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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 3 days ago

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Shiratorizawa boys at the swimming pool: headcanons

in my sleep-deprived state (as is the norm), i have humbly brought forth some headcanons about the shiratorizawa boys at the swimming pool. pls enjoy

Ushijima loves to swim but he absolutely hates the in-between stage of getting out of the pool and getting dressed so he only tends to get in the pool when it's hot out and he knows he'll dry quickly

When Ushijima does swim, he's the one to focus immediately on doing laps around the pool (he has yet to find out that you don't have to do laps. But he loves doing it anyways)

Tendou can't swim. Like, at all. He also strangely can't float in the water. This makes it a very fun time for him to mess with people in the pool by pretending he's dead when lying face-down in the water

This is not a fun time for Leon who now acts as designated lifeguard because of the one time Tendou pretended to be dead in the water and actually began to drown

Tendou is forced to wear floating devices when he's in the pool. He unironically loves these because he can choose the gaudiest colours and designs to match his swimsuit

Leon also makes all of the boys wear sunscreen if they swim anywhere in the sun

Semi sits on the edge of the pool and refuses to get his hair wet/get in cold water until Tendou splashes him. Then it's an all out war of splashing and trying to grab each other in the water until both Leon and the actual lifeguard on duty tells them to stop

Leon was gifted a whistle on his birthday once from the other boys and he actually loves it. He doesn't wear it at the pool out of respect for the lifeguards but it's proudly displayed on his shelf at home

Whenever Ushijima takes breaks from doing laps, Tendou always steals the opportunity to climb onto him: his back, his legs, anything he can grab. Ushijima let's this happen because he wants Tendou to rest and not overexert himself in the pool

Tendou gets goggles to grab people's ankles in the pool. Like a terrifying gremlin.

Goshiki tries to copy Ushijima's laps in the pool but sometimes forgets he can't stand up in the deepest section and will start to drown (another reason Leon keeps watch) (Ushijima never notices the drowning)

Shirabu likes to take it easy in his swimming and will actively avoid swimming anywhere close to anyone else

Yamagata gets told off for running around the pool every. Single. Time. Doesn't matter what he's doing, running or not. He thinks lifeguards have a personal vendetta against him

Tendou and Goshiki always get put in the baby pool at least once in their swimming outings because they never know when to quit and end up tiring themselves out. Ushijima puts himself here of his own accord, unsure why the others are there.

Leon is the only character competent enough to be allowed to use the diving boards

This, of course, does not stop Semi and Tendou from trying to dive into the pool

Goshiki is really good at finding lost objects at the bottom of the pool by accident

Semi regularly chokes on the pool water, adding to his desire to never swim if he can help it. He also trips a lot on the floor and scrapes his feet/bangs into the pool walls

Taichi is really good at holding his breath and will disappear for long stretches of time underwater. The others have no idea what he's doing down there.

Yamagata always manages to find a ball to throw around in the pool and drags other people into playing with it

Shirabu and Taichi always play mermaids at some point whilst swimming. They have a silent agreement and do it so subtly nobody has ever caught on

Semi is really good at doing handstands in the water when he actually gets into the pool

Yamagata will beg anyone he can to throw him into the pool and tries to push people in. (Lifeguards watch him like a hawk. Ergo the vendetta.)

The entire team is genuinely embarrassing in the pool, I can't emphasise enough how embarrassing they are. Most of the other people swimming there find it endearing though

Taichi will touch the others when they least expect it, freaking them out in silent amusement from his underwater antics. Everyone hates this and are always on their guard

When Ushijima finds out he can spike balls in the pool is the day the team get kicked out of the swimming centre

Characters who refuse to pee in the pool: Ushijima, Leon, Taichi

Characters who pee in the pool as a desperate last effort after debating internally for a while: Tendou, Shirabu, Goshiki, Yamagata

Characters who vehemently protest peeing in the pool whilst actively peeing: Semi

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 3 days ago

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Captain Price doesn’t really discuss his private life, but you’ve decided that he must secretly be married. You have no evidence, except look at him, how could he not have some beautiful wife tucked away in an idyllic, rustic cottage in the countryside.

That’s the image you try to keep in mind when it’s late at night and you’re alone with John in his office. Otherwise, you’ll conjure visions of him spreading you out on top of his desk, and you are no homewrecker.

Admittedly, you haven’t been doing a great job of battling against the various temptations he throws your way. Once John starts leaning in close and casually touching you and speaking directly into your ear, all logic leaves your brain and you just indulge. Lately, he’s been dropping a few “sweetheart”’s into his conversations with you, which has got you spinning. The sanctity of marriage means something to you, though. You resolve to set some professional boundaries and stick to them.

It’s a good thing too because a week later, you finally get your first real confirmation of his secret wife. Your whole body seizes up when you overhear John confiding to his men that the missus seems to be upset with him. Pivoting in place, you scuttle back the way you came from before he realizes you’re there. You’re so embarrassed now that it’s truly been established that you’ve been flirting with a married man. After that, you avoid ever being alone with him and can barely look him in the eye, but it's for the best.

The captain seems to have a different opinion on the way you’ve settled this matter, though.

He’s got you cornered in his office, literally, with an arm pressed against the wall above you. John starts to speak of how he wants to be clear about his intentions, and you’ve got to stop him before you kiss his wonderful face that’s creeping closer and closer to yours.

“Captain Price, what about your wife?!” you blurt out, keeping your hands glued to your sides and to yourself.

John pauses, but he looks more amused than guilty. “Is that what all this has been about?” he asks with a chuckle. You get about five words into your practiced speech on how infidelity is unacceptable to you on any level when he drops a bomb on your whole scenario. “I’m not married.”

You’re floored with this new information, eyes wide and mouth agape. “W-what? But I heard you tell the others about your missus and–”

“I was referring to you, sweetheart,” he declares. Your jaw snaps shut at the interruption, and your face heats up as you start processing what this all means. “Glad we're on the same page when it comes to loyalty, though.”

You’re mortified, of course, but at least you’ve hit rock bottom with your dignity already, so it’s not much more of a stretch to next very timidly and quietly request that he place you on top of his desk. John happily obliges. Anything for his little missus.

He’ll make a Mrs. Price out of you yet.

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 13 days ago

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here we go, the fluffy ghost x reader abortion fic that nobody asked for but i decided to make anyways!

to be clear- all of this is based on the laws in the region i live in, loads of places have longer wait times or require different things from people seeking abortions. i'm very lucky to live somewhere that it's very straightforward with minimal hoops to jump through. i wish it was this easy for everyone to access the care they need.

cw: abortion, and an extremely tasteless yet entirely on-brand joke by ghost about it

after weeks of feeling like death, you decide to face the music. you can't deal with the constant nausea, how painfully raw your nipples feel, how irritable you've become. your period is a few weeks late, it's not hard to put two and two together to figure out you need a pregnancy test.

when the second blue line appears on the cheap plastic test that's balanced at the edge of your bathroom sink, you feel nothing but dread. this might be someone else's dream, but it's your damn nightmare. you don't want any of that shit- you've had the barest taste of pregnancy and it fucking sucks, there's no way you're doing this for another 8 months. and then childbirth on top of that? and then putting your entire life on hold to raise the fucking thing? fuck no, absolutely not. even if you did want kids, ain't no way you're pushing 'em out yourself. you've seen footage, heard the stories. in your opinion, the only 'miracle' there is that somehow people do that shit more than once.

ugh, fuck, you're going to have to tell simon, aren't you? he's the father, he should probably know, right? you've only talked about it once, briefly, in the year you've been dating, and you've got the impression that he's somehow even less keen on parenthood than you are. all you can hope is that in the months since that conversation that he hasn't somehow changed his mind. his schedule is unpredictable, so you'll have to tell him quick before he gets deployed again. no matter what he says, though, you're not keeping it. that much you're sure about.

the call to make the appointment is a little more emotional than you'd expected. you feel like a failure, getting knocked up when you'd never intended to be. you also can't think of a single person you can confide in about this. your friends are all cool, you're pretty sure they won't judge you, but... it's hard to be certain. people have strong feelings about this sort of thing, people get hurt and killed over it. you don't want this spread around, and you certainly don't want your mum to hear that you destroyed her opportunity to be a grandmother. best to keep it between you, simon, and the clinic staff.

you surprise yourself when you burst into tears while you tell the woman on the phone that you're pregnant, but that you desperately don't want to be. she's a real pro, assuring you in a calm, soothing voice that everything will be all right, that they'll help you through this, that things will be back to normal soon. you can't help but believe her, letting her guide your breathing so you stop hyperventilating long enough to give her your information. the appointment is set- a week from tomorrow. just 8 more days of nausea and too-sensitive tits, and it'll be over. when the call ends, you feel a little bit better. just one step closer to diffusing a bomb that takes nine months to detonate.

simon comes home that night, and even though you know he's on your side here, nerves and anxiety get the better of you. he's not around much, what if he's changed his mind? what if all his talks with captain price about john's desire for a family to come home to planted a seed in simon, what if he's secretly started to also want those things for himself? you made his favorite meal just to potentially soften the blow, and your thoughts race as you both eat in silence, your leg nervously bouncing under the table as you try to gather your thoughts. it'll be fine, right? surely it'll be fine. surely he's still on the same page as you, he'dve told you if something changed, right? you're so focused on finding the right words and the right timing, staring down at your plate of shepherd's pie while your brain supplies you with a hundred different ways of breaking the news, that you don't notice the way simon is staring at you from across the table.

"olright, love?" he asks, clearly suspicious, dark eyes boring through your soul.

"i'm pregnant." you blurt out, and you hate the way he continues to stare at you, frozen and completely expressionless. "i- i already made an appointment. i'm not keeping it. you don't have to do anyth-"

"stop." he says, not unkindly, and you snap your mouth shut so fast you feel your teeth click together. oh, god, this is it, isn't it? he's changed his mind, and now he's going to leave. "when did you find out?"

"i- i've been feeling sick in the mornings for a while, but i only took the test today." you stammer out, trying to will yourself not to cry.

"when's your appointment?" simon asks, setting his silverware down on the table, food forgotten as he focuses on you like a lazerbeam.

"week after tomorrow." you've never felt smaller, more foolish in all your life. simon's face is expressionless as he picks up his silverware and tucks back in to his dinner.

"olright. i'll take ya." he rumbles, and relief washes over you like a cool breeze on a very hot day. you don't know why you were worried, why your brain convinced you of the worst, but it's a relief to know he's not upset or anything.

"simon, you don't have to do that."

"got ya into this mess, didn't i? least i can do is give ya a ride to get ya out of it." he says casually, hooking his foot behind your ankle under the table. his way of holding your hand when both of your hands are occupied.

"ok. thanks." is all you can say as you pick up your fork again, smiling softly around a bite. it's all going to be okay, simon's going to help you make it all be okay again. later on that night he fucks you on your back, your legs bouncing in the air as he pants into your ear what a good girl you are for him, how reliable you are, thanking you for fixing his mistakes and telling you he loves you over and over again, as if he's afraid you'll forget.

eight days later, you find that the clinic's waiting room is empty first thing in the morning, and you're grateful. its just you and simon, his usual balaclava swapped out for a kn95, stuffed into chairs that barely contain your big wide hips. neither of your speak, just holding hands in silence as you stare at the carpet and listen to the mumford and sons song playing softly on the radio. the wait isn't very long, and soon a woman in a pink blouse with a clipboard calls your name, and simon leans over to you.

"want me to come with?" he asks in a low voice. you hadn't planned on it, but, god, that sounds nice. you're not nervous or anything, but you always feel better having simon at your side.

"please?" you ask, and he's on his feet before you can say anything else, he's on his feet and slinging an arm over your shoulders, walking with you through the door that leads to the patient rooms. she picks up a neatly folded bundle of fabric and hands it to you.

"i'm pooja, i'll be your nurse today. miss i'll have you come with me, i need you to empty your bladder and change into this hospital gown before we do the ultrasound, and we'll also have to do a wellness test. sir, you can wait right there." she says, pointing to a chair in the hall as she leads you back to the restroom.

"is that the dad, out there?" pooja asks, tone light and conversational as the door clicks closed behind her.

"yeah." you confirm.

"now, i don't mean any offense, but i have to check- do you feel safe? are you being pressured to be here today?" the way she asks feels less like deeply worried concern and more like a friendly check-in. you can't help but huff a laugh.

"you're so sweet, thank you for asking. yes, i feel safe, and i am here of my own free will. this was my call, he just didn't want me to come alone." you tell her. her dark eyes look deep into yours, like a jeweler inspecting a precious stone for faults, and she nods when she apparently finds what she's looking for.

"alright. go ahead and pee and change into that and i'll meet you back in the hall." she says, making notes on her clipboard.

"what about the wellness test?" you ask, confused, and she smiles at you warmly.

"we just did it."

when you finish in the bathroom you and simon are shown to the room where the ultrasound machine is. the wand they gently slide inside of you isn't comfortable, and both you and simon decline their offer to look at the screen or hear about the fetus. you don't need to know, soon enough it won't be your problem anymore. simon holds your hand and gazes at your face while pooja gives you clear instructions about what happens next- you'll take a pill before you leave today, and they'll have you take the other tomorrow when you're at home. the brochures in your hands are full of smiling, thin, white women with clear skin and good teeth and calm faces that are supposed to reassure you about the safety of the procedure. they do, a bit, even when the text next to them describes how your body will experience heavy bleeding and intense cramping, suggesting you get a heating pad, two weeks worth of menstrual pads, and some over the counter painkillers ready before you undertake this.

you take the first pill with some water under pooja's guidance as she explains how it all works. the pill in your system now will stop the fetus from growing, the one you take tomorrow will induce cramping and bleeding to get your body to push it all out of you. 'diet labor' she calls it. sounds simple enough, although you're sure it's much easier said than done.

"any questions before i send you on your way?" pooja asks. you're about to tell her no, thanks, you were really clear on what to expect, but simon cuts you off.

"what can i do to help? you said tomorrow's gonna be painful for her, right? how can i help with that?" he asks, addressing her for the first time since you came in. the smile on her face is genuine, and the quick glance at you conveys and unspoken but undeniable "oh, you caught a good one. well done, you."

"all you can really do is make sure she's as comfortable as possible and keep an eye on the bleeding. it should end in four to five hours, but it might be a little longer. don't give her aspirin, it'll make her bleed even more. i've heard that hot tea and soup helps a lot, as well as hot baths, but that can be a little messy." pooja shrugs, still smiling. "honestly, just be there for her. get her a bucket if she feels nauseous, bring her a hot water bottle or microwaved sock full of rice if she asks for it. that's pretty much all you can do."

simon nods. "rog'."

he starts chuckling to himself on the ride home. he nods to the white paper bag on the seat between you, the one holding pill number two.

"oh, that's a fun little pill, eh?" he says in that tone of voice that lets you know he's about to drop the worst joke you've ever heard in your life.

"oh no." you laugh as you complain, "oh god, just do it. say it. get it over with."

"hear it'll really bring out the kid in ya."

the laugh that erupts from you is so big, loud, and bright, you nearly choke on it. simon just chuckles from the driver's seat and pats your wide thigh, and in this exact moment as the two of you laugh together, watching the world pass by your truck windows as you both head home to terminate your pregnancy, you know in your heart that everything's going to be okay.

the first pill was easy, it's the second pill that sucks. it's not a normal pill, you're supposed to keep it lodged between your cheek and your gums for half an hour, and it tastes bad. not bad enough to make you want to spit it out or anything, but the flavor that sits in your mouths is chemically and unpleasant. it takes all your strength not to poke at it with your tongue, to just leave it alone and not fuck with it at all. you want this to work, after all. in an hour, you can feel it working. that familiar pressure low under your belly that lets you know cramps are coming. you've felt this a thousand times before, but this time it's a little bit different. it's hard to say specifically what it is, but you can tell this isn't going to be like your normal cramps that you get every month. oh, no. you're absolutely about to get your shit rocked.

you pop an extra tylenol and settle in, turning the kettle on to make tea and partially fill your hot water bottle. simon wanders into the kitchen, wearing his usual head to toe black. he looks you up and down, assessing.

"you take your pill?" you nod. "how you feelin'?"

"weird. like my body is bracing itself." all you can think of is the time you were on a boat in rocky water, how you were so tired afterwards because of how hard you'd braced yourself for every crash of the waves. this feels like that, but without the boat.

"go to bed, i've got it all set up for ya. i'll get your tea." simon says as he shoos you out of the kitchen. you can't help but giggle a little as he swats at your ass playfully as he chases you out.

"ok, but i was going to get my hot water bottle, t-"

"BED." he orders with a laugh, and you can swear you hear him say 'impossible thing' to himself with a chuckle as you head down the hall to your bedroom.

a laugh bubbles up from deep inside of you when you open the door. man's brought every pillow and blanket in the house to your bed, and made what can only be described as a 'nest of coziness' for you, with scented candles lined up on your dresser, a laptop perched at the end of the bed with an episode of psych queued up and ready to play. oh shit, this is season 4, your favorite.

a wave of pain suddenly hits you, and oh, fuck. you've got an extra thick sanitary pad on, but you get the feeling towels are also going to be necessary. you want to go get them, but all you can do is hunch over in pain, still not even on the bed yet, you hand braced on the mattress so you don't fall over. shit, fuck, it feels like invisible hands reached up inside of you, grabbed your uterus, and are wringing it out like a wet washcloth. goddamn, this is way worse than period cramps.

you can hear the bedroom door open, and a muttered 'oh, shit' before the soft clatter of a mug on your nightstand.

"can you get towels?" you ask, and without a pause or a spare word, simon's out the door again. no wonder he picked a career as a soldier, man's good at taking orders.

"on the bed?" he asks when he comes back with all the worst towels you own, thank god. you're glad you don't have to explain to a grown man why you don't want your newer, better towels used for abortion clean up.

"yeah, please." you grunt as you just curl yourself over like a young fern frond. the pressure in your pelvis is excruciating, it's a miracle you're still upright. crawling onto the bed seems like a good idea, but that would require un-hunching yourself, and you don't know that you can do that yet. after a few minutes the pain eases enough that you can stand a little straighter, just enough to crawl onto the bed. simon's instantly handing you a hot water bottle and throwing blankets over you before he crawls onto the bed next to you, arms wrapped around you.

"tell me how to help ya, love. what can i do?" he doesn't sound worried, that's not his style, but it's as close as he gets. it's touching, really. not that you thought he wouldn't care, but simon's not a very emotional guy. it feels like being able to peek through the cracks in the wall he's got up constantly, the one that he seemingly lowers only for you and a select few people he works with.

"can you- will you just stay with me? please?" a big hand pushes the hair back off of your damp forehead. god, you hadn't even realized how sweaty this shit's got you. you're gonna need extra towels just to wipe down the river of sweat you can feel trickling down your back.

"o' course. least i can do. you want me to put psych on? that show always make you feel better." he rumbles into your ear.

"yeah, please." simon sits up to tap the space bar on the laptop, starting the show as he leans back and fetches your tea from the night stand for you. the smoky, earthy smell of lapsang souchong reaches your nose as you cradle the hot mug, and a realization hits you- you ran out of this kind of tea a few weeks ago. simon must've gotten it for you when he ran out for what he referred to as 'un-babying supplies'. something about it makes you heart light up like a christmas tree.

the tea helps, shawn and gus goofing around on your laptop are distracting enough, and the painkillers kick in, but it only takes the edge off of the acute, throbbing pain that ebbs and flows inside of you. mother of fuck, if this is diet labor, the real thing would've killed you, probably. you curl in on yourself again and again with each wave of it, like an indecisive potato bug. you can't help but think of all those anti-choice folks and the lies you've heard them tell over the years. you remember one girl insisting that when she worked at a clinic (which you sincerely doubt she ever did) that one woman used abortion in lieu of birth control. fat fucking chance, there's no way anyone would choose this over taking a goddamn pill or getting an iud. you'd been skeptical when you'd heard her say it, but now you want to hunt her down, shake her by the neck, and scream BULLSHIT.

"sweet girl. too fuckin' good f'me, cleanin' up my messes like this. i'm sorry it hurts, i'll make it up t'ya, yeah? when this is all behind us, i'll take ya out someplace nice. anywhere ya like." simon squeezes his arm around your shoulder, kissing the top of your head. "can't tell ya how relieved i am, love. not fit t'be a dad, and the world don't need more rileys. this is best f'us both. no matter what anybody else says, i want ya to know that this was the right call."

"i know. i know. i- is it weird i don't feel anything about it? the way people talk about it on the news and stuff, i just- i thought i might feel sad or bad or something. but aside from the cramps i just don't feel anything." you admit, and simon hums and taps his finger under your chin.

"you tell me if that changes, yeah?" he asks softly, and you nod.

"i promise."

"that's my good girl. i- i love you, sweetheart. dunno that i say it enough." his voice cracks a little. "didn't think i'd find anybody that fits me as well as you. everybody wants a weddin', wants kids, wants the white picket fence. but you've never asked f'none of that. thought maybe you were just hopin' t'change my mind, to be the exception, just like the others before."

he pauses, clearly thinking about those exes he'd briefly told you about. the ones who pretended to be on the same page as him so they could keep him, but lost patience when they realized he wasn't going to change his mind about weddings and babies for them.

"but you're different. told me ya didn't want those things, and ya meant it. wasn't a game t'ya. i- i have to apologize, love. when ya told me i'd knocked ya up, i really thought- i mean," he stalls, trying to find a nice way to say the words that you already know are coming- he thought you were going to baby trap him. you'd be angrier if not for the stories about his exes, who were dumped as soon as he realized they'd gone off birth control without telling him. you're not thrilled he'd thought that about you, but you get why he'd be worried, considering the lunacy of his exes. you spare him having to say the words by cutting him off.

"i know. i was worried you'd changed your mind, too, what with how much john talks about wanting a family. glad you didn't. glad you're here, too, this would've sucked to do alone." another wave of cramps practically folds you in half, the pain radiating from your pelvis to your skull. still, it's less severe than the waves before, you must be on the downhill side of this now, thank god. "i'm getting an iud next week, fuck this noise. i'm never doing this again."

"oh no? i'm having fun. love a good lie-in and cuddle, and i'd forgotten how good this show is." simon deadpans, and you smack him with a pillow as he laughs at your grouchy face, kissing at your temple and cheek when another wave of pain makes you curl in on yourself. god, you love him so much, and being loved by him has always felt like a privilege, one that very few people get. it's wild, but there's something inside of you that really, genuinely believes that the two of you are going to come out the other side of this stronger, better together. the thought of it makes you smile briefly, right before another wave of cramps punches it out of you again. oh, god, you're definitely making that iud appointment when you have your follow-up at the clinic.

a few weeks later, the two of you are loading groceries into the car when you hear the earsplitting shriek of a crying child. some toe-headed little boy going red in the face because his mom said "no" outside the grocery store. you and simon share a look, a silent 'thank fuck that's not us' between the two of you as you go on your way. it's not til you're both in the truck, well on your way home with his hand on your knee between gear shifts that you finally say anything.

"you told me to tell you if i ever start having feelings about the abortion." you say, and you can feel his hand flex against your leg minutely before he speaks.

"yeah?" he sounds wary, and almost a little nervous.

"i am so fucking relieved, simon. oh my god." you burst out into giggles, thinking about how frazzled that mother in the parking lot looked. no fucking thanks, not for you. simon's laughter fills the cab as well, a low, heartfelt, rumbling chuckle playing melody to your own laughter's harmony as the two of you head home together, smiling the entire way. the sky seems bluer, the sun seems brighter, and the clouds seem fluffier now that you know you're not trapped by circumstance, that you had the ability to choose your fate, and that simon stuck with you through all of it. the future is yours to do what you like, you're not tethered to any responsibilities that you aren't ready for. you're free.

who ever thought that an abortion of all things would make you so giddy about the future?

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 14 days ago

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in brazil.

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 16 days ago

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To go off your recent post, i was thinking about how the guys would react to a reader who doesn't want to have children. Whether through personal trauma, career, or simply put: they don't feel as if a child will complete their relationship. They're happy and satisfied as is. And maybe the guys are supportive and defend them from curious/rude people prying into their relationship always asking, "so when are you having kids?"

I’m fully aware that you’re referring to THIS post from back in January, or you might even be referring to THIS post, and I apologize for such a delay in answering this. I’m not going to answer this as part of the Imagines Series. Since I've already touched on the topic (at least twice and maybe more at this point) I'm going to take the headcanon route with this one.

To me, Soap wants to be a father. While he’s supportive of this decision, I also think he’d be a bit disappointed that it’ll likely never happen. However, I can easily see him defending you against curious/rude people who think they can pry. He’d do it with a smile, even a joke, but it’s just him giving the same energy. If they can’t take the hint, expect him to be blunt and upfront.

Price is content with your decision. Completely supportive. You’re in his life, and that’s all that matters to him. If others try to ask about when kids are happening, Price is quick to shut the conversation down, or divert it elsewhere. You don’t have to answer because you’re already always having to defend yourself about not having children. Price will carry that burden when he can.

Gaz, like Soap, has a desire to be a father, but I firmly believe he wouldn’t be with you if he wasn’t happy with your decision. He’s not going to try and change your mind. Fill the house with cats and/or dogs. That’ll make him happy. Hell, even take some chickens in the backyard. But one thing Gaz will not stand for is anyone prying, especially if he’s around to hear it. He won’t hesitate to put that person in their place, even if they’re asking from a place of innocence. It’s not a question you ask. Period.

No kids is fine with Ghost. They’re messy, loud, and he doesn’t think he’ll be a good father anyway. If it’s just you, him, and the dog, Ghost is perfectly content with that. But more importantly, this is a decision between the two of you. It’s private. Off-limits. Anyone asking about whether or not you’re having children should probably run in fear. “What a weird thing to ask,” he says each and every time. Ghost will make them uncomfortable.

main masterlist

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 16 days ago

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for t141 what if fem!reader told them she didn’t want kids?

Oh, anon... you've opened a can of worms with this one.

While I regularly consider our boys to be walking green flags, let's be real here. They might be pixels, but they are people with their own flaws. And they would have their own differing opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc. about this. cw: angst, failed relationships

Gaz would consider not wanting kids a deal breaker. He wants to be a father—and not just in a "carry on the family legacy" reason or some other nonsense. He truly wants to experience fatherhood in its full capacity. So, when he does ask you about it, it's early in the relationship. And when you tell him that you don't want kids, and that you have no intention of changing your mind, he accepts this without guilting you or attempting to bully you otherwise. But it also means an end to the relationship.

Price is perfectly fine with not having children. If you don't want them, he's not going to push it, and he will respect your decision. He won't guilt you into changing your mind or question your autonomy. Price is respectful of your choices and knows that he can find fulfillment with you without involving children.

Ghost wants to experience fatherhood because he wants to prove to himself that he'll never be like his father. He would like to raise a child in the way he deserved to be treated but never received. However, that opportunity comes crashing down around him when you tell him you don't want kids. He probes a bit, but doesn't push the issue, mostly because he adores you and can't see his future without you in it. He's not resentful of your choice, just sad.

Soap doesn't understand when you tell him you don't want kids. He's confused at first and absolutely pushes the issue. For him, he wants a clear, solid answer. This is something he wants, and he wants his partner to want it, too. But where Gaz is more level-headed and mature about it, Soap is the opposite. He stays in a relationship with you in the hopes that you'll change your mind because he's positive he can convince you. He doesn't, and it ends up souring the relationship until one of you breaks it off.

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 16 days ago

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141 with a fem!reader who instead of not wanting kids can’t have kids?

This is a popular request, anon. I've had several submissions from various users. Since the theme/idea is similar, I thought I would combine them into one.

Heavy angst ahead, folks. I decided not to sugarcoat with this one. It's heartbreaking. It's sad. And yes, there is comfort and love mixed in.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, angst, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of surgical procedure, emotional hurt/comfort, implied abortion/d&c, minor blood

Word Count: 900

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

This time, it sticks.

Somehow.

Miraculously.

After years of struggling, of being told it would never happen, of false results and shattered hopes—it’s happening.

You’d be in denial if it wasn’t for the test results in your hand. It is solid, a print out of what your doctor told you over the phone.

John stands next to you, reading the piece of paper over your shoulder. His shoulders are riddled with tension, lips a thin line. It’s clear that he wants to join in on your joy, but something holds him back.

“Are you happy?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“I am—I.” John clears his throat. “But last time?”

Last time looked just like this. Last time everything was fine—until it wasn’t. Until the blood and the pain and the hospital visit.

“It might not be like last time.”

John gently grasps the sides of your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t have to. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“It’s okay, John.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and John places his lips to your forehead. “I worry.”

“I know,” you murmur, turning your face into his touch. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It all has to go. All of it. There is too much damage.

No uterus. No fallopian tubes. No ovaries.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Johnny sits next to you on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sigh is heavy as he rubs at his face. When he comes up for air, you know his world is shattered, just likes yours.

“The surgeon said they might be able to save some eggs.” Even you don’t believe the words leaving your mouth. It’s a farce.

“Might?” asks Johnny.

“They won’t know until they’re actually inside.”

Johnny is oddly silent. It’s not like him to be quiet.

“Are you upset?” you ask, tentatively.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not with you. Never with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because an apology feels right but you’re not sure why you’re doing it at all.

Johnny places his hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “For what?”

Tears pool, threatening to spill over. “For not being enough.”

He leans in, face serious. “The fact that you think that at all means I’ve failed you. That I haven’t loved you enough.”

“Johnny.”

He draws you in. “This doesn’t make you less worthy of my love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A heartrate monitor beeps nearby. They’ll release you soon now that you’re awake and aware.

It’s all coming back in pieces.

You remember the cramping, the spotting, and then the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. You remember the cold linoleum floor against your cheek, of losing consciousness, of gaining it again only for the room to spin. You remember how cold you were, and Simon’s hands—of how his voice cracked when he said your name.

You don’t recall the trip to the hospital. You only remember how Simon demanded help while the staff told him he needed to calm down.

But he’s here now—and no one is yelling. He sits in a chair next to your hospital bed, face grim and skin pale like he hasn’t slept in days.

There have almost always been complications—always been issues while trying to conceive, but of those that have ended, it’s never been like this.

You turn your head, and as if sensing you, Simon glances up from his silent musings. You offer your hand. Simon takes it, and though he doesn’t squeeze hard, you feel the desperation in the way he clings to you.

“I’m not risking you. Never again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your friend opens the gift, presenting it to the gathered crowd. Everyone fawns over the set of baby blankets. There are several in total, all pale pastels.

You smile and agree that it’s a wonderful gift. Outwardly, everything is fine. Internally, your mind is still at home, lingering on the four pregnancy tests hidden in the bathroom bin beneath a pile of toilet paper.

Each one negative. Each one a glaring stain on the long list of failures.

Kyle emerges from the kitchen with the father-to-be, a massive grin on his face. This baby shower is a reminder to you of all your shortcomings. For Kyle, this is hope—a vision of the future.

And you haven’t told him. Haven’t said a word about those four negative tests.

How many years of trying now?

But you’re still young.

Don’t stress about it.

It’s so easy for others to stick their nose in, which is why you don’t share anymore.

Kyle plops down next to you. The happiness there is palpable, so thick it’s almost like butter on the tongue. You’re going to shatter it—hurt him yet again.

He presents his hand, palm upward.

You snatch it like a lifeline, and squeeze—hard. Kyle frowns at your entwined fingers. His gaze sweeps upward.

In your friend’s hands is a onesie for a newborn. Everyone coos, and something in you breaks. You’re smiling, but you sense the threatening tears.

Kyle’s frown shifts to a sad smile.

He knows. You don’t have to say anything.

Lifting your joined hands, Kyle brings the back of your palm to his lips. Placing a quick kiss there, he then kisses your forehead. He adds another kiss to spot just behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

No one is watching.

“I love you.”

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 17 days ago

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i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 19 days ago

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┌─ ⟢ VISITING HIS PRACTICE WITH THE KIDS

𐔌─ cw. fem!reader. pregnancy. mentions of reader breast feeding. suggestive in oikawa’s.

𐔌─ characters. atsumu. oikawa. bokuto. rinatarou

bokuto omegaverse when?!?

Miya Atsumu

Everyone loves Miya Atsumu’s little family. The media is obsessed with his cute babies that go viral almost every time they step out of the house—almost as much as they’re obsessed with how much you glow during your pregnancies.

He’s almost positive there are about as many pictures of him and his twin combined as there are of your bump. He’s not jealous. Nope. Totally not jealous that when he gets approached by fans, they’re asking what stretch mark cream you use instead of asking for an autograph.

So it’s no surprise when you come to the gym to bring his forgotten lunch, and before he can even take a bite of his sub, half of his team has surrounded you.

“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing,” Bokuto grins, picking up your toddler son and mock-throwing him in the air.

“Careful!” You chastise him before relaxing when you hear your son squeal a chorus of “Again, again!”

Aren’t you supposed to say hi to me first son? Atsumu thinks, pouting slightly before turning to his daughter with a smile—only for that smile to be immediately wiped off his face when he sees her in the arms of Hinata, blowing slobbery kisses.

“What the hell?!” He gasps.

You look up at him from your spot next to him. “What’s wrong, baby?” You frown, rubbing your small bump.

“Nothin’, angel,” He sighs, placing his calloused hand over yours. At least he’s got the attention of his wife and their little grape.

“How’s the b—”

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you! My wife keeps bothering me to ask what stroller you use!”

Later, when you leave, you find a text from Atsumu; I'll be coming home for lunch next time ! >:( .

Bokuto Koutarou

Back in high school, Koutarou was nicknamed “The Owl,” but now, well into his professional volleyball years, superfans have taken to calling him The Wolf.

Not because of a dry, stressed-out personality—no, because it seems like he has three hundred kids.

Every year, he’s posting another skin-to-skin picture with a newborn and a sappy caption. His team jokes that he needs to get off of you (he’s pretty sure some of them are serious), but he doesn’t care. Especially not when his pups start cheering for him, even after he hits the ball out of bounds.

Screams of encouragement—and a few screaming just to see how loud they can get—echo throughout the gym. You would’ve thought the stands were packed. Nope. Just his fan-proclaimed pack.

“KILL! KILL! DESTROY THEM NOW!”

One of his sons starts choking himself out. His daughters jump up and down on the bleachers, and in the middle of the rowdiness, he hears a small baby screeching just because his siblings are.

“Thank you, pups! I didn’t do great, but A+ on the enthusiasm!” Bokuto shouts from the court. A teammate beside him flinches at the sheer volume. So that’s where the kids get it from.

“YES, DAD, YES!” His kids scream back.

In the middle of it all, you sit there, giving Kou the biggest smile—the same one you gave him when he asked you out, the same one you gave him when he married you, the same one you gave him every time you announced another pregnancy.

And he’s so overcome with love that he can’t help but think about having another baby—just to have somewhere to spill all this love into.

Suna Rintarou

You and your daughter watch with bright eyes as Rin walks out of his gym building and makes his way toward the car.

The moment he slides into the passenger seat—despite being sweaty from hours of practice—you both grab onto him in a hug, your daughter unbuckled and leaning over the console.

“Hi, Daddy!” She runs a hand over his stubble and giggles when Rin pretends to bite her.

“Hi, princess,” he grins before turning to you. “Hi, queen.”

He teases, leaning over to kiss you, and you can’t help but smile into it.

“How was practice, Daddy?”

Suna breaks the kiss to answer, but before he can, he notices another small body in the backseat—headphones on, eyes glued to the game in his hands. Suna reaches over and pulls off one of his son’s headphones.

Like his father, his son merely glances up with a questioning expression.

“No hey Dad, glad you didn’t break your wrist at practice, so we don’t have to go homeless and move in with Uncle ‘Samu and starve to death because he eats all the food?” Suna mimics his son’s unimpressed face.

“You’re so dramatic, Dad.” His son grumbles but leans in when Suna playfully messes up his hair.

“Imagine the horror. No snacks, no food—we’ll all be forced to wake up at five in the morning and work all day at the restaurant.”

A chorus of mortified groans fills the car. The Suna family was not made for early mornings.

He turns back to his daughter. “It was good, baby.”

She smiles, murmuring something that sounds like that’s good before settling back to watch whatever her older brother is playing. Like his son, she wasn’t much of a talker either. You were the talker of the family, always filling in the silence.

You cup his cheek. “You gotta get back soon.”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch. “Just one more kiss, then we’ll go.”

One kiss turns into five, and soon enough, the kids are gagging and shouting for you two to stop.

“Dad! Stop kissing Mom and go make that money you were talking about! So freakin’ nasty.”

Oikawa Tooru

His team was having an unofficial official practice at the beach today, and it was days like this that Tooru loved playing for a team in the hot climate of South America.

Plus, the sun-kissed tan was a bonus. He always looked amazing in every photo taken of him.

Some of his teammates were lounging, so they were the first to see it. Oikawa was so focused on what he was doing that he paid the whistling no mind—until one of his teammates shook his shoulder.

He looked up with a glare, but it quickly disappeared when he saw what they were pointing at—a woman in a bikini, walking toward them with a small child.

More specifically, his woman and his child.

“Stop fuckin’ whistling at my girl!” Oikawa shouted, flipping his team off before jogging over.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” He barked, using his body to shield your chest from their eyes.

The baby on your hip babbled an unintelligible greeting before grabbing onto his father. Oikawa lifted him to his bare chest, pressing his nose to his soft little head—one hand still holding you close.

“Toru, get off! It’s too hot, and you’re all sweaty,” you whined, pushing at his chest. “And stop being all jealous. It doesn’t suit you.”

You huff before standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek.

“Well, I wouldn’t be jealous if I didn’t know at least five of my teammates have a hard-on right now because my tits are practically out!”

“The only reason my breasts are like this is because you got me pregnant! I’m breastfeeding your son!”

You laugh at his ridiculousness and reach for your son. Oikawa tightens his grip and pouts.

“I’m coming with.”

“What? You’re at practice!”

“It’s not a real practice. And besides, I need to be there to defend you from all the men who think they can be stepdaddy.”

He takes the beach bag from you. You roll your eyes—but you can’t help but smile

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 19 days ago

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confidence boost — azumane a.

azumane a. x fem!reader│word count: 1.9k

synopsis: You just wanted to boost Asahi’s confidence but it all went horribly wrong.

cw/tags: fluff, comedy, established relationship

Despite his towering height and intimidating presence, Asahi is a complete sweetheart.

He’s the kind of the boyfriend who listens intently, remembers the little things, and always makes sure you’re comfortable. Whether it’s offering you his jacket when you’re cold, adjusting his pace so you don’t have to rush to keep up, or waiting patiently for you to finish talking before responding, Asahi does it all without a second thought.

You love him so much and genuinely think he’s an amazing person.

You just wished he could see himself the way you do.

Because despite all the love and warmth he gives, Asahi is riddled with insecurities. When he makes a mistake, he doesn’t just acknowledge it—he fixates on it, lets it weigh him down. When people mock him, he takes their words to heart, even when they don’t deserve to be listened to. He hesitates to ask for help, convinced he’s a burden, as if his needs could ever be an inconvenience.

And it breaks your heart.

Because if anyone deserves to feel confident—deserves to see just how wonderful he is—it’s him.

“Yeah,” you say out loud, as if voicing the thought makes it more real.

“Yeah what?” Asahi asks, mid-bite into his lunch, his expression is vaguely concerned.

You lean back in your chair, a slow grin spreading across your face as you lazily intertwine your ankles with his under the table.

“I’m going to give you a confidence boost.”

Asahi pauses, chopsticks hovering in his hand. He blinks at you once. Twice. Then cautiously chews the food already in his mouth, as if bracing for impact. “... Why do I feel like this isn’t going to end well?”

“Wow. Rude,” you say, placing a hand over your chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very good at boosting confidence.”

“Yn…” He levels you with a wary look, clearly not convinced. “You once told Tanaka he had ‘super manly energy’ just to see how many push-ups he’d do in front of Shimizu.”

You hum, tilting your head. “And? He did fifty. He felt unstoppable.”

Asahi sighs, giving you a deadpan look. “Yeah. Until Noya jumped in. They turned it into a contest and accidentally pushed Daichi to the floor. Face first. He made them run laps for an hour after.”

“Okay, that was objectively hilarious,” you argue, grinning. “But my point still stands! My methods work.” You poke his arm insistently. “C’mon, Asahi. It’ll be fun. You’ll feel amazing.”

Asahi exhales slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. He already knows he’s lost.

“Yn…” he tries one last time, weakly.

“Nope.” You cut him off cheerfully, clapping your hands together. “We’re doing this, Asahi. Get ready to become the most self-assured man ever.”

Asahi groans, slouching back. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

You beam. “That’s just the self-doubt talking! But don’t worry, we’ll fix that soon.”

And with that, your plan was officially in motion.

After classes, you made a beeline for the stationery store, determination fueling your every step. The moment you stepped inside, you knew exactly what you were looking for. Brightly colored sticky notes in every neon shade imaginable, something impossible to ignore. The paper felt smooth under your fingers as you flipped through the pack, already picturing the messages you’d scribble down for Asahi.

That night, seated at your desk with a pen in hand, you got to work. Each note carried a message of affirmation wrapped in warmth:

‘No one does it better than you, Asahi! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧’

‘Look around and appreciate all the things going right in your life (like me •⩊•)’

‘Slow progress is still progress! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و’

You didn’t stop there. Little doodles framed each note—stars, tiny volleyballs, even a goofy cartoon version of him with his signature bun. And when the time was right, you’d slip them into his bag, tuck them into his textbooks, or press them between the pages of his notebook when he wasn’t looking.

The best part was watching his reaction.

His brows would furrow at first, confusion flickering across his face, before his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. Sometimes he’d turn to look at you, but you’d always turn away just in time, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

At first, the notes were pure encouragement. But after a while, you decided to get a little playful.

‘When life gives you lemons, SQUEEZE THEM INTO THE EYES OF YOUR ENEMIES!!’

‘Together, we’re an 11/10, but let’s be real, you’re carrying the extra point ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ’

‘You didn’t wake up to be a little bitch. Go slay, babe!’

Asahi would groan, rolling his eyes, but he never threw them away. If anything, he held onto them longer, even smoothing out the corners after they’d been crumpled in his palm. You knew he loved them.

For two weeks, everything was going perfectly. You could feel the change in him—his shoulders weren’t so tense, his voice a little stronger when he spoke. Your little experiment was working.

And then, it happened.

It started like any other day. Another note, another hiding spot. This time it was in his book. But when Asahi opened it in the middle of class, it slipped from the pages, fluttering to the floor.

Your stomach dropped.

The teacher, already mid-stride, noticed the note before Asahi could react. Bending down, he picked it up, adjusting his glasses.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm for written communication, Azumane, there’s no passing notes in my class,” he announced.

You stiffened and Asahi’s entire body went rigid, his hands gripping the edges of his desk.

“If you’re so eager to share, let me read it aloud.”

No. No, no, no.

You barely had time to brace yourself before the words left his mouth.

“You are a sexy little peach and I’d love to take a bite of that juicy booty.”

Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.

Your face ignited in flames. Asahi looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, his entire soul leaving his body in real time.

Yeah… you were pretty sure you had just emotionally traumatized your boyfriend.

“... And that's what happened,” Asahi muttured, putting down his cup of beer, ears and cheeks tinged pink.

The table exploded with laughter. Tanaka and Nishinoya nearly fell out of their seats, wheezing as they slapped him on the back.

“I almost forgot about that,” Daichi chuckled, shaking his head.

“Remember when we used to call him ‘Sexy Peach’ for a whole month?” Sugawara added, grinning.

Asahi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Please for the love of God, stop.”

“But it worked out in the end,” Nishinoya pointed out, pouring Asahi another drink. “Ever since that happened, you stopped being such a wuss.”

Asahi blinked, his hand stilling around the cup.

He hadn’t thought of it like that before.

For years, he had carried his insecurities, convinced that no matter how much time passed, the self-doubt would always be there, whispering that he wasn’t enough.

But somewhere along the way, those doubts had let up.

It wasn’t because he had suddenly stopped making mistakes or because he had magically become more confident overnight.

It was because he had learned—slowly, painfully, and with far too much embarrassment—that mistakes weren’t the end of the world. That being laughed at didn’t mean he wasn’t loved. That messing up didn’t mean he wasn’t enough.

Back then, if someone had told him he would someday be able to sit here and retell that story without wanting to disappear, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Yet here he was.

Still standing, moving forward. He was still surrounded by the same friends who had teased him mercilessly, sure, but who had also always been there, cheering him on.

And yn.

God, yn.

She had been horrified after the whole thing. He could still remember the way she had chased after him once class was over, face red and soaked in tears, words tumbling out between hiccups like a glitching robot.

“Asahi—I didn’t mean—hic—I just—hic—I swear I wasn’t—sniff—”

And then she just sobbed and Asahi went into full panic mode.

“Yn—Yn, breathe,” he had blurted out, hands hovering awkwardly. “You’re going to pass out at this rate!”

But she wasn’t listening, only wailing into his chest while he stood there, frantically rubbing circles into her back.

And thus, instead of disappearing off the face of the earth like he had planned, Asahi spent the next hour reassuring his very remorseful girlfriend that no, he wasn’t mad, and yes, he still loved her.

But that wasn’t enough for her.

For the next week, she had dedicated herself to earning his forgiveness—buying him drinks, giving him shoulder massages, literally hand-feeding him snacks like some kind of king.

She had even offered to write herself a note to publicly embarrass herself in return, because apparently, “equal emotional damage” was the only fair form of justice.

(He had gently declined that one.)

Still, the truth was, he hadn't even been mad.

Humiliated? Absolutely.

But mad? Never.

Not when she had always seen something in him he hadn’t seen in himself, when she spent all that time sneaking those ridiculous, sticky notes into his things, determined to make him believe in himself.

He wasn’t the same person he had been in high school.

The insecurities were still there, lingering at the edges, but they no longer dictated his life. He had learned to push past them, to embrace the imperfections, and if he ever stumbled, he would always get back up.

Asahi exhaled, shaking his head with a small, fond smile.

“Yeah,” he admitted. "I guess it did."

The group cheered, clinking glasses, still teasing him mercilessly, but Asahi didn't mind. For once, the warmth in his chest overpowered the embarrassment.

Later that night, as he fished his wallet out of his bag, something fluttered onto the floor.

A sticky note.

His breath hitched as he picked it up, already recognizing the familiar handwriting. Even after all these years, even after getting married, yn still found ways to sneak love into the most unexpected moments.

He unfolded the note, his lips curving as he read:

‘Get home safe, okay?? I need my sexy little peach in one piece!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡’

Asahi groaned, burying his burning face in his hands. But even as he did, he couldn't stop the grin spreading across his lips.

He carefully folded the note and tucked it into his wallet, right next to a tiny stack of others just like it.

God, he loved that woman.

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 20 days ago

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"Malfoy" "Weasley" - bill weasley x malfoy!reader

summary: when you watch the quidditch world cup with your family, the last thing you're expecting is to see an old friend. a weasley. wc: 1.2k+ cw: one tiny mention of abuse

The buzzing energy in the stadium felt as though it had suddenly been muffled as four figures entered the box. They walked with matching gait; confident, every pair of shoulders rolled back to walk with a perfect posture, a slow yet steady pace of footsteps that established power.

The Malfoys.

Harry swallowed thickly as he set his eyes on an unfamiliar figure. One he had never seen before, yet was so unmistakably Malfoy.

It was as though every sound in the stadium was muted, other than the seductive click of your heels on the floor. Harry took in your appearance from the floor upwards, watching the twinkle in your eyes in amazement. Despite the features you inevitably shared with the rest of your family, there was something different about you.

Something mischievous.

The boy who lived was snapped back to reality when Bill — who he had only met two days ago but already trusted with his life — spoke up.

“Malfoy.”

His statement wasn’t one filled with hatred, much to Harry’s surprise. No, it was amused, familiar, and it was targeted to you. As though you knew each other like two good friends. Whilst the rest of your family walked on with intimidating glares on their faces as they passed the Weasleys, you slowed your step down, keeping eye contact with Bill as your lips tugged up into an unbelievable smile, the wine red of your lipstick perfectly contained between their lines.

“Weasley.”

And you were gone.

Catching up to your family at a leisurely pace, you took a seat next to them, crossing one elegant leg over the other. Harry saw Draco turn to look at you judgementally, and his lips moved in a silent question.

You brushed him off. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, listening in to the conversation that started between the Weasley siblings. “What was that?” Asked Ron with an exasperated breath. “Just greeting an old friend.” The older brother replied.

It was like watching Ron lose respect for his oldest brother, looking at him as though he grew two extra heads. Harry pondered silently for a moment. If Ron had such a reaction to his brother being friends with a Malfoy, how would your parents have reacted when they found out? Why hadn’t they said anything?

“Was she with you in school?” Harry found himself asking, and Bill nodded, gaze finding you again. The boy knew he shouldn’t think about it too much. Perhaps mind his own business for once.

But when you stood up from your seat at half-time, walking towards the group and Bill rose from his place to meet you, Harry couldn’t help but think of the two of you together. At Hogwarts. It was nearly impossible to imagine the both of you as teenagers, smiling fondly at each other as you walked through the halls.

A forbidden romance.

Had you been in love, or were you just unlikely friends? Whatever it was, it had evidently developed, Harry thought, watching as Bill leaned down closer to you to hear whatever it was you had to say, both of you smiling like idiots in love. Your hand slid down to the railing that Bill was tightly clutching, boldly placing your hand over his. Bill glanced down at the feeling of your touch, and he turned his hand over so his palm was facing upwards and he could properly hold your hand, his larger, veiny one encasing yours.

Behind the pair of you, your parents had tuned around from their conversation to watch you and the so called blood-traitor. Narcissa had placed a hand on her husband’s arm, prompting him to look away from the treacherous acts occurring in front of them. “Your parents still not too fond of me, I’m guessing?” Bill teased, and you tilted your head to the side with an apologetic smile.

“You know how they are. But it didn’t stop me when we were students and it won’t stop me now.”

Bill reached up with his free hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes were glued to his face, so kind, so handsome.

You sighed.

“I’m an adult now,” You started, cutting off your own train of thoughts. “They can’t do anything about it anymore.”

Anymore.

Because when you’d been at Hogwarts, your parents had sent you howler after howler. They’d even pulled you out of class one time to lecture you about loyalty. You remember what you told your father that day. “I am loyal! I’m loyal to my friends, I'm loyal to the people I care about. I’m loyal to Bill, and you can’t do anything about it.” He had hit you across the face.

It didn’t stop you from sneaking out of your dorm every night to meet him in the girls’ third floor bathroom, a room that had become your ultimate rendezvous spot. Romantic.

Bill cleared his throat softly, looking around to find his entire family staring at your interaction. “Would you like to go for a walk?” He asked as he tore his eyes from them. You glanced around, staring at the empty pitch for one long moment before you spun around to look at him again, nodding eagerly. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Harry tried not judging you as you walked down the stairs, hands linking as you disappeared from sight. People do crazy things for love, he decided, realising you’d decided to skip watching half of the quidditch world cup to rekindle your relationship.

But maybe your decision had been smart, because as Harry and the Weasleys returned to their tent, they had caught you leaving. Bill held the tent's flap open, letting you through. You straightened up, eyes widening as you came face to face with his entire family, knowing you must have looked a mess. Fred, George and Charlie all had matching grins on their faces as they took in your unusually messy hair, smudged lipstick, bruising hickeys on your neck and chest exposed by the low neckline of your dress.

Bill looked just about the same, except most of the lipstick marks on his skin were covered by the collar of his shirt, trailing underneath it. You ducked your head down in embarrassment, gasping when Mr. Weasley patted your shoulder, saying “It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

“You too, Mr. Weasley.” As Bill kept eye contact with his three most delinquent brothers, he knew he was in for insurmountable amounts of teasing when he would enter the tent once more. Bill closed the tent’s flap when his family went inside, pulling a face at you when he faced you once more.

Giggling, you took three steps towards him, clutching his collar tightly and forcing him closer to you. Bill’s hands settled on your hips, and he leaned down to press a long kiss to your lips. You sighed in satisfaction, trailing your hands up to settle on his shoulders. Your lips separated with a loud smooching sound that had your cheeks flushing hotly and you looked away, making steady eye contact with Draco, who had been watching your interaction from afar.

“Better get here before the parents do!” He called out, and you nodded, looking between him and Bill quickly. “Um, he has a point.” You mumbled, pushing yourself on your tippy toes to press one last peck on his lips.

“At least promise me a date?”

“I can promise you more than a date, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh please, Mr. Weasley is my father.”

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 20 days ago

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laughing crying thinking about calling price “bro” after sex that he pauses mid-lighting up his cigar to look at you with that really deep frown, before murmuring, “don’t call me that—i just came in you.”

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 20 days ago

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Pregnancy: Iwaizumi

The second the double doors of the weight room open, it’s like you’ve stepped into a different universe—a world of metal clanks, low grunts, chalk-dusted air, and the constant thud of iron plates hitting the floor. And now, slicing clean through that rhythmic storm of testosterone and hyper-focus, is you: very pregnant, slightly annoyed, and holding the wallet your husband managed to leave behind on the kitchen counter this morning. You didn’t think twice about walking the ten minutes over from your place. It’s not like you hiked a mountain—you waddled across pavement in sneakers. But by the way the entire Olympic volleyball team turns toward you in unison, you might as well be carrying a live grenade instead of a baby.

“WOAHHH—LOOK OUT! Civilian on the floor!” Bokuto’s voice booms across the room, sweaty hair sticking up, arms mid-air like you’d broken the rules of gravity just by showing up.

Atsumu, flat on a bench press with Kageyama spotting him, twists his head far too dramatically toward you and lets out a long, low whistle. “Ain’t no civilian, Bo. That’s Iwaizumi’s wife. And she’s lookin’ like she’s about to drop that baby right here in front of the dumbbells.”

You don’t even get the chance to sigh before you spot him—Hajime, towel around his neck, clipboard tucked under one arm, halfway through barking cues at someone doing squats. His head snaps toward you the second he hears Bokuto’s yell, and his entire body goes rigid. The clipboard hits the bench with a clatter. The towel is forgotten. His mouth moves, but there’s no time for words—he’s already weaving through machines and teammates, practically charging toward you like the floor itself might crumble under your feet.

“You walked here? Alone?” he demands as soon as he’s within a few feet, eyes scanning you from head to toe like he’s checking for bruises.

“I’m not made of paper, Hajime. I walked from the apartment. Not across a battlefield.” You hold the wallet up between two fingers, giving him a pointed look. “You left this on the counter, by the way.”

He takes it, but barely spares it a glance. His attention is completely on you—his wife, his very-pregnant-wife, standing in the middle of the Olympic team’s weight room surrounded by free weights, kettlebells, unstable mats, and volleyball players who think balance training on BOSU balls is a personality trait.

“This place isn’t safe for you,” he mutters under his breath, eyes narrowing at a barbell someone just let crash onto the floor nearby. “You shouldn’t be around this equipment. There’s too many ways you could trip, or get knocked, or—hell—slip on a chalk patch.”

You raise your eyebrows and gesture around you. “I am standing still, Hajime. On flat ground. Wearing shoes. Holding a wallet. This is not a life-threatening activity.”

His lips flatten into a tight line. “You’re thirty-eight weeks. You should be sitting, preferably somewhere padded, with a bottle of water and a snack within reach.”

You blink. “Are you reading off a checklist right now?”

He doesn’t answer.

At that moment, Komori jogs up with his usual bounce, sweat still gleaming on his forehead and a towel slung haphazardly over his shoulder. “Wait—this is your wife? The one we keep hearing about?”

“He doesn’t talk about her,” Kiryu calls from the dumbbell rack, not even bothering to look up. “He says stuff like ‘my wife made soup’ and ‘my wife needs pickles.’ That’s it. That’s all we get.”

You offer a small, amused smile and rest both hands on your stomach. “Hi. Yes. I’m Soup-and-Pickles. Thirty-eight weeks along. Full of baby. And apparently one bad step away from being put in a medically induced nap.”

There’s a chorus of laughter, though it’s mixed with soft whistles of awe as more of the team gravitates toward you. Aran strolls over with a light smile, while Hinata’s practically vibrating behind him.

“You really came all the way here?” Aran asks.

“It’s ten minutes from home,” you reply, shooting a glance up at your husband who still looks like he’s trying to map the safest escape route out of the gym for you. “I’m pregnant, not cursed.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Iwaizumi mutters. “You’re standing next to iron weights in Converse. That’s a hostile environment.”

You roll your eyes, adjusting the strap on your bag. “They’re high-tops. Extra support.”

Before he can scold you further, Hinata suddenly leans forward with stars in his eyes. “Is the baby kicking?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, hand moving instinctively to the right side of your belly. “She’s training for nationals, I think. My ribs are her new personal practice net.”

“Can I feel?” Komori blurts out, his expression open and hopeful.

You’re about to say yes, but Hajime moves before you can answer, shifting his stance ever so slightly to put his body between you and Komori with the quiet intensity of a dad who’s already protective before the baby’s even born.

“She’s not a mascot,” he says flatly.

You place your palm on his chest. “Hajime. It’s fine.”

His eyes flicker to yours. He relents with a small sigh, stepping aside like it physically pains him to do so.

Komori gently places his hand on your stomach, and when the baby kicks, his face lights up like someone handed him a puppy. “Oh my god. That’s incredible.”

Kageyama peers over curiously. “Does it feel weird?”

“Like an alien living under your skin,” you say cheerfully. “And sometimes the alien cries when you don’t feed it grilled cheese at exactly 3 a.m.”

“Sounds terrifying,” Sakusa mumbles nearby, adjusting a band on his wrist.

“Iwaizumi,” Yaku calls from where he’s doing banded lunges, “you better give that kid rock-solid calves. I don’t care how. It’s your duty.”

“Oh, we’re starting this already?” you laugh. “Pressure before she’s even out of the womb?”

“Oh, we’ve been taking bets,” Suna says, finally looking up from his phone with the laziest smile. “Due date, hair color, position they’ll play.”

“Definitely not libero,” Bokuto adds, puffing his chest. “That baby’s got outside hitter energy.”

“I swear to god,” Iwaizumi mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

You press a soft kiss to his jaw and whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “You love it.”

He doesn’t answer. Just wraps one arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side, hand resting low and protective on the curve of your stomach. He kisses the top of your head. Quiet. Steady.

You nudge him lightly and lift a brow. “Still mad I walked into the weight room?”

He looks down at you, expression flat. “I am always mad when you walk into a room with flying metal plates and men with the coordination of blindfolded rhinos.”

“I brought you your wallet.”

“And almost gave me a stroke in the process.”

You grin, dig into his pocket, and pull out one of his protein bars. “And I’m stealing your snack.”

“…Unbelievable.”

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dragonslayer-5fanfiction · 22 days ago

Note

Hi! I love your work and was wondering if you could do a Rafael x reader where she’s secretly learning Spanish, but Rafael thinks she’s possibly cheating on him because she’s being so secretive and won’t let him look at her phone or something :)

Pairings || Rafael Barba x Female!Reader

Contents/Warnings || Cheating accusations, light angst, fluff ending

Authors Note || i’m glad you love my work <3 also sorry to anyone who speaks spanish if the phrases aren’t correct! i don’t know it well so.. translated :’) let me know if anything’s wrong and i’ll fix it!

You had downloaded every good language app you could find in the past few months. You always loved with Rafael spoke Spanish to you, and you had picked up on some phrases and words, but you were growing sad that you couldn’t have an actual conversation with him in anything but English. After having seen several videos of people learning their partners native languages and then surprising them by suddenly speaking it to them, you decided to do the same.

Your plan was to surprise Rafael on your anniversary by speaking Spanish as well as you could to him, along with a few other gifts you got him. Normally you never had an issue is Rafael wanted to use your phone for any reason, he even knew your password and you know his, but you began to keep your phone from him. Of course, he began to pick up on this.

He noticed that you were being secretive— not letting him touch your phone anymore without telling him why, changing your password, and not letting him look at your screen as often anymore. Rafael was dying a bit at this. He loved you, truly, and had the upmost respect and trust in you, but he was growing suspicious of you cheating on him. He couldn’t come up with any other plausible explanation as to why you began to be so secretive. He didn’t want to think that you were doing this, but he didn’t know what else it could be.

He found himself sitting on his bed one night, feeling miserable as he waited for you to come to his apartment so he could finally bring up his suspicions. He waited impatiently, replaying what he wanted to say in his head when he finally heard the familiar sound of you opening his door with the spare key he had given you. You close the door and kicked off your shoes before making your way around to find him. You walk into his bedroom, noticing the tired look on his face, “Raf? What’s wrong?”

Rafael hesitated before answering, “I… need to talk to you about something.”

You cautiously sat beside him, now even more worried, “Sure, what’s going on?”

He met your eyes, pushing the words out before he could back down, “You’ve been very secretive lately, mostly about your phone. You changed your password and won’t even let me touch it anymore when we see each other. I just need to know why. Are you cheating on me? Is there something I’m doing wrong?”

You looked, and felt, as if he had slapped you in the face. You didn’t say anything for a moment before slowly sliding your phone out of your pocket, “No, I’m not cheating on you…”

He watched as you unlocked your phone, slowly handing it to you. He takes it, looking at your main home screen until he saw a folder with every language app possible in it; Natulang, Duolingo, Babbel, Pimsleur, and many more. He was confused, staring at your phone, “I don’t understand,” he finally says, “You’re being secretive over language apps?”

You sighed, taking your phone back, “I’m learning Spanish, para sorprenderte.” {to surprise you}

Rafael blinked, the use of Spanish briefly stunning him. You noticed the look on his face and continued, “I just… started to get sick of not always understanding you when you speak it. I was going to wait until out anniversary to tell you, so I was hiding my phone to make sure you didn’t figure it out on accident,” you frown, fidgeting with your phone. “If you want to, you can check it for dating apps or texts… but you won’t find anything like that, I promise.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I accused you of that, I just couldn’t think of anything else that you would become so secretive because of. Te amo y confío en ti.” {I love you and I trust you}

You crack a small smile, piecing together what he had said, “Yo también te amo?” {I love you too} You say awkwardly, not knowing if you said it correctly. Rafael nods, his hand going to the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“That was great,” he says, his hand still on the back of your head as he looks you in the eye again, “I’m so happy that you’re learning, it’s a great anniversary gift.”

“A great spoiled anniversary gift,” you sigh dramatically, making him laugh a bit before responding with, “Guess my gift has to top you learning an entire language, huh?”

“Es mejor,” you smile. {it better}

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