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peachesofteal · 1 month

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Simple Math / Part Eleven

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic depiction of domestic violence. This fic contains mature themes. Mention of pregnancy. Nurse!reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Bun is in pain, goes to a doctor. Dissociation. Lots of despair, fear, anxiety. The 141 reunites. Nightmares. Comfort. Tenderness. Angst. Welcome home.

“Knock knock.”

“Bunny.” Johnny murmurs, lifting an arm, urging you close, a moon to a tide.

“Hi.” You bend, moving into the hug, pressing your face to his neck for a quick second before straightening.

“I miss ye.” You survey him, glancing at the monitor, the brace on his leg and hip, the disconnected fluid line. He’s doing well. You’re so relieved to see it with your own eyes, ribs rattling with a long exhale. Satisfied, you smile, tension bleeding from your spine.

“Simon says you’re terrorizing your night nurse.”

“Am not. She’s jus’ not gentle, or quiet. Wakes me up.”

“That’s her job.” He scoffs, waving you off. You settle in the chair at his side, and he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, dotting kisses across your knuckles. His affection is freeing, sweet and easy, a warm breeze on a spring day. It overflows your heart with warmth until you think it might spill over, and you go with it, following his lead, even though your better judgement, the girl in the mirror, wails.

“Ye look good. Better. Swellin’ gone down?” He cradles your chin, turning your face from left to right, inspecting with a crystal-clear sapphire gleam.

“Yeah, my shoulder is still sore but… yeah. I feel better.”

“’m glad. Simon keepin’ ye off yer feet all day then?”

“Oh my god.” You laugh. “He keeps telling me to lay down. Or asking if I want to take a nap.” Johnny chuckles.

“Sounds right. He’s a bit o’ a mother hen, that one. He cares though, we both do.”

“I know.” You squeeze his hand. “And I missed you too.”

“He said ye an’ him had a nice chat the other night?” Your cheeks burn. Oh god. Did he… “I’m a wee bit jealous.” He complains, turning his nose up and away in a mock pout, and you roll your eyes.

You laid in bed all night and thought about these moments. Thought about Simon’s mouth on yours, his hand on your ass, squeezing and stroking. You thought about how he tasted, how he smelled, the way he looked at you, like you were a part of their world, a piece of them.

And you thought about Johnny. Johnny alone here, Johnny trapped in the hospital, healing, unable to leave or even get out of bed. How anxious he must be, being separated from his family, how frustrating it is to spend so long trying to get better.

You wanted to give him something. Wanted to make him feel better, see him smile.

Here goes nothing.

Leaning, standing, you dip into his orbit, lightly bumping your noses together. It takes no time until his good hand is around the back of your neck, crashing your mouth into his, and he breathes you in, holding you steady, tongue and teeth and lips swirling together in a ubiquitous, overwhelming haze. He tastes like summer rain, the feeling in the air before a giant storm, electric and blazing, brilliant glow transferring between the two of you, lightning striking a mountaintop. He nips your bottom lip, heat flooding your stomach, and you pull away slowly, his eyes jeweled and shimmering, brilliantly blue.

“Bunny,” You try to swallow a quiet giggle and fail. “I’ll have to tell ye I’m jealous more often.”

“Don’t take advantage.” You playfully scold.

“Me? Take advantage?” He pretends to be outraged, voice piquing higher, and you laugh again. “How can I take advantage when ‘m the one stuck here in this bed while ye two are at home, playin’ house, takin’ couch naps and gettin’ butt rubs. No one cares about Johnny, no-“

“Shhh.” You press your lips to his, silencing him, remaining in the kiss that’s long and soft and saccharine. He sneaks his tongue back between your teeth, mischievous and wild, every bit the man you’re drawn to, an attraction you can’t fight.

“Well.” Simon clears his throat from the doorway, brows raised, mask snug. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” You don’t know why, but you fly backwards, nearly stumbling, cheeks on fire. You feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, and that feeling, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, is all too reminiscent.

It frightens you.

“Whoa, hey.” Johnny tries to snag a finger around your wrist, but you step out of the way.

“It’s alright.” Simon moves inside fully, clicking the door shut behind him. “You’re not in trouble. Nothing is wrong, I was just kidding. That’s my fault.” You shake your head.

He’s not mad. Johnny is fine. Everything is fine.

You’re overreacting. You’re making a mess of this.

You shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place. What’re you doing? Who are you kidding?

“I’m s-sorry.” You stammer, hands wringing together anxiously.

“Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry about.” Johnny protests, still trying to reach for you.

Get it together. You have to get it together.

You close your eyes.

Deep breath. In and out. You can do it. Just breathe.

It works. You’re steadier, and you meet their watchful gazes as your eyes open.

“You okay?” Simon murmurs, moving very slowly to the other side of the bed where you’re standing, like he’s approaching a spooked, scared, wild animal.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just… had a moment. I’m fine.” Not entirely true, but that’s alright. You feel a little unsteady, a little unnerved, and Johnny frowns.

“Ye should sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bunny, please. For me?” He bats his eyelashes, and you want to groan.

But you lower yourself in the chair all the same.

Quiet falls over the room. It’s awkward and stiff, and you curse yourself for ruining the moment.

“Hey.” Simon soothes, reading your mind. “Hey, you’re alright. Everything is fine.” You nod, unsettled. He squeezes your good shoulder and dips past you, leaning to press a gentle kiss to Johnny’s brow, before dotting his nose and pushing their lips together. Their kiss is long, languid touch melting away to expose their connection, trust and love on full display. Delicate and rare, their affection makes your heart flutter, pulchritudinous whispers given to one another as Simon holds Johnny’s hand, stroking a familiar pattern into his skin, something similar to the way he touches you. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Wish they’d let me out of this bloody bed.” Johnny grumbles. You clear your throat.

“They’re waiting on your wrist. Once your wrist can support your weight on crutches, then you’ll be able to start PT and be released.”

“Ach. I know.” He’s frustrated, it’s clear. You know it’s not easy, being here, being separated, stuck in a hospital.

“It won’t be too long.” You try to reassure him, and he nods, still a little forlorn. “Here,” you stand with a burst of confidence, knocking his arm with the back of your hand as a direction, “scooch over.”

His eyes light. Simon laughs.

You fold yourself onto the edge of the bed, turned on your side, curled along where he’s the least banged up, careful of the sensitive graft lurking beneath his hospital gown.

“There. That better?” His good arm wraps around you carefully, settling on your ribs, a thumb tracing the wrinkle of your shirt.

“Aye, much better.” Your knees are bent, and cool air ghosts over your lower back, where your shirt has ridden up and exposed your skin. You shiver.

“Cold?” Simon murmurs, and you nod. He’s close, hovering, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed to cover both you and Johnny. He tucks it around the two of you carefully and leans forward, pulling his mask down again to brush his lips across Johnny’s brow.

You watch in a daze. They don’t speak, but there’s something happening between them, something being said in their eyes as Simon holds his face briefly, and Johnny nods.

They both look to you, your bottom lip caught between teeth.

“Want one too?” Simon hums, cupping the back of your head. “Here.” He kisses you, lingering in it, heat of his naked mouth still a shock to your system.

Johnny is beaming, and cuddles you as close as possible, cheek resting atop your forehead.

They make you dizzy. All of it feels like some kind of dream, a world impossible, a fantasy suddenly turned real life. You’re on the verge of spinning out of control inside it, losing yourself.

It doesn’t help that everything you’ve done over these last few years, this identity, this life, the work that went into hiding and planning and saving and scraping, trying to stay unseen and unnoticed-

Was all for nothing.

“Bunny?” Johnny whispers, bringing you back to them. Simon is settled in the recliner, the same one from the ICU room, but his arm is stretched past your head, fingers playing idly in Johnny’s very long mohawk.

“Sorry. I’m here.”

“Where did ye go?” He tightens his hold, and you snuggle in closer, hiding away from everything bearing down on you, the pain and the panic and the doubt. You hide your face from it, refuse to acknowledge it, desperately trying to stay in this moment, hoping to just be… be here with them. In the sun.

“Nowhere.”

A day passes. Then another, and another, and another. Your face nearly looks normal, puffiness and swelling practically gone, and your neck aches less and less with each passing day.

Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a problem.

It never stops hurting. You struggle to get your arm through your shirts, can barely lift it, can't pick anything up, and it’s so sore, tender, and stiff, like it’s been dislocated or worse, broken. You’re worried, worried about going back to work without a full range of motion, worried about being in pain.

Worried about being even more permanently damaged than you already are.

Just another tally mark. Just another thing you must live with now, a permanent remnant of him, a forever reminder of just how foolish you really are.

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re damaged.

The pain breaks you down. It prevents you from sleeping, keeps you twisting and turning through a roil of dark dreams. It depresses you, sinks its teeth into your flesh and gnaws on the pieces touched by the sun, the parts of your heart still beating, somehow.

It reminds you of everything you’re desperate to forget.

It all comes crashing down one morning. The despair. The helpless feeling brewing in your stomach. The loneliness. It keeps you there, in bed, in agony, past breakfast.

It keeps you there, until you hear the creak of the stairs, a firm knock.

“I’m coming in.” Simon advises, trying the door, cracking it enough to stick his head through.

You’re crumpled in the middle of the mattress, pillows strewn about from trying to find a comfortable position, tears already dried. Your shoulder hurts so bad, and you don’t know why, don’t know why it’s not getting better, not healing.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He sits at your side, hand resting on your hip, inspecting the worry lines, the frown tugging at your lips. “What’s going on?” Guilt swamps you.

“It’s nothing, my shoulder just kept me up, so I’m a little tired. That’s all.” You paste on your work smile, forced and believable, but he only shakes his head.

“Don’t do that.” He thumbs your brow. “I think you should see a doctor.”

“N-no.” You can’t. He doesn’t understand. They’ll want to take x-rays. X-rays lead to questions.

He never takes you at face value. Always pushing. Always digging, looking you over. “Why not?”

“It’s… it’s not necessary. I’m fine, it’s probably just a deep bruise.”

“You’d be experiencing less pain if that was the case.” You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “I know a little bit. We all have basic medic training, and I’ve been reading up, for when Johnny gets home.” He pats your hip. “Let’s make you an appointment.” You shake your head.

“No!” It’s too sharp, too insistent, and he freezes. You wince. “I’m sorry. It’s just-“

“You can’t go to a doctor.” He finishes, like he knows. “Tell me why, sweetheart.” You take a shaky breath.

You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Sunlight taps against the iron that’s encrusted around your heart. It knocks, wanting to be let in. It searches for weakness, places of opportunity, slivers of space where it can find its way.

Your mouth starts moving before you give it permission, like it knows this is where you’re headed, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how deeply the survivor’s logic is ingrained in your brain.

“It… it’s not safe.”

“It creates a trail.” He surmises, and you nod. For a wild moment, you wonder if he’s a plant. If they’re a trap, designed to get you to lower your guard, fabricated to encourage you to trust, to love, just so the jaws of Philip’s cruelty can close around you at the most opportune moment.

They wouldn’t. They’re not. You’re being ridiculous. You’re paranoid.

“We’ll make it under my name. Our primary is service member focused, and very discreet. You’ll be safe.” He makes it hard to argue, even though you want to. You should.

“I- I don’t know.”

“I can’t stand to see you in pain like this.” He rebukes, and then smiles softly, eyes lighting up. “Besides, I’m going to need your help. Johnny’s coming home on Friday.”

“He is?” You push upward. “Really?”

“Really.” He’s beaming, radiant sunshine spilling from his lips, and it makes you emotional, seeing him so happy, so weightless. “He passed a strength test on his wrist this morning. He needs a few days of PT in hospital, and then he can do it outpatient. His care team has signed off, and he’s ready.”

“Oh my god, that’s great!”

“It is. But I want both of you on the mend, not just one. Please.” It doesn’t take much more for you to concede, unable to find an excuse or a good enough reason, one he’s not able to combat.

“Alright, I guess.”

“Simon. Good to see you.” The doctor extends his hand and Simon shakes it readily, keeping his body positioned between you and the physician, one hand still on your knee.

He’s had a hand on you for the last half hour. You’ve been rattling on the exam table, shifting and fretful, disquieted energy spilling forth since he coaxed you into the car this morning.

“Dr. Fitch.”

“This is my patient?” He motions to you, and Simon stands to the side, concentrating, eyes focused above the mask. You give your name, and the provider repeats it with a warm smile.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitch.” You raise your good arm to shake his hand, and he pulls the rolling stool underneath him, taking a seat opposite Simon at your knee.

A warm palm flexes at your lower back. It’s soothing, comforting.

I’m here, it says. You’re safe.

“Simon says you’ve been having some shoulder pain?”

“Yeah, I had… I had an injury. Thought there was some soft tissue damage, maybe some minor bruising, but the pain is too persistent.”

“Mind if I take a look?” He points to the side you’re clearly favoring.

“Sure.” It’s not comfortable, to have another man’s hands on you outside of your job. There’s no trust there, no familiarity like there is with Simon and Johnny, and your body knows it, practically vibrating as he walks his fingers up your scapula. Simon stays close, still with a hand at your back, watching intently.

Dr Fitch holds your elbow, and slowly lifts your arm until you’re telling him to stop, pins and needles radiating through your shoulder and up your neck.

“I think we need an x-ray so we can really see what’s going on.” Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palm.

Fuck.

“I… I think I just need a sling, or an immobilizer for a few weeks. Give it some time to heal.” You try to protest, but he shakes his head.

“I can’t be sure of any of that, without an x-ray.” Oh god. You think you might throw up.

He’s right, though. You know he’s right. You know no good provider in their right mind would sign off on a treatment plan without knowing the extent of an injury. He’s not going to let you dictate what you need.

“Bun.” Simon murmurs, and you blow out a rough breath.

“Okay, fine.”

Dr. Fitch is grim when he reappears almost an hour later, throwing the films up for both you and Simon to see.

You spot what’s soured him immediately, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind you, the tell-tale sign of Simon noticing it too.

“This side of your body has seen a lot of trauma.” The doctor says gently. He’s not unkind, but still clinical. The kind of provider you’d like you work with, you think. “These old injuries, your clavicle, acromion, even this break in your ulna, make your scapula a very delicate part of your body. I think an MRI would show a fair amount of cartilage damage in these areas.” He motions around your joint, and you close your eyes.

You can’t do this.

If Dr. Fitch sees your unease or panic, he pushes past it. “You have a rotator cuff tear. The good news is, it’s not surgical. I recommend physical therapy for injuries like these, along with activity modification and lots of rest. I want to do a corticosteroid injection for your pain as well. Today, if you’d like. You’ll need to rest your arm for twenty-four hours afterwards, make sure you’re not lifting anything or moving it…” He continues, but you lose track, lose focus, staring at the vinyl tile, weird grey and pink and green patterns all worked together to make some of the ugliest floor you’ve ever seen.

You zone out. Lose yourself. The films mock you, their ugly, horrific images hanging you out to dry, showcasing the truth, the reminders you’ll never be able to escape.

The pieces of you, changed permanently.

It’s hard to look at. Hard to think of.

You’d rather be considering survival. Counting your cash and researching new places to live. New communities to disappear inside, a new life to assume.

It’s easier to run.

You can’t look at Simon. Can't bear the shame. Can't believe he's seeing this, your nightmares on display.

You keep your eyes fixed on the wall.

The girl in the mirror is falling apart. She despises being confronted with your failings, your weakness, the results of your stupidity.

It’s far less common now, these mistakes. These slip ups.

But before… before… they indulged Philip in a beautiful game of cat and mouse. You made it fun, made it exciting. A wolf with his prey. Playing with his food before he eats. Before he strings it up and breaks its collarbone because he likes to hear it scream.

Simon is talking to the provider, asking questions, receiving answers. You can barely hear him. You’re underwater.

The only thing that tethers you to the earth is the hand on your back, the warm, gentle, broad, grounding pressure.

There’s more conversation, and then Dr. Fitch is vacating the room.

Is it time to go?

You try to stand on autopilot, but Simon holds you steady.

“We’re going to do the steroid, for your pain.” He drifts into your line of sight, pulling the mask down. “Bunny, look at me.”

When you can’t, he follows your gaze.

The films come off the wall within the next second, ripped down by the long reach of his arm.

Gone.

“I have to go.” You whisper.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to get this injection, and then I’m going to take you home and put you to bed.”

He doesn’t understand your meaning.

Or maybe he does.

Home. The word rings in your ears like a punch. It’s like you’ve been hit with it, burned with it.

Home.

He’s not forceful, but you still feel the pressure, the insistence. You expect to rail against him. To cower.

Instead, you slip inside it. Allow him to tell you what to do, to make the decision. You fall easily into him, and he holds your hand through it all, while the injection site is swabbed, when the needle goes in. He holds your hand out to the car, holds your hand as he buckles you in. He holds your hand as he tucks you into a bed larger and softer than the one you've been sleeping in. It smells like him and Johnny, soft sheets and pillows piled around you like a wall, false sense of security building every time you twitch, testing where is he is, if he’s left yet.

The last thing you feel before you drift off to sleep is your hand, still in his.

You don't know how long you sleep. You sail in the darkness, navigating turbulent seas, waking every now and then, sometimes alone... sometimes not.

The baby monitor blinks pale green, little circle fuzzy on the edge of your vision, appearing and disappearing throughout the day.

Sometimes the bed is warm. Sometimes it's not.

When it is, you seek him out on instinct, trying to crawl inside his ribs, frantic with your effort to hide, to run. He holds you through it, rocks you gently, tells you you're safe, says you don't have to be afraid anymore, he's here now. He'll take care of you.

There's a rope around your ankle, tied too tight, tethered to the ocean floor. It drags you down, rips you away from him, fills your lungs and silences you.

You didn't make it.

All you can see behind closed lids is those films. All you can feel is the phantom ache in your limbs, the remnants of a shadow, still living and breathing inside of you.

The girl in the mirror is silent. Nothing to say for once in her life, she weeps like her chest is being carved open, sobs and screams pouring out in a flood.

I know you'll be here when I get back, won't you?

The house is vibrant today.

Lou has been here, stocking the fridge, precooking some meals, and her husband is helping Simon rearrange the living room, moving pieces of the couch to be more accessible, laughing back and forth quietly. Occasionally, he stops into the kitchen where you’re seated next to Pen in her highchair, checking in, but never encroaching.

He doesn’t get too close, right now. You’re still underwater somewhere, lost in a current. You’re here, but not really, silently drifting like a ghost, watching and waiting for something or someone to shake you out of it.

Simon hasn’t yet, but he’s watching. Always.

He’s intentionally careful, loud. Announcing himself everywhere he goes in the house, telling you everything he’s doing.

You didn’t understand why at first. Didn’t realize you hadn’t spoken in eight hours, and then ten, then twelve.

Trapped in a tomb of yourself, locked away with the girl in the mirror.

Guilt burns like a wildfire.

This should be a happy time. A wonderful time.

But all you’re doing is making a mess of their life.

Lou, thankfully, doesn’t push you either. She’s content to let you sit there, next to Pen. She keeps an eye out, glancing over at you occasionally, but your placating smiles seem to satisfy her.

Simon steps in front of the counter, ducking his head down to catch your eyes. “I’m going to pick Johnny up.” Somewhere, in the pits of hell, excitement blooms. Happiness tries to sprout. “Do you want to come?” Definitely not. They’ll certainly clap him out, and there’s no way you can be there for that.

“No, I’m… okay.”

“Okay. Penny is coming with me, but John and Lou are staying here. Kyle is coming by. If Johnny’s feeling up to it, I’m hoping to do dinner all together.” Acid is tossed around, tempestuous in your stomach. Lou smiles around his side.

“Want to watch something while we wait?”

“Sure.” She disappears down the hall, saying something to John, and Simon slowly pulls Pen from her chair, kissing her cheek and nose before cradling her to his chest. She’s not a small baby, but in his hold, she’s tiny, soft and delicate, content in her dad’s arms, still a little sleepy from her afternoon nap.

“We’ll be back soon.” He whispers, turning to go.

Your hand whips forward instinctively, out of control.

It latches onto his.

“Simon. I’m… I’m sorry.” You’re sorry you’re ruining everything. You’re sorry you’re fucked up beyond belief, you’re sorry he had to see all that in the doctor’s office, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry.

He squeezes. “Shhh, hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He shifts, still holding Penny, but stooping down to crouch at your knees, his own popping with effort. “It’s okay, if you have to go somewhere else for a little while up there, as long as you're not lost in it.” He motions to your head. “Nothing has changed. We’re still right here, everything is alright. Huh, Penny girl?” He bounces her, and she shrieks out a giggle, reaching for his face. He kisses her hands like he’s trying to eat them, rumble in his voice making her squeal, and he catches your faint smile. “There she is.” He kisses your forehead. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

You hear Johnny before you see him.

There’s a scrape of crutches, his voice animated, talking to his baby, Penny giggling wildly outside on the walk. Lou and John exchange a comfortable smile, and she manages to get the door open before Simon can get his key in the lock.

“Welcome home!” She exclaims, and Penny squeaks, clapping excitedly. She’s wriggly, wanting to get down immediately upon crossing the threshold, but Simon holds her firm, turned around so Lou can snap their picture.

“Ach, Price, can ye do somethin’-“ Johnny laments, but the captain only laughs and looks on.

“Hey! Come on, you’ll want this, later. I promise. Look over here.” They’re picture perfect, Penny cradled between them, Johnny’s hair moved out of his face, his posture a little slouched because of his hip and leg. His head rests on Simon’s shoulder, an arm stretched across his middle, right under Penny, who glows from her perch, the center of attention.

An ache unfurls in the middle of your chest, a sore spot, growing, spreading through your body.

They’re so lovely, it hurts. This moment is beautiful, a homecoming, a story of survival and perseverance. Johnny’s strength and determination. Doing something you know a lot of people initially doubted.

The dark spot of pain passes, fleeting.

Johnny’s eyes find yours. “Ye goin’ make me hobble all the way over there?” He teases, and you shake your head.

The two of you can only give half hugs, but you make it work, holding onto him, fingers fisted in the back of his shirt.

“Welcome home.” You whisper in his ear, and he pulls away, notching his forehead against yours. His eyes glitter, heavy, trembling breath filtering through his nose, and he kisses you slowly, so painfully slowly it’s like you’re the only one in the entire house, in the whole world.

“You too, bunny.”

Dinner is lively. Kyle arrives shortly before it’s time to sit down, greetings and warm wishes passed around as everyone gets settled, Penny positioned in highchair between the guys with mashed potatoes and peas already scooped onto her tray. Johnny’s on your left, with Lou on your right, and Simon sits at the head of the table, across from who you realize now, is his old, or kind of still, boss.

He looks perfect there, half turned towards Pen and Johnny, radiantly smiling at his partner and daughter, trying again and again to catch your eye. Johnny's knee stays steady against yours, fingertips occasionally brushing your thigh, and the two of them try to draw you in, pull you towards them, over and over.

Conversation flows easily. They’re all talking, laughing, swapping stories, poking at one another. Kyle tells you about a time he fell out of a helicopter, and they all tease Johnny about nearly dying this time, or a different time, you can’t be too sure.

“Ye jus’ wish ye had the natural ability I do.” He sniffs, and Kyle chortles, struggling to swallow his food.

“I’d probably be dead, mate.”

“’Cause ye cannae handle it!” He retorts, and Simon laughs, causing Penny to giggle too, and then the entire table erupts in it, attention redirected, cooing at the adorable girl with mashed potatoes smeared on her face. Johnny and Simon fuss over her, a perfect family in unison.

There’s a whining, buzzing noise in the back of your head. It’s an off-key tenor, annoying and coarse, like the snag of rough skin texture against a soft sweater.

What are you doing here?

The world, this room, these people, spin and spiral around you. Talking, laughing, loving. Making connections with each other, feeling the warmth of love and friendship, of happiness.

The buzzing gets louder.

You’re vaguely in it now, still seated but not here, not anywhere. You’re drifting, falling away, slipping behind walls and layers, hiding.

The girl in the mirror approves.

What makes you think you have any right to be here? What makes you think you could ever possibly belong here? With them? With their friends? Their family?

You’re an intruder.

You’re risking their safety. You’re making a mistake.

Lou boasts a sharp laugh, and you nearly flinch.

You don’t belong here. You’re supposed to be alone. It was supposed to be okay, to be alone.

You’re selfish.

Simon reaches for Johnny’s hand, stretching across Penny’s spot, eyes heavy with love. There’s so much in his expression alone, dedication, devotion, borderline obsession bleeding through, and he holds Johnny like he’s holding his lifeline.

You’ll never be loved like that, known like that, cherished and protected… like that.

And why should you be?

You’re standing before you announce it, trying to hold yourself together. Both guys look to you, Simon’s expression changing from amusement and love to worry and concern, while Johnny mirrors it, and tries to grab your hand.

“Ye alright?”

“Bun?”

“I’m fine, just… uh. My stomach.” You lie, motioning away from the table, like it makes any sense. You excuse yourself quickly, apologizing, and practically run up the stairs.

The guest bathroom door locks, and you slide down against the tub, slumping over to rest your cheek on cold tile. “Fuck.” You whisper, rubbing at your cheeks. What is wrong with you?

You lay there long enough that your shoulder starts to hurt. Everything aches, your heart too, and wipe your cheeks over and over, trying to regain control of a sinking ship.

God, you really, really hope they aren’t mad you bailed.

The bed is your only option, your only salvation, and you sink into without fuss, burying yourself beneath a pile of blankets, hiding yourself away from the world.

At least when you sleep, you can’t think.

At least when you sleep, you can’t feel.

“Philip, please.”

“You made a fucking fool of me tonight.” He grips your upper arm so tight it feels like he’s cutting into your flesh, branding you, burning you down to the bone.

“No, I- I wasn’t trying to, I swear.”

“I think you were, spitfire. I think you wanted to see me sweat, didn’t you? Wanted to play a little game, huh?”

“No!” you’re crying, chest heaving with giant sobs, and his fist tightens in your hair, dragging you down to the ground. “No, Philip, stop. Stop!”

“Shut up.” You’re crawling on your knees, trying to keep pace, trying to stay in stride with him as he tugs, practically pulling you down the hallway to the bedroom.

Once he gets there, he jerks you upwards.

The hardwood floor is the next thing you see as your face crashes into it.

“S-stop.” You’re barely audible, buried in sobs. He mocks you.

“Stoooop, babe. Stop please.” Your arms cover your head, trying to protect your delicate bones there, your skull, your nose, your cheeks.

His foot rears back.

The world goes cold.

“NO!” you jerk your knees up to your chest, rolling away. “No! I’m pregnant!”

You think he’ll be happy. You think he’ll be pleased.

Instead, it’s raw, concentrated fury you see lining his face, lightning and thunder gathering in his eyes.

“You’re what?”

You come to trembling, coated in a cold sweat.

It’s okay. He’s not here. He’s not. You’re safe.

You clasp a hand over your mouth to ward off the volume of the sob, nausea rising until you’re almost gagging.

It’s okay.

You can do this. Get it together.

Time ticks away, but the agony of your memory, your nightmare, doesn’t fade. It settles in your bones like a sickness, infecting your mind and heart, keeping you from closing your eyes.

You can’t go back there. Not in real life. Not in your dreams. Not ever.

You would die before that happened.

Johnny and Simon sleep down the hall. You wonder if they’re wrapped up together, if Johnny is comfortable, if their room is cozy and homey, bed heavenly and full of love.

You could…

No.

The clock on your phone reads three in the morning. You feel like you haven’t slept at all, but every time you try to close your eyes, dread spreads, tenebrous and sticky, clinging to every synapse in your logical brain.

You eye the door.

You could…

Should you? Would they be mad? Would they welcome you? Would they even answer?

You don’t know how you convince yourself to do it, to drag your weak will down the hall and knock on their door, but you do. You’re a child the whole way, padding up to a parent’s room in the middle of the night, looking for salvation and sanctuary, desperate for comfort.

It takes almost no time after your timid little rap for the door to swing wide, Simon standing behind it, little lamp flicked on where Johnny is half sitting up, mostly still asleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi.” You whisper, distracted by Simon’s naked chest. He’s wearing sweatpants, but they’re slung low on his hips, soft tummy with wispy light brown hair peeking out above the drawstring. You think you’re staring, and you force a blink, trying to appear normal.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, I just… I had a nightmare and…I… I can’t…” the rest doesn’t come out, laying heavy on your tongue, trying to organize itself so it doesn’t seem so intrusive, or weak.

He doesn’t make you feel bad. Or guilty. He doesn’t even ask, he just steps aside, motioning to bed, clicking the door shut behind him.

“Take the middle.” He whispers, and you crawl across the expanse, timidly smiling at Johnny, who’s still yawning. He’s got his bad leg and hip set up on a bunch of pillows, and the spot next to him is still warm.

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Hi.” He pats the empty space, shoving the blankets down to the best of his ability to let you get underneath them.

“Bad dream?” He drawls, slow and sleepy.

“Yeah.”

“C’mere.” He tries to tug you closer, but Simon scolds him softly.

“Johnny, easy. Your graft.” He turns, sliding, encouraging you to settle on your side, with him at your back. “There we go. That’s better, hm?” It is better. So much better. Warm and safe. Blocked in on either side by them, your hand resting on Johnny’s sternum, grounding yourself with the rise and fall of his breathing, Simon nestling you into his chest, heavy arm slung across your ribs to hold Johnny’s hand.

It's so nice, tucked between them like you belong there, things start to spiral a little bit, doubt and worry fueling a cycle of second guessing. You shift restlessly, and Simon rubs your hip, soothing whatever he senses amiss back to neutral, lips humming just above your ear. “Close your eyes, little bunny. We’re here. You’re safe.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader

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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

Text

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am.

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining.

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves.

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise.

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

It was a nice little system that worked for them.

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face.

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand.

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him.

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.)

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it.

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him.

"Mind if I have a word outside?"

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely.

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once.

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. "

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy.

Wayne stared up at him.

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in."

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass.

Hopper really did let the kid off easy.

Wayne really did owe him.

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them.

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context.

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard.

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.”

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn.

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.”

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut.

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?"

The Chief chewed on his split lip.

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town."

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble.

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction.

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird.

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have.

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab.

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters.

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around.

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion.

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it."

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed.

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.”

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going.

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life.

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions.

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.”

Wayne sucked in a breath.

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy.

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t.

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there.

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.)

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.”

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest.

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

“A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.”

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie.

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.”

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished.

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.”

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind.

This one, he figured, was the most important.

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.”

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one.

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington.

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it.

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn.

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say.

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.”

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t.

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy.

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross.

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer?

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

#this has like t wo more parts #pre steddie #wayne as a BAMF #wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve #ya'll are gonna have to put up with my weird ass jumping all over the place warm ups sorry lol #Gary's fourth piece is coming no worries #and then this will either take its place or the other one I have will #you CANNOT look me in the eye and tell me all the blue color workers arent aware shits going down #like 100% local crews took one look at starcourt and went what the fuck #nevermind you know the local power plant lol #and with demo critters running around its not like they were tearing through brushes and shit #your local hunters are gonna know somethings up #anyway #beat to shit Steve Harrington #my beloved #hes gonna show up busted to shit with a major grade concussion and Eddie is gonna shit himself #steve harrington #steddie #I spelled collar color and im not changing it #outsider pov #wayne pov #I will write the first person who knows where I pulled John from a prompt of their choice #catholic wayne munson #jim hopper

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just-jordie-things · 5 months

Text

just like my crush - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, reader is doped up from anesthesia summary: confessing that you have a crush on someone really isn't that hard. all it takes is anesthesia clouding your judgment. a/n: brought to you by my lovely nanami flowershop anon's beautiful brain !!!

___

Injuries in this line work wasn’t unusual. Someone was always occupying Shoko’s little infirmary and keeping her busy. Nasty gashes, sprained wrists, broken bones- it was practically a part of the job description. No, it wasn’t pretty, but at least with a master of the Reverse Cursed Technique on site, the mishaps that came with assignments never lasted too long.

Because of this expectation, Megumi had never been put in a position where he worried over someone’s well being after an exorcism gone awry. He’d had life threatening wounds get healed more times than he could count on both hands, hell, Yuji lost a hand and got that back!

So why did he feel sick to his stomach when she took a bad hit during an assignment? Why did his throat close up too tight for him to explain the situation to the manager on the assignment? Or to Ieiri when he got her back to campus? Why was there a cold sweat racing down his spine, but his insides felt like they were on fire?

Despite all of Ieiri’s insisting that (y/n) was fine, that she’d gotten here just in time, that she was healed and would wake up at any time- likely without the memory of what happened- and that she would still be fine then… Megumi didn’t tear himself out of that room in the infirmary even once.

When she does wake up- two days and a couple hours later- he doesn’t look too good. He’d pale and he’s been bouncing his leg for so long it’s gone numb, but the relief that washes over him brings some color back to his face.

Her eyelashes flicker about a few times before she finally opens her eyes, but his attention is drawn to the way her hand twitches above the stark white sheets.

“Hey,” He murmurs, as quiet as he can stand to speak. He didn’t want to startle her, and he thinks that if she were to flinch back at him, he’d flinch too. “(y/n), you awake?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything right away.

Then her eyes finally find him, and with a hazy gloss over her blown pupils, she smiles. It’s slow, and so, so impaired, but it’s pretty nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,”

Her voice is strained, likely from not having been used for a couple days, but the light and breezy way in which she speaks is enough for him to know that her anesthetics haven’t worn off. The stoner-like smile also tipped him off pretty well, but Megumi’s sure now.

“You know who you look like?”

It’s not the question Megumi’s expecting, and his confusion is obvious in the way a tiny knot forms between his brows. He would’ve thought ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’ would be in order, but maybe the anesthesia was more on top of her than he would’ve thought, so he hums in response and waits for her explanation. Surely she’ll have something silly to say, it wouldn’t be the first time she called him a sea urchin for his messy hair.

“You look jus’ like my crush” (y/n) half-slurs back. She tilted her head in his direction, trying to get a better look at him from where she was laying, but the rest of her body felt too heavy to move.

Megumi’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself a small laugh comes out. Confusion, humor, and disbelief blend into the overwhelming relief in knowing that Ieiri hadn’t been lying to him to protect his feelings. (y/n) would be completely fine.

Maybe a little bit high, but still, completely fine.

Her shoulders shake in the slightest when she laughs in response to his own little chuckle, delighted purely by his reaction.

“I’m serious,” She mumbles out, eyes falling heavy for a minute the longer she stares at him. “And it’s a compliment too, b’cause he’s, like, really cute” “I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone” Megumi hums, leaning his elbows against the edge of her cot so that he could prop his chin in his hands. Amusement flickers in his eyes when her expression noticeably shifts. Her eyes widen and her lips part but no words come out. Was he actually making her nervous? Who the hell did he look like in her eyes right now that had her reacting like this?

Megumi can’t recall a time she’d ever talked to him about crushing on anyone. Nothing of the sort, not even a hint. And he’d definitely never seen the ruthless sorcerer appear so…

Well, she looked like a girl with a crush. A blush was forming on her cheeks the longer he held eye contact with her, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched and betrayed her as she tried to bite back a smile.

“Y-yeah, duh,” She stammers back at him with a sassy roll of her eyes. Megumi’s quick to push his hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter. “The point of a crush is it’s secret”

“So you’re not gonna tell me then?” He asks curiously.

She probably didn’t know it, but (y/l/n) (y/n) was the only person in the world that got to see the playful side of him. It was hard not to act on his intrigue, though. It was too entertaining to see her in this state… and the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage made him ache to know more.

But she shakes her head against her pillow, sealing her lips shut to further prove her point. She’s still smiling, though, and she hasn’t torn her eyes off of his since she woke up.

“How’re you feeling, anyways?” Megumi decides to steer the topic back to one of more importance. “Anything hurt? Can I get you anything-?”

“Even your eyes are pretty like his,” She interrupts him, and then sighs as though this was a large inconvenience for her. “You must be related,” She says matter-of-factly.

He hopes that when the drugs wear off she doesn’t remember this moment, because Megumi knows his face is as red as a tomato with how fiery his skin feels. A nervous laugh bubbles out of him before he could choke it down, and her whole face lights up in response.

“You must not get compliments often, huh?” She teases in a slow drawl.

“I… I guess not,” He says, followed by more nervous laughter that happens against his will. “But thank you, (y/n). That’s very… kind”

He’s painfully awkward, and he knows that as soon as he leaves this room he’s going to overthink this entire interaction, but for now he tries to bask in the warmth that sparks from knowing she thinks he has pretty eyes. Or at least, she does when she’s so doped up she can’t quite focus on a conversation.

But at least she's obviously not in any pain. Megumi’s worries begin to melt away, but that might just be the work of her flattery.

“You’re welcome,” She grins back at him, but she just as soon furrows her brows and regards him curiously. Even after staring at him so shamelessly, she suddenly doesn’t appear to recognize him one bit. “I thought Megumi only had a sister, though”

It comes out in a mumble, and he’s sure that she’s talking to herself in her deluded state, but the rush of heat that floods his chest and shoots up his neck is nearly too much to bear.

She actually didn’t recognize him this whole time? Was she talking about him this whole time? Was the flattery not a drug-induced misconception and actually-?

Before he can settle on a question to ask her to clear his confusion, she’s settling back into her pillow and her eyes are falling shut. Megumi opens his mouth, ready to force out the first thing that comes to mind, but she drifts off almost immediately. Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements.

It felt like a cruel prank.

Now he was left sitting and gaping at her unconscious form. His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing again, and Megumi thinks he might be even more anxious for her to wake up this time.

He decides then and there that when she does, and when she’s of sound mind again, he’ll ask her about it. Because if she really did have a crush on him he’d have to finally get over his ridiculous anxiety and make a move. ___

A week after making a full recovery, (y/n) comes to the decision that if she wants Megumi to talk to her, she’ll just have to corner him.

She’s not sure why he hasn’t been talking to her- hence her cornering plan- but ever since her last assignment had gone awry and she’d been put on a minor hold, he’d been dodging her. And sure, Megumi wasn’t always the most sociable guy, but he was a friend and even if he didn’t feel like hanging out, he wouldn’t completely ghost her like this.

Of course she’d tried asking Yuji and Nobara about it, but they were a dead end. They’d been just as surprised as she was that he’d been avoiding her.

I thought you were best friends, Yuji had frowned at the idea of a falling out between his two friends that he cared about so much.

Maybe he realized you have a crush on him and pussied out, Nobara had cackled at the scenario, not feeling an ounce of worry that this weird bump wouldn’t get resolved.

Needless to say, (y/n) was quick to steer her investigation far away from them, before the blabbermouths could do what they do best and blab around the wrong people.

She corners him while doing laundry, of all things.

“Hey,”

And when she walks into the room while he’s tossing his freshly washed laundry into the dryer, Megumi hits his head on the lid when he swivels around in shock to see her there.

“Oh god, are you alright?”

“I’m fine- it’s fine,” He answers all too quickly, before she’s even finished her question. “I’m almost done with the washing machine”

(y/n) can’t help but chuckle a little bit, seeing as she wasn’t currently holding a basket of laundry, but Megumi’s already back to filling up the dryer. It appears every piece of clothing he tosses in is monochrome- mostly black, but a few gray pieces here and there. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is a bit funny.

“I actually was looking for you,” She tells him, leaning against the doorframe. It’s half casual, and half to block his only escape. Megumi responds with a small hum, still putting all of his focus on moving the laundry. “Are you upset with me?”

The question has him swiveling again, finally giving her his undivided attention. It’s a bit unnerving, the way he straightens up and goes rigid as he stares back at her in bewilderment. She wants to be annoyed that he has the audacity to look confused when he was the one that had been avoiding her for days, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt

“Upset? No. No of course not” He answers, and his words are so certain, that she believes him straight away. But the small bit of truth doesn’t provide much relief.

“Then how come you’ve been dodging me?” She asks, unable to help her frown. What other reason could there be? If he’s not mad at something, why would act so flaky?

“I haven’t been dodging you”

“That’s a lie”

“It’s not?”

“It is,” She crosses her arms defensively. “You haven’t been answering your phone and you always have some excuse to not talk to me. Did I do something?”

“Not really”

He winces as soon as the answer leaves his mouth. It wasn’t like him to get so careless- but it also wasn’t like him to avoid her. Really, he was falling apart at the seams and trying quite desperately to appear as though everything was normal.

It wasn’t working. (y/n) could see the panic in his eyes as clear as day. Not to mention the way his lips twitched like he was holding back further explanation. She narrows her eyes as she studies him carefully.

“Not really?” She repeats his lame answer. “So sort of? So I did do something?”

Megumi’s certain that she chose to stand in the doorway so he couldn’t make an easy escape. Would it be immature to summon the rabbits?

“(y/n) it’s- it’s fine. It’s me, alright?” He’s not very convincing.

“So you did something?” Another question he doesn’t want to answer.

“No- just- not really- it was just-” He stammers, and then groans, tilting his head back and glaring at the fluorescent light hanging over him.

He recalls the way he’d sworn to himself that he’d talk to her about her little anesthesia-induced confession, and kicks himself now for cowering out of it. Megumi never really ran away from a challenge, even when he knew he was in over his head. But something about standing before her now and explaining how she’d inadvertently confessed to having a crush on him makes his heart beat out of sync and his throat go dry.

“Look I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” (y/n) sighs, giving up on interrogating him so heavily. “So just… whatever it is, can we talk about it?”

And he swoons, actually swoons. His knees physically feel weak and he has to resist the urge to let all of his muscles relax and sink towards the ground. It was so sweet, so considerate of her to want to mend the nonexistent conflict between them. Megumi didn’t think it was possible to like her more than he already did, but she had a knack for proving him wrong.

So with an anxious breath, he thinks screw it and just lets it out.

“Do you remember waking up and talking to me in the infirmary?”

Her brows furrow, giving him her answer, and then her features soften with realization.

“You visited me in the infirmary?” She asks, almost in a whisper. No, she didn’t remember, and no one had told her she’d had any visitors during her short stay there.

Megumi nods his head.

“Yeah, I… I stayed till you woke up. And you did, for a couple minutes anyways, but you were pretty out of it. Anesthesia and all” He explains.

She tries to rack her memory for any hazy glimpse of talking to Megumi in Shoko’s clinic, but nothing comes to mind. She feels a little guilty now, having forgotten so easily.

“Okay…” She trails off, waiting for the rest of his explanation. “So… something happened then?”

Megumi hesitates, his expression twisted in mild displeasure, like he just stubbed his toe or has to deliver an oral presentation. (y/n) tries to be patient, she really does, but the longer he draws this out the larger the pit in her stomach grows.

“Yeah,” The word comes out through a heavy breath, and he pauses for just a moment longer before admitting the last detail. “You… you sort of confessed that you have a crush on me”

“Oh,”

Relief settles into her bones, and then a spike of panic.

“Oh”

Her eyes are widening and her arms wrap tighter around herself, fingers digging into the sides of her ribs as if she could possibly ground herself with her anxiety reaching an all time high.

For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t this anxious when that Grade One tried to take a massive bite out of her body.

“You were really out of it, though,” Megumi says quickly. “You were just… high. You probably just couldn’t see or think straight-”

“No, I wasn’t just high,” She cuts him off with surprising calmness in her voice, and a short shake of her head. “I do. Have a crush on you, I mean. I didn’t… obviously I didn’t intend to tell you that, but, I guess high-me can’t keep a secret, so…”

She trails off with a bashful giggle that would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t already filled to the brim with embarrassment. Megumi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. The corner of his mouth twitches a few times too, and still, he’s standing in bewildered silence before her.

It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he was eighty-five percent sure that she’d meant what she said while she was still under the influence of the anesthetics, but that fifteen percent of uncertainty was his paranoia getting the best of him. But now she was of sound mind, dead sober, and dead serious as she stared at him and awaited some sort of reaction.

No real reaction came, unless you counted the drumming of his fingers against his side, slow at first, but picking up speed the longer they both stood there and waited for the other to say something.

Megumi knows he should say something, and probably something along the lines of; well that’s a relief because I’m actually crushing on you so hard I don’t know what to do with myself… but unfortunately, he really didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Do I even want to know how badly I embarrassed myself?” (y/n) breaks the silence with a nervous but curious smile.

“You said I looked just like your crush,” He explained, heat flooding to his face as he recalled the other things she said. “It was actually the first thing you said when you woke up,”

She has to laugh at that a little, to which Megumi feels some of the tension in his shoulders disappear. The tension in the room also starts to thin out, much to his relief.

“Then you went on about how cute your crush was. And when I tried to ask how you were feeling, after, you know, surgery and all that, you ignored me and said…” He rubs the back of his neck, growing shy as he realized he was rambling and the subject matter already had his heart racing.

“Oh god… what?” (y/n) gasps, eyes widening, hoping she didn’t let out some dirty thought that she worked very hard to keep in the back of her mind.

“You said I had pretty eyes, and then you sorta let it slip that I was your crush, so I guess you didn’t realize you were talking to me the whole time… and then you passed back out”

She’s laughing again, but this time she covers her face with her hands in a pitiful attempt to hide her blush until it goes away. A small groan dies at the back of her throat. The second hand embarrassment from her past-inebriated-self was just too much.

After all this time she's done so well at keeping her feelings under wraps, of never letting it be known with a slip of tongue or lingering touch, only to tell him so brazenly while in a hospital cot… it was ridiculous.

“God… I’m so sorry, that’s… wow, that’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done” She starts off looking at him, but ends up muttering to herself and looks away, still overwhelmed by the mortification of it all.

A small smile graces Megumi’s face, and in a moment of being true to his word, he musters up the courage to speak up before she could walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.

“It was more cute than humiliating,” He tells her, and she peeks back up at him in soft surprise. “Maybe just a little embarrassing, just a little… but… still cute” His voice gets softer the longer she looks at him and he starts to lose the confidence he started out so strong with, but he still holds her gaze, hoping that she’ll know he means it.

“Cute?” She repeats in quiet disbelief. Megumi nods back at her with absolute certainty and sincerity.

He gives into another bout of a confidence boost and takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between them. (y/n) practically scrambles to straighten up away from the doorframe, her shoulders squaring and her eyes widening as she watches him move towards her.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you have pretty eyes, too,”

It’s quieter than he intends, but his words are effective in replacing the nervous tension in the room with something much more palpable. The electricity buzzing between them was so thick they were practically choking on it.

(y/n) smiles, slow at first, processing the sudden compliment, and then all once. Every inch of her skin warmed from the sweet words, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt flattery like this before. She’s never taken a compliment so to heart, never known that she was going to go to sleep that night playing it over and over in her head.

Megumi’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, admiring the way she lights up with delight before him, and then he opens his mouth again.

“They look just like my crush’s”

Her brows furrow and despite that feeling of embarrassment spiking in her chest again, the corner of her lips curl into a smirk that gives into a smile almost immediately after. Megumi’s clearly amused by this reaction, laughing to himself like he was so proud of his own tease.

“That’s so corny” She mutters, before stepping away from the doorway and closing the last bit of distance between them.

Despite his nerves he anticipates her movements, large hands finding purchase on her hips and practically yanking her the rest of the way that it takes to have her body against his. There’s no extra time for words before their lips crash fast. The kiss is surprisingly tender for how rushed their movements were, but it had them both melting into the other right away.

Her hands are gentle as they smooth over his shoulders before wrapping lightly at the nape of his neck. Her fingers poke into the dark strands of hair that hang there, and when she curls a few locks between her index and middle finger, he presses his lips against hers with a little more fervor.

Even once they part from one another, neither one goes very far. Gasping for air with lips still brushing each other’s, noses bumping, and hands still holding on tight all in the name of not putting an inch of distance between them.

Still no words are exchanged as they share a look before both glancing at the open doorway behind them. It doesn’t take verbal communication for Megumi to reach behind her to grab the door by the handle and swing it shut. The only sound that fills the room is the white noise buzzing from the dryer cycle, and the soft giggle that’s immediately suppressed by warm, inviting lips pressing against hers again.

___

a/n: thank u again my amazing nanami flowershop anon for this really fun idea. also i just love playful megumi. he's so cute n shy <3

xoxo ~ jordie

#nanami flowershop anon #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #megumi fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi fanfiction #megumi fushiguro fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #megumi brainrot #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi

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wordscanbeenough · 11 months

Quote

I'm not too gone to be healed, am I? / I'm not too gone am I?

Alice Notley, from In the Pines

#alice notley #in the pines #quote #words #poetry #books

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feyascorner · 3 months

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okay first of all i ADORE ur writing… wanna take a bite out of it..

anyway… uh… can i uhh… order a uhh…. astarion x tav.. and like..tav has a fucking insane pain tolerance and always has.. and like… uhh… one time she gets fucking TOTALED in a fight and like obvi it would hurt… and shes like crying subconsciously.. and when some1 points it out shes like “what???? why am i crying wtf???” and like looks down and is just fucking BLEEDING… n then.. astarion comfort…

only if u want thoo!!!!

a/n. Im like the exact opposite I'm very dramatic about the slightest pain but this is such a cute request so Ty!! ALSO PLS EXCUSE IF THIS IS A LITTLE CLUNKY I HAD TO TYPE THIS OUT W MY FINGERS🫠🫠

Astarion is grateful for your tolerance to pain.

Of course, he doesn't particularly enjoy watching you in pain, but he’s no fool. He knows the sting and the soreness that comes after he drinks from your neck. Well, at least, it should sting. However, it never seemed to bother you, and for that, he's forever grateful for it.

These strange sentiments expand past his thirst for blood, as the relief he feels when you’re battered up after a battle and you smile at him as if nothing’s wrong is incomparable to any other feeling he’s felt.

That relief does not come currently, however.

The battle was nearly hopeless. Overwhelmed in number, mages casting counterspell, fighters constantly aiming at you…he’s lost track of it all. By some miracle you and your companions stand victorious, and when he sees that you offer Karlach a lopsided smile, confirming that you're fine, he reaches to pick up one of his daggers.

“Tav—what in the hells, are you okay?”

It’s then that he spots the way your lip quivers and tears glisten threateningly at your eyes. And when you meet his own, they begin to drip down your cheeks like crystals and roll off your chin. He's seen you in tears before, but out of something more positive—not from pain. Before he can even tell what he's doing, he's rushing toward you.

“Why are you—” he sees the blood seeping from your stomach, and his face would've gone pale if he could.

You finally lift your hands to your face, eyes wide when your fingertips brush against the dampness of your cheeks. “Oh. Why am I?…”

Shadowheart scrambles to scrimmage around her bag. “Here, let me—gods, where did I—did we use all the healing potions?—”

“Oh for hells sake. Because you're bleeding!” Astarion hisses, his hand intertwining with yours as he drags you toward the nearest tree where he sits you down. He freezes when you flinch but you shake your head, wiping at your eyes. Your other companions are still searching the enemy corpses for anything that might relieve you of the pain, but they're taking far too long for his liking.

“I’m okay, it doesn't really hurt that much.”

“You’re crying.”

“I didn't even know I was-” you wince.

His eyes narrow. “Lay down.”

“What? No, I’m really fine!”

“Gods, love, please for once, listen to me. It’s quite straining to watch you clamber around with that ghastly wound on your stomach.”

You frown, but he guides you down anyway, careful to lay down your head against the grass. “Now wait patiently. Maybe if we’re lucky, our dear friends will find a potion before I start developing wrinkles.”

A momentary silence hangs in the air. It’s by no means uncomfortable, but there are words on the tip of his tongue he wishes to say. And when he notices you staring, he sighs.

“If you're hurt, tell us. I don't care how high your pain tolerance is—if you're hurt, call us. Call me. Don't be a fool and bleed out over a few enemies when we’ve been through so much worse.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost embarrassing. But with the way you're watching him so seriously, he can't bring himself to dwell on such irrelevant factors.

Then, you smile again, as if you've forgotten about the pain. “How minor can the pain be for me to call you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Can I call you when I stub a toe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I will.”

He stares at you with lidded eyes and you laugh. He feels the weight on his shoulders get a bit lighter.

“You may call for me whenever you wish.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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azurelyy · 6 months

Text

Let's see if I've been shadowbanned by tumblr for not posting in forever. Also, let's see if this gets flagged for me not knowing the TOS anymore LOL. I know most of my followers are here for Naruto content and I am so sorry that this fucking vampire elf has taken over my brain so much that he's the first thing I've written about in forever!

Title: A Bloody Affair

WARNINGS: NSFW beneath the cut. Period oral. F!reader. Astarion goes feral. Fem!reader. Established relationship and slight Act II spoilers. This is just a drabble(ish... I got carried away lmao), but I haddddd to. I’m aware this has been done to death (no pun intended).

His vermillion eyes were darker than usual as you all sat around the firelight, enjoying a hot meal after an unusually hard day of travel. Specks of orange flickered in his gaze like shooting stars through Avernus’ red-hot sky. His hands were tightened into leadened fists by his sides, his lips formed together in a thin line. He’s hungry, and he’s not even trying to hide it.

Amused, you tilted your head to the side, exposing the faded bite marks from when you last allowed him to feed on you a few weeks ago.

“Everything alright, Astarion?” You hummed. “You look pale. Well, paler than normal.”

Astarion laughed, a dark and twisted thing that left your stomach in knots. Would you ever learn to stop teasing him? It only ends badly for you. Every. Time.

“Me? Oh, I’m just fine.” His eyes slowly trailed down your body, locking onto your midsection before flicking back to your face. “You, however,” his fangs glistened in the pale moonlight as he smiled. “You look a little… hot. Too close to the fire, perhaps? Your cheeks are absolutely flushed, my dear.”

And they were. Knowing what the two of you had agreed to out on the battlefield earlier. Awaiting the moment everyone else fell into a deep slumber while you had to sit there, your thighs clamped together as thoughts of Astarion’s tongue ravishing at your core filled your head… It was torturous. Worse than anything Loviatar could come up with.

Karlach scoffed and playfully covered her ears. “Guys! No flirting around the bonfire, pleeeease. It’s hard enough I’ve gone so long without touching someone. I can’t sit here listening to you two flirt all night on top of it.”

You laughed and whispered a soft 'sorry' while Astarion merely hummed his acknowledgement. The rest of the evening was a blur, your mind occupied elsewhere entirely. Finally, when the sounds of snores filled the air and the last of the firelight flickered away, you got up from your bedroll and slowly made your way to Astarion’s tent.

The flap was left partially open and you found Astarion fumbling with a book. He looked distracted, almost like he wasn't reading it at all. The moment you got to the tent entrance, his eyes were upon you - dark, hungry, lustful. You smiled, heat creeping its way up your neck and cheeks, as Astarion swiftly closed the book and tossed it aside.

“Don’t tell me I have to invite you in, darling,” he drawled. “Come here.”

He reached his hand out and you took it gently as he guided you to sit down in his lap. He sighed and nosed his way up the side of your neck, gently swiping his tongue along your still-healing fang marks. His arm wrapped around your midsection, pushing your back against his chest. He's cold, and a small shiver snaked its way down the entirety of your spine as he chuckled a low, "Sorry, pet."

Sweet kisses made their way from your neck to your jaw, until Astarion gently nipped at your earlobe, his free hand slowly roamed up and down your body, squeezing and grabbing at your stomach playfully.

You moaned gently, running your fingers through his silver locks. Astarion's breath hitched in his throat and he slid his hand down to your thigh. His arousal poked into your ass and you rocked in his lap gently; teasingly. His hand became more desperate as he grabbed at your thigh, thrusting his hips gently. You turned your head and ghost your lips over his, meeting his gaze.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he stared at you. You twisted his hair round your index finger and smile up at him wantonly. The two of you hadn't been intimate since his confession a few weeks ago. You have let him feed on you since then, but never initiate anything sexual. You wanted him to do it. Wanted for it to be organic. He was the best thing that had happened to you in a long time, and you wanted him to know it; to feel it; to be unable to deny your love for him.

Astarion kissed your forehead tenderly, his sweet mouth cool to the touch against your heated skin. He had been surprisingly gentle with you since his confession. Weary, you knew. He had to fight against his instincts every day, doing what he could to unlearn his past behaviors of doing someone else's bidding. It was going to take time, you knew that. You were okay with it. But when he looked at you like this, when he kissed you softly, it made your heart melt completely. You loved him. You'd never say it first, of course, but the feeling was undeniable to you now. Gods, he was going to fucking ruin you.

His mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. His tongue parted your lips and hungrily dominated the kiss as Astarion flipped you over, pushing you down onto his bedroll. His hands were everywhere - in your hair, on your stomach, rolling down your sides. Yours did the same, needily pawing at his body as you wrapped a leg around his waist and gently clawed at his shirt trying to get it off.

He broke away, his tongue sliding from your mouth slowly. His breathing was ragged, not as controlled as it had been in the past. You realized he's letting go, not forcing himself with you. He's being... real. It's so sweet you nearly ruined the moment by blurting out a stupid confessional right then, but as if sensing your anxiety, Astarion simply smirked devilishly.

"You look beautiful," he whispered. "And you smell even better. I'm going to enjoy tasting you tonight." His voice was sultry and hypnotic, practically intoxicating. You squirmed under him nervously as he adjusted to his knees and leaned over to unhook the latch of the tent, leaving you both immersed in nothing but the flickering candle light.

He was back over you in an instant, untucking his shirt from his trousers and over his head, tossing it to the corner of the tent. His body never ceases to amaze you. His skin is made of pure moonlight, pale and annoyingly perfect, with abs that would put even the most acclaimed gods to shame. Astarion winked and pushed his knee to your inner thigh, spreading you open like a tome as his hands glided across your body.

Your heart thundered within your chest as he stripped you of your undershirt, delicately removing the straps like a present. The sting of the cold night air hit your exposed nipples and they puckered from the temperature change. Astarion's practiced hands moved up the length of your arms, guiding them up above your head and he captured your wrists together in his grip, trapping you under him.

He kissed his way down your temple, your cheek, your neck; gently licking his way down your exposed flesh until his tongue rolled around your areola teasingly.

You glanced down and met his burgundy gaze. His pupils were completely blown out with lust and he continued watching you as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swipe over it gingerly. With a loud gasp you closed your eyes, letting the sensation of his tongue completely overwhelm you. His hand dragged its way from your wrists and his thumb and index finger grip your other nipple as he suckles hard, causing your hips to buck and another garbled moan to fall from your traitorous throat.

A wet 'pop' echoed through the tent as his mouth released you. Astarion growled, actually growled, as he slid his hands up your arms again and gripped your wrists, harder this time.

"Hush now, my sweet," his words were sugary but his tone commanding. "I don't want you waking the whole campground. If you do it again, I'll have to force you to be quiet. Understood?"

You nodded in response.

"Sorry, Starry," you whispered.

He had started making work of dragging your trousers down the length of your legs but stopped abruptly at your apology.

"Don't be sorry, love," he said. "Just don't do it again."

You were way past the point of being turned on - you were practically going mad with arousal as he removed your pants and slowly kissed his way down the length of your stomach. You kept your hands placed above your head, nervous about what he may do if you dared to touch him. It was exhilarating. Filthy. The blood at your core was dripping to the rag placed between your thighs and your pulse quickened as Astarion's mouth worked its way towards your cunt.

Lust-stricken and dizzy, your vision blurred as he gently pulled down your panties with his index fingers, testing you. He was working slowly, playing with his food. Such a tease.

You squirmed beneath him and clenched the muscles in your thighs, eagerly anticipating his mouth against your sopping pussy. A chill ran down your spine as your panties were fully removed, and you suddenly became all too aware of what was about to happen. You peered at the silver-haired man above you through your eyelashes and were pleased to find him entranced by what you were sure was a bloodied, messy affair and your panic decreased ever so slightly. Of course a vampire spawn wasn’t going to shy away from some blood… no matter the source.

"You know," you did your best to keep your voice calm and gentle. "That we don't have to do this if it's too much, right?" Even though Astarion was the one to propose this little midnight rendezvous, you couldn't help the small sting of fear from creeping its way to the forefront of your mind. You didn't want him to feel any pressure. And you now knew how hard intimacy was for him. You couldn't believe how blind you had been before; how obvious the façade he put on for you was in hindsight, and you weren't going to allow him to put himself in a position like that again. Not ever.

A low chuckle rumbled from the man below you and you almost passed out from how good his breath felt against the thin veil of fabric covering his mouth from where you needed him most. You tried to shut the thoughts of your arousal out as you waited for his answer, but it never came. Instead, he responded with his tongue gently sliding filthily down the blood-stained cloth that was slowly being removed by his deft hand. Astarion’s voice was nearly indistinguishable to you as he ripped the cloth away, pure gravel.

“If I didn’t want to,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your entrance. “Then you wouldn’t be naked in my tent, love. No more talking now.”

His tongue zig-zagged its way through your pussy before you had a full chance to take in his response, and a loutish moan escaped from deep within your throat as the air was filled with a symphony of lewd slurps. His breath was icy from how aching and seething your cunt was for him, and chill after chill overcame your body with each swipe of his practiced tongue.

He moved your legs to his shoulders as he continued lapping at you like a dehydrated mutt, completely feral for you. Your thighs clamped against his head and you dug your nails into the pillow, clinging desperately onto something to give your soul purchase to the Earth lest it be transported to the fifth dimension. His arms looped under your thighs and he sunk his nails deep into your flesh, marking you as his while he continued licking you desperately. His mouth was rolling over your folds and sucking at you raunchily - every single move he made was audibly wet and absolutely filthy. It was amazing. You were afraid he might lose control, and you almost yanked at his hair to rip him off you, but his tongue slowed then and rolled up the length of your cunt before circling your clit.

You whined greedily as you rocked your hips, trying to maneuver his tongue to your engorged nub without permission. Astarion immediately withdrew his tongue then, licking his way down to your inner-thigh and kissing your slick skin before piercing you with his sharp fangs. A frosty sensation shot through your bloodstream and you gasped loudly, tangling your fingers into his hair just as the frigid pulses from where his fangs sunk into you melted to an almost unbearable fever.

Astarion’s nails were embedded into the soft skin of your hips as he drank from you. Your heart banged against your chest like a prisoner trying to escape from their cell and you were certain it was loud enough that it could be heard by the entire camp. Just as your grip started to loose on his hair, his fangs were replaced by his tongue swiping at the small punctures on your thigh.

“Such a lovely little treat you are,” Astarion hummed, punctuating it with a final kiss to your thigh. “Thank you.”

Thank you. It was so sincere. So intimate. Two words, yet they held such power over your heart. His mouth was against yours again and your core was burning for him. You were needy. Desperate. Your hips thrust up towards him and he pulled away with a hum.

“Greedy little thing tonight, I see,” he teased. He smirked down at you and kissed your cheek before moving his mouth once again to hover over your entrance. Two nimble fingers pushed into your core as Astarion’s tongue glided swiftly over your clit. An unfamiliar sound erupted from your chest, a high pitched whine, before his free hand was clamped over your mouth.

“Shut up.” He commanded, and you were done for. Your hands tugged at his hair hysterically as his tongue circled your clit with a brutal slowness. There was no decency left in you. You were nothing but a husk, awaiting Astarion’s mercy of allowing you the pleasure of coming all over his sweet tongue.

Your teeth sank into the skin of his hand while he fucked you with his mouth. He was loud; slurping and sucking at your pussy like he needed it to survive. The air in the tent was unbearably hot. Your skin was sticky with sweat and your lungs hardly had any oxygen left. Astarion pulled back slightly, his fingers pushing in and out of your entrance with lewd squelching sounds as he demanded, “Look at me.”

Without hesitation, your eyes fluttered open and you watched as he dived his face into your cunt again, his gorgeous eyes locked onto yours. You tried to speak but he only clamped his hand harder over your mouth as he continued lapping at you, the flat of his tongue firmly planted against your clit. The familiar coil in your stomach tightened and then released harshly as you orgasmed, your entire body squirming in delight. Astarion moaned through your orgasm, the timbre of his voice sultry as he drank you in like the most lavish of wines.

“Fuck,” you groaned when Astarion released your mouth. He seductively pulled his fingers out of you and licked off the mess you made on them with a smile before he maneuvered himself to spoon you.

“Wait,” you said, “I wanted to-”

“Hush, love,” he assured. “I promise I’m content with everything. I want you to be comfortable now. Will you stay with me tonight?”

He nibbled at the top of your ear as his arm wrapped around your middle and brought your body close to his. You hummed and nestled into him, allowing him to be your protective barrier. Being this close to him wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to be this close to him forever. He was security. He was warmth. He was home.

You nodded as you felt yourself start to succumb to the unbearable drowsiness from the day, but you clung to his hand in yours as his finger painted pretty pictures on the skin of your stomach.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered. “And thank you.”

“For what?” You mumbled, doing your best to fight against the fade of sleep.

There was a brief moment of silence as you listened to the sound of your heartbeat steady itself. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Astarion nestled his face closer, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek and right as you started to drift away, he said the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“For being mine.”

Thank you for reading! If you made it this far, be sure to drop a like or a reblog to support my work <3. I have tons of other stuff on my page if you want to give it a read. This was my first Astarion piece, but I'm sure they'll be plenty more to come because this man singlehandedly got me out of my writing slump!

#astarion x reader #astation x you #bg3 #azurelyy writes #astarion smut #i'm feral for him

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skylarsblue · 1 year

Text

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes, AGAIN AGAIN✦

Ghost: Release me, woman. Fem!Y/N: …. *hugs him tighter* :3 Ghost, scared of intimacy: UNHAND ME!- -- (Comedic Death Mention) Someone: I shot you six times hOW ARE YOU ALIVE?! Y/N: Fool! The only one that’s gonna knock me off is ME! Price: *PANICKING*

-- Gaz: What did you do? Soap: ….suckdickonaccident Gaz: What? Soap: Sucked dick on accident! Gaz: HOW THE FUCK DO YOU SU-

-- Gaz: Here. We’ll put your phone on the aux- Y/N: NO DON’T- Speakers on full volume: FUCKFUCKFUCKMEUPANDCUTCUTCU- Price: JESUS BLOODY CHRIST *shuts off radio* Soap: *scratching the inside of his ear* Steamin’ Jesus- Y/N: I tried to warn you! Gaz: Who listens to Slipknot at 0900?! Ghost: *raises hand* Gaz: That’s- okay that’s fair. Soap: I’ve gone deaf. Y/N: You’re a bomb tech, it was gonna happen eventually. Soap: *middle finger* Price: *disappointed sigh* It’s too early for this-

-- (This one’s kinda sad but I couldn't stop thinkin' bout it-) Alejandro: You used to be nice…or did you never used to be? Valeria: … Alejandro: Oh god…maybe you never used to be…

-- Not a quote but if any of you have heard that audio that’s the names of the Princes of Hell overlayed on Funky Town, please imagine Soap & Y/N dancing to the Funky Town portion while Ghost sits there menacingly. Thank you.

-- (Depression joke) Y/N: Ahaaaa I’m soooo unwell. Price: Go to the psyche- Y/N: Ya know what it never was? That serious. It was never that serious- Price: Get your ass back here- Y/N: NEVER!-

-- König: I’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day, I’ll die. Horangi: No-

-- (Valeria has no color here, I ran out) Valeria: *eye roll* I am not trying to seduce you. Y/N, bi panicking: …. Valeria, but now smug: Would you like me to seduce you? Y/N: *strained wheeze & squeaky* Already achieved ma’am- Gaz: *listening to a mic implanted on Y/N* God damnit dON’T LET YOUR MOMMY ISSUES RUIN THIS MISSION!

-- (These next two have mental health jokes in’em) Y/N, hyper cleaning the base: AHAHA, yes! I’m finally feeling bett- ah, wait. I’m manic, and I’m hyper cleaning everything, ✨as a diversion✨. Price: P s y c h e . Y/N: Jokes on you, old man. I already have meds for this! …might need to up them though they feel like they’ve stopped working. Price: When did you start to feel they weren’t working? Y/N: Like three months ago. Price: PSYCHE Y/N: ASKING THEM QUESTIONS ABOUT MEDS ARE SCAAAARRYYY Price: YOU KILL MEN ALMOST EVERYDAY Y/N: Fair point. (Take ya meds)

-- Price: I don’t understand you- Y/N: Good! Means you’re probably mentally well. Price: I- Gaz: We really need to like- specify when you’re joking and when you’re serious, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.

-- Gaz: …Hm. Price: You’ve been staring at me for the past six minutes, what is it?Gaz: I think you have a grey hair. Price: Y/N, speeding in: WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE, IT’S BARELY EVEN THERE AND EVEN IF YOU WERE GOING GREY IT’D LOOK FANTASTIC ON YOU. Price: …would it? Y/N: Absolutely! …*thumps Gaz in the back of the head* Gaz: Ow-Uh yeah! Yeah! Actually I don’t even think it’s there, just the lighting. Price: Hm…alright. Y/N: Mhm! *death glare* Gaz: *mouthing* I’msosorry-

-- (Will someone please notice that I write Ghost as "Simon" when he's with Soap and they're being soft? It's intentional-) Soap: I’m not really sure what I’d do if I lost you… Simon: I know what I’d do. Soap: What? Simon: I’d find you.

-- Soap: I got my ankles microwaved. Ghost: X-rayed. Soap: They took my blood away for science! Ghost: Cholesterol tests. Soap: Si had his sinuses…removed? Ghost: Looked at. Soap: Some guy looked at my penis, touched it. That was weird. Ghost, cleaning blood off a knife: That guy wasn’t even a doctor.

-- Medic!Y/N: You think killing is hard? Try healing something. That is hard, that requires patience. Alejandro, watching them bandage his hand: Hm… Medic!Y/N: You can break something in two seconds. *vaguely motions to Ghost, then Price, then at a necklace Alejandro wears that came from Valeria* But it can take forever to fix it. Alejandro: …aye…well said.

-- Gaz: *being annoying and singing a song for the 10,000th time* Price: KYLE! Gaz: I’m watchin’ my tone, dunana. I ain’t talkin’ back, no, why? Cause I’ma get thrown, dunana-

-- Graves: You know, Ghost, real talk bro, you never say nothin’ when you’re around us. Why is that? Ghost: Cause I don’t fucking like you guys.

-- Enemy: I’m gonna send you to God. Y/N: God? I’m insulted you think I’d end up in Heaven. I work hard for my sins, thank you very much. Ghost: We are hostages right now, can you please not-

-- Valeria: And guess who gets to be my little helper.~ Y/N: It’s me, I’m the helper… Valeria: That’s right, you sure are.~ Alejandro: Alright that’s enough! Valeria: What? You don’t believe in positive affirmation?

-- Rudy: Me gustan los perros. Alejandro: Me gustas… Rudy: ….hm. Me gusta un hombre en el ejército. Alejandro: Aye? Rudy: Mhm. Alejandro: *chuckles* Me gusta mi mejor amigo. Rudy: Me gustas.

(This was poorly translated but listen, I tried for the gays)

-- Price: You actually were telling the truth. Valeria: I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.

-- Laswell: Don’t pull any of those stunts like you did last time. Fem!Y/N: I made an offering. Laswell: You dropped a dead mouse into that poor man’s lap. Fem!Y/N: Yes! Like a cat. Laswell: You are not a cat! Fem:Y/N: No…tragically, I am a woman.

-- Ghost: Some people are simply…better than others. Graves: You really think you’re that much better than me? Ghost: Oh I think we both know the answer to that.

(Needing to fake a date for a mission) Y/N, on the phone: Laswell, I don’t need help with dating. I’ve been on loads of dates! Y/N: *turns and whispers to Gaz* I’ve literally been on one.

-- Enemy: Think you can answer questions without the usual level of sarcasm? Y/N: If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid. Enemy: Where’s your captain and why hasn’t anyone been able to contact him? Y/N: I dunno, I’ve been here, haven’t seen him in days. Enemy: Is he drinking again? Y/N: What do you mean again? He never had to stop. Enemy: But he did have to slow down, is he drinking like he used to? Y/N: Alright, how bout this? Next time I see him, I’ll give’im the field sobriety test, okay? We’ll do the alphabet, start with F & end with U.

-- Graves: And that’s why I personally, don’t agree with your opinion. Soap: Okay, counter point- Graves: Valid argument? Soap: No. Pipebomb!

-- Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Y/N: I’ma instigate. Gaz, lightly pulling them back: nnnnoooooooooo-

-- Y/N: Eeraaawr >:3 Gaz: What sound is that? Y/N: A dyianosaur Gaz: A what? Y/N: Dianoswaur. Gaz: Make the sound again. Y/N: Uurraawer Gaz: Oh you talkin’ bout them things from ✨Jerressi PerAHck✨ Y/N: AHAH! Ghost: I’m gonna lose it. Soap: Hush yer mouth, it’s cute. Lighten up ya big log.

-- Ghost: I think I’ve finally had enough. Y/N, getting his antidepressants: I think you’re full of shit.

-- Medic!Y/N: C’mon, stick with me, Ghost. Ghost: Might be time to follow my call si-OH FUCKING HELL WHY Medic!Y/N: You listen here you Fuckin’ bastard, I’m gonna love the absolute shit out of you until you never make a joke like that again. And then, if you still do it, I’ll have the team smother, smother, you in affection. And if you STILL don’t get it, THEN I’m gonna whoop your ass. Shut your perfect fucking mouth, you got that, soldier?! Ghost: ….since when did you get scary? Medic!Y/N: Adrenalin keeps people alive and sometimes we run out of epipens, had to substitute somehow.

-- Price: Now, sergent, what would you rather be? A lion or a panda? Soap: Captain, I’m me. Why would I want to be anything else? Price: I’m not sure you realize how psychologically healthy that is.

-- Ghost, pissed off: Sometimes I can’t stand you. Y/N, while walking away: Then kneel! And while you’re down there, occupy your mouth, you’d do better down there, QUIET, anyway!! Ghost: I-…… Soap: Oooooo…. Gaz: I- I-…they have no fear. None. Absolutely no survival instinct, no self preservation. None!

-- (Younger Y/N as in like…mid-late twenties. Also, this one is long. I might honestly make a lil oneshot with this one and I welcome anyone else to do the same) Y/N: John… Price: I know, I know. You love me. You’ve said it a thousand times and it should just stick, I just…can’t help but think about how you’re so… Y/N: *snort* Out of your league? Price: To put it bluntly. Y/N: Well, regardless of where I rank? I still love you. I’m going to love you for a long time, you’re stuck with me, ya sweethearted bastard. Price, fondly: Ah Dear, whatever will I do. Y/N: Yeaaaah. Besides! Even if I wasn’t completely and utterly, disgustingly, in love with you? …you are way too good of a sugar daddy to ditch. Price: Hah! Oh really? Why’s that? Y/N: Are you kidding?! Paid off house, paid off car, successful military captain, great manners, great dick, extremely attractive, good with kids, good cook, sexy voice. I could go on for awhile. Price: Oh now you’re just feedin’ my ego. Y/N: Yes, yes I am. Price: I’ll get cocky. Y/N: You’re sexy when you’re arrogant too, that doesn’t deter me. Price: *sigh* Far out of my league. Y/N: You’re a rank climber, I think you’ll keep up.

-- (NSFW but it's in a ha-ha funny way, based on a conversation I've had. Kink mentions) Soap: Look, I just...I need advice on how to spice it up in the bedroom. Y/N: Do you know how little that narrows it down? Gaz: I feel there are few options. Y/N: No there are a lot of options, it depends on your level of spice. I dunno your boundaries wit'cha man! Soap: I just need something! Y/N: THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS! Get some handcuffs, grab a vibrator, TRY ANAL, I don't fucking know! Gaz: *chokes on drink* Soap: Okay, listen- Y/N: No, you listen. Rule of thumb with kinks? It's a mountain and there are three kinds of people on it. People who don't wanna climb, people who want to climb but choose not to, and people who stay climbing. You reach a level of kinkiness and you stay there. You can't go back down the mountain. Me, personally? I have chosen to stop climbing because I know I'll get worse. I'm choosing to stay on my part of the mountain. Where you wanna climb is up to you. Soap: Where do I climb then? Y/N: The beginner's trail is fuzzy handcuffs, orgasm control, and mirror sex. Soap: This is the weirdest advice I've ever gotten. Y/N: It's my specialty.

-- (Follow it up with an asexual joke) Graves: Are you fighting the urge to make out with me right now? Y/N: Not really, I'm really into this pizza though. Soap, in the back: Aw they burnt my fuckin' cookies! Assholes. Y/N: Karma. Soap: It is not my fault I ate the last slice of cake, I didn't know it was yours- Y/N: IT WAS LABELED! Soap: I DIDN'T SEE IT!! Graves: *slowly backs away*

-- Y/N, holding up a coffee pot: Anyone want more coffee? Price: No, we've all had ours. Y/N: *takes off the lid* Cool. Gaz: What are y-NO! Y/N: *chugging from the pot* Ghost: ...This is the peak of mental illness. Price: PUT THE DAMN POT DOWN! Soap: This is the scariest thing I've ever seen them do- Y/N: *fighting to finish the coffee as Price tries to get it away from them*

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ultralightpoe · 5 months

Text

Avoidance - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Clearing out drafts and found this puppy, there is a part two but I have to edit it.. Enjoy!

Word count: 3833

Warnings: Angst.

Enjoy!

This was weird, and by weird you mean absolutely outrageous. You honestly had no clue when it started, but you had racked your brain for the past month to try and see where you had gone wrong. Something you might have said or done to make things this way.

You had to have done something.

Because a month ago Bucky Barnes had been your best friend on this earth, stuck together at the hip. A month ago your friendship had been forged by steel, you would rarely see one without the other. Dinners and sleepovers and missions together. It was Bucky and Y/n, Y/n and Bucky.

It had been a friendship that had started off a little rocky, since Bucky had been stuck to Steve’s side, quiet as ever. You had been a bit too much when he came to the compound, excited to welcome him and show him the best the new world has to offer since you yourself had been a victim of Hydra as well.

You had once been an excited scientist ready to change the world of medicine and instead had come out a mutant that could talk to plants. Years of pain and finally you were meeting someone you might be able to help.

But Bucky had not enjoyed your help, in fact he didn’t seem to enjoy you at all. When you first met years ago he would all but leave the room whenever you came in.

At first you felt pathetic, and a little bit annoying, but Bucky finally opened up. He apologized and explained that he was nervous, nervous to be around you and nervous that you would have recognized him.

Soon after that he came to you for cooking advice and movie nights, you showed him the plants and best healing herbs. You told Bucky everything….. Well almost everything.

You had never told him how you truly felt. How your heartbeat through your chest everytime he looked at you, or the way your lungs seemed to expand for easier air when he spoke to you. Never admit to the heat that filled your body every time you touched him.

You never admitted to loving him, but that was because you were sure that he would start avoiding you again just like he had when you first met.

Not that it mattered because he started avoiding you again anyways.

You think about the day you met him as you shuffle about your apartment in Stark Tower, barefoot on the cold floors as you try to let the nail polish dry easily and clean up the living room.

The compound smelled of heavy lemon cleaning solution and you couldn’t decide if you loved or hated the smell, but that didn’t really matter now as you dashed through the halls. Your shoes clapped against the freshly cleaned floors as you did your ebay to fix your lab coat and hair.

You were supposed to meet Steve and Nat at the quinjet landing pad 30 minutes ago, but had ended up taking a few more patients for the day before Mr. Stark had reminded you to clock out.

You were leading his new medicinal lead, a program that would offer access to better medicine to the people of the world. And though he loved working in the lab with you he often had to remind you not to overwork yourself.

You just wish he had reminded you a little sooner today since you were desperate to make a good first impression. And that wasn’t going to happen if you were late.

“No running in the halls!” Clint calls in a teasing manner which makes you punch his arm as you pass, nearly tripping yourself up since you weren’t paying attention but finally you were hopping up the stairs to the rooftop exit, covered in sweat as you hear the thunderous sound of the quinjet wings starting up again.

You push the heavy door open and gasp in surprise when Steve and a brunette stranger lean back with wide eyes, the door barely skimming the blonde’s nose.

“There she is, dangerous as usual.” Nat smiles, coming around to hug you as you shut the door quieter this time.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I am late-” You start, hugging your best friend before moving to hug Steve who lifts you a little when he hugs back, kissing your hair line before letting you go and backing up so you could see his friend. “You must be Bucky.”

You move to hug him, realizing your mistake a second too late when he backs up, his fists tightening at his sides while his arctic blue eyes widen like a caged animal, his jaw tenses. He had been prepared for a fight, so you take a step back, even out your lab coat and try to smile. “Sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m y/n.”

He nods, the quinjet taking off in the back which makes you and him both flinch, the wind whipping your hair around before Steve is pulling you by your arm as softly as he can to lead you both inside.

“We were just talking about getting something to eat-” Steve begins when they finally close the door.

“Oh, we could take him to that diner that you like Stevie. The one that has the old school food-”

“Maybe just us tonight.” Nat interrupts, casting a nervous look to where Bucky stands in the corner, jaw still tense.

You read the room easily, Nat must know Bucky doesn’t want to be near you right now so you simply nod, giving them one more smile before reaching your hand out to him. “It was great to meet you…..”

He ignores your hand and you have to awkwardly shove it back into your pocket before nodding, taking your leave as Nat mumbles to him in russian.

When you are sure your apartments are clean enough you leave for your lab shift a little early so that you could stop by Bucks apartment, nervous as can be when you make it there.

Reaching a hand up to knock lightly and wait, your feet shuffling on the floors as you rub at your eyes from the lack of sleep, trying to keep yourself awake. When the door creaks open the tiniest bit you pull your hands down quickly and try to act cool when you make eye contact with Bucky.

“Hey Buck.” You smile, doing your best to act happy. He stares for a moment, blue eyes flashing in excitement that gets your hopes up as he opens the door a little wider.

“Mornin’.” He grunts out, looking back to check the time before turning to you once more. “A bit early isn’t it?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was heading to the lab but I wanted to see if you still wanted to have dinner tonight? I get off at 5 but-”

“I’m a bit busy tonight, sorry Do-Y/n.” He clears his throat, using his flesh fingers to comb his hair back.

“You sure? It’s pancake night at the diner-”

“Not tonight. I will see you later, Y/n.” He sighs, giving you one last smile before shutting the door softly.

You stay there a moment, trying to calm your nerves as you hear a small thump on the other side of the door and assume he must have locked it so you simply sigh and walk to the lab where Tony is chugging a large cup of coffee.

“Morning dork.” He greets, smiling a bit as he nods his head to the box of donuts to the side. “Since you have been down lately.”

You didn’t want to admit to Tony that you had ‘been down’ because you missed Bucky, that would be embarrassing and might clue him in to your crush. So you give him your best smile, and kiss his cheek before moving to your station to begin working.

But you can’t get Bucky out of your head. All you can think is ‘what did I do? Why is he mad at me? How can I fix this?”

Anxiety claws at your nerves, and you are too far into your thoughts to notice the chaos that your anxiety is ensuing over the lab. That is until you hear both Tony and Bruce curse and jump back, glass shattering.

Your head snaps back to where they are both trying to regain their footing and find that the small houseplant Pepper had given Bruce for his birthday had grown tenfold. The vines covered most of the lab.

“Apparently the donuts did not cheer her up.” Bruce sighs, both of them turning to where you are standing with your hands clenched around a beaker and a pen as tight as they would go.

“I’m so sorry guys-”

“Can you undo it?” Bruce asks gently and you scoff.

“Can you undo damages to buildings when you-”

“I know I know. I’m sorry.” He laughs, waving his hands. “Hulk smashes, poison ivy grows plants-”

“I’m not-”

“She’s not poison ivy.” Tony snaps in your defense and you feel a wave a love for him before he ruins it. “She’s itchy oak.”

“You are so dead!”

Bucky was screwed. So unbelievably screwed.

This whole plan was tearing him apart, and he didn’t think he could hold out much longer, even smelling your shampoo this morning had him ready to crack. Pull you into his arms and never let you go.

But he couldn’t, Natasha had told him not to.

This started the day he met you, the day he fell in love.

He had been standing on the quinjet with Steve and Nat, trying to pretend as though he wasn’t losing his mind at all the commotion. The sounds of the Quinet queuing up behind them, the wind nipping at his cheeks and neck as he thought of all the spots snipers could be hiding in the buildings by them though Stark Tower stood tall enough no one should be able to shoot him. He just couldn’t help it; he was a soldier.

Nat seemed to realize his tension, pushing both men forward to the door before it swung open, a hair's breadth from Steve’s face. He hears Nat giggle and the quinjet start up again as his eyes finally land on you.

There you were, perfection in human form. Sunlight and warmth and…..just everything he could ever want.

His brain barely registered you moving to hug him before he moved back, tensing and letting the fear control him.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m Y/n.” You had said and he saw what looked to be nervousness covering your face as his heart lurched. Two seconds in and he was already ruining you.

All he could think was ‘monster. Monster monster monster.”

It took weeks for Steve to convince him to talk to you.

And he was so grateful he did.

The lab was bright, and there was not a speck of dust in sight. And yet, somehow, the room that should have reminded him most of Hydra didn’t feel like it. Rather than a cold brightness it was warm lights from the glass windows and the desks were decorated with plants and photos. Little knick knacks strewn about that showed that the people who worked in here were human, good and warm humans.

And then his eyes landed on your desk, where you currently concentrated on something he could barely comprehend, a beautiful cactus in a decorated pot on the shelf by you.

Wiping the sweat on his pants, and taking a deep breath in before he moves up to where you were.

“You don’t have to water cacti.” He blurts, gasping out when you shout in shock , the back on your head hitting the shelf.

“What?” You gasp out, rubbing your head.

“I read…” He takes a second to breathe in. “I read somewhere that you don’t have to water them everyday. They are self-sufficient.”

“Oh! Yeah, they like water every 2 weeks and of course sunlight but….” You trail off, turning to the small cactus that seems to stand taller at your attention. Then you turn back to him with a nervous smile. “What are you doing? Are you feeling ill?”

“Me? No. I was…. I was actually wondering if you would show me that diner you had talked about the day I came-”

“YES!” You blurt, jumping up and taking your lab coat off. “I am starving.”

He spent the next three hours with you at the diner, talking about everything in the new world that he had found.

Weekly dinners turned into hanging out every day. Which was amazing because Bucky felt like he could truly breathe when he was with you.

There was no Winter Soldier, there was no Soviet Soldier. There was no World War 2 sniper. With you he was Bucky.

But he fell in love with you, and he had no clue how to talk to you about that. He was terrified that you would never talk to him again.

Which lead him to this.

“Maybe you just need a break.” Nat suggested last month, watching him try to climb off the sparring mat and catch his breath.

“I do.” He snaps. “I don’t know how you are never out of breath -”

“I meant from y/n.” She corrects. “Just take a breather. You both are so wrapped up in each other that you forget to breathe without each other. Codependency hurts more when it’s forcefully torn rather than willingly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take a break on your terms. Just a breather Barnes. You are tearing yourself apart.”

“So what do I do? Just not hang out with her? I can’t breathe when I’m not with her-”

“That’s my point..” She sighs.

“I don’t get it… why are you mad?” Bucky asks, craning his neck to watch you shuffle around behind the couch, snatching the snacks you brought over and climbing over the couch before you are cuddled into his side and near his warmth.

“I’m mad, Buck, because you just admitted to an actual sin.” You mumble, allowing him to wrap you in the blanket and pull you closer. “How have you not seen it yet? Everyone has. Hunger Games is a national…..”

“National?” He asks, eyebrow lifting as he waits for you to finish your sentence, reaching a hand up to rub his thumb over your cheek, lovingly.

“Well I don’t want to say treasure because that just feels wrong since it’s a bunch of kids fighting to the death but everyone needs to see it once.” You gush and he can’t help but smile as you snatch the remote and start the movie. “I brought twizzlers so-”

He cuts you off by snatching the twizzlers and moving you both around so your head was laying on his chest and your legs intertwined with his own. “What’s with that guy's beard? And why is the other guy's hair blue?”

“Just you wait……”

“Did I say something to upset him?” You ask Steve, following him around the kitchen like a lost duck while he cooks dinner for the team tonight. “What did I do Steve?”

“I don’t think you did anything.” He sighs, giving you a pitious glance, before he starts chopping tomatoes. “Buck practically worships the ground you walk on, trust me I would know if you did something wrong.”

“I just don’t underst-” Before you could finish your sentence Steve watches as your phone rings and Yelena’s face pops up. You give him an apologetic glance before leaving the room, and right as you leave one door his best pal comes in another.

“Need any help?” Bucky asks, with Sam slinking behind him with a bag of chips.

“No junk food before dinner.” He snaps, snatching the bag and tossing it to the side which makes Sam groan out and move to grab a drink, stopping at the sight of the shriveled plant.

“Someone get rid of that before Y/n sees it.” He laughs, making the other two look to it.

“I watered that plant 30 minutes ago.” Steve gasps, “it was fully alive before she came in-”

“You mean…. You mean to tell me Y/n drained a plant?” Sam asks, casting a side eye to where Bucky stands with a worried look.

“Is she okay?” He asks, walking up and using his flesh hand to touch at the leaves before he picks up the pot and pulls it close to himself. “I’m gonna get rid of this before she sees what happened to it.”

“You should talk to her, Buck.” Steve sighs. “She’s worried that she did something.”��

The rain beat against the window harshly, thunder rumbling in the distance as the smell of the spearmint candle you lit earlier fills the air.

Bucky wakes up slowly, exhaustion still filling his body as he swipes a hand to rub his eyes, lifting his head ever so slightly to see what had managed to wake him up. Vision blurry as he surveys the room for threats only to find you curled in on yourself with vines covering your arms.

Panic claws at him, moving forward to push the hair out of your face and wake you slowly, kissing at your forehead.

You open your eyes slowly, and he whispers to help ease your anxiety, kissing the corner of your lips as he rubs at your arms. “What’s going on?”

“Bad dream…” You mumble out, shoving your face in his chest.

“What were you dreaming about?”

“My cell.” His spine tightens as he remembers what you had to go through. The damp and moldy cell they kept you in, the years of abuse and torture. Of course the rainstorm would draw these memories out.

“Come here, doll” He whispers, pulling the blanket tighter around you both and keeping a tight hold on you. “Just stay with me, yeah? We’ll be alright together.”

You both fall back asleep, keeping a tight hold on eachother.

Three mornings later you find yourself prepped and ready to go for the mission, nerves racking through your body as you walk to the loading bay of the quinjet. With your duffel bag strewn over one shoulder and your gloves in your hand as you try to smile at Bucky.

“Hey Buck.” You start, watching everyone else in their suits. “Are you ready for the mission?”

“As ready as I can be…. Did you sleep last night?” He asks, stepping closer with a worried expression before thinking and stepping back.

“Not really. I was actually hoping to talk to you before the-”

“Alright Barnes. Are you ready?” Natasha asks, coming up behind him. “We need to talk about-”

“Wait, what?” You interrupt, heart clenching. “Are you…..wait are you guys teaming up this session?”

You truly didn’t want to seem lame when you asked this, but you were so confused. “Buck, we always pair up.”

Why did you feel like a middle schooler again?

“Well, sometimes things change. And Nat is down a partner since Clint is with his family.” Bucky blushes, looking between you and Nat as she narrows her eyes.

Feeling your eyes fill with tears you rush to go into the quinjet, dashing past Steve to find a spot.

The blonde narrows his eyes and marches to his friend, where Nat is already digging in. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Bucky asks nervously, eyes casting everywhere else.

“I told you to take a break, Barnes. Not cut her off.” Nat snaps.

“Why did you tell him to cut her off?” Steve asks, hands on his hips as he glares at the two of them.

“I didn’t say to cut her off. I said to take a break.”

“Why?!”

“Because he loves her!”

“Still not catching up.” Steve sighs. “Why take a break if he loves her?”

“Because she is never gonna love me back!” His friend snaps, “She controls plants and I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster-”

“We’ll talk about this later.” Bucky snaps and storms off.

The waitress at the old school diner recognized you and Bucky by now, smiling at you both as you walked in with your hands entwined. She nods her head to your normal booth and Bucky leads the way.

You eat dinner, listening to Bucky talk about his day before the waitress comes by with a sunday.

“The older couple sent this for you guys.” She smiles. “They said you were an adorable couple.”

Your face goes beet red, blanching out before you rush out. “We’re not a couple.”

Bucky gets embarrassed by this, the blatant rejection. Meanwhile you were worried about the fact that Bucky would realize your crush.

“D-Did you still want to watch Star Trek tomorrow?” You ask nervously.

“Actually I have to train with Nat tomorrow.” He sighs, ears going pink as he blushes.

The rain outside the quinjet was alarming, your nerves were beginning to get the best of you, but you were trying to remain cool as you avoided looking in Bucky’s direction.

With your leg shaking and Sam prattling off different codes you tried to focus on anything else but the rain, anything, just so long as you didn’t lose your cool right now.

You were nervous, because of the rain and the fact that you would be the only one without a partner, but most of all you were angry.

What had you done to Bucky to be cut out this way?

A five year friendship completely cut off with no explanation as to why. Treated like the scum on a shoe and for what? What had you done and why couldn’t he just talk to you?

“Y/n?” Sam calls, snapping your attention up to him as he peers at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You fake a laugh, hands fisted into your sides as you hear a flash of thunder in the distance, thoughts going back to that moldy and cold cell they had kept you in. You could still feel the vines leaching across your body in an attempt to keep you warm, using all your strength just to grow them.

“Because Steve has been calling your name for three minutes.” Sam whispers which makes you turn to where Steve is standing with a deeply concerned look. Bucky and Nat sit together behind him, both of them holding concerned looks of their own.

Making eye contact with Bucky, watching his blue eyes melt at you, before an angry vile feeling loosens in your chest. You didn’t want any of their pity.

If he didn’t want to talk to you then so be it.

So you simply turn away and nod to Steve, turning to the front so you don't have to look at any of them.

If Barnes wanted to cut you out then so be it. You would cut him out as well.

Part Two

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somerandomdudelmao · 8 months

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Cass please cass wait cass CASS I’m DYING AHH GOD the idea of Leo having been the last to die, to have died thinking (knowing) he was directly responsible for at the very least Raph and Mikeys deaths, and that he KNEW he'd be dying with essentially no ninpo, no spiritual connection and thus no real hope of joining his family in any sort of afterlife, that all those goodbyes were forever — the idea of him waking up and just ...everyones home, home and healthy and whole UGH CASS IM CRYING

(would he even believe it? would he think its a krang trick? god how do you heal from that kind of end? he ran towards it, he got his kid out and then turned back to continue a fight he already lost. everyone was dead, Donnie and Raph and April and Mikey, everyone else had given up everything— Mikey burned away for the slightest hope and Raph gave the resistance his heart and Donnie wore himself down to nothing, not even a ghost left— and Leo wanted to go that way too i think, giving everything, fighting for time like he wasn’t the last one standing, like there was anything left to fight for. Because to do anything less would be to discredit his brother’s sacrifices. How do you wake up from that? How can anything ever be okay again? How do you believe that you can wake up to a happy ending, hug your brothers, hold your son, see your father? A krang trick? It must be. Which means he was captured. Which mean did not die. Which means he failed. The world is dead, the krang have won, and Hamato Leonardo was not even able to match his brothers in death. He asked his baby brother to burn, and he has failed. How do you move on from that. How do you believe anything except the echoing certainty that there is quite literally nothing left to lose, and your own wretched, wailing anger?

Well. If he cannot honor the price he made his family pay, maybe he can at least make the memory of Donnie (not a spirit, there is no spirit, you cost him his soul) smile by finding the nearest Krang and unleashing Hell upon the sorry bastard. Yeah. i just. Cass i am STRESSED.)

I..uh..fuck I can't talk about this because of spoilers kvdkbf

But in general

Mikey and Leo went through the same hell, but at the end, when all they could hope for was gone, Casey showed up. And he said he could help them. Save them.

The difference between Mikey and Leo is that Mikey heard and understood him. So Mikey has a strange time too, realizing that everything is okay again. But he knew it would get better.

While Leo remained in a state of lostness and fear

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breeyn · 6 months

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An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers

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cooki3face · 7 months

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what you will be like as a mother 💛

message: I did a corresponding one for the divine masculine collective and what he would be like as a father so I thought I’d do this one too. Having a little bit of a marathon here if you will, I’m using up this opportunity to do what I love the most and help and send off messages for the collective. Divine feminine would be you if you consider yourself a feminine energy or you are the divine feminine in this case, the titles are a little bit different because I usually speak mostly to the divine feminine collective as I am a divine feminine energy myself. I hope this reading is beautiful and gives you something to hope for. 💛

***

You could’ve gone through so much healing pile one, heart break, trauma, depression and anxiety and spirit is telling me that all this healing wasn’t for nothing. You not only have souls purposes to fulfill here I’m hearing you have more than one but you may really aspire to mother hood or really want to be a mother one day, you may have had to heal deep mother wounds as well. All of this heart chakra opening and all of this heart break and hardship was so that you could mature emotionally and spiritually and build on the natural compassionate heart and spirit you have already and all of this will be relevant within your experience in mother hood. You will pour all of your love, knowledge and wisdom into your children. You may be someone who is very wise or has spent a great deal of their lives growing and learning from your experiences in life. You may even have children within your early twenties or mid twenties im seeing. You’re someone whose fairly young whose accumulated more experience and wisdom than most people who are nearing the ends of their lives and there will be a deep amount of devotion and love and compassion between you and your children pile one.

You may also have many children i’m getting. You could be an old soul there’s something really significant here about the way you view motherhood or child baring that comes from a different time or there is old practices or ideas that you adhere too in terms of bringing children into this world, specifically that, you could be someone who is very progressive in terms of parenting or the way you plan to raise your children but you may plan to have many or plan to give birth at home or have an alternative birthing experience planned. I brought up an old soul because there is something really significant about your energy in terms of an old life or a view on life that pushes you to want a large family or have multiple children throughout your life time like they used to back in the day when everyone’s grandmother dropped a whole litter for no reason other than because she could.

I see experiencing motherhood or having a child for you finally allowing you to live in peace or be freed from any left over limiting beliefs or feelings. There’s this level of completion, a calm after a storm or a wish fulfillment here surrounding mother hood for you. It’s almost like it will be a moment or a time period within your life that will be apart of some of the highest moments. You see long term commitment and mother hood as a reward. You see motherhood as a stamp or seal of achievement and honor. Like you’ve made it to that point and nothing else matters. All your heart break, all your hardship hasn’t been in vain and you finally feel as though you’ve checked that one thing off of your souls list of priorities. You could’ve been really connected to readings about spirit babies or you could’ve really resonated with one of my last readings about spirit babies. There is so much profound energy here regarding your experience as a mother. Motherhood and children could’ve been something incredibly significant for you in a past life, you could’ve missed out on having children of your own or lost a child here for some of you in a past life. And I hear spirit saying that even your pain and loss in your past life was not in vain. You were meant to have all your manifestations, all of your fulfillment, all of your happiness in this life. The things that await you here.

You could also be in a soulmate connection or twin flame connection and I’m hearing that it’s entirely possible you didn’t come into union with this person in your past life or get to have a family with them or be with them in your past life because spirit planned for you to come into union with them and have children with them in this life. I’m hearing spirit saying that they needed you here, that your divine purpose is always big, always profound but in this life, in this era, in this world, you are needed more than ever. You could have spiritual gifts or have a passion or something you’re meant to do in this life and motherhood is one of them.

As a mother, you will encourage your children to speak and express themselves freely and encourage clear communication and boundaries with them. You may feel very strongly about social Justice issues or trauma and hardship that are apart of life as a human being and I see you raising up your children in a way that encourages them to be independent thinkers and encourages them to remain in tune with themselves from the very beginning past the point in which they leave your home and go out into the world on their own. Your parenting style or your way of treating and acknowledging your children will create very special people and will prepare them to live out their own souls purposes in a very authentic manner. I’m hearing that you will respect and honor your children and see them as people. This is something you feel very strongly about.

These decisions that you will make will influence the way they raise their children and will influence your entire bloodline after you. You may be someone who breaks a lot of generational curses or comes from a home with a lot of wounded feminine energy, with addiction and abuse and other karmic energies that affect your other family members and people around you. Your work, your journey, will inspire many. You may even write a parenting book or write books to help others or serve others. There’s something you’re meant to do or something you’re about to do within your life that will change and inspire many others and the first set of those people will be your children who will live on to tell your story.

You will serve as a guide for your children. As their mother. You will continuesly remind them to grow or to turn inwards and tackle issues within and to heal so that they can move through life intentionally and be happy and healthy. You’ll encourage them to do deep soul searching and find out who they really are from a very young age. I think that there are no real words for how much you’re about to do just by being a mother. Typing this, writing this, im almost outside of myself and outside of my mind here or my human form. This is very divine. This is higher than us. Than many. This pile is very specific here and for a select few people who have a job to do for the divine.

For your children you will bring so much structure, you will provide them with a foundation that’s irreplaceable and they may even find themselves wishing they could speak with you long after you’ve passed to help them replicate what you created for them growing up. The future is very significant here. When you’re gone you’re not really going to have gone anywhere. You’ll be in everything, you’ll be in stars, in the moon, in the sun, in the trees, in the rivers. You will be protective of them, you will be prepared to make sacrifices for their sake. I’m getting the imagery of Moses in the basket floating down the Nile river for his safety and for his protection, because his mother loved him so much, so deeply that she would risk the pain of sending her child away to protect him from something that was larger than her that had the potential to strike her down if it tried.

You may be a poet or a writer already. Something you will write and something you will create will serve your children and your lineage well. You will set them up to make important connections, be in important places, connect with others on a very deep and profound level. I’m getting that quote again, “it takes a village. And you are the village.” I wrote that into the corresponding reading “what your divine masculine will be like as a father” pile one could be significant to you for that reading as well. He is your person here or this is your divine counterpart and you may have read both of these readings and recognized his energy within that reading. These children will be well loved and well supported and appreciated. It’s never ending. The love predates you and your husband and the home you’ve built, it will live on forever and ever. Nothing can stand in its way once it’s created, once it’s done and in motion.

You could also have a pet who will be beside you for the next 20-30 years or so, and this pet is coming through here very strongly, you may very much admire this pet, I almost want to say this person. This pet could be the spirit of an ancestor or be some type of familiar spirit for you. The two of you are very connected and in tune and throughout the years of your life this pet will love and admire your children very much and will love living and being apart of your home and family. He/she knows you’re destined for many great things. The two of you are young. You have a life to experience with one another as eachothers company. You may even view this pet as a baby or someone an animal who holds the spirit of youth or of a child and while they are young in their form they are very wise and all knowing in their spirits and hearts. They will be sitting with you and bringing immense love and support to you. I’m hearing they protect you, they’ll protect the babies like they’re their own.

***

ii.

You may have a child at a time in your life you least expect and you may be required by your spirit guides to show off your strength and perseverance in the beginning here because this may a pregnancy you were unprepared for but a child that will bring you great happiness and fulfillment in life. This child will reflect back to you the vulnerability of your inner child I’m hearing, you may grow to be really protective over this child here, not allowing certain people to see them, not allowing them to be exposed to certain things that you were at a young age that brought upon great hardship and struggle for you. I see you coming into yourself because of the presence of this child and coming into your power and higher self and as a thanks to this child protecting them with all your might and giving them the ability and the protection to grow into someone wonderful and have a good life.

You could spend a lot of your time reading, studying, trying to understand children and their development or trying to unearth trauma within yourself and heal it when you realize you’re having this baby or when you become a mother for fear that you’ll project unresolved trauma onto your child or that you’ll make giant mistakes a long the way. I see you potentially reconciling with a friend here from your past or watching someone from your past on social media who has children of their own and admiring their parenting style and their path through motherhood and trying to find the best ways possible to show up for your child and be a good mother. You may feel discouraged or feel as though you’re not meant for motherhood or if you were a mother it would be a disaster because of how deeply your past, certain environments or even your own mother affected you and your mental health. You could have very significant mother wounds here that kept you stagnant or are keeping you stagnant at this point in your life and leading you down bad paths here, into bad relationships, into insecurity and self limiting beliefs.

I see the presence of a pregnancy here bringing up old memories or trauma that you’ve suppressed and allowing you to become aware of the things that went on in your childhood or the things you don’t want to repeat when raising a child or your own. I’ve been getting “don’t you forget about me” by simple minds this whole entire time and I don’t know what it is about that song that’s significant. 1985 could be significant or the 80s as a whole, I see you reevaluating your values and your priorities when this child comes along. I see you realizing that you may be prone to traumatizing your child, manipulating them or being reckless and irresponsible when raising your child if you don’t prioritize your healing before they get here. You could be someone who has a lack of long term vision and doesn’t necessarily think very far ahead.

This pregnancy, this child will be a large wake up call for you. I don’t know what it is about 80s music and the 80s that’s so significant. You may end up really enjoying 80s music or aesthetics or you and your child will enjoy 80s music together at some point in your life.

In the beginning, when you conceive or when you find out that you’re pregnant you’ll experience a lot of fear and self doubt coming to ahead here, your divine masculine, the father, the relationship, the pregnancy is all going to shake you and make you feel incredibly undeserving and this coming up is the energy that you’ve been carrying with you almost all of your life. Undeserving. But you will make the decision to move forward with the pregnancy and accept the relationship and the child you’ve been given as a gift, your worries will go away, you’ll grow, you’ll heal, you’ll learn.

***

iii.

Something about this pregnancy could be accidental or unexpected after a long run of infertility or something others of you may have a child who will change your life or essentially cause you to do a complete 180. There’s something here about learning from mistakes or learning from failure of some sort. Having a child may also push you to better be able to identify certain short comings within your family line and better assess and understand traumas to break generational curses on a large and timeless scale. You may also become influential in a way to others as a mother and as a parental guardian. You may also even adopt or foster children and give children from other places who’ve been in rough situations a chance to live a good life and have good things.

Something about children, a child, or motherhood will bring immense change to your life in all aspects im really getting humanitarian vibes or something of the sort. You’re going to be stepping into the position of a natural born leader or a visionary. Your souls purpose may lie in motherhood or being a mother to all. Taking care of children or helping out children in need will allow you to heal a great deal of trauma you carry with you that you may have found difficult to resolve or overcome. Trauma surrounding child hood experiences, neglect from parents and family members or even trouble and loss in child barring as well. As a mother you’ll grow to be fearless and boundless. Being able to resolve deeply rooted fears that kept you feeling stagnant and unable to move forward, you’ll be able to express your emotion and heal your heart and your spirit by being giving and being generous to young souls and to your children.

Before motherhood you may feel confused or out of alignment with your souls purpose or your reasoning for living and being on the planet and you’ll find it through motherhood and being able to raise and nurture children. I see you feeling stuck or feeling somewhat unfulfilled until you get a chance to love someone the way you were meant to be loved or make things right by paying it forward towards those who are young and in need. You may even grow to enjoy charity work and you may donate money to children who are ill or need food to eat or need shelter outside of the ones you cannot take in on your own. You may also even have the experience of even having an orphanage of your own as well for some of you.

There’s a great deal of Justice that revolves around your experience as a mother and as a giver. Your hard work, your lives work, is being a mother and even for those of you who don’t become a mother on such a large scale, you’ll take motherhood and protecting your children very seriously. Always keeping a close eye on them, always ready to defend them, always ready to advocate for them and their needs. I’m hearing, “you get nothing else from me today, don’t make me fall Portia” lol like your kids are going to be very serious about their mom because they know that you’ll go hard for them and cape for them at any given moment. You’ll be the type of mother your children aren’t afraid to call and tell what happened when they’ve made a mistake or done something bad because they trust that you’ll be gentle with them and offer them forgiveness and understanding and help them grow.

As a mother you’ll be selfless and forgiving. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do. There’s nothing you wouldn’t give. You may also be a huge part of your community, a pta mom/member, the mom all the kids in the neighborhood go to for advice or go to when they want to feel safe or when they feel unwell or are having a hard time. Home is within you. And I see you being someone who is a very sentimental person and you may also be extremely interested in choosing the right home to raise children in or settle in and your home will become a safe space for many. Your children may even grow up one day and have a hard time leaving home or come to visit you frequently because even when they’re adults and they move out their own houses won’t feel like home. Children who you’ve met along the way will cycle back to come visit you. You are the community. The mother, the father, the teacher,,,

***

Sorry that pile three seemed short and sweet ❤️ I love you and welcome back guys! Or I should be saying welcome back to me it’s my own job I left lmao, anyways, have a good night, good evening, or good morning! I love you!

#self love #self care #self improvement #self discovery #dream girl #self expression #healingjourney #self healing #manifestation #divine feminine #pac #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarot reader #tarot #tarot readers of tumblr #tarot readers of tiktok #tarot readers of instagram

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