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vryyn · 1 year

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The Emancipation of Performative Apathy

A personal essay about growing up

When I was younger, I always thought I was way too cool to ever express myself, especially to my peers. At the risk of sounding insane, I didn’t really like anyone- most things that I did feel were things that I could only describe as reactionary. I didn’t enjoy the people that I called friends, and, in that time, I lost a lot of interest for the sake of trying to be cool in front of them. Which means that after a certain age, I was that annoying, goofy ass, punk that just didn’t let myself or anyone else enjoy things. And through it all, through the eons that have passed, the thing that got me out of that funk was Kingdom Hearts. (That's right, this is a love letter to kingdom hearts, eat my ass. I’m pushing 30, let me have this.)

(Kingdom Hearts box art via CNET)

For the allistics reading this, Kingdom Hearts is a video game franchise that, as of writing, has 3 main numbered entries and 10 side games. All of these games are integral to the overall story that has spanned over the course of twenty-one years. It’s a game that tries the ludicrous idea of attempting a giant crossover between two IP’s- Final Fantasy and Disney. In all of these games, you play as spikey-haired anime protagonist OC known as Sora who goes on adventures with Disney’s Donald and Goofy. They explore Disney’s catalog of animated films and engage in anime fights with the villains of said movie. If I had to sum up the experience of what it’s like playing it would be something like Goofy and Squall from Final Fantasy 8, meeting up and having a melodramatic conversation about light and darkness. Nothing about this game should have worked, but my 4-year-old ass sat on the floor and loved every second of it. I was hooked from the first game despite that game being very hard and even harder to understand at that age.

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My brother and I would play that game together and by play, I mean I just watched while he played. The problem was that we were both young children, so we barely knew how to play the game. We got stuck a lot. The first game in this franchise is very hard- the hardest one, if you ask me. Replaying it now is still a struggle in some parts. Things don’t work the way they’re intended to, and characters move like they’re knee deep in mud. Keep in mind this was the early 2000’s, like prehistoric, ancient Mesopotamia era- there was no internet especially in the border town we lived in. The only consistent resource we had were our parents and, of course, a book.

This, however, wasn’t just any old book, this was the holy grail of all knowledge, a heavenly divine scripture written by the gods who wished to bless us mere mortals with a tome filled with their wisdom. Our journey to acquire such knowledge was not going to be easy and we were prepared to face those challenges. We begged, cried, and, most importantly, asked our parents to take us to our conveniently located Barnes and Noble. And after searching for what felt like eons, there it was- The Official Kingdom Hearts Strategy Guide.

(from ‘Kingdom Hearts: The Official Strategy Guide’ (pages 62, 63) via piggyback)

The guide contained everything we ever needed from maps and battle strategies, stickers, art, important item locations, secrets, stickers and, most importantly, enemy stats. We never bought it. But God I wanted those stickers. Anyway, Barnes and Noble had a copy opened so we may have skimmed it. The most important piece of information the guide ever gave us was to use defensive magic. Like that was it. And that has been the most game changing advice I have ever gotten for a game. And with that, we beat the first game, under leveled and slightly better gamers. After the first game, I was sort of left to play these games by myself.

Up until 2013, I had played every entry that came out, including the one where the real- time combat is done with one time use cards that have to be reloaded upon use. The series had a game come out on every piece of hardware you can imagine, so even if I wasn't home to play one of the titles, there was always something in my pocket to give me access to this world. I didn’t understand a damn thing that was being said in the game, but I loved it anyway. It was just nice to see Goofy do the most broken, most insane juggle in the game to go on and get a wombo combo by Donald casting a string of spells that barely work while you were fighting a different enemy using a spinning twits kick. It was nothing short of brilliance.

After 2013, once I was in middle school, I stopped caring. The first trailer for the 3rd installment in the game was shown off way back then and it looked interesting but by all means I just didn’t want to care about a silly game. Instead, I decided to focus my efforts into becoming the worst possible person that a teenager could be- a centralist. I thought I was hot shit, I thought I was being super cool by adapting the language and attitudes of contemporary think tanks. At the time, that meant the rhetoric of atheists on the internet which in itself evolved into the anti-woke, anti-sjw and, eventually, gamer gate spaces. The people I had surrounded myself with just made it easier for me to become so embedded into the idea that I didn’t need to be an active member in my communities or my life. I didn’t let myself be bogged down by anything that could possibly make me feel bad. And because of all that, between the ages of 10-16, my memory is pretty blurry.

When I came to, I found myself over encumbered by the burdening realization- a passionate 3-word sentence, searing onto the tip of my tongue: I hate this. I didn’t dig my heels into the lamest world of politics- which by then shape shifted into the likes of Ben Shapario, Rubin Report, and Project Veritas. They were all things that I used to watch or was aware of who they were. I was too cool to ever be lame enough to fall into that conservative pipeline. I was just becoming an extremely apathetic man. Instead of radicalizing myself to that kind of thing, I just sat there with that nothing for a long time. I didn’t know what to talk about now. I just started listening to other people around me. I saw people who loved things and each other, who were hurt by things outside of their control. And I didn’t know what was going on. In 2016, I miraculously graduated high school even though I kind of just sort of did nothing and still came out at like 18th in my class. In that haze I somehow then performed an any% speed run through college in what was supposed to be a 2018 graduation turned into a 2019 graduation. In that time, I eventually started leaning more towards where I stand now with my political affiliations, and that meant where I was as a kid. I was super based as a kid way more than I was in my adolescence, it’s comedy really.

My brother reminded me sometime in late 2018, early 2019, that after 6+ years Kingdom Hearts 3 was finally releasing. That month I made an unprecedented amount of money in tips, and it was coming out around my birthday, so I bought it. I hadn’t played the previous games in so long and when I went back to see all these games and the plot threads that were going to be wrapped up in this 3rd main- line entry, I was surprised to see how much I remember it and, what was the most shocking to me, was how much I cared about it. Remembering all those characters, people that I hadn’t seen in at least 6+ years was a sobering reminder of my own frail creation of a personality I created and what little it had made me.

I couldn’t help but think about Sora and the quest that he’d been through in these games. Sora is nothing like me. He unabashedly and unconditionally loves, he is quick to extend a hand of friendship, he constantly wears his heart on his sleeve and, most importantly, learns what growing up means in a world that wants to grow cold. He started off as a happy kid who goes on this long adventure because he didn’t want to lose his friends. Throughout the course of the series, in what I’m guessing was the writers trying to write themselves out of a corner, decided to inject fear and doubt into him. He loses his memory and never gets it back after a yearlong sleep. When he comes to, he finds that he’s not the same person anymore and that the friend that he spent so long looking for, doesn't even look like himself. In both writing and performance, it feels like he’s in this sort of catatonic state, a stupor that t. In that time, Sora finds that he’s literally been split in two- a side portrayed by a totally different character, one that was mean, sad, and edgy, one that represented his hurt. It takes Sora a long time to sound and act like his old self, in both writing and performance. The plot device that cements this, funnily enough, is the one that introduces time travel and has Sora look like his old self from the first game. He literally goes back into his old self and the writing is better and it’s filled with so much glee that it genuinely made me laugh. It was the corniest and lamest joke ever and it made me laugh. And I will always remember that.

(Kingdom Hearts 3 title screen from ‘Kingdom Hearts 3 Title Screen Opening & Menu Selection (1080p 60fps)’via YouTube)

When Kingdom Hearts 3 came to my door, I put the disc into my system, sat on the floor, and began what turned out to be one of the most heart wrenching experiences of my life. From a fucking game that featured Donald Duck casting a spell known as Zettaflare which is a spell so powerful that only two other mages in Final Fantasy can use. From the game that features an AMV that feels like it was ripped from an early 2000’s YouTube video. The main menu alone had me in tears. That’s how it went from that point forward, just little parts in its stilted weirdly written dialogue that would just remind me of me. It all just collectively came forward at the very end. Sora rescues everyone. The evil bad man (who is the only person in the franchise to have any melanin in his skin and I think I should be a little offended by that) stops being evil and realizes that maybe leading the world into fascism isn’t the move. The worlds that had fallen into darkness have been saved. That even the other half of Sora found happiness in his friend’s and stopped being so angsty. All is okay in the universe. The final image of the game, of this main line series so far, is that of Sora staring into the eyes of his love interest, both of their silhouettes outlined by the setting sun beside them. I’m shouting for my boy Sora, that son of a bitch did it. Right after they both lean in, there's a kiss coming, the music starts swelling, and as a beautiful bloom radiating from the sun, the colors turn vibrant as their outlines become consumed, he fades away into that light. He’s gone. Then it cuts to credits. That’s it. That's the ending. It made me cry so fucking hard.

I have never let myself be part of a world that experienced anything. I purposely closed myself off to maintain a level of vague coolness because I was ashamed to ever be seen as liking something let alone ever approaching a personality that is authentically me. I think I was just scared as being seen as childish or lesser for liking silly things like a game or show. All I got from the people around me, including adults, were positive responses for being an emotionally constipated teenager. I held myself back and I lost a lot of myself because of my shame.

Shame as I now understand it, isn’t something that comes from within, it’s a feeling that comes because of one’s relation to others. It’s a feeling that comes when there’s an innate desire of needing the validation of others to accept you and all that you encompass. And when you start thinking about it like that, then there IS a lot of pressure to be someone that others will like. That ideological framework is what hurts the most. It's the thing that makes cliques and ends up becoming a sort of internalized stigmatization. In the article Shame in Self and Society, Thomas J. Sheff would argue that in all of our understanding of lived- in experiences of expressions, shame, compared to feelings like love that have had such a much broader and wider understanding, has been so uniquely defined in our society. It’s in that we can see why there is such a shocking lack of empathy in our world. And I think I can agree with it, to a certain extent.

The word that we use now, well from what I see, is cringe. Cringe in every way shape and form is about shaming people for having any sort of noticeable attachment to something. I would argue that cringe takes it a step further by directly comparing it to standards of neurotypicality of expression which can be further expressed into conservative white thought. Like all things, cringe and shame are political and hurting someone for not being what you wanted them to be is pretty lame if you ask me. I was that person and I bullied myself for it. I hid in corners of my own life watching someone that I didn’t recognize. In my head, that’s what growing up looked like.

Three months after the release of KH3, and to the surprise of everyone, I came out as trans. I know it’s pretty stereotypical of me to be a fan of Kingdom Hearts and be trans but I think it’s funny. It’s like right there with being trans and a Sonic fan. It was a (Donkey Kong Barrel) blast coming out. And I’m happy that I did. I have found happiness in allowing myself to change, to let other people see me change. I have learned to just love things and others and myself. And that’s a weird sentence to say. It seems like just a basic human understanding, like something that would just be fundamental to just being, I don’t know, decent. And I had spent so much of my time never knowing. That pretentious kid thought they knew everything, what a punk.

Being well into my 20’s now, all I know is that I don’t want to be that person again. I don’t want to be known as someone who is there for my friends because of the simple fact that I enjoy being their friend. To let myself be completely infatuated with the small things that exist in this world. I want to be able to see others as themselves and not as what I want them to be, to see the parts of them that don’t shine anymore and still enjoy their company. I know that’s not a revolutionary take, in fact I think it makes people wince their eyes out of concern especially since the thing that made me realize it was a spikey haired anime protagonist and his closest friends Donald and Goofy. But I don’t know how else to tell you how happy that has made me. That learning from a goofball like Sora was kind of sort of freeing. And I think that I can best explain this with a simple meme, don't kill the part of you that is cringe, kill the part that cringes. I guess it was ok to just want to be a little my bestie like Sora.

(Image of Kingdom Hearts gang and their first appearance outfits from ‘Kingdom Hearts: Visual Art Collection: CG & Illustration Works’ via Internet Archive)

#kingdom hearts #writing #short essay #funny #creative writing #games #video games #what a time to be alive #what is a tag #but #a #speck #of #pain

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whoslaurapalmer · 2 years

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5, 10, 20, 35, 47, 73, 90, 92? (for the fic ask game)

i was almost done typing all this after an hour and the page just disappeared so i am going to try and speed run these again as fast as possible

5) have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

almost everything i write gets a playlist! i like vibes. i like Curating The Vibes, because i think what you write to is important to tone. (but sometimes it's just a song that's good and unrelated.) beatrice, bea's letter, babybea fic, folding mirror all had playlists, bea and olaf have character playlists, so does sunny but i listen to her songs for babybea too, cat burglars had an eclectic mix of unrelated songs it was written to, kit has a couple songs that i think hit some kind of vibe, parent trap au was mostly written to the movie soundtrack, i have a peaks playlist i listen to for writing those fics in general, but laura also has her own playlist.

the thing is, i, do not, put them anywhere. i have no links to drop :( i'll list specific playlists if asked, though. listing them all altogether is just like way too many songs to dump at once

10) at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

i try not to come up with titles too early, bc then you have a good title, and, no story to go with it. but titles are So Important to a story, like they're so KEY in poetry, specifically, but titles in general are also like, they're the bow, on top of everything else, you know? a title isn't a summary, but it's got to.....encapsulate everything about the story, in like, just a few words. it's the first thing your reader is going to see. it's going to set the tone, the vibe, before they even go in. a title that's one word is going to speak volumes. a title like 'the [x] of [y]' or whatever, you know, that creates a specific rhythm, it lends itself to the majesty of a fantasy. a 'the [x]' title is specific and straightforward. a long title, a wordy title, can create a looser atmosphere, or a crowded one, depending on the words! don't get me started on lowercase vs uppercase, clearly i have a lot of feelings about that too

SO TITLES ARE USUALLY HARD and i will usually, take the whole writing process to pick a title, or i find one early enough that i like a lot and slap it on there. usually i pick song lyrics, bc i thing song lyric titles are gorgeous, and songs can fit and describe the whole of a story as well, too, god that's what playlists are!! but you can spend too long looking for the PERFECT song, too, and that's just, taking up a lot of time. i think college au should have a song lyric title, bc it's just that kind of vibe, as a school story, but i can't look around for the right song FOREVER, yeah? coming up with original titles, or titles pulled from the work itself, is equally important and equally evocative, and i should do it more, too.

20) what is your favorite trope to write?

i like found family, i like people coming together and creating a needed friendship community amongst themselves, i love characters getting drawn into it when they don't intend to, the stoic characters coming to care; i like Magic Worldbuilding Times, i like magic in realism settings, like i like fantasy magic but i think it's more fun in real word things; i like villains (who aren't necessarily always villain-villains to begin with) becoming heroes, i like the chaotic potential there, the recovery potential, the parody potential; i like heroes becoming villains, i like the destiny/fate potential, the when was it too late to turn back, was there ever a turning point, the slow horror of the downward spiral. i like Romantic Couples With Terribly Long Histories. i like non-linear narratives.

i like heists, but i don't, necessarily like WRITING heists, they are very complicated and you have to know EVERYTHING, it has to be planned to the very last detail. so i like other people writing heists, like even a bad heist is a good heist, bc it means something is always happening to work towards the heist, to work for or against it, and i find that so much fun to watch.

35) tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

i think there's, something in every character, or something i put in every character that i can identify with, even if only the littlest thing. but probably dale cooper. i over-analyze my thoughts my actions my words and i do it out loud to anyone who will listen, i do it to myself in my diary, i do it ALL THE TIME. and cooper analyzes himself and then hides it from himself and does not apply anything. he has a level of calm i could NEVER achieve. and i love him and i want to hug him

47) what story are you most proud of?

right now! at this very moment!! it is babybea fic. i love the pacing, i love the slow reveal of the shipwreck details, i love the work and character i put into babybea, i love lemony being so honest with her (although i'd probably write that scene a little differently now. a little longer. but i feel that about all work a couple years old), i think it still holds up, i think it's still so engaging to read. i love the setting descriptions i worked so hard on, i love the vfd headquarters, i love what i did with the implied state of vfd, what i thought it would be. the vice principal collecting sugar bowls and tracking down the bombinating beast statue. how clearly the cycles continue but how clear it is that babybea will not be a part of it.

73) how do you visualize scenes? do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

usually, the dialogue just happens, but i do have a little visual sense of what the scene looks like. like, i'm imagining some parts of the scene, facial expressions for sure. because i have a mirror at my desk and make faces in it while i write. i act out a lot of scenes, in my head, daydreaming them out, or, you know, by myself in the bathroom. when i read it back, i imagine it something like a movie. i think.......thinking about what a scene looks like, making sure people move properly in it too, is as important as the words you put down to create that.

90) do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

in terms of, do i notice Me, My Voice, My Personality in my writing style -- i think i write sugar bowl gen characters too critical of vfd, because i'm critical of vfd. i don't think i ever quite nail the indoctrination exactly like i should. i also try to make sure each character has like......even just subtle narration differences, so that they sound like themselves, and don't have much of a chance to sound too much like Me (unless it's bea, who gets a lot of Me, but a lot of Me filtered through Beatrice Being Beatrice). although i think something of any writer will come through, likely.

in terms of, do i notice My Writing Voice In My Style -- mostly i notice all the things i overuse, rhythms i fall back on :/ but there is a difference in the style of my fanfic vs the style of my original fic. i can't quite always pin down what exactly it is but i notice it very much when i read one and then the other. ofic has, a different weight in the words. there is no, expected structure of a pre-existing character and world. ofic is, unfiltered self, re-filtered through original characters, and it comes out different.

92) do you hear other people’s writing styles when they talk?

i think.........if you know someone's work very well, you can probably, hear a similar structure, a similar thought, a similar idea. a similar vibe or way of being, in just the way they are.

#thank you so much!!!!!!#THIS IS A LOT OF WORDS I HOPE THEY ARE INTERESTING

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smartrelationshiptips · 5 months

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[11 Proven Methods] How To Break Up With a Girl?

How to break up with a girl (girlfriend) after a long relationship? Yeah, it is one of the toughest questions I have been ever asked. And today I will be discussing the proven methods and processes of doing so. But before that, let me discuss some reasons/signs for breaking up.

When even your girlfriend is not happy with the relationship, she is also frustrated seeing no development or progress in her life. Her friends are telling her many things, which leads to the breakup.

When you or your girlfriend are not happy with each other, when you have new goals and dreams that you want to fulfill in life, there won’t be any place for a previous relationship in your life. The same thing will happen if your girlfriend has new goals and dreams, you will be in her way, so it is better to break up.

When you have been created by a girlfriend or she has been cheating on you. There is nothing good in a relationship where you can’t trust each other. So, it will be better to break up with her.

If your girlfriend’s family members don’t like you or are thinking of getting her married to someone else, this relationship won’t work for long. This happens mostly when a girl is very young and has parents who have just set their minds on a boy who will take their daughter’s hand in marriage. So, it will be better to break up with her.

If your girlfriend is willing to break up, you should not hesitate to end this relationship and if she is not willing, then don’t force her because forcing on such matters cannot work out.

11 Ways How To Break Up With a Girl

Breaking up is never easy, but it can be a good idea to know how to break up with your girlfriend. If you are not feeling the relationship anymore or if things have changed and you don’t want to continue, here are 11 ways that you might consider breaking up.

1. Tell Her Face-to-face:

This will allow her to talk about what she feels as well. It also shows respect for both your feelings and emotions in the situation.

2. Send A Text Message:

This way is less personal but still gives her an understanding of what’s going on without speaking out loud.

*Don’t leave voicemail messages*

3. Use Skype:

4. Use A Letter:

This is also personal because it allows for your feelings and emotions to be expressed in the letter. Make sure that it’s very well written, so she understands your position.

5. Leave A Message On Her Facebook Page:

You may not think this is an appropriate way to end things, but it’s still possible and less personal than introducing the subject face-to-face or over the phone.

6. Get Rid Of Your Ego:

Remember that no relationship is perfect, and some things about her annoyed or irritated you way before the breakup happened. Stop thinking about how could she do this or that to you and remember that life doesn’t consist of just a girl. You may meet someone else who is better than her. Think about it!

7. Be Cool About It:

Break up with her as if nothing happened between you two. Please don’t give any reasons for the breakup because this will make the situation awkward; ignore whatever she says.

8. Don’t Make It Misunderstood:

If you have friends who know the girl and she also has friends, don’t tell them anything about your breakup because it will make the situation awkward for her. Keep in mind that if you break up with someone, they may want to talk to their friends about the whole story, so be careful about that.

9. Don’t Break Her Heart:

Whatever you don’t go and talk to her again after a short period will make the situation even worse. And another thing, never tell her that she is your first love or something like that because if you do this, she probably won’t let you go.

10. Don’t Be Afraid:

She may cry, she may shout, and probably won’t talk to you for some time but don’t be afraid of this because a breakup is hard on her as well. And the most important thing does not to feel guilty about it!

11. Don’t Say You Will Stay Friends:

This is the biggest mistake you can make! Don’t say anything about staying friends after a breakup because this is not true and will never happen. It would help if you had some time to forget everything that happened between you two. And never call her to explain anything again because this will make things even worse.

How Do You Break Up With A Girl You Still Love?

It’s a pretty painful question. It can easily ruin your life if you don’t handle it right. But imagine breaking up with her when she doesn’t know what the word “breakup” means. You have to tell her how things are going to be from now on. You have to make sure she doesn’t get clingy, cry and make a scene. It’s not easy, but it can be done. Here are some tips on how to break up with your LDR (Long Distance Relationship).

#1 – Keep the girl at a distance right from the start. But then you should also build up intimacy. This is called oscillation.

#2 – Keep her from getting clingy and breaking down.

The way to do this is by making sure that she knows the relationship is coming to an end before it happens. You have to gradually let her know that there is no future for you two together but still keep hanging out with her. If you can do this, she won’t get too attached to you and won’t make that big ugly scene after the breakup. And if she stalks you or something…well, she’ll be a pain in the ass, but not much more than usual.

#3 – Don’t explain how things are going to be from now on. Instead, start acting as if you no longer want her back in your life.

That’s right, she must feel like she’s lost you already and that it’s over between the two of you. This is what “breaking up” means. But before you start acting strange and without her noticing it, you must first make sure that she doesn’t cry or be clingy. If she does any of these things, then abort the mission.

#4 – If you cannot maintain the LDR anymore, tell her that it’s over.

#5 – If she cries, then don’t reply anymore. Even if she tries desperately to contact you over and over again. Remember that you are no longer in the LDR with her. You’re just like normal lovers/friends who exchange messages from time to time. So, if she emails you asking for a reply, then it’s better to ignore her than send a reply.

You May Like:

Can’t Sleep After a Breakup: Best 11 Tips for falling asleep Bipolar Girlfriend Keeps Breaking Up with Me: What Should I Do?

How Do You Convince A Girl To Break Up With You?

You probably think that it’s impossible. You have put in an awful lot of time and effort, and probably money too, to build a relationship with the girl of your dreams. Why would she need to break up with you? Well, there are many reasons why ending things may be in both your best interests; here, we will discuss 4 common reasons that may compel a girl to break up with you.

1. She Doesn’t Love You Back

Maybe she’s not as into you as you are into her. This happens when a guy is too afraid to be vulnerable and show his true feelings, only to discover later that the girl shared the same thoughts but was too insecure about bringing them up first. Perhaps your friends had already pointed it out to you on many occasions. You ignored the signs, and so now you are faced with a breakup situation. Breaking up is much better than suffering through an unrequited relationship; at least she won’t have to suffer either if the feelings aren’t reciprocated.

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2. She’s Not Interested

Let’s say that the main reason she does not love you back is that she doesn’t feel anything for you, despite your efforts to make her fall in love with you. It’s a waste of time if both of you are around each other for all the wrong reasons.

If it is true that she is not interested in you, and she has made it clear enough for you to understand that she doesn’t care about your feelings, then perhaps the relationship isn’t worth fighting for. Break up with her kindly instead of clinging to a situation where neither one of you are happy.

3. Your Ex-Girlfriend is Back in the Picture

Think about it – every time you see her, your ex-girlfriend was around. You talk about her a lot too, and this results in the other girl getting jealous. This is not a good way to start a new relationship. If, for some reason, you must continue seeing both girls at the same time, let one go so that you can concentrate on the new one.

4. She Is Not Physically Attracted To You

A girl may become bored with your appearance, or she might feel that your physical attributes are not comparable to her own. Whatever the reason, if a girl doesn’t find you attractive anymore, she will want to break up with you.

The Bottom Line

It’s never easy to break up with a girl. Whether you’re doing it for the first time or the tenth, certain things can make breaking up easier and help both parties move forward into healthier relationships. For one, use these tips from our friends at Howcast on how to break up in person, so you don’t have any regrets later about not being able to do this face-to-face. You can comment below for more advice

#breakup #divorce #love #marriage #relationship #Youtube

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gypsydear · 8 months

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10/01/23 2:46 am

A quiet night. A nice enough day.

I feel the loneliness. It breaks my heart daily, but I try not to let it overshadow every beautiful thing that my world is blessed with.

My girls fall asleep nightly without me being able to kiss them goodnight. I miss them. I try to see them so often. I make so many plans with them. I’ll drain my bank account to do things with them. I don’t like bringing them here. This isn’t home. We can’t be who we are here.

I’d never go back, but sometimes I wonder if I could have just toughed it out. Just faked my way through, been miserable with him just to be able to be with them.

He sent me a letter. I’ve been discouraged from texting, calling; emails are rarely responded to and have dissipated on my end, but he has the audacity to send me 7 pages, written in front and back. Basically, it was a checklist of every red flag I ever flew, every mistake I ever made in his eyes, all the things he dislikes about me but if I wanted to come back, he’d happily welcome me back.

“But you’d really have to try this time.”

15 years. For 15 years, I gave everything I had and a lot that I didn’t have just to keep him and make him happy. I stayed through cheating, through physical abuse, mental abuse, lies, extreme lies. And for what? Falsities. Everything was a big shimmering joke, and rarely was it all that shimmering.

He threw the abortion in my face, like I did it *to him*. “My dream was to have a boy. I would have had 10 girls before I had my boy. We had all the help in the world, but you were too selfish to give me my dream.” … my life was about nothing but his dreams. Every dead end idea he had, I followed without question. Every lie he had to tell, I told it too. Every mistake he made, I accepted it. Every thing he wanted, he got. But the one thing I couldn’t give him was a boy.

I was miserable pregnant. I did it twice. Twice in one year, I gave him two beautiful babies. The following year, I was ready to give him another one. Chasing a 2 year old, a one year old and puking my guts out from the moment I woke up until I managed to fall asleep … it doesn’t make for a great sex life. So, since I couldn’t give him absolutely everything his greedy, spiteful ass wanted, he went and found it somewhere else. Treated me like trash, like I was so easily replaceable … because that’s how he thinks, everything can be replaced … brought her into our home, into our bed, took her out, sent her flowers, met her family … and I knew everything. I knew. I KNEW. It was never something he tried to hide.

So … why would I bless that with offspring? I figured … if he left, I couldn’t raise 3 kids by myself. And if he stayed, we obviously weren’t in a place to have more. I was also losing weight, stressed out beyond anything I’d ever felt … so, I made the appointment. December 11th. It hits me like a ton of bricks every year.

The night before, I spent with my biological family, because they were close to the clinic. They didn’t know. When they asked what he was up to that night, I laughed and told the truth. “He’s out on a date.” The next morning, I drove myself to the clinic. I parked in the lot next door to avoid the crowd of protesters 10 feet from the front door. I went in, paid my $700, and then extra for extra anesthesia. I took two pills - a painkiller, and something to soften my cervix.

“Once you take these, there’s no going back.”

Pushed into a room with countless other girls, all attired in oddly patterned hospital gowns. The Proposal was playing on the TV. I used to love that movie. Shoulder to shoulder in a crowded room I’d compare to a corral of cattle. You could hear the protesters outside. “You’re killing an innocent baby!” “Murderers!” “You can still change your mind!” You could hear women screaming in pain, and a nervous looking doctor stuck his head into the waiting room to alleviate anyone’s worry; “She’s in more pain because she’s never had a vaginal birth before. That’s all.”

When it was my turn, a nurse took me in a room to conduct an ultrasound. “How far along do you think you are?” “15 weeks.” As she checks, I refuse to look. “Wow; 15 weeks exactly.” I know. I’m ushered into the next room. Everything looks so terrifying. Feet in the stirrups, a mask over my face expelling gas into my lungs. I doubt it did anything for me. I feel pressure, pulling and tugging. It’s painful and there’s no one here to hold my hand.

Once it’s over, they stand me up and take me to recovery, where once again, I’m surrounded with other women. They bring us snacks and juice, sit us in big recliners and tell us to “Take your time.” I don’t know how long I sat there. I remember tying my shoes up and standing for the first time. I feel physically empty. Like my hips are too far apart, like if I fall, I’d shatter. I drive myself all the way home, and no one is there.

Later, he comes in the house with countless shopping bags and fills the kitchen table with them. “I got a bonus at work!” Another lie. He is sleeping with the girl who does our taxes, he got them back and doesn’t want to tell me. I don’t bother arguing. I can’t remember if he even asks how I’m feeling, still hollow. I do remember begging him to stop seeing her. His hands are on the arm of my chair and he’s leaning down to my face. I’m grabbing the edges of his hoodie and begging him to just stop. He tells me “No” and to let go of him.

Later that night, he’s probably out with her again. I have to use the bathroom and my entire body hurts and feels like a cavern. I went to wipe myself and I promise you, I fucking promise you, the tiniest little hand is on the tissue. A hand. If that wasn’t what it was, that’s exactly what it looked like. I just sat there and stared at it for the longest time.

4 days later, he moved out, but he’d end up coming back. Several times in between, I gave him the sex he wanted so fucking bad. I finally gave him the exact kind of sex he wanted and I hated every fucking second of it. A month later, he came back and we acted like nothing ever happened.

His letter said “I don’t get hung up on trivial, little things.”

I had two more abortions in the next few years. Why I didn’t just get on birth control, I don’t remember. I wish I had. But in the end, I’m glad I never gave him anymore children. He doesn’t know how to love them, how to listen or understand them.

I hope his bloodline dies with him. How’s that for selfishness?

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chill-that-ur-inmyhead · 1 year

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How many people have you liked this year? It is 10 days into the new year so 0 haha

How many pills do you take a day? One

Do you have any celebrity crushes? Ofc

If you could have one superpower, what would it be? Be able to speak every language ever - or if it's the traditional superpowers time travel.

Do you put ketchup on top of your French fries or on the side? On the side 100%

Where did you last sleep other than your house? My family home for christmas

Where did you get your last bruise from? banging into the cabinet under my desk while swinging on my chair

Is it okay to kiss people when you’re single? Sure

Ever worn something of the opposite sex’s clothing? Always

Do you have a secret that no one knows but you? Hmm I don't know if I'm that interesting and mysterious for secrets haha

Last CD you blasted through your car stereo? CD? Probably a musical.

How many email accounts do you have? 4

Who is the best cook in your family? My parents have different strengths so I can't say

Which baby animal is your favourite? Seal pup

Have you ever carved a pumpkin? nope.

When is the last time you went to a carnival? Have I ever? Not sure

Do you have a favourite glass, cup, or mug? Yeah TS mug

What branch of science interests you the most? Marine biology

Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes

Twitter or Tumblr? Twitter now I know how to work it

Have you ever been given a lapdance by an actual stripper? No.

Favorite YouTuber? I suppose Cody and Noel

Have you ever had a controlling boyfriend/girlfriend? Hmm I don't think so or at least not overtly.

Have you ever written a love letter to someone as a joke? Nope

Do you have any gay family members? Not that I know of

Was your first kiss romantic? Yep

What are you most likely to go to jail for? Probs money laundering

Who was the last person to sleep over at your house? Probably when my auntie came to stay last year.

What would you think if you found out your ex was gay? How is that working out for them

How many people has your best friend had sex with? Unsure, however many she wants

When was the last time you had a conversation with an ex? over 2 years ago

Are you currently “appearing offline” to anybody? nope

What were you for Halloween last year? myself, that's the true horror

Do you believe that karma can come back and slap you in the face? ofc

Have you ever been to Texas? Nope.

Do your siblings text you? not really

Have you ever searched for your own house on Google Earth? ofc

Did your last kiss end up with you and the person doing anything sexual? yep

Who is your ex dating/talking to? No idea and don't care to know

Who did you last pinky promise with? it has been a decade since I pinky promised

Did you ever have to share a room with one of your siblings? nope

What happened at the last party you went to? Decided to sleep over but no room at the house and my friends and I were freezing on the floor so I got an uber to another one of my friends and it was a nightmare I was so tired.

Have you ever completely misunderstood what somebody was saying? For sure

When was the last time you felt ill? What was wrong? I had a sore throat the other day but it has subsided.

Who was your first best friend? Do you still speak to that person? I think Edie or Abigail and nope

Are you wearing anything that was given to you as a gift? my mother got me some glasses when I got my eyes tested if that counts haha

What color is your jewelry box? purple

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? don't use fb anymore

What is your brother/sister’s favourite food? yikes I don't know

Do you have any ice cream in your freezer? What flavour is it? Nope :(

In your life, who is the person that seems to understand you the most? I barely understand me lol I would not expect someone else to haha

Are you afraid of losing the person you like right now? No one on my mind like that so I'm safe for now

Does anyone know your Facebook password? Don't think so

Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nope

Do you enjoy being outdoors? I do.

How many times have you been to a zoo? Handful of times, no more than 10 in my lifetime

What’re some unspeakable subjects for you? They're probs some things about my family that I won't talk about

#survey #spicynightlife

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longeko · 2 years

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Monday 10 June 1833

8 35

12 ½

very fine and F69° at 8 35 washing out sheet stain but at my desk at 9 50 – read from p. 62 to 95 vol. ii. Mrs. Colonel Eltons’ overland Journey to India – breakfast with my aunt at 10 ½ - busy putting up in her room the 2 flower pieces that used to be in the little sitting room, and putting Sir William Fawcett over the fireplace in my bedroom and doing up in paper and putting at the bottom of hat place in armoire the piece of embroidery flowers, done by my aunt Martha and that used to hang in the drawing room - at my desk at 12 25 - read over my letter written yesterday to Lady VC- very true that I have got into been forced into a procrastinating way, and ever since losing her my life has been one unvaried scene of pother - have been here 10 days, and no chance of being off till the end of the week - sick almost to death of the words law and business - sorry for Frampton’s (her law-man) illness - except thinking now and then a little of some of her friends hope her mind is too much engrossed with what is right at hand to waste its energy on deeds of law - wish she may catch my habit of delay - for nurses say that boys make far less haste than girls and I shall expect an heir -‘Hail to the chief that in triumph advances!’ I am very much delighted about it and charmed at Grand mamma’s providence and magnificence’ - fear my not being in London till the very end of this month with not be quiet the best thing -‘But I have no idea of their taking to your bed for very long - your prudence will have its reward - If everybody acted as sensibly as you seem to have done, arrivals would not give ½ the trouble - Not many more than one can be more anxious about your than I am, but I have no fear, and am rather impatient than uneasy’ - hope to be at Leamington on Tuesday week the 18th for a week or 10 days more or less - Charles Lawton’s Esquire Claremont house - ask for 2 or 3 lines to hear how she is going on - sorry for Captain Stuart’s being laid up with sprained foot - shall enclose note for Lady S- Heard from Lady Gordon not very long ago - could not tell her my plans - shall make none till ready to start from Paris - Cosmo to escort her to Rome - whether I shall get so far, quite uncertain - ‘If I do, I shall think of you more than anybody else – I

SH:7/ML/E/16/0067

might take you with me, but I am too much afraid of losing you again - I shall think of you every 15th of April, sans faute’ - Love to the Lady Harriet shall probably write from London as I have not yet thanked her for the settling proposal -‘the fact is I never in my life felt so little taste for settling as I have done since leaving Hastings - I can scarcely believe it is little more than a year since - adieu - may the blessings of heaven full thickly on you - affectionately yours AL’ - wrote the above of today and then till 1 ¾ wrote 3 pages of ½ sheet to Lady S- dated yesterday evening - began to think it a very long time since I heard from her, but Vere’s good account made me quite at ease - she was to be with V- in Wimpole street (57) last Saturday - hoped to see V- before the arrival - about 10 days here since my visits, and determined to be at Leamington on Tuesday week, the 18th after which counted upon seeing her (Lady S-) soon - perhaps Mrs. Lawton may not let me go under ten days, in that case the smallness of V-‘s house may have hasted Lady S-‘s return to the Lodge where I should be delighted to find her - my 2 new servants likely to suit me - ‘Eugenie has been in England so long and speaks the language so well, I almost forget she is a foreigner - Everybody speaks well of her, and I really hope she is the nice, clever, respectable sort of person I want’ - Lady Gordon going to Rome for the winter and may return by Spain - ‘I have been so often and vexatiously disappointed, I shall fix nothing till the last moment - Is Lady Stuart de Rothesay in London? and how are the dear girls?’ - shall [write] undercover to Captain S- sorry he is laid up - ‘Adieu, dear Lady Stuart, and believe me very truly and affectionately yours AL.’ then wrote the following on the ½ sheet of envelope - ‘Dear Captain Stuart - I am very sorry to hear from Vere, that a sprained foot kept you from Ascot - I hope it will not keep you prisoner long - will you be so good as take charge of the packet enclosed - very truly yours AL Shibden hall 9 June 1833’ – then enclosed my letter (1/2 sheet full and 1 p. and 1 end of envelope) to ‘the lady Vere Cameron 57 Wimpole street’ and my letter to ‘the honourable Lady Stuart 57 Wimpole street’ undercover to ‘Captain Stuart M.P. Grenadier Guards, Whitehall, London’ – Sent off my letters at 2 50 and then at my accounts again for a few minutes then downstairs till 3 ¾ - from then to 6 ½ at my desk, making out accounts of 1 sort or other for estate summary – Had Marian up for ½ hour – gave her a list of my fathers’ Shibden rents, and drew up a statement for her of the whole of his income Market W- etc. taken from her own telling – told her great a grainer he might have been by leaving more of the management me and to my own way – Dinner at 6 ½ in 40 minutes my aunt with part of the time – out at 7 ½ after washing and making myself comfortable – in my walk, and took Marian with me, and she staid all the time till after 9 – then walked 20 minutes on the terrace and came in at 9 25 – came upstairs at 10 20 at which hour F70 ½° on the dressing table (where it now always lies) in my bed room (blue room) – very fine day – very sultry this afternoon as if for thunder but heard none – came into my study and calculating advance on my father’s part and what upper land (45D.W.0qrs.12p.) to let, and what lower land (by 15D.W.) to let – say 40D.W. at 40/. = £80. and 15D.W. at 60/. = £45 total £125 per annum that may be let off – went to my room at 11 50 -

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presidentbungus · 2 years

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goob morning bungus !!! i bring you many scout things all at once bc it's easier to format (and so you don't have to track em all down)

definitely has adhd. constantly moving all the time. if he is forced to sit still for long periods of time he will get so fucking irritated and jumpy and as soon as he can stand he Will be sprinting out the door and running laps for the next 40 minutes.

hyperfixating HARD on the saxton hale comics. he could describe the plot of any volume with ease but if you ask him what event comes before another he will start blanking and killbind /hj

very loud all the time. has zero sense of how loud his own voice is, and it shows. he uses it to his advantage though, he knows if he calls out anything about enemy location or what they're all doing Someone will hear him.

(forensics minor time) has very messy, angular handwriting. light lineweight due to being written very quickly. large letter size, inconsistent letter spacing, and tends to float off the page. open Es and Os, letters tend to connect and blend together, crosses Ts right of center with a curve bending up. it's very distinctive when compared to everyone else's. engie probably has little notes from him tacked somewhere in his workshop, he says he thinks the way scout writes is nice to look at, but really it's because that's his Freakin kid

is it canon he's an artist? i see it referenced a lot in fic but i haven't looked for sources. anyway if it wasn't already, it's canon now. he draws in a similar way to how he writes: loose and angular, messy, but not unintelligible. it's like watching a figure drawing class. he likes redrawing his favourite panels from the saxton hale comics

he... really loves his team. he's generally just a cheery guy, even if a little cocky and headstrong. if anyone tells him they're proud of him he Will start crying though (same bud).

scoup teeftoo is one of the guys ever i think . lil boston boy (affectionate)

goodmorning. like 2 days later. LOL

has adhd 1000%. literaly just constantly fidgeting all the time constantly (just like me fr). sometimes someone’s like what are you doing with your hands and he’s like what? I’m not doing anything and hes doing one of the Z-move dances or whatever from sunmoon

he draws fanart of the saxton comics. you can’t convince me otherwise. he keeps a special sketchbook in like a locked box under his bed for it and if anyone found out he would beat them to death. I think he has a huge massive crush on saxton hale too but tries to ignore it whenever possible (to be clear I. Don’t really ship scout/saxton. I just think itd be funny)

he has one of those voices that just like… sound like they fill up the whole fuckin room and not really in a good way. like I have a friend irl who’ll whisper as quiet as he can and you can still hear it 10 feet away. it gets suuuuper annoying to listen to after a bit whether or not you’re annoyed by him in general but it does make him a really good candidate for doing callouts and stuff. which is also good when he’s literally the scout. his job is to scout ahead. if he sees you every single person on the other team will instantly become aware of your location and it’s not very fun a lot of the time

like this analysis of his handwriting. and it’s definitely true. and the engy thing too. he’s about the most sentimental person to ever sentiment and he plays it off sometimes like he isn’t but like uou Said scout wrote him a “happy birthday engi your pretty cool” birthday note 3 years ago and he STILL starts crying if he looks at it for too long. if scout were a tiny little bit observant he’d probably notice he can get engy to do literally anything if he calls him dad and gives him a picture frame or something like that

he draws a few pictures of spy getting hit by cars and stuff in Expiration Date and iirc there‘s some allusions to it in general canon. it’s not a big character trait or even really called out at all but we see some of his drawings somewhere and they’re pretty good. the thing about his drawing style is true and I alreadhy talked about saxton fanart so yes I agree

he loves everyone. mean scout is overrated. you know all those competitive lines where he’s like “ok guys we’re besties. ok guys I have a birthday party coming up I want you guys to come up. we’re doing such a good job we’re such good friends” I want to see more of THAT scout in canon. why don’t we have it. give him to me

he truly IS the guy ever. I think he’s like cringe fail but in a quirked up way. yknow? little man trying his best and we love him for it

#tf2 scout #tf2 engineer #bungus headcanons #thanks for the ask!#thevisjex #tf2

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello Salut

Goodbye La revedere

Thank you Mulțumesc

You’re welcome Cu plăcere

Good morning Bună dimineata

Good afternoon Bună ziua

Good evening Bună seara

Good night Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you? Ce mai faci

I love you Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

491 notes · View notes

babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Eleven

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, OC background characters

Warnings: language, sexual implications and references, blackmail

Summary: Bucky decides it’s time to come clean to Tony, consequences be damned. Steve has his own bombshell, of sorts.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m a lazy piece of crud. I wanted to post this earlier but I suck. It’s kinda short too, at least compared to previous parts. There will probably only be a couple parts left, maybe 2-3? I’m posting these chapters as I write so tbd in length lol. And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed @charmedbysarge @cruelsummer-s

Series Masterlist

“Are you fucking insane?”

Everyone moved back to your apartment to avoid freaking poor Matt out any more. And now there was a standoff in your living room.

“It’s the only course of action that makes sense,” Bucky said in his defense.

“Buck, her dad will skin you alive if he sees those pictures,” Sam said. “Even if he’s somehow fine with it, she’ll lose her job!”

“If we don’t do this, that kid downstairs loses his family!” Bucky shouted back.

Sam groaned in exasperation and ran his hands over his face. “There’s gotta be a way to get the money.”

“There’s not,” you said defeatedly. All eyes turn to you. They initially looked to you for guidance, but your reliance on Bucky gave him the wheel on your own personal highway to hell. “Even if we do give this person the money, there’s only one person we can get that kind of cash from. Bucky’s right. We have to tell my dad.”

“[Y/N], maybe we should brainstorm some other options,” Peter nearly whispered, keeping his voice soft in the midst of the chaos. “I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“I’ll quit,” Bucky said suddenly. “I’ll quit being an Avenger and just do, fuck, private security? Or something.”

You could see the stress and fear and frustration written on his face. In a couple steps, you were standing in front of him and were able to cup his scruffy cheeks as you spoke.

“We’ll figure all that out later.” You perked up on your toes and gave him a short kiss. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I’d like to end this sooner rather than later so… let’s tell Tony.”

With Peter willingly sitting in the open trunk area of the Jeep, everyone was able to fit in one car back to the Tower. The tension inside the vehicle could’ve been cut, sliced, and diced with a knife. No one wanted to say anything, but no one really knew what to say anyway.

Steve was still silent. He didn’t say a word when you discussed telling Tony, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had something to say, he just wasn’t saying it.

By the time you got to the Tower, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You held the envelope with the letter and media tight in your grasp, only letting go to open your door. The second your feet touched the garage floor, Bucky was right beside you.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, squeezing a little extra so you knew he was there with you and wasn’t going to let anything bad (worse) happen. Knowing he was willing to risk his entire livelihood for you made you love him even more. But you knew if it came down to it, you’d give up your position with the Avengers. Even with only two years spent at Stark Industries — just under a year spent with the Avengers (and nearly a year with Bucky) — you’d have no problem getting a new job with any other company. Bucky’s skills were put to the best use saving the world.

As the elevator approached the floor with your dad’s office, Sam finally broke the silence.

“Do you want us to be in there with you? I’m thinking it might be better if it’s just you two.”

You turned to see Peter wringing his hands, subconsciously agreeing with Sam — he clearly didn’t want to be in the room when all this went down but was putting on a brave face to be a good support system. Steve still stood silent with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever was going on in that head was still festering.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed with Sam. “We’ll come find you once he gets the news.”

Your eyes met Bucky’s and even though he was trying to remain confident for you, there was fear behind those baby blues.

“We’ll be okay,” you said just loudly enough for him to hear.

When you reached the floor you’d been dreading, Sam, Steve, and Peter all turned to go to their designated rooms, partially because it had been a while since all of them had been back, partially to stay far away from the impending outburst.

You took a deep breath and started toward Tony’s office, just to be pulled back into Bucky’s arms. He held you tight, nuzzling his face in your hair and just holding you. You gripped the back of his shirt in response and just took a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered.

Bucky let out a breath and kissed the crown of your head.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

This made you pull back and look up at him.

“Lose me? Bucky, I’m not going to let this affect us. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much, Bucky Bear.”

The affectionate nickname made him smile, even if it was just a little quirk of the lips.

“I love you too, Build-A-Bear.”

You let him hold you for a couple more minutes before leading him to your dad’s closed office door. When you slowly pushed the door open, you saw Tony sitting behind his desk with half a dozen holographic screens open in front of him.

“Hey pumpkin, what are you doing here?” he asked, barely taking his eyes off his work for a second.

“Um, I kind of really need to talk to you.” Despite being on close speaking terms with your dad — the kind where you felt comfortable swearing in front of him and joking with him, even sharing some of your secrets — you felt like this was crossing a line.

Of course it was. You were in bed with (his perception of) the enemy.

Tony could tell something was wrong by how timid you sounded. You were always loud and bubbly with him — a quality you definitely got from him. He swiped all of the screens closed and walked around the large desk to stand in front of you. He briefly met Bucky’s eyes as the super soldier stood close behind you.

“What’s going on?”

“You-you should probably sit down for this,” you said shakily. Tony took the seat nearest you instead of walking back behind his desk. “So… you know how I’ve been dating James for, like, 10, 11ish months now?”

“And I still haven’t met him?” Tony said with a quirked brow.

“Yeah.” You forced a chuckle. “Well, when we were going through mail this morning, I… I got this.”

You held up the envelope before sliding out the letter and handing it to your dad. His expression went from curious to furious in seconds as his eyes scanned the entire page.

“They sent pictures. Pictures taken through my apartment windows of me and James. Being… intimate.”

“James who?” your dad asked, still staring at the letter. When you didn’t reply, he looked you in the eye, his expression hard as he demanded, “[Y/N], what is James’s last name?”

You took a short breath, the most your anxiety-gripped lungs could handle, and avoided his gaze as you replied.

“Barnes.”

Tony shot up from his seat, his eyes moving from you to the man behind you. The familiar feeling of a metal hand on your lower back helped ease the anxiety coursing through you at your dad’s reaction. When Tony took a step toward Bucky, you countered with a panicked step between them, looking up at your dad and pleading.

“He didn’t know who I was.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat. He and Bucky were glaring at each other over your head.

“He didn’t, I swear. He found out the same day everyone else did.”

The grinding of his teeth let you know he was seething. But trying to hold it together for now.

“Let me see the rest,” Tony said calmly, holding his hand out. You reluctantly dropped the photos and DVD into his open palm. Bucky didn’t want to get too affectionate, so he just rested his hand on your hip while Tony flipped through the photos.

Everything was back in order, so he went through the same sequence you did: pap photos, to apartment photos, to sex photos. You could tell when the pictures turned raunchy by the way Tony’s face contorted, tossing the photos down shortly after.

“Friday, play the disc,” he commanded. The video played against the only blank wall in the room, the audio of you and Bucky playing through the speakers.

“Dad, you really don’t need to —” you started, quickly stopped by a sharp glare from your father.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony nearly growled. “Friday, shut it off.”

“I tried to tell you,” you murmured under breath, though not loud enough for him to hear. Bucky did hear it though, evident by the way he squeezed your hip.

Tony leaned forward against his desk, hanging his head in clear frustration. You knew better than to speak up while he contained his emotions, so you stood in silence with Bucky as your dad sighed heavily and spoke to himself under his breath.

“You just have something against me, don’t you?” Tony said accusingly to Bucky.

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to do that. If you’re going to get mad at anyone, it needs to be me.” You never got snappy with your dad, but everything weighing on your shoulders frayed your nerves and his attitude didn’t do anything to fix it. “I’m the one who knew full well what we were doing. I’m the one who had all the details. I’m the one who chose to risk everything for this from the start. So if you’re really that mad, take it out on me. Otherwise, help us. We’ll get to the semantics and firing and all that bullshit later. Right now, there are literal lives on the line.”

Tony was still fuming until he heard the last line.

“What do you means ‘lives on the line’?”

Bringing Steve, Sam, and Peter in helped all of you explain what happened, from the note you received to the first viewing of the photos and video to the confrontation with Matt, but not without Tony grilling all of them about when and how they found out about you and Bucky. Peter looked nervous about keeping a secret from his boss, but you knew your dad wouldn’t do anything too bad to the kid. Maybe kick him off a couple missions, but nothing noteworthy. Steve and Sam looked like they really couldn’t care less, especially since Sam was the last to know.

Despite still wanting to rip Bucky’s arm off and beat him with it, Tony remained civil for your sake, at least until all of this was sorted.

The first step was getting Peter, Happy, and Pepper to try to track down where the letters came from, which likely meant scanning for fingerprints (despite how many hands held it that day alone). The second step was for you, Bucky, Tony, Sam, and Steve to scope out your building and any neighboring buildings someone may have been scoping your apartment from. There was no one someone could’ve been dangling outside your windows without you noticing. The third step was meeting with your doorman again to try to piece together some answers.

You all agreed to keep local law enforcement out of it so the culprit didn’t catch on as quickly. Having a few Avengers and Tony Stark show up at Tony’s daughter’s apartment wasn’t out of the ordinary so you could still stay under wraps. There was no reason to draw attention to your place and possibly trigger the mystery person into accelerating their plans.

With your dad’s confidence in the plan, you gradually grew more and more optimistic about the plan. If all else failed, Tony would get the two million and continue tracking the fucker down. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak a tracker into the cash and watch where it goes once it’s out of your hands. That’s when you could bring in local law enforcement.

It felt like things were finally going your way.

As you and your crew headed downstairs to drive back to your place, Steve grabbed your arm and tugged you to the side.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and followed him down the hall; Bucky was busy talking to Sam and Tony was on the phone briefing Rhodey so he could stand guard outside your doorman’s place for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to step away for a minute. When Steve pulled you into a side room, you finally spoke up.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Steve crossed his arms and huffed. That signature frown of his softened when he met your concerned gaze.

“I know we’re not necessarily close, but I consider you a friend. You know that, right?”

“I consider you a friend too,” you said with a nod.

“What I’m about to say... I need you to keep it between us. Don’t tell Bucky or Sam or Peter or your dad. Just between us, at least for now. Okay?”

“O-okay...? You’re making me nervous, Steve,” you admitted. “What’s going on?”

“I think I know who’s blackmailing you.”

#SORRY IT’S SUCKY AND SHORT #I’M THE WORST #bucky x reader #bucky x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes series

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buckysnumberonegirl · 3 years

Text

My little girl

Bucky Barnes Fluffy Drabble

Written for an anon sent in to @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Warnings- fluff with fluff on top, will hit you in the feels maybe

Written on mobile so any mistakes are my own, comments and reblogs appreciated 💕

For the first time in 80 years Bucky was safe. A roof over his head, friends… no, family all around him, a place he could call home. But for whatever the reason, he couldn’t sleep. He was going on probably 4 days now. He had moved his bed, changed his sheets, tried the tea and meditation Wanda recommended, nothing. After and hour tossing and turning he grabbed a blank and walked out to the common room. Tony spared no expense on making sure the compound was perfects the common room was no exception, i huge flatscreen that could be in a small movie theater somewhere, couches that felt like a cloud ,anything someone could need.

Throwing the blanket down on the couch he put on Netflix something random the spider kid had recommended, and layed down.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, reminding himself before dozing off to ask Tony where he got this couch.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when he heard footsteps approaching . He shot up hand going to his hip where he usually holstered a weapon only to find he had nothing…. and was face to face with a child.

The girl couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 "msowwy." She sounded so tiny, and she was. Her huge brown eyes looked up at him before digging into the pocket of her overalls. “Can you wanna cowwer?” She grinned and held up a large pack of Crayons.

“Uh sure” Bucky looked around, not knowing there were kids on the compound other than Morgan and Peter.

He crossed his legs as he sat on the floor by the coffee table, the girl pulling out several coloring pages from the single overall pocket*. Bucky unfolded one of a cat and began coloring. The little girl began to speak. “I want a kitty” her eyes not leaving her paper as she turned an animated bullfrog pink. “So you should get one” he picked up the brown crayon and colored in the tail of the cat, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over him. “I wanna, but mommy says I can’t until I’m this many” the child held up all ten fingerstgen counted out loud “I like your arm, it’s pretty” the child smiled and continued on. The frog was now pink with blue spots. “Well thank you, where is your mom by the way” Figuring he’d ask before the subject changed, he was to late. “If I had an arm like that I would put stickers on it, do you like stickers? I have at least 10 million that are all different kinds, wanna see?”

Bucky smiled feeling more relaxed than he ever had. “I do like stickers, and I would love to see…” before he could finish a beautiful sticker a Disney princess was pulled from the child’s overalls and carefully placed on his forearm. “That’s Moana, she’s my favorite, mommy knows all the songs. Wow! I like your kitty!” The little girl picked up the page and hugged it. “Thank you for the sticker kiddo, how about I make a hot chocolate for you then we find your mom okay? You can have hot chocolate right?”

The little girl nodded excitedly taking his hand and the pictures they had worked on and tugging him to the kitchen.

Bucky had just finished adding extra marshmallows to hot cocoa, when he heard a voice "babe what did I tell you about running off without me?" the voice is meant to be scolding the girl but it's soft. He looked over to see the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The kid was cute, but she was breathtaking. “Oh mommy, this is my new best friend see?” The girl led her mother over to him. He held out his hand showing off his fancy sticker “Hi, I’m James Barnes, sorry if she can’t have hot chocolate I just figured… uh she said it was fine, but she’s a kid so, I’m sorry”

The woman laughed “it’s totally fine, she can have hot chocolate, I see she gave you a sticker” she smiled. “You should consider yourself lucky James, she doesn’t give stickers away easily.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure she must have given you at least a few of her 10 million.” The little girl smiled up at him.

“Oh yeah my phone had 5 on the case and I believe our fridge at home has several.. along with someone wall…” the woman looked down at her daughter who decided it was a perfect time to look anywhere else. “Oh my gosh I haven’t even told you my name, I’m Y/N and this tiny trouble maker is Milena”

Bucky smiled at the name “Ah Milena, Loved by the people, gracious, dear one”

Y/N smiled “I didn’t peg you for a Russian mr.Barnes”

“Nor I, you doll, but I’m not Russian I just have a history there I suppose” he smirked and stuck his tongue out at Milena who was doing the same to him.

“Well,” Y/N smiles, placing her hand on her daughter's head “I could use some breakfast, how about you?” She looked at Bucky who nodded, though the little girl answered “only if we can bring my friend” she ran over grabbing his hand

The three walking out of the kitchen together smiling.

—————-

It was Bucky's birthday, he wasn’t really sure how old he was but he knew that this was the eleventh year he was celebrating it.

Y/N and Milena had spent the whole day making it special.

He was so grateful for the little girl who helped him put his life back together. 2 years after meeting Y/N they started dating and after 4 they were married. He treated Milena like his own little girl, showering her with toys and love and anything she could possibly want.

As they all sat down for dinner he looked at the girl he considered his daughter, bouncing with anticipation. Milena looked between Bucky and her mother over and over before blurting out “can I please give it to him now”

Y/N smiled “go ahead honey”

Milena ran out of the dining room returning with a bag and a box. Placing it in front of him “you have to open the bag first”

Bucky smiled, carefully pulling out the tissue paper, inside the bag was a small wooden frame. Inside was a picture from years ago, he was sitting on the floor with his eyes closed and a face full of makeup. His hair was poorly braided and Milena was standing proudly placing a crown on his head.

The frame had a quote on it

Family isn’t defined by last names and blood

It’s defined by commitment and Love

That alone almost brought Bucky to tears but before he could say anything Milena spoke up again “open the box dad, please”

He signed and opened the box, on top was a letter.

For 10 years you’ve been my father. And now if you want to mom and I agree we should make it official. Love you dad ~Milly

Bucky moved the letter and found adoption papers. Already signed by Y/N, all he had to do was sign a few lines.

“I figured it was a good gift before you get to old” Milena hugged Him, tears rolled down his face.

When he had fallen off that train he had lost everything, and for the first time since finding Steve again, Bucky had found his family.

*Authors note if you have ever been around children or have children you know that they can fit so many things in their pockets, this is not a stretch.

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky fic #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #txt fluff #bucky #drabble

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