about more than just his family’s wealth. You actually cared about him. He’d never wanted to spoil someone like this before out of fear that they might only stick around for the financial benefits, but that didn’t worry him when it came to you. He found it almost laughable that after so many years of dating ‘proper’ women, women his family would’ve liked, women who looked great on paper but brought him no excitement and used him for his money, he finally found someone who actually cared for him at a strip club. The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways, he told himself. 

Once the chocolates had arrived and he had acquired the flowers, it was time to get going. 

~

Wednesday afternoon you and Mia decided to put away your homework for a while and bake something together. Apple pie was the agreed upon project for the day. You were in the process of slicing up the apples when you started to wonder just what was taking Baekhyun so long, after all he’d already told you he was going to ask you out. Why couldn’t he just do it? 

“I wonder why Baekhyun still hasn’t actually asked me on a date yet, he said he was going to on Saturday and it’s Wednesday. Do you think he might’ve changed his mind?” 

Mia had to work to hold back her smile. Not only did she know when he planned on coming to ask, she knew the exact flowers and chocolates he was bringing, as well as the date and time of the date itself, all of which Baekhyun had carefully discussed with her. 

“He definitely hasn’t changed his mind, that’s for sure. He’s probably just taking his time to make sure it’s special.” 

“He’s only asking me on a date. He could literally just text me. It’s not like I’ll say no anyway.” 

At that, Mia couldn’t help but crack up. Maybe that was the norm for college guys, but Baekhyun? Ask you in a text? After everything he’d done? It was laughable. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing!” Mia said and put two hands up in the air in defense, but you’d known your best friend for long enough to tell when she was lying. 

“You know something. Tell me.” You demanded, taking your apple slicing knife and pointing it towards her. 

“Get that away from me! And my lips are sealed, sorry.” 

No matter how much you annoyed her about it, she wasn’t going to tell you. Not only was she sworn to secrecy, she wanted you to enjoy the surprise. 

“Come on, did he say something to you? Just tell me.” 

“I’m not saying anything. You’ll just have to see, but I promise it’ll be worth the wait.” 

“You are so evil.” 

“You still love me” 

The pie was eventually assembled and put into the oven, at which point you returned back to your own room to continue doing homework. Mia stayed out in the living room, since she knew there was a guest arriving shortly. 

~

It was finally time for Baekhyun to go to your house to ask. After approximately 30 minutes of just making sure his hair looked right, he finally grabbed the chocolates and flowers and got on his way. 

It was a pretty warm day, but even with the AC blasting as high as it would go Baekhyun was still sweating. He knew you would say yes, but his hands felt slippery on the steering wheel of his car anyway. It had been almost 5 years since he had last done this, since he had asked a girl out. It had been even longer since he’d asked someone out that he was actually excited to spend time with, and really hoped would say yes. 

The closer he got to your home, the more nervous he became. He couldn’t even explain to himself why. He knew you were home, he knew you would say yes, he knew you were free the day he was going to take you out, and he knew he had the perfect gifts. This was exactly why he’d interrogated Mia via email for days, but when it actually came down to it he couldn’t help worrying. What if you were mad that it took him so long to ask and wouldn’t wanna go anymore? What if something came up last minute and you wouldn’t be able to? He wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to take a response like that. Especially since setting up the date itself had been a whole other story, one that not even Mia knew about. 

Baekhyun could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he got the chocolates and flowers out of his trunk and started walking up to your front door. When he knocked, Mia was the one to answer. 

“Hi Baekhyun!” She said, looking him up and down, and then to the flowers and chocolates he was holding, a wide grin on her face. “I’ll go get her.” 

You heard your name being yelled from the living room so you peeled your thighs off your desk chair and made your way into the common space to see Baekhyun, holding the most enormous flower arrangement you’d ever seen. 

Mia went to her room, leaving you standing before him, slightly flabbergasted. 

“Sorry I didn’t do this sooner, but can I take you out on Saturday?” He asked, peeking over the mountain of flowers that hid the bottom of his face. 

You immediately grinned and nodded enthusiastically, pulling Baekhyun through the doorway. You grabbed the flower arrangement and set it down on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch with him. 

“I would’ve asked days ago already but I wanted to bring these too and it takes a little while for them to get shipped from Switzerland.” 

The flowers had distracted you so much you hadn’t even noticed the box of chocolates he was holding as well. 

“Baekhyun this is crazy, how much did all of this cost?” 

He only rolled his eyes. “You know none of that matter, I just want to make you happy, okay? And you like them right?” 

“Well of course I love chocolate, and the flowers are beautiful, roses and lilies are my favorites.” 

“I know.” He grinned at you.

“I never told you that?” 

“I might’ve found your friend’s school email...” 

Your eyes widened. “You did not-” 

“Professors have access to every students files and that includes school email addresses, and you mentioned her a few times so I figured I would ask her some stuff.” His hand made its way to the back of his neck and he looked down at the ground nervously. “Sorry if that’s weird, I just wanted to make sure I’d get the right things and that you wouldn’t already be busy or anything.” 

You smiled “It’s alright, this is definitely the most anyone's ever done for me for a first date, or any date for that matter, sorry if I don’t really know how to act right now.” 

“Nobody’s ever bought you flowers or chocolates before? Really? Are those boys you go to school with that dumb?” 

“I don’t really date around much anyway, and maybe once or twice for valentines day or something, but definitely never like this.”

“Well you deserve to be showered in flowers and chocolates all the time.” He smiled and grabbed the box and untied the fancy looking ribbon holding it together, and removed the lid. “Try one, this stuff is crazy, no other chocolate has been the same since I first tried it on vacation in the alps a few years ago.”

Of course he went on fancy European vacations. You wondered if someday you’d get to tag along. 

He picked a piece and held it up to your mouth and you took it between your lips. He was right, it was amazing. 

“Oh my god this is so good. Holy shit.” He was right, this would pretty much ruin all other chocolate for you. 

He watched you as you finished eating it and placed a hand on your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his. “Give me a taste.” 

He pulled you in for a slow open mouthed kiss, savoring the flavor of the chocolate on your tongue and leaving you breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get used to the way he kissed you. He was so good at making you feel like your insides were melting with desire it felt almost dangerous. 

“You’re intoxicating, I could kiss you all day.” He said as he pulled away from the kiss just enough to speak. You could feel his breath on your face and his eyes as they bore into your own. 

“Oh come on you’re just saying that because of the chocolate.” You laughed as you pulled away further, face now a bright shade of pink. 

“The chocolate is amazing, but your lips are even better.”

“God you’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he still just smiled back. “So where are you taking me Saturday?”

“It’s a surprise, I’ll pick you up here around 3:00 and it’ll be a bit of a drive but I promise it’ll be well worth it.” 

“Can you give me a hint at least? Will there be food? What should I wear?” 

“Yes there will be food, and just wear something comfortable and weather appropriate.”  He considered it for a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn’t be too obvious. “It’s an outdoor thing, and something I’m almost 100% sure you’ve never done before, but that’s all you’re getting out of me. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You’re so mean.” You pouted. “You make me wait for days and now you won’t even say where you’re taking me.” You really wondered what was so special that he couldn’t just tell you. It was only a first date so it wouldn’t be anything that extravagant anyway right? 

“Once you see you’ll understand why I want to keep it secret, just trust me, okay?” You rolled your eyes again, “Hey, y/n, look at me.” 

He put his hand on your thigh before giving you a serious look. “I know this might not seem like that big of a deal to you, but it’s been over 5 years since I’ve taken someone out like this, and even longer since I’ve been this excited to. I just, I really want to make this special, so can you trust me?”  

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. “Of course, I'm impatient is all... And I haven’t really done this in a while either...” 

“It’s really shocking to me how someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have a constant stream on boys trying to take you out.” You chucked, and thought back to Lucas and how he’d asked you to a party. 

“Me and college boys don’t really mix well, I’m not someone who enjoys big parties and they usually aren’t really interested in getting to know me anyway, or once they do they realize I’m just a boring STEM major. You saw that guy Lucas, I’m sure he was just hoping I’d go party with him and get wasted enough to end up in his bed. No thank you.” 

“He was so pushy too.” Baekhyun said as his face fell into a frown at the unpleasant memory. 

“Boys will ask me out sometimes, sure, but it’s always just to a party or a movie or something, somewhere you can’t really have any kind of meaningful conversation anyway, so I assume they just want to sleep with me. And I’m not really interested in that.” 

“You seemed more than happy to let me rail you in my office last week.” Baekhyun laughed, making your face blush an even deeper shade of red.

“That’s different!” You said in defense, giving a light slap to his shoulder. “You’re not some college boy, and we have technically known each other for a while already.” 

Baekhyun had a wide smile plastered on his face again, “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who had to keep it from happening.” 

“Which I still think was pretty lame of you...” 

He caught your eyes again, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Baby I’ll make sure that was worth the wait too.” 

You shivered, and as soon as he had pulled away you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him and pull him into another kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap. The two of you sat like that for a while, exploring each other’s mouths, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of it. Eventually you ended up laying down next to one another, still kissing lazily in each other’s embrace. You knew better than to escalate it into anything sexual now, so you just enjoyed the softness of his lips on yours and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

After some time Baekhyun had to go, and you thanked him again for the chocolates and flowers. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Mia emerged from her bedroom. 

“See! I told you he’d ask soon! Also, he’s even cuter in person.” She giggled and you laughed in agreement. 

“Did he seriously email you about me? What all did he say?” 

“He asked about your favorite everything pretty much, when you’d be home this week for him to ask you, when you’d have time over the weekend, all that. I assumed you wouldn’t mind missing work for the date so I told him Saturday night.” 

“Was there anything else? Any idea where he’s taking me?”

“No, I asked but he wouldn’t tell me either. It was really cute though, the way he was talking about you. He’s seriously whipped.” 

“You don’t say.” You laughed gesturing towards the huge flower arrangement and box of chocolates still on the coffee table. 

“You have to tell me where he takes you, I’m really curious. Did he tell you anything?” 

“Just that it’s outdoors and I don’t need to dress fancy.”

You could tell Mia was thinking, trying to figure what it might be the same way you had. “A picnic maybe?” 

“That feels almost not fancy enough for him, but I don’t know. I really can’t think of anything outdoorsy that nice.” 

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out! Come on, let’s cut into this pie.” 

The evening was spent eating pie, and with Mia showing you Baekhyun’s emails to her. They made you feel like your heart might explode from the sweetness and consideration he had when planning everything. He’d even made sure to get you milk chocolate rather than dark chocolate. There were a plethora of other seemingly unrelated questions as well, including your favorite snack foods, colors, and more. You felt a little bad for how much he’d asked her about. 

As the hours went by, you were looking forward to the date more and more.

 Saturday afternoon couldn’t arrive soon enough. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this one is late and a bit short, but the next update will be *much* more exciting I promise ;) 

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #fanfic #smut #fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #exo smut #exo fluff #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 Welcome to my first ever Peaky Blinders fic, I wrote it ages ago and have just edited it slightly so my apologies if the quality isn’t greaaat but the other parts will be better I promise! 😅 This is an AU fanfic where John never married Martha or had kids before he married Esme and there is no Grace for Tommy andddd the timeline is absolutely wack, I know it’s a lot so if you’re in the market for a traditional by the book Peaky Blinders fic this one is not for you I’m afraid 🤗 also if you’re finding it a bit slow I advise you to hang in there until after the time skip because that’s the better half of this part in my opinion, nevertheless I seriously enjoyed writing this so Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is forever welcome 😌

Summary:  Being the bestfriend of Jonathan Shelby meant that you’d grown up attached at the hip. And considering you were hopelessly in love with him, life was eventful to say the least. With John marrying Esme you decide it’s high time you got over him. And as they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...

Pairing: (OOC) Thomas Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, smoking and drinking, mentions of addiction, mentions of sex but no smut I’m afraid

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

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Being John Shelby's best friend was definitely not an easy job.

You and John were the exact same age, born on the same day of the same month of the same year, precisely one hour and eleven minutes apart, and since your family only lived one house away from the Shelby's it was a given that you and John would grow up to be best friends.

You were as good as family to them, so when your father was killed in the war and your mother unable to cope turned to the drink and drugs, you were left officially orphaned at age 10 and Polly arranged for you to live with them, raising you as her own.

Growing up with the Shelby's came with it's challenges. They were all fiercely protective of you but no one more so than John. When you were kids he'd beat up anyone that dare made you cry, or sad or angry or anything other than happy really, and as you grew older and began to date he'd scare away anyone deemed not up to scratch, which seemed to be pretty much all of them, threatening violence known around Small Heath as common behaviour for the Peaky Blinders. This meant that you never really had a boyfriend, or many boys interested in you at all for that matter, and any who were rarely had the balls to act on it for fear of the Peaky Blinders wrath. However this didn't bother you much as there was only ever one boy you truly wanted interested in you, the one boy who never would be interested in you.

Of course being a teenage girl you'd had your silly crushes, Tommy being one of them. But they all paled in comparison to what you felt for John.

Being best friends meant that the two of you spent practically all of your time together, did everything together, went through and dealt with everything together. He had always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend, your hugs and smiles and laughs, your safe place. It was inevitable that you'd fall for him. And fall for him you did, painfully obvious to everyone except John himself.

Shortly after your 16th birthday, you were reading a book by the fire, a woven blanket strewn across your legs and a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming your hands when John bursts into the house loud, drunk and jolly. He often snuck out to join his brothers in their shenanigans - whether it be business or pleasure - and you were all too happy to listen to his stories when he came home.

You watched John intently as he regaled to you his latest night out. You watched the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly as he spoke, a smug smile tracing his lips every so often. His eyes glistened from the whiskey and his lips were wet. A cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers, his eyes closed for a split second whenever he took a drag. Deep in admiration of the boy sitting in front of you, you didn't quite notice the change of events in the story.

"-and then she walked right up to me and kissed me!"

It was at that point that your attention snapped back, ears pricking up and heart racing as you go over what he'd just said. But too excited to wait, John didn't give you the chance to work out if you had misheard him.

"Well before I know it she's got me in the back alley dress hiked up going at me like a feral she was. Can ya believe it after all this time I'm finally a man aha!" John exclaims, a goofy, ear-splitting grin plastered on his face.

He spares any explicit details, knowing it was no way to talk with a lady no matter how close they are to you or how drunk you may happen to be. Nevertheless, upon hearing those final words coupled with the look of pure elation on his face, your heart shatters into millions of ice cold shards right before your eyes. The pain that was rapidly building in your chest and the image of John with some tart, skirt bunched around her waist fucking like dogs in the alley was too much for you to bear. A wave of nausea washes over you and you stand abruptly, dashing to the loo before the contents of your stomach emptied onto the carpet.

A few minutes later you hear faint knocks on the door.

“Ye alright in there love?” John asks, concern lacing his words.

“All good” you reply quickly, willing your voice to steady itself.

Wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead you collapse into a heap against the wall, and a sigh escapes your lips as you wrack your brain for the exact moment you had lost him. While John had never shown any signs of liking you, you were always able to draw hope from the relationship you two had, no matter how blind it may have been. Now though, he had dashed that hope, blind or otherwise, as he had given himself to someone else. He had openly chosen not to be with you.

Not to be yours.

Fobbing John off with some excuse about a dodgy dinner you quickly retreat to bed, going without giving him a hug, unable to bring yourself to touch him. And from that day onwards you lived with the knowledge that your love was unrequited. You lived with loving him, and him not loving you.

For the most part it was rather easy. John wasn't the kind for serious relationships - preferring causal sex to the committed kind - so you never really had to deal with any girlfriends or the lark, just the occasional tart interested in him on the rare nights out you tagged along. Even then, you soon learned not to go on any nights out without Ava or Polly present and so the issue of John and his women quickly became dormant. That was, however, until John agreed to marry Esme Lee.

Tommy came to you before asking John, asking for your help in convincing him. He knew John would come to you with it asking for advice before deciding. Tommy explained his plan, marry John off to the Lee girl forcing them to squash the war and join forces to overthrow Billy Kimber. It was simple enough and since you'd already accepted there was never to be a you and John, you agreed.

The time came and sure enough John came to you, confused and somewhat annoyed at Tommy's rough handed approach, and sure enough you stayed true to your word, telling him it was nothing new, people had arranged marriages all the time.

So on he went to marry her, your true feelings unknown to the man.

[2 years later]

"You shouldn't be working here you know. John certainly wouldn't like it" Tommy said, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully wipe down the bar surface. He was referring to your new job as barmaid in the Garrison and having just finished your first shift you were cleaning up. Last orders had been and gone and every punter had now left the pub, drunk and merry on their ways.

After John married Esme you spent the next two years much to yourself. You embraced the spinster lifestyle and faded away into the passing days. However it was the turn of a new year and to everyone's joy you'd come to your senses, deciding it was high time you stopped wasting your life moping after John. He didn't love you - that much was clear - but somebody out there must and so it was time for you to move on, you thought. Reinvent yourself. This 'new you' started with marching into Tommy's office and demanding the new barmaid job. Surprisingly he offered no resistance, merely a quizzical look at your sudden determination before giving you the job. So here you were, your first shift done and nobody left in the place but you and your new boss.

"Well it might surprise you to know, Mr Shelby, but I don't abide my decisions by what John would or would not like me doing" you reply. Finishing up you leave the cloth on the bar and make your way over to the table, taking the chair adjacent to his.

"Is that so?" He asks, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he offers you a cigarette. You accept, bending down slightly to the offered flame and without breaking eye contact, you light the cigarette and take a drag, exhaling as you sit back up.

"Yes, Thomas, that is so" you reply, the use of his name making clear your exasperation with the questioning.

"Very well then, a toast-" he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some into each glass, placing one in front of you and taking one himself "-to your new job, and to your new found freedom" he says, locking eyes with you on his last words and clinking your glass before you both down it. If growing up with the Shelby's had taught you one thing it was how to hold your liquor.

Soon you and Tommy were halfway through the bottle and quite drunk, too caught up in the fun to notice. It was now something past 3 in the morning; you and Tommy had been talking, drinking and laughing for nigh on 3 hours now, going through old stories of your childhoods, stories from before you were born and from afterwards, stories of your parents and stories of his.

"So tell me, what is the meaning behind this sudden change in you then?" Tommy inquired, only too happy to see your old self back again.

Before you knew it the whiskey had gotten the better of you and you found yourself telling him the reason. You told him about John, about your love for him, about that night and about how you'd come to terms with it and decided to move on.

"Besides, it's not like he was the first boy I ever liked, so I'm quite sure he won't be the last" you state matter of factly, unaware of the storm you had just brewed.

See, unbeknown to you, Tommy was fully aware of everything you had just poured out to him. He knew about your love for John. He knew the deepest parts of your heart, your mind, your soul. Every crush and fling you'd ever experienced Tommy knew all about it, thanks to a little book you liked to keep hidden under your mattress. You had been detailing all matters of yourself in that little black journal for as long as you could write. Polly happily replacing it when you found your current one full, it was much easier than finding a shoulder to cry on every time you needed one. When Tommy came across it he had no idea what it was, merely out of curiosity did he open it and start reading.

"Oh, who was?" Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette. Following suit you decide to take a minute to weigh up your options, drinking in the smoke as you did.

"You” your voice remains deceptively steady, not wanting the man watching you so closely, so attentively, to become aware of the raging swarm of butterflies occupying your stomach.

"Is that so?" Tommy pulls on his own cigarette, the smoke rising from his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. "So what changed then?" His eyebrow arches perfectly, a smirk gracing his lips.

"You're 4 years older than me! There was no way you'd ever look at me as anything other than an annoying little sister!” You say in a chuckle, the fiery whiskey encompassing all of your thoughts in a humorous glow.

"And if I told you I do look at you as something other than an annoying little sister?" His eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond before returning to your own (E/C) orbs. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it, but your full attention being fixed on the man before you meant that you hadn’t.

"Well... that would certainly change things." The possibility of one of your fantasy's coming true ignited you to your very core.

Silently, Tom rises from his seat and offers his hand to you. You take it, and he leads you to his office with the worst of intentions in mind.

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