#and as sad as it is i had to suppress it most of my life i not only have it now but i also have a partner who actively encourages it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aikaterini-drag · 5 months

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Smiles and Smooches

Summary: You get drunk and demand kisses and hugs from your boyfriend. He is more than happy to please you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (no mention of y/n)

Warnings: no smut, takes place during tfatws, boyfriend Bucky, emotional security, fluff, kisses.

Kofi ❤️ Wattpad 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵

The night carried a pleasant breeze, the stars twinkling. You and Bucky sat close together under the dimmed light of a cozy booth at your favorite bar. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses surrounded you. And tonight, you were a little tipsier than usual. You had consumed two of your favorite cocktails— despite your boyfriend’s advice to take it slow. Bucky, unlike you, couldn't get drunk no matter how hard he tried, thanks to his super soldier genes. He had finished the last sips of your drink, attempting to prevent you from feeling sick later on.

Thankfully, you were feeling fine. Only slightly drunk and blissfully happy inside.

With flushed cheeks and a captivating smile, you shifted on your chair and leaned toward him.

"You know, babe," you slurred slightly, "you're like... seriously the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky couldn't help but half-laugh. “I told you, you shouldn’t have ordered that second drink, sweets. You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine.” You hiccuped and hugged his arm. “It’s not my fault you’re superman.”

“Super-soldier,” he corrected with another half laugh.

“Tsk… is the same. You’re my strong, virile man. And I love you!”

He grinned and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

You beamed at him, your fingers tracing patterns on his bionic hand. "No, I love you more! Seriously, you're, like, super super cute. I mean, like, cuter than, like, a basket of puppies."

He chuckled at your comparison. “What an adorable declaration of love.”

“You’re adorable.” Your breath ghosted over his lips. “My adorable James. My Bucky.”

He smiled and kissed across your forehead. “Well, that’s debatable. I have the most adorable girl in the world right here with me."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "Can I have a hug? Please? You give the best hugs."

Who was he to deny you? He eagerly wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You melted into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. You popped a button and he chuckled and gripped your hands gently.

“No funny business, sweets.”

You pouted. “Want to kiss you. Everywhere.”

He kneaded your hair. “We’re in a bar full of people.”

“Then let’s go home,” you said as your mouth trailed a path of warmth along his unshaven jawline.

“I’m not letting you drink ever again. You get turned into a little kiss monster.”

You giggled. “Your kiss monster.”

“Mine. Always.” He hummed, his voice a warm murmur.

“Take me home, sarge.”

“Home it is, my sweet.”

After taking care of the bill, he held you up, his arms wounding around you to steady you. You still felt a little tipsy but you were also so happy and warm, holding him close, inhaling his fresh masculine scent. Holding you protectively against him, he led the way to the apartment you shared.

As they walked, he glanced at her. “Why did you drink so much, sweets? You dislike it.”

You sighed and clutched his arm. “I’m just sad you’re going on another mission. I don’t want you to be hurt. I meant to have one drink but… I lost control a bit, I guess.”

Bucky stopped and cupped your flushed face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You know I’ve got this.”

“So what if you’re good at it? Does that mean you have to risk your life without concerns?” Tears welled up in your eyes. “What if something happens to you?”

Exhaling, he drew you into a tight embrace. “I’ll be careful, I promise. You know I’ll always come back to you.”

You nestled into his arms, suppressing a sob. “I just hate seeing you go into danger again.”

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s what I do. And I do it to protect people like you, people I care about,” he said, pressing gentle kisses on your moist cheeks. “Don’t cry. I’ll be counting the minutes until I can come back to you.”

“Promise?” You gazed up at him, searching his ocean eyes for reassurance.

“I promise.”

“My Bucky,” you said, caressing his face. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Love you too, more than words can express, sweets.”

With his arms wrapped around you, you stayed there for a while, holding each other, kissing lazily. His lips brushed against yours repeatedly, his tongue coaxing your mouth apart and slipping inside. He consumed you, with his touches and his warmth, until there was nothing left but his warm gentle touches and the assurance that everything would be alright.

Follow for more content 🩵 Reblogs or any other kind of support are greatly appreciated. Hugs and kisses 🩷

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silvermoon424 · 2 months

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Coming to terms with the fact that society hates autistic people

I just saw some comments that were like "If you're autistic, neurotypical people hate you" and "growing up as autistic in our neurotypical society is almost always inherently traumatizing." And you know what? I absolutely agree. It really resonates with me to hear fellow autistic and generally neurodivergent people talk about the hate, rejection, misunderstanding, and even dehumanization we receive from most neurotypicals.

My entire childhood was spent being the "weird girl" until I got good enough at masking to fit in better. Even now, as an adult, I get negative comments from my own (neurotypical) parents when I display certain neurodivergent behaviors. My family is always like "that's so Katy" and shake their heads when I act "too" autistic and it feels so fucking patronizing. I've had negative experiences and even disciplinary action at jobs I've had for exhibiting neurodivergent behavior (usually related to my ADHD, but sometimes autism too). My entire fucking life I've been told by society to not act too much like myself or else I'll put everyone off.

And then you see people being sympathetic to the parents of autistic children who abuse or even kill them. "It's sad, but it's understandable" neurotypical people say. Videos of autistic children having meltdowns are full of people saying that they should be locked up because they're no better than animals. We're seen as a burden, a drain on society, who are only tolerated if we learn to act "normal" and don't make the neurotypicals uncomfortable. Autistic people are front and center in "cringe" compilations and are ruthlessly bullied.

If I'm being honest, I'm still unlearning a lot of ableist thoughts that were instilled in me growing up. I sometimes catch myself thinking that other autistic people are annoying, and I have to stop myself and think "Do you really find them annoying, or were you programmed to be dismissive of people who don't act neurotypically enough?"

Anyway, idk where I'm going with this text wall. The older I get, the more I become aware of how much I've been harmed by an extremely ableist society, and it breaks my heart that more neurodivergent kids are being taught to suppress their true selves the way I was.

#actually autistic #actually neurodivergent #neurodivergent #autistic adult #autistic experiences #rant #personal

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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

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I need more Inez and Reader interactions in my life. She’s so precious! Like a nightmare or bad day and she’s just clinging to reader for comfort all day. I feel like reader would be so empathetic to the kids emotions and wouldn’t ignore them feeling sad knowing that to them it’s a big deal.

Comfort (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Don’t mind me healing trauma for myself and others.

Summary: Inés has a nightmare and needs her Mamá.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, hurt/comfort, Javier loves his girls, nightmares and talk about big feelings

Word count: 900

Comfort

At four in the morning, Javier has his arms around your waist as you sleep soundly. The moon is out, its shine coming through the thin curtains and illuminating the bedroom in a silvery light. You are far off into your dreams when the handle on your bedroom door starts to rattle slightly. It makes your eyes flutter open as your parental instincts are activated and Javier stirs beside you a moment later.

You reach for the lamp on the bedside table and switch it on with a click. Javier does the same and a soft yellow glow replaces the eerie moonlight. Next is the sound of your bedroom door opening and revealing Inés standing on her tippy toes to make herself tall enough to reach for the doorknob.

She whimpers as she spots you both already awake, padding clumsily and carefully across the floor to stand by your side of the bed. When she is close enough for the lamplight to reach her, you notice there are tears in her big brown eyes.

“Sweetie,” you coo, “What’s wrong?”

Javier shifts a little beside you at the sight of his crying child. He sits up and tries not to sound too tired, “¿Qué pasa (what’s wrong)? You’re crying, mi vida (my life).”

“Mommy, I had a bad dream,” she blubbers suddenly but her tone is filled with fear. She is already climbing into the bed, completely ignoring her father’s attempts to soothe her. He says nothing for a moment before lying down again, allowing you to handle the situation.

You untangle yourself from your husband to create space for Inés in your arms, guiding her to crawl over your body and lie down between you and her father. You turn your body to face her once more.

When she whimpers softly as you lay an arm over her to squeeze her close, you tut gently, “Oh baby. It’s over now. You’re okay.”

“It was really scary,” she tells you.

“I bet it was,” Javier replies, “You know how I sometimes get—“

“Daddy, I only want Mommy,” she interrupts him, looking briefly over her shoulder at her father and you hold back a snort when he shuts up with slight offense in his eyes.

“I guess I’ll just go back to sleep then,” he mutters with exasperation and you reach over to pat his arm with smug victory. He rolls his eyes, trying not to show his wounded ego, but when you turn back your attention to Inés, you don’t see the way the exasperation in his eyes turns into a soft gaze. He loves you like this; as the gentle mother to his children.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You ask to gain her attention again, suppressing a yawn. Javier reaches to turn off the light again but you hold out a hand to stop him, mouthing a ‘leave it on’ to him.

Your husband can sense that you have things under control. He moves around for a few seconds before falling asleep once more, the tip of his nose pressing into Inés’ little bare shoulder as a way of letting her know that he is right there even if all she seems to need is you.

“You and Daddy forgot me,” she says with a quivering bottom lip and crawls further into your arms. Beside you, Javier feels his daughter move away and lays a gentle hand on her stomach. You brush a tuft of hair out of her face while she continues, “I was all alone. I didn’t like it.”

“Sometimes our mind knows what scares us the most and feels the need to remind us. You know how Papá sometimes gets scared at night like you just did,” you say whilst repeatedly running a hand over her forehead, “But Papá and I would never forget you, baby. You bring us so much happiness every day. We couldn’t go a day without you. Do you understand?”

Inés’ eyebrows are still furrowed but she nods. You rest your cheek against the top of her head, “I know it was really scary. I would be scared too.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she cries quietly, “What if the bad dream comes back?”

“You have to try,” you brush a tear away, “But if you get scared again, I am right here. You can talk to me about anything.”

When you only receive a sad noise and an even more clingy child, you pull back slightly to let your arm lie above her. Your hand hovers above her forehead, “Do you want me to do the eyebrow thing? Make your eyes so heavy they can’t stay open, huh?”

“Yes, please,” she pouts.

You cradle her head in your hand and rub the spot between her eyebrows repeatedly. Up and down and up and down. Inés’ eyes shut in less than ten seconds but her breathing tells you that she is still awake.

“Here’s what I am thinking,” you say, “We stay home from preschool tomorrow, and then we have some fun time just us two. We can go get ice cream and maybe even—“

Inés’ brows relax and you stop talking. Her mouth goes slack as she falls back fully asleep. Javier snores softly in the dim light. Inés does too.

Oh, you think to yourself, what a privilege it is to be a mother. Tomorrow, you will do everything you just promised and more with your sleeping child.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 days

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You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter

a/n part three! I’m brain dead so sorry for the wait. I hope you will all enjoy this. 🫧🫶🏻

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars, injuries, blood.

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You were sure that your lip was going to burst from the way you kept biting on it, trying to suppress the laugh as the carriage rolled through the misty autumn forest. Convinced that nothing was ever going to top the sight of Azriel, squished the opposite of you. He was scowling so hard that he was most definitely the reason why the sky had ripped open. Pouring rain drowned the lush forest since the early morning. It looked like you were driving to a funeral at best, gruesome execution at best.

“Don’t start with me today," Azriel grunts, his eyes burning into yours. Yet now that he acknowledged you, the smile only seemed to spread wider. He lets out a grunt, and a quiet giggle slips past your lips. "Princess, life suits you," you mumble, making Azriel roll his eyes. “Come on now; it’s not so bad. Don’t huff”, you nudge his leg with your heel, earning yet another glare.

“Could have winnowed us there”, “You did almost all the way”, you point out. And you would have happily obliged, but the murmurs about something being wrong with the high lord’s family had started. So Lucien and Eris had made their outing. If not for the rain, you would have done just the same. Take a walk through the main streets. But now seeing the family carriage and your face through the glass would have to be enough.

“Why do you hate autumn so much?”, It’s a bold statement to make. You’re not sure if he even hates it. Well, considering the amount of frowning he does, he has to. “I have my reasons," Azriel answers as bluntly as he can. “Care to elaborate?", you turn to him, ready to dig an answer out of him if you had to. He owned you, considering his creeping around your room. But your eyes fall on the way he’s trying to subtly rub his palms together. The scarred skin—humidity must be making the bones ache too. He’s impossible to read, but you’re convinced that the discomfort hunts some of his features. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care, yet you still inch closer. There’s not much space inside the carriage considering that man’s size, but it’s enough for you to brush your legs against him. As expected, Azriel’s hands instantly reached to put distance between you both. But that’s when you yank the side of your cloak up, draping the fur-lined material over his scared palms.

“What are you?", "Shhhh," you say quickly. He tries to pull them out, but you catch his gaze—a daring look there. “Know your”, but you cut him off once more, “Next words out of your mouth better be, thank you, princess," you muse. Azriel clenches his jaw. But he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t fight the warmth slowly seeping through the stiff skin. “I thought you hated that nickname, princess," he says. One thing this man hadn’t learned in life was dealing with women. Clearly. You shrug, “Not so bad when it’s you who calls me that," you muse, watching as a glimpse of surprise washes over his features, and then the scowling coldness returns.

Azriel doesn’t like it here. The thought alone had unsettled him ever since Lucien had announced the need to go back. “The High Lord needs to make a statement," Lucien had stated. Azriel itched to say that Eris wasn’t his high lord. But he knew that regardless of Eris’s wishes, he would have gone. Because you were going there. So here he was, standing outside the forest house. Not daring to go forward alone. You had waved him off. Told him to go inside while you checked on the horses. But he refused to step inside. So he stood there, trying to memorize every window.

“Who’s snooping now?", your voice fills Azriel’s ear as he slowly turns to you. Arms crossed as you grin at him. He wonders why you hadn’t mentioned that night in your room. Why you brushed it off so easily. “I just needed to stretch my wings." It’s not so much of a lie. It had been a disaster of a trip here. You barely manage to open your lips when an unfamiliar voice comes from behind, “Yn, Yn.“

Azriel pushes you behind him, his hand reaching for his dagger. But you slip out of his grasp, glancing over his shoulder. And then you’re stepping forward. “Makoa?”, it’s a whisper, and Azriel doubts that a disheveled-looking boy would hear it. But he does. And that name alone makes Azriel uneasy. The same boy you had sneaked out with. And just like that Azriel decides that he hates Makoa.

"Wait," you push again Azriel's arm, but his grip doesn’t falter. “Anyone can be a threat," the spymaster points out. “I know him," and it’s the desperation that makes Azriel back up. The same one that he had when he called out to Mor. To Elain. The lost kind. One that had you hanging up on things that weren’t there.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Makoa mutters once he is in arms reach of you. Azriel has to bite his tongue because nothing about that statement seems genuine. “You can imagine it’s been busy over here," and your voice is different too. Hazy almost. You bite at Azriel. Spewing venom. And here, this boy makes you behave like a youngling with your first-ever crush. “You could have written to me; I’ve missed you." Makoa raises his hand, and Azriel instantly inches to step forward, but then the boy is leaning in, his lips brushing over yours. Making Azriel lower his head. A strange sort of feeling brews within him. One that’s not welcome here. So he turns back onto his heel, heading deeper into the woods. To clear his consciousness. His logical thinking. His heart.

“Everyone missed you," Makoa points out, your hands clasped in his. The feeling is strange. It’s all so wrong because, yes, he has been vocal about courting you, but this… To be kissed in front of someone he doesn’t even know. You glance back. Eyes scanning the front gardens. He’s not there. Azriel isn’t there, and a dreadful sort of uneasiness pools in your stomach.

“It’s just been a couple of days," you brush his statement off. You were trying to find joy in something you had dreamed of ever since you slipped that book beneath the floorboards. “You’re behaving strangely," Makoa mutters, his hand reaching out for your forehead, but you bat it away. “I’m just tired," but you’re more than tired. You need answers, and quite frankly, you’re willing to do about anything to get them.

You can trust the man in front of you. His mother used to do laundry for your family. Until Beron changed his mind or whatever happened. As if reading your mind, Makoa reaches up, cupping your cheek, “What is it you can tell me?" A part of you is screaming to just drop it. Talk to Azriel first. But then he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know.

“Do you remember the night on the harvest moon, well after it?”, you say quietly, looking over your shoulder for servants. “I walked you home," Makoa shrugs. Well, he did more than that, but sure, that will do for now. “Someone was waiting for me," you admit. “I didn’t go inside; I went to the barn to feed the horses." It was misty and cold outside. You didn’t catch their face. Just a hooded figure.

“I... someone tried to slice my throat open." Brushing your hair to the side, you let the white line shine in the midday sun. Makoa watches. But he doesn’t frown. There’s almost no reaction. Azriel looked more concerned when you caught him brushing his fingers over it that night. Genuine concern. Or maybe you were just imagining it.

Makoa brings you into his chest. “What a shame," he breathes out, and your hands are instantly pushing against his chest. "Pardon," you huff, brows knit together. “I mean, it’s horrible, yes," he says, lifting his arms in defiance. You shake your head. Too tired. Too tired for this. After all, you didn’t expect him to take you seriously. He was too wild. Too carefree for that.

"Look, just be careful, okay?", you mutter, your eyes searching him, but he only shoots you a wicked smile. “You don’t have to worry about me," he muses. You burn to tell him that you both are no longer kids. There are serious matters, but you don’t have it in you to fight another battle today. “I’ll see you in the party," you say as you step back, letting your fingers slip out of his grasp. But then he’s pulling you back. Hand on the side of your face. An eager kiss smothered against your lips, “I wouldn’t miss the spectacle.”

Azriel’s task this weekend was easy. If he was being honest, he didn’t quite grasp why exactly he was asked to come. But then Eris might have just done it to spite him. All he was responsible for was keeping an eye on you when Eris and Lucien couldn’t. So essentially, babysit a grown woman. Now he was standing with his back against your door. Throwing his knife up and down in his hands. Trying to beat his record of spins before it lands back into his palm.

“Okay, am...", your voice breaks the second-floor silence, making Azriel pause. “Can you get Maria?”, Azriel shakes his head even if you can’t see him, “She just went outside for the flower arrangements." The elderly woman had pinched his cheek way too many times, but as much as he hated it, she reminded Azriel of his own mom.

"Fuck," the sound of things falling inside the room, makes Azriel press his ear to the door.“What’s going on?”, he demands. Silence falls. “I...", you start, but it ends with a frustrated sigh. “Well, let’s hear it," he muses, hoping for yet another privileged little dig he could throw back at you.

“I can’t reach the back of the dress to do the..." It’s a whisper. A frustrated one at that. “We have twenty minutes," Azriel points out. “I know, tree man, I know," you growl in frustration, cursing to yourself as you continue to struggle.

“I'm coming in," Azriel states, instantly frowning at his own words. "No, you are not," you snarl, and he is sure that you are frowning. “On three," the spymaster warns. But he doesn’t even get a chance to start the countdown. “Fucking, Azriel,” you say, yanking the door open. Rosy cheeks. Slightly disheveled hair. And that deep red satin dress. So far different from the one he had seen you in the first time you both met. That was a girl. This… You were meant to be in red. In…

“Eyes up here, moron," you say, reaching up to flick his nose. One arm holding the material upfront. You turn away from him. The smooth back exposed to his scared hands. Azriel shakes those thoughts away. “I’ve seen females before," he states, reaching for the golden buttons. “Really? I would have taken you for a virgin," you snort, shaking your head ever so slightly. Azriel fake gasps, earning a glimmer in your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”, he says in the most dramatic way possible. You bite your lip, trying to hide that smile. He knows it. Feels it.

“Just do the dress up," you urge him, motioning to your back. Azriel halts, letting his hands drop to his side. “Start with a please," he says proudly. You glance up at him, “Are you being serious?” Surely a man who just completed about the amount of time you had wasn’t going to start playing games. “I decided that etiquette lessons are in order," he shrugs, making you roll your eyes. “I will spit in your drink tonight. How is that for your etiquette lessons?” You flash him one of your fake smiles. “Delightful, just how I like it," and it’s so unexpected that you are left slack-jawed for a split second, and then he grabs your shoulder and turns you around, nudging you forward. “You’re disgusting," you say, pushing your heel against his leg, making a little rumble of laughter fill the space. “Says you," he breathes practically against your skin, sending shivers down your back.

You fidget with your sleeve as you and Azriel make your way towards the main part of the event. Public outings still felt strange. The big crowd overwhelmed you. But you had missed out on so many great things and parties, especially when you were growing up. That now….

“Only a weirdo disappears like that," you halt suddenly, leaving Azriel to walk along until he too stops. Turning to face you. You quickly put a finger against your lips, stepping closer to the second-floor railing. “That’s what I told Makoa”. You know those voices. You don’t even need to look down the staircase to know who they belong to.

“Daddy beat her, I heard," and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Tingles spread through your body like fire.“ She lived beneath the floorboards; I doubt she knows how to interact with living things." You let the words slash at you. After so many years, they don’t make a difference. It’s the fact that every time you feel as if you found someone willing to look past it, they still end up stabbing you in the back.

That’s when your eyes fall on Azriel, practically charging towards the stairs. "Don't," you hiss, reaching to grab at his wrist, pulling him back. “It’s disrespectful, and I’m being very polite with my words here," he grunts. Venom. Purest of venom painting his features, and yet you cut him off. “I said don't," you step in front of him, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just another joke for them. You throwing a fit and acting all gruff won’t change a thing.”

Azriel watches you for a moment before a bitter laugh crawls up his throat. “And those are your friends? People that you think are not a threat to you? ”, he points downstairs in frustration. A wave of guilt. Shame. Fills you in seconds. You feel that familiar sting in your eyes. But you brush it beneath all the other pain. “Daddy got them for me; I didn’t have a chance to choose; my apologies," you purr through gritted teeth.

And it’s as if you threw a comeback punch. The arrow shooting once again. Azriel’s shoulders sag. “Yn...", he breathes out, but you don’t want it. Don’t want pity. The sad eyes. The smothering. To hell with it. “We should go find my brothers." You pick at the skirt of your dress, turning to the stairs. “It was insensitive of me," Azriel’s words slam into the wall you had built, making you close your eyes for a moment. “Don’t get tangled in this; this has nothing to do with you," you mutter, not turning back to face him. Forcing your legs forward. Azriel stands at the top of the staircase for a heartbeat, watching you. Then he glances over his shoulder. One heartbeat. Two. And he unleashes his shadows to the first floor.

The terrace is buzzing with people. If it were up to Azriel, he would be right by the platform, but there are Eris’s guards here. So he’s just standing by. That prick had it in him to suggest wine. Azriel, of course, took it. Before dumping it right next to Eris’s shoes. Rhys told him to behave, yes. And so he was, because the second option was to punch the fireling in his face. Pick and choose.

Azriel catches a glimpse of you. Well, more like all he had been doing was catching glimpses of you. Like a moth to a flame. Even if he tells himself not to, his eyes always seem to find you. That distant look in your eyes. Like you’re not here, even if your body is. He also doesn’t doubt that it’s partly because of the things the people said. Why not fight back? You seem to be fine doing that when it comes to him. But crumple the moment the people who are meant to be closest to you are involved.

As if by coincidence, your eyes glance up, meeting Azriel’s. He should be scowling, yet he finds himself smiling. Just a little. He puts a finger beneath his chin, pushing it higher. Encouragement of sorts. You’re supposed to radiate power, not look like a damsel in distress. You return it with an eye roll, making the corners of Azriel’s lips curve even more. Deny it or not. You do lift your head up. That tingle of fire blazing just a bit brighter. That will do. It would have to be enough to get you through it.

The music dies, and Eris walks close to the platform edge, that fox-line smile on his face. “It’s an honor to have you all here, so I thank you for finding time to join us," the high lord begins. “I know that the court is facing some challenging times, but you should not be afraid." Azriel crosses his arms over his chest as he listens. “I will do everything that is in my power to protect our people and be a true and fair high lord." Then the Autumn High Lord turns back breathy. “And... I’ll have my family to aid me in these matters," motioning for his two siblings to come to stand closer. “Lucien and Y/n Vanserra will be taking their rightful place on the throne." The crowd explodes with chairs and joyful applause. As the three siblings smile in unison.

“And…”, But there’s no and. Nothing comes after it. As if someone had stolen all of the other promises. Azriel feels it too. It hits his senses. Making them restless. There’s something wrong. Something that doesn’t feel right. A banner behind the platform bursts into flames. The hot tongues, lapping at the family insignia. Some people back up. Eris waves for his guards, ordering them into action. People are bringing buckets full of water while Eris and Lucien try to wield the wildfire.

It’s the lightest of the sounds that follow next. It flickers, and... "Y/n," Azriel calls, making you snap your head sideways. “Y/n," he breathes out, and then he’s winnowing. His hands already stretched out. He has to make it. He will make it. There is no other option. So Azriel doesn’t let the what-ifs set in. Shrieks echo. Chaos breaks out. And then he’s up there. On the platform. One arm behind your body, the other on the arrow.

The time stops. Your wide eyes are looking at him. Green so deep that Azriel knows he has never seen anything like it. The freckles seem even darker now that your skin has paled almost to snow white. His fingers are trembling. He can’t see it. Can’t fucking see it; the bunched-up fabric is making it hard to judge. Had the arrow met its target? Your heart seems to beat beneath his palm. But are those the last beats? Then the red fabric turns an even deeper shade of red.

Every muscle tenses in Azriel’s body. "No," he mutters under his breath. He’s not letting you die just like that. Not on his watch. Not in some pointless death just because someone has a bone to pick with your brother. Your eyelashes flutter, and just for a heartbeat, Azriel is too slow to catch you. Your body sags, but the arrow stays there in Azriel’s head. It didn’t meet its target. Not fully, at least. Just nicked the skin. It feels as if someone rolled a mountain off of his chest.

"Azriel," it’s so light he almost misses it. The plea. The fear. Your fingers reach up for his leg. His darkness swirls around you both. And quite frankly, the spymaster is not too sure as to what’s going on outside. The world might as well be going to shit for all he cares. Kneeling, Azriel takes hold of your trembling hands, “I’ve got you, darling; I won’t let anything happen to you." He’s not sure if you even hear him. Eyes fixed on something as if you’re looking right past him.“I'm here; I'm with you," Azrie promises, moving to drape your arms over his shoulders. “Are you with me, love?” You’ve gone into shock, that he can tell. Yet you blink. Fingers gripped onto his flying leathers as you nod. "Good," he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “Hold onto me, fireheart”.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @emryb @glitterypirateduck @xxtakeachancexx @justyouraveragekleemain @5onedirection5 @paleidiot

#azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #acotar x you #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x reader

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meazalykov · 25 days

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Her victory, my defeat

Salma Paralluelo x LionessesPlayer!R

warnings: sadness with a mix of love and hope :)

My nerves were suppressed when I stood by the front of the goal post, a corner kick for my team was being taken. The minutes were counting down until the end. I am in my dream, the dream that is starting to feel like a nightmare.

I stood on the pitch, surrounded by a sea of cheering fans. It was the World Cup final—the pinnacle of my soccer career. Every ounce of sweat, every sacrifice, every early morning training session had led me to this moment. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the entire world had stopped to witness this match.

England vs. Spain. One of us was going to win.

By us… I mean my beautiful girlfriend Salma, who plays for Spain, or me, who plays for England.

That realization before the game hit deeply. The thoughts of how our relationship would continue onwards, whoever won or lost, started to put pressure onto my feelings.

The pressure got more intense when the actual match started. Right now its the 104th minute and my teammate observed the pitch, deciding where to kick her corner kick. My mind flashed to all of our practices throughout these three years before the World Cup. The Lionesses’ and I poured our hearts and souls into every pass, every tackle, every shot on goal.

As the corner kick was taken, I jumped high. I knew this was the highest I've jumped in my entire life. However, the ball barely slipped over my head. When I turned around, following the ball mid-air and noticed the ball in Cata Coll’s hands, England’s potential victory slipped through our fingers like sand.

The final whistle blew, and the deafening roar from the Spanish crowd turned into silence in my head. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the opposing team, aka my close friends, achieve their dreams. I am happy for them, but It felt like a punch to the gut. This is a crushing blow that knocked the wind out of me, my lungs felt closed in.

As a little girl, I dreamed of being here. I dreamed of being with the English and driving us to win the World Cup. I’ve imagined myself holding the trophy in my hands and smiling brightly, making my loved ones proud.

The realization sank in slowly, like a cruel joke unfolding before my eyes. Maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. We had come so close, we fought so hard, only to fall agonizingly short. The dreams we had dared to dream, the hopes we had nurtured, all shattered in an instant.

When I saw the Spanish girls jump on top of each other into a pile, I shook my head and walked over to the benches. I knew it was football, you can’t win them all. However, this is the one I wanted to win most.

Taking my half pink half blue puffer jacket, I put it on backwards so the hoodie covered my face. Once my face was concealed, the tears poured down my dimpled cheeks.

I cried more because I wanted to be happy too. Salma Paralluelo, my lovely girlfriend who I fell in love with one year ago, just achieved her biggest dreams. I couldn’t look out of the hoodie and see her, but I hope she is in the pile of happy players and proud of her dreams coming true.

My Barcelona teammates who currently play on the Spain team just achieved their dreams too. Being happy for them would’ve been easy if I wasn't on the losing end. I hope they don’t see me here, I don’t want them to pity me.

Lucy Bronze and Keira Welsh, my teammates on the club and national teams, might feel the same way I do.

The Spanish girls were in a state of happiness and disbelief. Salma stood up after having five players jump on top of her in the pile. She wiped off her jersey and hugged Cata Coll, who saved the ball in the last corner kick.

Salma had the brightest smile, tears of joy nearly poured out of her eyes. She knew that she completed a goal that many won’t have the chance to compete for.

Amid the sea of elation, a crushing realization went through Salma’s head. She felt her heart ache when she thought about y/n, the #1 love in her life. The h/c girl is somewhere in the stadium feeling defeated, while she is feeling ecstatic over her win.

The Spanish girl tried her best to not let Y/n get into her head in the final. They’ve both agreed that during the final, they would both play as if they didn’t know the other. Which means that no feelings would get in the way of decision-making in the final.

Salma’s eyes roamed around the stadium before looking toward England's bench. She saw Ona Batlle, her teammate on the Spain squad, comforting her girlfriend Lucy who played for England. The brown skin girl then looked ahead of the couple to see a girl with her legs crossed, puffy jacket on backwards to block her face, and her hands constantly going to rub her eyes through the jacket. She knew it was Y/n.

At that moment, she felt the mix of joy and concern as she rushed over to Y/n, her own triumph momentarily forgotten.

In a quick second, she got lower in front of Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. Salma held her close, offering a silent embrace amidst the loud cheers. Y/n knew it was Salma due to her relaxing natural scent. She buried her face in Salma’s shoulder, the warmth of her touch offering peace while y/n’s mind went into chaos.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Salma whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "I know how much this meant to you."

Y/n clung to Salma, the weight of her sorrow heavy upon her shoulders. Y/n felt terrible, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for dampening Salma's victory with her own pain.

“You should be celebrating. Don’t let my sadness ruin your victory. I’ll get over this soon.” Salma heard Y/n’s muffled voice through her jacket hoodie. The girl in the red jersey lightly pulled Y/n’s hoodie off of her face. The English girl’s red eyes, puffy cheeks, and long damp lashes were visible to her. Salma looked into her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile.

Y/n tried to lightly pull her girlfriend’s hands off of her, knowing that she should celebrate the World Cup win instead. However, Salma resisted her pull and held her tighter, knowing that her presence would bring light to Y/n’s darkness.

As the world celebrated around them, Y/n found solace in the arms of the woman she loved. Even in defeat, Salma and Y/n’s bond remained unbreakable. Y/n will go on to celebrate Salma and her club teammates' World Cup win, understanding that making it to the final is an achievement itself

#barcelona femeni #lionesses #salma paralluelo #fc barcelona #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader

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dudeandduchess · 3 months

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Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Kiss It Better (SFW Scenario, Fluff)

Sub-genre: Hurt/Comfort Note: I was a bit inspired, and also a bit in my feels. This is a bit of a different take on Kyōjurō; a look behind the veil, per se...

***

There were days in Kyōjurō’s life when it all just felt… off. His usual demeanour was not enough to stave off the imminent feelings of sadness within him, no matter how hard he tried. And no amount of psychoanalysing himself— and repeating over and over in his head that he was not supposed to be down, or in any way upset, was simply not cutting it.

Those days were the most difficult, in his opinion. But he could never say it out loud; all because he always thought that admitting it aloud was unnecessary. There were other, more important, things to be done— so he had to push through.

With that same mantra in mind, the blond wiped the sweat that beaded at his forehead; closing his eyes, and exhaling a soft sigh that didn’t help to ease the tightness that he felt in his chest.

He could also feel the tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, but he put all his effort into suppressing them. After all, the afternoon sun still hung high up in the sky; it wouldn’t have boded well for anyone to see him deep in the trenches of his own melancholy.

No matter how hard he tried to keep telling himself to resume with his daily training routine though, his body simply would not cooperate. So, he found himself throwing the proverbial towel in— making his way towards the engawa, and taking a seat.

It was a desperate effort to keep his inner turmoil in control, but taking that break only served to make it roil inside him even more.

He could feel everything within him just clawing to get out— to make itself known to the world and introduce them to his inner misery— yet he held tight to keep his composure.

After all, he’s done it before. So, he can do it again… and again; no matter how many times it was necessary.

“Kyō, I saw that you were taking your break, so I brought some tea…” (Y/n) announced softly, as she stepped out onto the engawa.

Her eyes traced over the contours of her husband’s bare back, appreciating every line of muscle that undulated with his minuscule movements. Yet, her appreciation was cut short when she felt the heaviness coming off of him in droves.

She knew that he was trying to put up a tough façade, and it made her heart ache; just knowing that he was suffering and was trying to bury it deep within himself.

Gingerly, (Y/n) set the tray of tea down on the spot next to her husband, before kneeling right behind him. Then slowly, as gently as she could— as if he was going to break if she moved gruffly— she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“I love you, Kyō, and I’m so, so incredibly proud of you,” The young woman whispered next to Kyōjurō’s right ear, before leaning down to press a kiss to the side of his face— down to his jaw, the side of his neck, and eventually down to his bare shoulder. “You never have to go through this alone.”

Kyōjurō wasn’t exactly sure if it was his wife’s words, or the mere feel of her comforting arms around him, but he felt the first vestiges of tears begin to roll down his cheeks. And eventually, he leaned back against her and closed his eyes, as he let his tears fall freely.

The tightness in his chest didn’t fully subside, but it was getting more and more bearable with every passing second.

He then lifted his left hand up, and gently curled his fingers around (Y/n)’s left wrist; finding more comfort in touching her.

No words had to be said to (Y/n), as everything that she needed to know was conveyed through that one action alone. It was a small gesture that spoke volumes: Thank you. I love you. I need you.

“I’ll always be here for you, Kyō. Forever… and ever…. and ever. I promise,” The young woman reassured in the softest tone that she could muster, despite her impending tears making her throat feel all thick and mucky.

She then pressed another kiss to Kyōjurō’s shoulder, before pressing her cheek against the spot that she had just graced with her lips; remaining quiet as she allowed her husband to have his moment of private solace in her arms.

“I love you, Kyōjurō.”

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #kny x y/n #kyojuro x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x female reader #demon slayer rengoku #kny rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 9 months

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I’m gonna keep writing Nimona headcanons til someone stops me cause they’ve taken over my life

Ambrosius was forced to suppress his emotions basically his whole life

He used to be one of those guys who would say shit like “I haven’t cried in 15 years”

But not as like a weird subtle brag just as stating a fact which made it more depressing

Once the wall came down it’s like the floodgates opened this man will cry when he’s happy sad angry stressed

You name it he’s crying

And he’s not a pretty crier either which is funny cause there is a whole compilation of “Ambrosius being unreasonably photogenic”

Bal was the typical crybaby growing up

He was constantly bullied for it and it only got worse when he was at the institute

A lot of his classmates and teachers would try and be “helpful” and give him tips to stop crying

Ambrosius was the only one who encouraged him to cry and deal with all his emotions

It’s pretty rare to see Bal cry now but it happens occasionally when he’s sad or stressed or really happy

Seeing Nimona cry is a rare phenomenon

Bal and Ambrosius have only ever seen her cry four times

The first was when they were on Gloreth’s statue at the end of the movie, the second Gloreth’s statue was fully taken down, the third was when the adoption paperwork was finalized and the fourth was their wedding

But she denies it literally every single time

Pinky promises are sacred for the trio

Back when the boys were training they would only make pinky promises about big things

And if they broke those promises there would be big consequences like giving up your dessert for two months

It was a habit that Bal subconsciously passed onto Nimona

The trio never really talked about it but there was a silent mutual understanding that they held weight

The first pink promise Ambrosius ever made was right after Nimona started trusting him and had enough respect for him to hold a conversation without hissing

And he swore that he would never consciously hurt Bal or Nimona again

Nimona made a joke about that being a big promise to make

And Ambrosius said “That’s why it’s a pinky promise”

I feel like Bal and Ambrosius never tried to hide their relationship the kingdom is just stupid

They were highly encouraged by the staff and family to keep it under wraps but they said fuck that noise I wanna hold my boyfriend's hand in public

The fellow knights in training knew something was up but they didn’t figure it out until the wall fell

Todd was the most outspoken when they first started dating he used to go around and tell people “No one looks at their bro like that”

After a while they stopped giving a fuck and they didn’t really have enough time or energy to ask because they were too busy getting their asses handed to them by the boys

A lot of citizens had this weird misconception that they had this heated and bitter rivalry

There were entire articles written about how they were “The rivals of the century”

And the boys would get together and dramatically read every single one of them

Whenever the boys were in a bad mood they would reference the articles like this

“Hey sunshine did you know I joined the institute specifically to dethrone you?” “You know what moonbeam I didn’t but thanks for telling me”

“Bal I just want you to know that I am utterly seething at the cruel defeat by your hand” “Oh I’m so sorry love I’ll make sure to kick your ass nicer next time”

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #these dorks live in my head rent free #which is fucked cause one of them is rich #pay rent if you’re gonna invade my dreams #please I'm begging I'm a broke college student

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mynameiswhateveryoudecide11 · 9 days

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Hello everyone,

long time anonymous Kaylor here (lurker is the word probably), and long post incoming 💚

I’ve just recently started using this space more openly and sharing opinions, which I’ve honestly always been quite scared to do for various reasons, so I just wanted to share a bit of how I became a part of this little piece of heaven here on Kaylor tumblr and how important this community has been to me 🌈

When I first found out about Kaylor, it was years ago through a mutual connection on instagram. At the time, I too was going through a phase of slowly understanding myself and my queerness, which I’d obviously suppressed for so long (it took me just as many years, if not more, to actually accept it after realising it had always been there). So when I found this rabbit hole (or should i say these rabbit holes, as it all started with TTB, kaylor evidence, the masterposts, and all of the newer tumblr pages that have kept the memories from the archives alive all these years) - I finally realised what had always been quite confusing before: why did I always relate to Taylor’s music so deeply ? why did I feel like I could actually feel was she was feeling, even though I’d definitely never felt so strongly about any man in my life, while she was allegedly the straightest human on the planet ? Well that’s because she wasn’t. She was, although on a much bigger and more complicated and public scale, one of us 🎉🌈 As someone who struggled for years to accept my non-straightness, finding out that the biggest artist on Earth, whose music I’d loved for so long, was a tiny bit similar to me and my experience, made me feel a warmth and a tenderness and a happiness so strong that my heart could have exploded for it. I genuinely cried myself to sleep every night for 2 / 3 weeks after finding out. A happy, sad, angry kind of cry - happy to be in on the most beautiful secret of our generation, sad for all the freedom and the life that T & K have had to miss out on, and angry, SO fucking angry that some small-minded, arrogant idiots felt entitled enough to do this to them, to her. To take a life that wasn’t theirs, and make it what they wanted it to be, and take what they wanted from it. Fuck you. Fuck all of you who did this. “So unfair” I mumbled while trying to sleep. “So beautiful” I couldn’t breathe.

Fast-forward to today, I’ve spent an unreasonable and unhealthy amount of time lurking on every corner of the tumblrverse as well as analysing songs (my fave past time) and converting all my besties to Kaylorism (they are now so invested it’s ruining our lives ��💖).

I’ve been trying to learn as much as possible and I’m so thankful to all the fabulous blogs on here:

@spade-riddles

@chosetherose

@9w1ft

@asteracaea

@rainbowdaisy13

@daisyswift3

@kwyw

@iwanthermidnightz

@tales-of-kaylor

@bettyshoweduptotheparty

and I’m sure there’s so many more I’m forgetting please drop your @ if you’d like !!

All this to say, I’ve spent years anonymously supporting and reading theories and enjoying the amazing safe space you have created for our community - you all have changed my life and I’m sure you’ve changed T’s life too, so I just wanted to share my little bit of personal Kaylor lore because it still makes me so happy and emotional to think about all the difficult times we’ve all been through and knowing that now the future’s bright, dazzling 💖🌈

Sending love out to you all, thanks for everything. Onwards and upwards from here xx

#kaylor #lgbt

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glutaminase · 6 months

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Sorry ive become so insane about the final jackieshauna fight again having read the scripts !! i cannot believe the original script had shauna saying "this was a lucky break for you, wasn't it?" before all the im sure everyone is sooo sad to be losing their perfect princess etc. like that is just another level of mean . to say that its good that jackies gonna die before everyone finds out shes a fraud and insecure boring etc. especially awful because we know jackie is in fact secretly terrified that shes nothing without her perfectly curated life and image and tbh shauna must know that too. but she still basically says Yea all the worst things you believe about yourself are 100% true btw 👍🏼👍🏼 and has to live the rest of her life knowing THATTT was the last thing she said to jackie wkdjhkjd

also based on this i cannot imagine what kind of venom was in her journal lmfao and jackie spent her last days carrying around the knowledge that thats what her best friend & the person she loves the most thinks of her and she believed that up until her death 😀💖 its pretty clear to me imo that jackie feels like shauna's the only person who has ever been truly in her corner and i imagine the journal makes it clear that these shauna's been suppressing these feelings for a WHILE so like jackie would have been questioning YEARSSS of their friendship like how much of the most important thing in her life was a lie??? like she wouldve died believing she actually had no one who genuinely loved her 🤪😍👍🏼 Love my fun teen cannibal show

#i had an edible last night and typed this and left it in my drafts but i stand by it.#jackieshauna #yellowjackets

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greenandsorrow · 1 month

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the fox (2): Found something real that's out of touch.

Alastor x fem!reader (sfw, platonic)

stay tuned for the finale chapter

"To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world."

~Le petit prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The girl woke up with a start. Her mother was by her side. The monotone sound of the machines attached to her body could be heard. She had died but they had brought her back.

In the few minutes it had taken to revive her, her soul had wandered all the way to Hell- due to how there hadn't been any guidance from Heaven. Her death hadn't been meant to happen. Not yet.

Time flew differently in the afterlife, since she had spent a good fifteen days at the hotel, but as mentioned, only a couple of minutes at the hospital.

The girl lived. She left the hospital, but she kept her promise to Alastor. She never forgot about him. While he was in Hell, thinking she was in Heaven, she was alive, roaming Earth.

She searched a plethora of archives at Louisiana's library and she tried to gather as much information as possible from her grandma about Alastor the radio host.

A serial killer that would hide his victims' bodies on deer haunting ground. He had been killed while mistaken for one. Hence his appearance in the afterlife. He was also found to be linked to voodoo practices- for hurtful purposes.

He had been a bad man in all his life. He had caused pain to others, but she couldn't just ignore the way he had been there for her during her short stay in the hotel.

Alastor was the one cooking her Jambalaya when she was sad and entertaining her with his charm and wit. That's how she'd always remember him. The smiling, gentledeer with the black cane.

She went as far as visiting Louisiana's old cemetery. Why would she leave flowers on the grave of a killer? Why would she sit and reminisce about one of Hell's most devious sinners? She wasn't the one to give him forgiveness. She didn't even try to justify his vile actions. The flowers were simply her way of saying "thank you, because even though you've done so many wrongs, you did at least one good deed and that was helping me".

The photograph on the grave -placed behind a now broken frame- was fading slowly but surely. The young man that looked back at her had a smooth, tan complexion and bespectacled, smart eyes. The shade of his eyes and hair reminded her of hot coffee in the morning. The quality wasn't great, but then again, coloured pictures weren't as advanced back then.

Alastor's visits to Rosie grew more frequent after his little, fluffy friend vanished. He'd sit for hours with his hellborn bestie, telling her about every single detail of his experience with the young girl.

"I'm surprised you didn't just devour her Hun! I'm sure she'd taste so delicious!"

"Dear Rosie... I have to be honest with you... If there's one person except from my mother that I would never hurt... It is her, the fox."

Both of whom were gone for the foreseeable eternity.

With Rosie refilling his tea cup frequently and asking him additional questions, Alastor couldn't help but think about the fox.

It hadn't been all good times, but now that she was gone, even the not so pleasant memories carried a bittersweet quality to them.

For example, there had been many arguments between them and the girl hadn't been scared to show him her teeth, quite literally.

He found himself thinking of her again as he made his way back to the hotel, after his visit at Cannibal town.

Alastor's memory...

She was being nosy again. Asking too many questions.

"Well yes, I did die in the woods like you... It's peculiar. This is the first time I ever meet someone who died under the same circumstances... not the exact same, but you get my drill?"

The girl had shrugged, but she hadn't been able to suppress her smile at being given attention. Alastor had continued talking, simultaneously warming up his voice for his radio show.

"What if this is too much of a coincidence? What if this is part of some bigger plot..."

"A bigger plot? How so Alastor?"

He liked the way she pronounced his name. She'd say it with caution, like it was something important that should be respected.

Sometimes people get sent in our lives for a reason. Sometimes they teach us a lesson. Sometimes we are the lesson. Sometimes they are reminders. Reminders of things we had forgotten that existed.

"Do you have a tail?"

"What do you you expect?"

"Oh please show me!"

As much as he wanted to be intimidating and taken seriously, even if he was an overlord, the fact that his body got changed into a deer was somewhat humiliating. He. Is. Not. Prey.

"Not happening."

He should have shown her, just to see that sparkle in her eyes. Regret.

Charlie was singing. It wasn't like him zoning out, but a few weeks ago the fox had been in that very same room, walking away... frustrated.

Alastor's memory...

"Oh dear..." he had muttered, following after her before swiftly stepping in front of her and slightly raising his arm, blocking her way.

"Now it would be quite rude to simply walk away, would it not?"

"Manners are the last thing occupying my mind after I was thrown in purgatory."

He had let out a chuckle of agreement at her point.

"Sometimes a bit of charm can take you a long way in life... and besides the company of your sweet self would be delightful!"

"Can it take me to Heaven?"

"What about a story sweetheart? It was so brutal when I first spawned here... just thinking about that time makes my tongue tingle with the sweet taste of blood."

"I hate this place."

She had been unhappy all the time he knew her.

In a mockingly sympathetic tone Alastor had tried to distract her.

"Awww... are you really not enjoying your stay here in our beautiful hotel? I'm sure you have met some really interesting individuals."

"I prefer my well deserved place in HEAVEN thank you very much."

All their conversations had always circled back to that exact point.

While she was beginning to grow on him, to her Alastor was still no one. She would chat with him, but he wasn't someone special in her heart. The radio demon hated himself for allowing that bond to bloom, but he hated himself even more because it was one sided. Him being on the losing end.

And there had been another fight that very same day.

"LET ME DOWN"

"Ask nicely."

"I hate you."

Alastor's playful attitude had vanished.

"Hate is a strong feeling. What is there to hate? My looks? My voice? My past?"

"You're a demon. You're... I hate you as much as I hate this place."

Sometimes it was truly infuriating how stubborn she would be.

"Um... I... I don't know. Everything."

"Everything?"

Despite himself, Alastor's tone had gotten slightly bitter.

"Well... this just ruins the mood now. Don't you think it's rather unreasonable to hate someone you've known only for three days? I can tell you're quite childish... but you're not that childish, right young one?"

She had placed a palm on his chest to push him away. She was practically glowing from purity while he was emitting pure darkness.

The radio demon had looked a little surprised when the girl had pushed him away without showing fear. Leaning in, he'd spoken in a whisper while his hot breath had hit her cheek.

"My dear, you shouldn't resist what's happening... Just allow yourself to stay with us at the hotel... As a sinner."

Alastor had decided to corrupt the new resident of the hotel. His taunting words and unsettling change of size hadn't fazed her... The girl had been scared, but still, she had managed to give him a few really sharp scratches. Yet, he hadn't responded to pain at all.

...he would always carry the little scars she left on him. A reminder that she had been there.

The real reason he had wanted her to stay was selfish. It would have done her more harm than good. He didn't like how he had acted like the bigger person.

But when it had happened -the ridiculous scratches- with a threatening voice he had told her...

"You think you're so strong Fox, huh? Because if I wanted to, I could crush you with just a single motion of one of my fingers."

"Then, you'd... you'd have Heaven against you!"

He had bursted into a laugh.

"Oh dear... I can't believe how naive you are! Heaven is not going to do anything to defend an insignificant person such as yourself. They're more worried about themselves and their perfect little world. The ones you look up to are always the first to disappoint you mon petit renard."

He never understood why he had said that to her. He had practically tried to save her from a heartbreaking realization. A realization that had always pained Alastor in his childhood. To know you have to fend for yourself. While he had perfected the art, he wished she didn't have to.

He had forgotten they were fighting.

She was dreaming of him, again. Red hair. Razor blades for teeth. The sound of static filling the air and making her hair fuzz up.

The girl liked that memory, it was one of her favourites to relive in her sleep.

The fox's memory...

"No, my dear fox, you're not a good soul. In reality you're really just a little hypocrite and have a high opinion of yourself- haha!"

She had been curled up in a ball in her bed. Luscious hair flowing and a light dress covering her small body.

Alastor had walked into the room she was occupying and had sat down next to her. He had spoken in a soft and caring voice.

"You don't have to try and stay holy while you're here in hell... This is a safe place where you can act out your hedonistic desires and not worry about being judged by anyone!"

"Jeez Alastor! I don't have such desires... My only desire right now is a fluffy blanket and some hot chocolate."

Alastor had snapped his fingers... He then had turned into a shadow, slipping away like sand and returning like a chilly breeze... With hot chocolate and a very fluffy blanket he had most definitely stolen from Charlie's bedroom.

Her eyes had widened and she had smiled.

"Oh my gosh..."

He had grinned in response. It wasn't like him acting on impulse, without deeper motives.

"I told you mon renard! This is the best place you could possibly be to try and relax! Here we are free from all the restrictions set on us in Heaven!"

"Thank you Alastor!"

She had never bought a thing he had told her and he knew it. But this act had somehow been calming this... this weird apprehension. The demon had somehow known that his time with her would be limited. She hadn't belonged.

In comparison to him, she was a saint, an angel even.

While she had been drinking her hot chocolate, he had taken the opportunity to really look at her, imprinting her features in his memory, engraving the shine of her fangs and the blush on her cheeks in his brain.

"Now just look at that cute little face of yours!"

"Oh, look as much as you want. I'll be gone soon anyway."

She had said that with such a confidence. He wouldn't have shown her, but she could sense it. He was sad.

Alastor had simply chuckled and then sighed.

"Yes I guess so. But for now just rest... Maybe tomorrow will be your lucky day!"

He gently stroked her hair, until her eyes had closed.

"Sleep well darling~"

That night she had decided he was someone to her and not just anyone.

She never knew, but that same night he had noticed how small she actually was compared to him and had genuinely smiled.

She smiled in her sleep, mimicking the motion he had made... months ago.

...time flies.

The car accident was years ago in a blink of an eye.

All the parts-> here!

🧡Please do not repost or directly copy my work.

🧡This fic's title is a lyric from 'Not about angels' by Birdy. It's not proof read, so forgive any spelling or grammar errors.

🧡The human Alastor fanart isn't mine. All credits go to the artist.

🧡I am aware this isn't everyone's cup of tea -writing wise or plot wise- but it was a spontaneous idea of mine I wanted to try and make work.

🧡dividers-> @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

🧡my masterlist

your tips keep me motivated to write! THANK YOU for supporting my blog!!! 🤍 CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

lil tag list; @mariaclarade-la-cruz1

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kaluxsims · 11 months

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If things were better, I could be all "Happy Pride!" here, but Pride Month is tough this year. I'm not happy. I'm sad, scared, and angry. Right-wing American politicians are doing everything they can to endanger trans people. The main focus of their attacks is trans kids. There are all kinds of lies being spread about what it means for children to be transgender and what gender affirming care for them looks like. Like all children, trans kids are figuring themselves out. Supportive, compassionate parents understand this and let them dress how they want. That's what's at the heart of my first Pride Month post this year.

Today's download lets ALL children wear ALL EAxis children's clothes. I did this to go along with all of my child CC being CU from now on. (Well, from a month or two ago on.) I have more to say about real life trans kids, so please read on after the download.

It's very simple. All EAxis kids clothes are now unisex. Many of them should have been from the start. What's masculine about a dark red Western shirt? And why can't a boy wear pink if he likes it? All kids should be allowed to express themselves how they like.

There's no swatch here, so have some Body Shop previews:

There are similar mods out there, but mine doesn't require any special installation (just put it in Downloads) and there's an All-In-One option if you have UC or all EP's and SP's. I got so much help from @goingsimcrazy and @potentialfate-sims while I was working on this. Thanks again, both of you!!

Note: DO NOT USE THIS IF YOU USE DEFAULT REPLACEMENTS THAT CHANGE THE MESH. It works fine with replacements that only change the texture.

'Nother note: Several EP's don't add any children's clothes, so there isn't a package for those EP's in the pick-n-choose version. Nothing's missing except for the xmas elf costumes, because...I hate them. Sorry. They're mostly unisex already, I think. I have hiders for them in my game.

Download:

UC/All-In-One: SFS or MediaFire

Pick & Choose: SFS or MediaFire

So back to my rant about trans kids...

Anti-trans propaganda will try to tell you that evil queers are out to convert your kids. That's a lie. We don't want to make cis kids trans. We want trans kids to live to be trans adults. You can't make a cis kid trans any more than you can make a trans kid cis. Kids are who they are. I was once a femmy little boy in an AFAB body, roughhousing in a princess dress and happier playing with boys than girls most of the time. My parents, and everyone else, saw it and called me a tomboy...despite the princess dress. I'm very lucky to have had parents who let me express myself and didn't care if I ran around in the woods, as long as I took my tights off first. Trying to suppress or change kids just makes them miserable, and sometimes miserable kids die. It breaks my heart that there are parents who would rather have a dead child than a trans child.

If I could get one message to everyone this month, and have it sink in, it would be that NO ONE is doing gender confirming surgery on children. (Unless they're intersex and get mutilated without consent, in the name of conformity.) Even teens, who may be on puberty blockers or other hormones, don't have access to gender affirming surgeries. In America, it takes years and lots of money to have these surgeries. It's not something that's done lightly or on a whim.

That's an aspect of anti-trans rhetoric that bugs me deeply, "What if it's just a phase?" It almost never is. Gender affirming surgeries have some of the highest patient satisfaction ratings of any surgery. Higher than hip replacement and many other completely accepted surgeries.

Surgery is, again, beside the point when we're talking about trans kids. Say a nine year old realizes they're trans. All that changes is their clothes and hairstyle, and maybe their name. As they get a little older, they might be put on puberty blockers. Puberty blockers were developed for cisgender children who start puberty too soon. All these medications do is delay it. Once they're stopped, puberty starts back up. If the child changes their mind, it's as simple as not taking the blockers anymore.

A related truth is that trans people aren't the only ones who get gender affirming care. A cis woman who gets breast implants and a cis man taking testosterone for "low T" are both receiving gender affirming care. They don't face the stigma or roadblocks that a trans woman getting breast implants or a trans man taking testosterone face. I don't hear about American politicians trying to outlaw Viagra or Brazilian butt lifts or any of the other things cis people are allowed to do to feel "more like a woman" or "more like a man". Why should it be different for trans people?

I'll try not to go off on a tangent about how transitioning while young leads to "passing" (looking cisgender) more easily, but it does. And that can mean safety and acceptance. Passing shouldn't matter, but it often does. Forcing a young person, especially a trans girl, to go through puberty twice is cruel and potentially dangerous.

Going back to my personal experience for a moment, the idea of female puberty and "becoming a woman" horrified me as a kid. If I'd been offered the option of puberty blockers, I'd probably have taken them. I started developing breasts when I was nine and was forced to wear bras when I was ten. My adolescent and teen years were pretty horrible overall, and gender issues were part of that. I had the "not like the other girls" feeling, but knew by then that I wasn't 100% boy either. Maybe that would have been different if I hadn't gone through puberty with estrogen. I think sometimes about the man I might have been if I was younger and grew up in a world with more trans awareness. I had no idea about genders beyond the binary back then, but I recognized that there was something boy-ish about me. My friends, family, and other people saw it too. I was who I was, who I am. I'm so very lucky that my parents didn't try to force me to be girlier. Those years were hard enough.

Childhood is hard, and repressive, oppressive adults make it so much harder. I hope all the trans kids out there either have support at home or find it where they can. I wish we lived in a world where we could all just accept each other and live our lives. I want everyone to be safe and feel loved.

I could go on and on about various trans issues, but I think I've made my points about trans kids. Respect and protect them. They're valid and they deserve to grow up to be who they know they are.

[I have zero tolerance for transphobia. I will block and report anyone who replies to this with anything anti-trans.]

#sims 2 pride #trans sims #ts2cc #sims 2 download #sims 2 clothes #sims2cc

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fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 4

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: Robin doubles down and Steve's having nightmares, imagined and real.

Warnings: Language, Steve is extra sad in this one folks.

Word Count: 3635

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Notes: I'm back! Everyone come collect your crumbs!

Summer heat enveloped Steve as he got out of the car into the garage, hot and soft on his skin after having sat in the harsh (though definitely welcomed) blow of the air conditioning during the drive back from the grocery store. He circled to the back of the vehicle, opening the trunk and deftly weaving his forearm through the loops of as many plastic bags as he could in one go; three on his right arm, three on his left, the final bag gripped in his non-dominant hand.

It wasn’t his parents' garage, he wasn’t sure whose it was, but the detail didn’t seem to hold any importance at the moment.

The door to the house was unlocked, the residents home, so he carefully twisted the knob and inched inside. He winced as the bag containing the dozen eggs he’d bought bumped into the doorframe rather hard. He hoped the sliced cheddar cheese had taken the brunt of the whack.

“I’m home!” he called into the house and put the bags on the kitchen counter. He heard faint commotion coming from upstairs, followed by rapid footsteps.

“Oh, thank Christ,” you responded as you revealed yourself from behind the doorway to his right. It was most certainly you, though you seemed frazzled, and maybe a tad older than he thought you should look, though again, the detail seemed irrelevant.

“What happened?” Steve questioned, concerned.

“Donny Dino has disappeared,” you explained. Steve seemed to grasp the severity of what you’ve just said, despite how silly it might sound to an outside observer.

“Not Donny Dino,” he proclaimed, a smile on his face despite the shake of his head.

“Do not laugh, this is a life or death situation!” you exclaimed, though you seemed to be suppressing a laugh of your own.

“It is not ‘life or death.’ It’s a stuffed Brachiosaurus.”

“A stuffed Brachiosaurus that our son loves more than both of us combined!” you declared. You moved across the tile floor to the other side of the kitchen, checking underneath the table as you went. “Why can’t these kinds of crises ever happen to you, huh? I go to the store, the kid sits happy as a goddamn clam, but the moment you leave, shit hits the fan!”

“We will find Donny Dino, alright?” Steve assured you. You bent down to look underneath the sofa, probably for the fourth or fifth time. “He’s here somewhere.”

“I know, it’s fine, but he’s panicked, and that always leaves me panicked, and-” you cut yourself off, straitening up and turning to look at Steve, when a small voice called with all its might;

“I found him!”

Another bout of quick, excited footsteps followed, a small boy bounding down the steps and stopping only just before ramming himself into Steve’s knees. Looking at him, with his own big baby deer eyes and the fluffy green dinosaur held tightly in his arms, Steve felt a swell of adoration bloom in his chest

“Where was he, buddy?” you asked as you scooped him up into your arms.

“Under the bed,” the boy explained very matter-of-factly.

“What?” you asked, deflating just a touch. “You told me you already looked there, little dude!”

“I didn’t see him the first time!”

“Or the second time, or the third time, yeah, yeah,” you said, smiling as you walked into the kitchen with Steve following behind you.

Steve worked quickly to get the groceries put away as you and the boy sat at the table pushed up against the windows, discussing the harrowing journey poor Donny Dino had to go through before finally being rescued from “the under the bed,” as the boy put it. Steve had just opened one of the cabinets, back turned towards the kitchen table, when a loud crack of thunder sounded, seemingly coming from nowhere.

“That’s odd. Didn’t think it was supposed to rain today,” Steve said as he turned to look out the windows. The bright, sunny sky he had been under just a few minutes ago had darkened, turning a foreboding gray, filled with fat storm clouds and crackly lightning. A pit formed in his stomach; no, that’s not right, that can’t be right.

“Steve?” you asked from behind him, voice small and unnaturally even, like you had to think out your words very carefully.

You were standing now, and the boy in your arms had his face tucked into your neck. Steve was about to ask you what was wrong when big, horrible vines made themselves visible from behind you, wriggling and dripping with muck as they slowly, painfully slowly, began to intertwine around your neck, your ankles, your son.

“No,” Steve breathed out. “No!”

He ran, darted towards the two of you faster than he thought was possible. Not fast enough, though, as the vines ripped you backward into a thick black void behind you, sounds of your and your sons screaming mixing together into a horrible ring as you went flying away from-

Steve flew upright in bed, back stiff as a board. Not real, not real, it wasn’t real. His breathing was coming out strangely, though he couldn’t tell if it was too fast or not fast enough. Either way, he probably wasn’t getting the right amount of oxygen. He shut his eyes again, hard, and ghosted his hand to your side of the sheets to really, finally prove to himself that you’re okay, you’re asleep right next to him, and-

His hand was met by empty sheets.

Oh, god, what if it hadn’t actually been a nightmare? What if it had been real, and he had just forgotten? He threw himself out of the bed and scrambled out into the hall.

You were sitting at the end of the kitchen counter. The linoleum was raised above the rest of the surface there, and you were perched on one of the tall bar stools with a textbook laid out in front of you.

“Are you alright?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” Steve supplied quickly. “Sorry, yeah. Just, uh, just a bad dream.”

“Your turn this time, huh?” you joked, though Steve was still reeling and could do little more than just nod his head and trudge over to you.

All of you still had upside down nightmares, though for the most part, they had steadily been slowing down, yours and Steve’s included. Unfortunately, however, yours had come back in full force over the last few months. Your doctor said it was fairly common; hormonal changes can result in very vivid and oftentimes upsetting dreams, she had explained. You’d been waking up screaming at odd hours of the night at least once a week for the past month and a half. It made Steve feel wildly guilty.

You greeted Steve with open arms and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage from where you were sitting. His fingertips glided ever so delicately across your bump before his whole hand planted onto it. Still there. He had to double check.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“No,” he answered.

“You sure? Might make you feel better.”

“Yes.” He pulled away from you and hopped up onto the seat next to yours. His eyes caught the time glowing on the face of the microwave. It read 5:02. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said. “Figured I might as well do something useful.”

You gestured down to the textbook on the counter. You had finals next week and, should you do as well as Steve knows you will, you would be graduating a month after that.

“You want help?” Steve asked you. He picked up a stack of flashcards you had made.

“You should go back to bed,” you said, pulling the stack right out of Steve’s hands. It made him laugh.

“Only if you go with me, and I know you won’t, so let me help,” Steve insisted. You considered for a moment, and when Steve gave you some fantastic puppy dog eyes, you conceded.

“Fine.” You handed the stack back over to Steve, who accepted it with a dramatic flourish.

“Thank you. Okay, first question. I definitely don’t know this one,” he began. “John William Waterhouse is known for painting during which artistic movement?”

Come sunrise, you and Steve had powered through Art History, Women’s Studies, and American Literature. If the flashcards were anything to go by, you were going to pass each and every one of your finals with flying fuckin’ colors.

Eight a.m. rolled around far too quickly for Steve’s liking, and as much as he would’ve loved to sit with you for the rest of the day, he had an opening shift he had to get to in an hour's time.

Monday mornings at Family Video were about as dead as any store could get, but the completely full return bin kept him relatively busy once the doors were opened. Actually, if he timed the rest of the opening duties correctly, he could generally get through the day without having to do any real work at all. Usually, he would have been able to fill any extra time by chatting with Robin, but that seemed unlikely for today, if the scowl on her face from the other side of the front door told Steve anything. Keith had a matching disdainful look on his face as the pair came inside, though that wasn’t a surprise to anyone.

Robin, of course, barrelled right past Steve into the break room without a word. He desperately wanted to follow her but knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything helpful. Keith stopped in front of him.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to her,” he remarked, voice as lifeless as ever, “but you really shat the bed on this one, huh?”

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Steve muttered.

“Just felt like it was worth reminding you.”

The rest of the day moved silently, and Steve was sure it would never, ever end. Three p.m. couldn’t get there fast enough.

Keith, always on Robin’s side of any conflict (even the ones he knew absolutely nothing about), let her spend the majority of her shift doing paperwork in the office. That not only meant that Steve wasn’t able to get in a single word with her, but also that Keith was out front with him. All day long. He didn’t even get to sort through the returns like he wanted to; Keith commandeered that task pretty much immediately, leaving Steve to mindlessly walk circles around the store and pretend to look busy.

Steve spent most of the day weighing whether or not punching him in the face was worth his job.

Just past two o’clock, Robin poked her head out of the office, calling simply, “Keith! Come here for a second?” She retreated just as quickly as she had appeared.

“Watch the door,” he ordered as he rounded the desk. “And don’t touch my returns!”

Steve grumbled but did as he was told anyway.

The pile of returns taunted him from the counter the whole time Keith was away. His organizational system didn’t even make any sense! Clearly, it wasn’t alphabetical, but it wasn’t by genre either, so-

“Harrington!” Steve jumped out of his skin at the sound of Keith calling his name, charging out of the back like a freight train. “What the hell did you do?”

“What?” Steve questioned.

“You did something!”

“And?”

“And, now I’m losing my best employee over whatever stupid bullshit you pulled!” Keith raved, slamming a piece of paper onto the counter. Steve turned his attention to it, eyes skimming across the words scribbled across the page in Robin’s chicken scratch handwriting. The only words his brain was really able to process were ‘two weeks’ notice’ and ‘last day’.

“No, that can’t be right, she-”

“Everything was fine, and then you two got into this dumbshit fight, and you are fixing this!” Keith demanded.

“What do you want me to do?” Steve inquired. “She won’t listen to a word I say!”

“I want you to go into the office and make her stay!”

“But-”

“Office! Go!” Keith pointed towards the door.

Reluctantly, Steve left the counter and walked away. Behind him, he heard Keith call “You fucked with my tapes, didn’t you!”

Stalking through the short stockroom between rows of too-tall metal shelves, Steve felt like he was about to burst into tears. He stopped in front of the closed office door and read over Robin’s two weeks’ notice one more time before knocking on the door.

“It’s open,” Robin said through the wood.

The office, and the stock room too, had no windows; the only light in either space came from the hissing fluorescent lights in the ceiling (it didn’t help that at least half of the bulbs had gone out, and Keith couldn’t ever remember to order more). It was always freezing back there, and the Spring heat mixed with the day’s forecast of pouring rain and dense, dark clouds, making the whole building humid to the point where there was condensation pooling on the cinder block walls. The whole back half of the place felt more like a cave than a building.

“You’re quitting?” Steve asked, holding the letter aloft.

“The only reason I work here at all is because of you, idiot. And there’s no way you can keep working here now. I’m not gonna keep torturing myself here because of some delusional idea that you’re the same person,” Robin spat.

“What does that mean?” Steve asked. Hurt pooled behind his eyes and in his throat; he was worried he might choke on it. “I’m still me, I promise.”

“You lied to me for months.”

“And I’m sorry!” he lamented. “I should never have lied to you. I should have told you everything that was going on, from the very beginning! I was an idiot, but I was fucking scared, and-”

“I don’t really care, Steve!” Robin said. “You can be as sorry as you want to be, but that doesn’t change how much it hurts to know that you’d rather keep this shit from me than just fucking talk!”

Steve just stood there, mute.

“My last shift is next Monday. I’ll make sure Keith changes the schedule so we don’t have to see each other.” Robin stood up from the rickety old desk chair and quickly gathered up her belongings from her locker.

“Wait, please don’t leave yet!” Steve pleaded. “Can we just talk about this?”

“Nope,” she spat out.

“Hold on, wait!” Steve chased after Robin as she darted towards the front door. Keith’s eyes followed the both of them. “Your shift doesn’t end ‘til four. Can we please just talk until then, at least?”

“Keith!” she blurted. “Can I leave early?”

“Are you still quitting?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then no,” Keith answered.

“See? Can’t leave yet,” Steve tried, desperate to get her to stay.

“Too bad,” Robin responded. She backed towards the door and called to Steve as she was pushing it open, sarcasm soaking her words, “ sure hope they don’t fire me.”

Steve watched in silence as Robin unlocked her bike and peddled off, stormy winds whipping her hair and soaking her clothes.

“Great job,” Keith mocked. “I mean, really, that was a five star performance if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Fuck off,” Steve barked, walking passed the counter toward the stockroom door.

“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that!” Steve ignored Keith’s words as he gathered his own things to leave, his boss hot on his heels. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You definitely don’t get to leave, I need you to cover the rest of Robin’s shift!”

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure something out,” Steve huffed, pushing the door open and stomping to his car. He sped out of the parking lot with a squeal.

Steve thought, sometimes, that he felt all of his emotions much stronger than everyone else felt theirs. He must, right? The only other person he knew who cried as much as he did was you, and that was really only because you were pregnant, so in his head, it didn’t count.

He used to despise it when he was younger; he thought there was something wrong with him, though that line of thinking was most likely his father’s doing; Steve was always too sensitive for his dad. By the time he was in high school, he had gotten very good at pushing it all down, down, down, into the recesses of his brain, where sadness could transform into anger, anger into aggression.

He’d grown up a lot since then, but he’d naively assumed that becoming an adult would make his feelings easier to handle. Clearly, he had been wrong, and he felt just as powerless and small in the face of his emotions as he had when he was little. It all felt far too big for him to have to face all by himself.

And he really did have to face it by himself. He had you, but it was really more like you had him. It was his job to shoulder the brunt of the weight, and god, he wished more than anything in the world that he hadn’t pushed Robin away like he did. He desperately needed her to untangle everything he was feeling, to revel in the joy and quell his incessant worry about what he (well, really you) was experiencing.

He knew that it was his own damn fault that Robin was angry, and the feeling left a physical ache in his bones. It wasn’t the baby she was mad about (he really hoped it wasn’t, at least) it was Steve’s cowardice. The lying, the sneaking, the fact that he was too much of a pussy to just tell her the fucking truth! And even in the end, she still didn’t end up hearing it from him! Every bit of vile anger that Robin threw his way felt completely deserved.

Steve had lost his mother, and now his closest friend, and if it weren’t for you, he might not have had anyone left at all.

He had calmed down some by the time he made it back home. The sound of fat raindrops colliding with the roof of the car provided Steve with the perfect white noise to fill up his head and drown out his pathetic self-pity before he could walk through your apartment door and worry you with any of it.

Steve shut the door, turned to face it, and dropped his forehead to the wood with a thud. He shut his eyes and sighed. He could feel the condensation from his breath build up and make the paint feel sticky. So far, he had fixed exactly nothing.

“That you?” you called through the apartment.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath and responded, “yeah.”

You appeared in the kitchen. Steve tried his hardest to put on a convincing smile.

“How was your day?” he asked you. The absolute last thing he wanted to talk about was his own.

“Good. Yeah, good,” you responded. You were fidgeting with the odds and ends on the counter, like you were pretending to dust. You flitted through the room. “My, uhm, my mom called.”

“What?”

“Told me they aren’t going to fly out for my graduation, so I shouldn’t bother saving them any tickets,” you stated very matter-of-factly.

“Seriously?” Steve asked, dumbfounded.

“Yep,” you chirped. You began wiping down the countertop with a wet rag.

“Did you tell her. . .” he trailed off. He was sure you would know what he meant.

“Yeah. I did.”

“What’d she say?”

“Nothing. She just hung up.”

Steve wanted to kill your mother. He wanted to kill her for the way she treated you, and he wanted to kill your father for the way he did nothing about it. This was by no means a new desire for him, but whatever anger he had felt towards them in the past paled in comparison to how he felt hearing what you had just told him.

Your mother had reached a new level of cruelty that made his blood absolutely boil.

After the “earthquakes,” they wanted to move away, out of state, and you didn’t want to follow them. You had already turned eighteen at that point, you were an adult; they couldn’t force you to go, but your mother took it personally and your father was too much of a pushover to go against her wishes in any way.

Things just never really went back to normal after that.

“Jesus, that’s,” was all he could think to say. “That’s awful.”

“Y’know, honestly,” you began. “I think it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. The tone of your voice, the way you told him all of this as if it was no different from any other anecdote about your daily goings on, made him think it was very much not fine.

“I am,” you said. “They don’t get to be half in half out of my life. Either they’re here, or they’re not here. It’s all or nothing, I’m not going to force them to love me if they don’t.”

“They do love you,” Steve insisted, though you only responded with a look that read as ‘are you fucking kidding me?’.

“All or nothing,” you reiterated. “They have chosen ‘nothing.’ No good reason to pretend like they haven’t.”

Steve made his way over to where you were standing in front of the sink with your back turned to him. His hands met your sides in a wildly delicate touch, your name a whisper on his lips as they met your left temple. You turned around in his arms and he held you tightly as you cried.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @luvlexi-darling @palmtreesx3 @prestinalove

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x f!reader

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strawberryxfieldz · 1 year

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Garden of Eden (Wally x Reader)

a fluffy Wally/Reader one-shot I posted on my AO3 and figured I’d post on Tumblr!

since my main Wally/Reader fic has a darker plot, I really wanted to write some fluff for the puppet man. no experiencing the dreadful horrors here! Just pure fluff and stuff. short and sweet! Enjoy! @:)

CW for eye contact (yknow how it is)

Welcome Home Masterlist

When you wake up in the morning, you always have the assurance of Wally’s presence beside you. He had a sleep mask on and pajamas but you knew he wasn’t really asleep. Wally didn’t really understand the concept of sleep and took to repeating “I’m sleeping” over and over again in a hushed whisper that lulled you to sleep at night. Right now, though, he was simply smiling, hands folded on his chest.

You leaned over to pull his sleep mask off his face and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Oh!” His face lit up with delight. “You’re awake!”

You cuddled into his side, resting your head in the space between his neck and shoulder. He smiled and put an arm around you, hugging you closer.

“Yeah…” you replied with a tired groan. “Five more minutes before we get out of bed, though. I’m still sleepy.”

“Take your time, my love.” Wally kissed your head as you lay there, peaceful and happy in his arms.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this life with Wally but you certainly knew you loved it. You loved that you realized your feelings for each other, that you moved into Home with him, and that you were able to start off every morning like this.

Soon, you’d be out of bed and in the kitchen, helping each other make pancakes. Perhaps some would burn—Wally wasn’t the greatest cook—but you would laugh it off. At some point, you’d push back Wally’s long blue hair that liked to cover half of his face when down. He didn’t enjoy having to go without his pompadour (he used to hate you seeing him like that especially) but he was used to it now. You’d told him enough about how pretty you found him without all his hair products until he believed it. When his whole face was revealed, you gave him a loving, sweet kiss that he'd lean into with a smile.

After, you’d find yourselves underneath the big apple tree in your yard, humming songs and telling stories. Wally’s hair was done by now, and he had a sketchbook in his lap as he doodled many things, including you. You, meanwhile, were doing your best to make a flower crown. Julie taught you how to the other day. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be a quick learner.

“It’s not coming out right,” you whined, disappointment high in your voice.

Wally glanced up from his drawing to look at you. “Here. Let me see.”

You handed him your sad attempt at a flower crown with a frown. Wally didn’t hesitate to put it on his head and he gave you a small smile.

“How do I look?” he asked.

You suppressed a laugh at seeing the ridiculous mess of already-unwinding flowers sat atop him.

“The most.” You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Just as always.”

Wally smiled warmly at you, a bit lovestruck, and you couldn’t help but kiss him again, this time on his mouth.

Being a puppet, Wally didn’t exactly have lips to kiss, just felt. It also meant he didn’t understand the concept of kissing. He knew it was a declaration of love and, by now, he knew it was one of your favorite ways of giving affection. Still, he didn’t actually kiss back so much as press his face against yours as best as possible and make a ‘mwah’ sound when you leaned away. You considered it kissing, though, even if he did it wrong. He was just too adorable.

“You’re the one who's the most, darling,” he cooed.

You felt something ignite in your chest when he called you that. ‘Darling’ being his surname made it all the more flustering.

“But you’re so beautiful,” you insisted. You moved to cradle his face with your hands and he instantly stilled. “Here…” You kissed his forehead. “…here…” You kissed the space between his eyes where a nose would be. “…and here…!” You quickly pressed another kiss to his mouth.

“Mwah!” Wally said enthusiastically when you pulled back.

You giggled and scooted closer beside him. He rested against your side, leaning his head against your arm.

"What're you drawing there?" you hummed after another minute or two.

Wally held up his sketchpad proudly. He was only working with a few crayons and there was nothing but scribbles on the page, yet you were able to recognize your likeness pretty well between the lines.

"You!" he replied with a sappy smile. "It's my favorite thing to draw, after all!"

You immediately threw him into a hug. Wally was much more accustomed to hugs thanks to his fellow neighbors but still went limp in them. It was like embracing a warm ragdoll, and you'd think Wally didn't like it from his lack of reciprocation if it weren't for the happy hum he made when his face was pressed against your shoulder.

"Wally, you're so talented," you told him as you leaned away. "I'm so lucky."

Wally beamed back at you before continuing to color, content. You let him draw, relaxing in the relative silence between you, mind still whirring. As peaceful as the moment was, you couldn't help feeling dismayed.

Wally did too much for you. He was always making art for you, his greatest muse, and he learned your ways of physical affection for you, even if he still didn't understand it all too well. There had to be something you could do for him in return before you felt like a totally inadequate partner to him. You racked your brain as you sat there, quiet, listening only to the sound of Wally's crayons moving against paper. That gave you an idea and you bit back a cheery smile as you made sure to store it away in your thoughts for later.

A few days later, you found yourself in the living room of Home, putting the finishing touches on your masterpiece. Well, okay, 'masterpiece' was a bit of an overstatement. In front of you, sitting atop a pile of old newspapers was a lump of clay very generously deemed a ceramic sculpture of an apple. There were too many bumps in the wrong places and the stem was leaning too far in one direction, making it askew, but it was still an apple!

At least, this is what you told yourself as you leaned back to examine your work. You put a finger to your mouth thoughtfully.

"I don't know..." you talked out loud to yourself. Then, remembering who you were with, asked, "What do you think, Home?"

Home made a sound that sounded like a door squeaking. You were pretty sure that was a good thing.

But, before you could mull over it any longer, you heard the front door open. You shot up from your spot on the couch, taking the ceramic in your hands and hiding it behind your back. A moment later, Wally walked in, a slight smile on his face that grew bigger upon seeing you.

"Hi, love!" you greeted, trying to seem as not suspicious as possible. "How was hanging out with Julie and Frank?"

"Fun." Wally nodded. "We chased a lot of butterflies. Frank got mad when I asked if I could keep them."

"Aw, I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Wally shrugged. "Friends shouldn't be caged in anyway. They should be flying free."

You smiled at the sentiment and leaned in to kiss his cheek, only to stop when he spoke again.

"What do you have behind you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You leaned back suddenly with a nervous smile. "Huh? Oh, nothing!"

"Can I see it?"

You rolled the ceramic in your hand, feeling every lump and crevice with a frown. Yet, you looked into Wally's big, black eyes, soft and caring as they stared back at you intently, and couldn't help but give in.

"Okay. Fine..." you sighed as you pulled the apple out from behind you. "It's, um, a thing I made for you."

You held it out to him so he could see it, bracing yourself for his reaction.

Wally's eyes widened and his mouth parted with a small gasp. "An apple?"

"Yeah! It's made out of clay," you explained. You watched as he studied it before carefully taking it into his own hands. "You know, I figured since you like staring at your apples but they eventually all go bad... I'd make you one that never goes bad!"

Wally was quiet for a moment and his whole face brightened. "It's perfect!"

He walked over to the mantel and placed the ceramic there gently as you continued.

"Really?" Your smile twitched. "I know art is kind of your thing, I'm not as good at it but I just thought I'd do something for you since you do so much for me and-"

Wally smiled before pressing his mouth against the side of your face, effectively cutting off your rambling. You relaxed when he made a 'mwah!' sound as he leaned away.

"I love it," he reassured you, voice soft.

"Oh." You let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

"But why would you think you have to make something for me, silly?" Wally tilted his head.

You looked down, suddenly feeling sheepish. Wally gingerly took one of your hands with his, giving you an encouraging nod. In return, you gave him a warm smile.

"I don't want you to think I'm inadequate," you replied with a shrug. "Because you're so talented and nice to me and all these other things and you deserve the best!"

Wally chuckled. You couldn't help but smile more at the sound of it, slow and monotone. You loved his laugh.

"You are the best," he told you, rubbing your hand with his thumb. "You're the most, darling. Your love is more than enough."

You felt a bundle of emotions begin to take over you, all so overwhelmingly happy you could hardly even fathom it. Gratitude, comfort, and pure love rushed through you as you continued to stare adoringly into those beautiful eyes. You wanted to jump for joy, hold Wally close to you and never, ever let go, and see to it that you made every day of the rest of his life perfect and full of love. Maybe then he would be able to feel a fraction of the amount of adoration you had for him and understand just how much he meant to you.

Instead, you frowned playfully. "See what I mean?! You're too kind! It's not fair!"

Wally just laughed again.

#wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home x reader #welcome home wally #welcome home fanfiction #strawbs fics #mine #...and nothing bad happened to them ever and they lived happily ever after the end. *bats my eyelashes quirkily*

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solarwynd · 2 months

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Seeing how HYBE continues to move for JK honestly makes me sad. I thought they'd just give up on their vision after seeing how he failed to blow up, but they are clearly determined to keep at it until they succeed, and how long do you think it's gonna take?

They are already winning with the mediaplay, convincing people that JK is the most talented and successful member and people just don't seem to care how he got that success. And his solos and Armys who bias him are truly the most insufferable; talking about how he's untouchable. When pjms complained about that recent BB chart placing Jimin at #21, they got so smug about it saying pjms thought they touched heaven with LC's #1 on BB but Jungkook went on to achieve way more than Jimin and now they're lashing out because reality doesn't match with their hopes and dreams.

They say the BB #1 is the only thing JM has going for him and his fans are clinging to it for dear life to make ourselves feel better about the fact that he'll always be inferior to JK.

It just makes me sad because it's clear that JM's success can't be compared to JK's because JK had all the privileges while JM received the bear minimum combined with sabotage from all fronts and numerous articles from his own label downplaying him to make JK shine. Armys are even bragging about that BB article about JK having proved himself to be the "golden" one of BTS.

Is this really how it's going to be? JK is gonna go on to become successful, well-known and BTS' breakout star just like that? No consequences for him the fraud Scooter Braun and BPD have been committing for him? And Jimin is forever gonna be restricted to the kpop bubble without ever breaking out? JK is gonna be more successful than him?

During Seven - GOLDEN era when all the fandom's hypocrisy was exposed about them dragging JM for the bare minimum vs. supporting JK's blatant payola, and more people spoke about him "cheating" with endless remixes and the charts being manipulated for him all while they are making sure to suppress JM and keeping JM from rivaling him on the charts, I thought that the world was finally waking up, that more people outside the kpop bubble would speak out against the disgusting injustice done to JM and that the investors behind HYBE wouldn't let something like this be done to their most valuable asset.

But I guess I was naïve, and I'm ignorant about how the music industry/powerful companies actually work..

It just hurts so much. I even have tears in my eyes as I'm typing this, and I can't express to you just how much resentment I hold towards JK because of this. Sometimes I wish he'd just dye. And I know that's a terrible thing to wish upon someone, but I can't help it

I want to believe you guys who say Jimin will always be successful no matter what, that he'll commercially break out eventually as a soloist and that Scooter and Bang PD's plans for JK will fail, but I don't see any of those things happening. Instead it's the opposite. JK is slowly becoming known outside the Kpop bubble, while Jimin seems to be fading into obscurity. And JK clearly has new things coming up and probably a few more collaborations with well known American artists, or will eventually once he's out of MS. It feels like it's only a matter of time before he does a collaboration with artists like Chris Brown, Justin Bieber, Zayn or Shawn Mendes. And what do you think will happen then? His career will most definitely skyrocket.

This whole thing has just made me so pessimistic about life. Does karma not exist? Do people who do bad things always just get away with it just like that? Probably two decades since Scooter Braun has been working as a music producer and probably for more than a decade people have seen just what an evil human being he is and what he's done to others, and none of these people have tried to come together and get rid of him?

I wish I never discovered BTS and Jimin.

“Instead it's the opposite. JK is slowly becoming known outside the Kpop bubble, while Jimin seems to be fading into obscurity.”

“It feels like it's only a matter of time before he does a collaboration with artists like Chris Brown, Justin Bieber, Zayn or Shawn Mendes. And what do you think will happen then? His career will most definitely skyrocket”

I need you to be so serious right now because the incessant pessimism some of y’all have is truly preventing y’all from seeing what’s real.

JK got “featuring” popping up next to his first name more times than his last and his biggest claim to his current relevancy/success is his inability to not latch onto western artists. If that’s what he has to continue to do for his supposed “solo” career to skyrocket why would I stress over that when jimin’s the only one out the two of them that’s proven he can stand on his own? Jk being a serial collaborator means little to me in general but especially when everything that you mentioned is due to the connections that jk has gotten through Scooter. Not off his own ability or initiative.

Referencing that random top kpop list is even more of a joke when you remember jimin (not jk) is still the only k-idol to hit #1 on artists 100. The real one. Not the one made up one by that rent for hire white kpop aficionado Jeff Benjamin. Like Crazy, a korean track has spent more or just as much days on usa spotify than multiple songs that were taylor made for the states, dropped by jk have. SNTY, a song released just this past November, is doing almost the same amount of streams as Like Crazy is and LC is almost a year old. And so what if we praise Jimin for getting that #1 on hot 100? That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Him getting that #1 is the main reason jk got dragged out that apartment to record seven so scooter could pay to get him his 😭. Plus armys are always gonna be full of it when it comes to recognizing the truth about jk’s career so you taking whatever they say or do to heart is a waste of your time.

Claiming Jimin’s fading into obscurity is objectively a ridiculous statement. Music wise after Angel dropped, Jimin went MIA and people still had his name constantly in their mouths the months following. All it took for him to go viral were 3 dance covers he did on a whim. Probably better promo for him than his own solo debut ever got and he didn’t need Scooter or Bang spending millions to do that. For his ambassadorships, he had people lining up in the streets just to see him walk in and out of a building for just for 5 seconds. It’s been 11 years since he debuted and 8 since BTS really blew up and he’s still the most relevant name in kpop out of hundreds of other idols.

I’ll always get the frustration of jk having it so easy in his solo career over jimin. I’m not blind to the disadvantages he’s facing, but some of y’all really need to stop acting like jimin’s solo career is a lost cause or doomed because of it. It’s getting aggravating now.

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genocidehim · 1 year

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Nacho secretly falling for Lalo's trophy wife and she not so subtly likes him back

notes: render is female, angst, marital problems, emotional neglect. words: 2715 part. 2 here

1. keep in mind that if Lalo as a husband seems disgusting here, it's because I'm basing it on the common archetype of the Mexican drug lord! don't kill me, I'm just trying to give some realism to the matter.

2. This could have more chapters, I really liked the dynamics!! Just ask for more and I'll make them.

Since Lalo's return to Mexico, many things had changed, but many remained the same.

Life in Mexico was pleasant and peaceful despite all the inconveniences brought by the criminal life. You were Eduardo Salamanca's wife, a man who was quite respected in Don Eladio's cartel, which gave you and your family some status.

You met Lalo about three years ago, when by chance, you both became emotionally involved. He was an attentive and somewhat arrogant man, like any man involved in organized crime. Lalo loved to shower you with gifts and treat you like a queen. He even proposed to you not long after and took you to live with him in his house.

Although married life with Lalo seemed like a dream, it was much more problematic than you imagined. Lalo was an obsessive man with his work and would typically not spend time at home, much less with you. Once he had you in his house, he began to neglect you because he no longer saw the point in chasing you. He had you under his power. Although he was still quite thoughtful and romantic, it was almost a rarity. Lalo was mostly away from home working, and there were days when you didn't see him at all. Not to mention, he didn't sleep with you most nights due to his strange sleeping behavior.

Over the years, you seemed to have grown accustomed to staying at home without expecting him at night, and due to the danger of going out, you stayed at home while watching the employees work and converse. You were not a prisoner, but you felt like one.

You no longer had friends, your family was not happy with your decision to marry a criminal and they avoided you. You didn't see your husband, and you had forgotten the last time you had spoken to anyone other than the house employees.

Lalo had priorities, and his wife was not among them. His family and his business came first.

When he had to leave for Albuquerque urgently due to business problems, you couldn't even say goodbye before finding out he was already in another country. However, that was already a habit and it didn't even make you sad anymore.

You lived alone in a house where the only people who talked to you were those who were paid a salary. Living in luxuries that you could not enjoy and feeling like just another decoration in Lalo's expensive house.

And technically, that's what you were. Just the beautiful wife that Lalo showed off at parties.

That's why when you heard the shots and a car skid through the entrance of the house, you guessed that he had returned, not knowing how many weeks or months had passed.

You took the time to fix yourself up before going downstairs. Your mood was much lower than on previous occasions, and you felt less excited to receive your husband because that meant having to make yourself hopeful only to be abandoned again without even being able to say goodbye.

You went down the stairs and walked to the entrance of the house after seeing all the employees welcoming Lalo with applause and smiles. You walked towards them and gave your best smile to Lalo, who quickly gave you a big hug and a kiss on the lips to which you tried to respond.

"¡Al fin veo a la niña de mis ojos!" Lalo held your face and gave you another kiss on the lips. "How has the queen of my heart been?"

Lalo's gentle and sweet voice awakened something in you, that love that you used to suppress when he was away. Little by little, you were regaining the excitement of having him home, and your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Missing you... Last time I couldn't say goodbye to you."

"Ay mi niña... Did I leave you too abandoned?"

Lalo wrapped his arms around you while speaking in a sweeter and more mellow tone, caressing your hair as if you were just a little girl who needed attention. Shortly after, he let go of you and smiled widely as he put his hand on your back to keep you close to him.

"You still haven't met Ignacio! I want to introduce you to him. He's going to stay in the house for a while; he's a friend of mine."

You looked at the man Lalo was introducing you to and felt a small pang in the pit of your stomach. A strange sensation filled your body as you kept a warm smile while getting to know him.

Ignacio seemed your age, much shorter than Lalo, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle because, yes, the first thing you noticed was how well that red shirt he was wearing fit him.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ignacio," you said as you extended your hand to introduce yourself. He hesitated, but eventually took your hand and shook it with little force.

When Nacho first laid eyes on you, he knew that you would be his downfall.

The days in the house didn't seem so boring to you anymore, and they were less stressful for Nacho.

Most of the time, Lalo seemed to be more occupied with fixing his cars and taking care of his horses than paying attention to you. He thought it was enough to have you at night and see you at breakfast, and he didn't seem too interested in playing the loving husband if he had more important things to do. It was something that Nacho noticed almost instantly.

Nacho was more observant, subtly noticing how you seemed to be seeking Lalo's attention while he seemed interested in other things. How you flirted with him at every opportunity you had, and how Lalo seemed to completely ignore it, offering you a credit card as a solution to your flirting, thinking that was all you needed from him.

Over time, Nacho discovered that Lalo wasn't just a man obsessed with the Cartel and his family, but they were his top priorities above his young and beautiful wife.

And then came the interest. Nacho started seeing you with different eyes when one of those days when Lalo wasn't home, you asked him to accompany you to a clothing store to replenish your wardrobe, and he was the first spectator to see you in clothes that were quite revealing, with the excuse of "wanting to know his opinion."

You weren't subtle, and neither was he.

The topic began to escalate when the factor of physical attraction came into play. Some afternoons, he would wear slightly tighter shirts or even sleeveless shirts to subtly show off his body in front of you. Other times, you took advantage of the heat to dress more lightly and walk around the house showing more skin. They were so subtle with the signals that no one would think it was intentional.

It was one of those strange mornings where you had a slight argument with Lalo before he had to leave to Don Eladio's house despite having plans with you that day. Lalo had his priorities and you weren't one of them.

It was insulting and it saddened you how everything had cooled down so much, now you could only watch Lalo's horses while reflecting on things in your life. In the distance, you heard Nacho's jovial voice, which seemed strange to you.

"Weren't you with Eduardo?" you asked curiously.

"No, he asked me to stay here resting while he did other things."

You nodded with disdain and gave him a forced smile before refocusing your attention on the galloping horses. Nacho felt a little more courageous and approached you to talk more privately without looking too obvious.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he leaned on the railing that contained the horses.

"Yes... I'm just a little bored of being in this house..."

"You're always at home, you should go out with your friends or do something else."

Nacho realized he had touched on a sensitive topic for you because your gaze saddened and you turned it away from him.

"I don't have many friends... Especially now that Mexico is so dangerous and there are so many kidnappings of narco families..."

Ignacio couldn't remember that, probably because the place where they were was quite safe and well-protected, but it was true that Mexico was much more dangerous now with organized crime so rampant.

"And why don't you invite those friends here?"

"I don't have friends, Ignacio," you said seriously as you gave him a cold and serious look. It was embarrassing for you to have to reveal that part of your life because it was admitting that you were just Lalo's trophy wife, that woman who was only in his house waiting to be the incubator of his children.

"I'm sorry... I had no idea."

"I thought you had already noticed, everyone notices it instantly..."

An awkward silence lingered in which both were unable to speak no matter how much they wanted to break the silence. Nacho hesitated if it was respectful to ask more about it, and you wondered if it was appropriate to talk about your marriage with one of your husband's friends.

"... Would you like to have lunch with me?"

Your question caught Nacho off guard for a moment as he didn't know how to respond. When he looked at you and saw you smiling with a sad expression on your face, he felt the need to accept.

"Lunch together?"

"Yes, we were supposed to have lunch all together, but Lalo had to go to Don Eladio's and I imagine he'll eat there..."

"I don't want to sound nosy, but... why didn't he take you with him?"

"To where? To Don Eladio's house?" You chuckled before continuing. "I don't go to those kinds of meetings, they never let wives attend the meetings."

"I understand…" Nacho recalled his last encounter at Don Eladio's house and was able to piece things together. Those gatherings were typically focused solely on the cartel: alcohol, cocaine, women… things that most husbands would hide from their marriages. And although Nacho knew that Lalo wasn't particularly interested in getting involved with other women, he couldn't guarantee it 100%. Not when he knew very well how the narco behavior was in Mexico.

"You've been to one of those gatherings, haven't you?" You asked curiously, turning around to face him. Nacho felt somewhat out of himself having you so close, normally when he spoke to someone he kept a considerable distance, but now you were just an arm's length away and he could smell the expensive perfume you were wearing.

"Just one, it was when Lalo introduced me to Eladio."

"And… is it true that there are girls at those gatherings?"

The sad look you gave Nacho was enough to break his heart. It hurt to see a young girl like you feeling so insecure about her marriage, a marriage that seemed more like a sentence in jail.

"There are always girls, Mrs. Salamanca…"

"Don't call me that… you can call me by my name." You felt some discomfort remembering that you were also a Salamanca, but not part of the family, just an extension that would one day serve to bear and give birth to true Salamancas.

Nacho nodded and watched you in silence as you seemed immersed in your own thoughts, with an unreadable expression on your face. Ignacio often didn't understand Lalo, and this only made him have a more abstract idea of what kind of man he was. He knew that Lalo had a strong connection to his family and always did everything for their benefit, but... Wasn't his wife also his family? How was it possible for him to abandon such a pleasant woman like you in a house like this? It was almost like a castle where you were locked up. Nacho wasn't very knowledgeable about many things, but he could easily deduce that you were depressed.

Those thoughts made something inside him stir. He couldn't conceive the idea of a woman like you losing her youth and life locked up in this house. Nacho wondered if your love for Lalo was so great that you allowed it, but was it right?

"So... do you want to have lunch with me?"

Your question brought him back to reality and he nodded, giving you a kind smile to which you responded with your own.

Both decided to take their lunch to one of the tables outside the house. Sweet Yolanda prepared Chilaquiles rojos and some natural juice to drink as they talked with more privacy outside of the house. The atmosphere was cool, the heat no longer felt as present, and the fresh air messed up your hair as you tried to keep it away while eating, eliciting laughter from Ignacio.

"Provecho! I hope you like it. I told Yolanda to make this especially for you."

Nacho's sweet gaze watched you with affection as he thanked you politely. Nacho's gaze seemed more focused on watching you than on the lunch he had in front of him. He was enchanted by you, not only were you beautiful, but you also seemed very affectionate and charismatic, and Nacho imagines that you would be a good wife and mother with those incredible qualities.

Nacho's heart beats strongly and he begins to wonder if it's really right to think of you that way, his boss's wife. However, he can't deny that being beside you really makes him happy.

"I wish Lalo could eat with us…"

The mere mention of Lalo's name made Nacho feel repulsed.

"Maybe tomorrow it could happen."

"I doubt it… He never has lunch with me, only breakfast and dinner."

"Lalo is a busy man..." Ignacio can't believe he's defending that man as you look at him with sadness. "I don't think he does it on purpose."

You let out a sigh and set your fork aside. You're tired, as if your pent-up emotions are about to overflow. You feel the words coming and speak up;

"I shouldn't be talking about these things, but... Sometimes I feel like I'm just a decoration in this house."

The sadness in your words really moved Nacho, who gave you a sad look seeing how distressed you were.

"Lalo only needs me when he wants to show off his beautiful wife... Sometimes he just talks about the pretty children I can give him, how obedient I am, that I never give him any trouble..."

Nacho stared at you with a sadness on his face. He could see how your beautiful eyes had no shine and only held sadness and loneliness... The idea that you felt that way crushed him deeply and only gave him more reason to despise Lalo.

What kind of man could be so cold to his wife? The kind of man who only cared about his business, and Lalo was like that.

It hurt Nacho to hear you describe yourself as useless, it hurt to hear you call yourself a "decoration" in your own home.

"God... I'm sorry I told you this, I don't know what came over me... I don't think I've ever had a chance to get it off my chest." You sighed, feeling the air in your lungs become heavier, holding back the urge to cry as you tried to regain your composure. "Don't tell Lalo I told you this... He'd be so angry with me if he found out."

He has to maintain his composure to not get lost in his emotions. He wishes so much he could stand up and embrace you in his arms, caress you, and tell you everything will be okay, to let you know that you are not really the things you think of yourself… However, he has to restrain himself, it's a bad idea, it's a terrible idea that he's starting to feel things for Lalo's wife.

"I won't tell him, I promise. Trust me."

The warmth of his words had really managed to take away some of your sadness. With some reassurance, you took Nacho's hand and gave it a little squeeze before thanking him. And Nacho felt like he had won heaven just by touching you.

#better call saul x reader #breaking bad x reader #bcs x reader #nacho varga #nacho varga x reader #nacho varga fluff #nacho bcs #ignacio varga #one short #request #lalo salamanca

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