#"WE WERE A TEAM

[youonlyzingonce]

[gor3-hound]

FUCK YOU !! (AND, UH, FUCK HER TOO) — LOGAN HOWLETT + SCOTT SUMMERS

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: deadpool and wolverine full throttled me back into my x-men era... rewatched the first two movies and binge wrote this over the course of three hours... it's pure, shameless smut with slightly gay undertones idk what to tell you... reader is basically in place of jean!!

cw: 18+ content, double penetration, almost cucking, cheating, reader is scott's girlfriend, logan is an asshole, competitive sex?? fighting, clawsTM, biting, marking, mild possessive behavior, p in v, mild scent kink, assholery all round tbh, creampies, threesome. gay crisis for a second x

word count: 2.3k words

Scott is starting to think Logan likes his things way too much. First, it was the way he looked at you when he was first brought to the school, eyes raking over your form. Scott wasn't blind – the visor didn't impair his vision that much. He remembers walking into the room when the both of you were alone. He could sense the tension between the two of you before his presence was even made known to you.

It wasn't until a while later he'd figured out Logan probably smelt him coming. Cocky bastard probably wanted to be caught.

Then, it was his motorcycle. His very own pride and joy. Returned with an empty tank, his keys tossed to him like it was nothing. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his visor as he chucked the keys back to Logan. He barely managed to reign in his irritation.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott had told him to do so after that comment, despite having the faith in you that you'd be able to avoid Logan's charms. He was clearly wrong. Logan didn't seem like the type to have much respect, but this was just taking the piss.

“Been meaning to test if these beams could pulverise Adamantium.”

All he gets in reply is a shit eating grin from Logan as he pulls away from the heated kiss Scott had walked in on, his hands still gripping your waist. You really had the audacity to get all wide-eyes and shocked, like you weren't just about to fuck Logan with your ass perched on Scott's bike.

“Shit. Scott, I'm-”

“Sorry?” He cuts off, gaze very clearly still trained on Logan despite the way his shades conceal his line of vision. “Yeah. Save it.”

“Thought I could smell that shitty hair gel.” Logan huffs, bringing his head down to nip and suck at your neck, adding to the wide array of marks he's already left. And you fucking let him, tilting your head back and gasping like it's the best thing you've ever felt. Scott's gonna kill you, then Logan, then quite possibly himself. “How long’s it take you to get that done in the mornin’ anyway, pretty boy?”

“Right. Says the guy with kitty ears?” Scott bites back, taking a few steps towards the both of you. “I'm gonna give you about three seconds to get away from my girl and my bike before we see how good your healing factor really is.”

Logan fucking laughs, kissing his way up your neck and along your jaw so he can whisper into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Stay put for me, yeah? Shouldn't take long, sweetheart.”

He pushes away from the bike, turning around to face Scott. Cocks his head to the side like a damn dog, rolling his shoulders as his claws shoot out from his knuckles. “Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girl, Cy-clops.”

Scott fucking hates that, hates the way he drags out his name as if it's stupider than Wolverine. Hates everything about Logan, if he's being honest. Hates how easily the man manages to get under his skin every single time.

“You're such a fucking asshole, y'know that?” Scott squares up, trying his best not to hurl a beam directly at Logan with the hopes he'd be able to send him flying through the garage wall. He's meant to be a team player. Level-headed. He's not sure how the older man always reduces him to this.

“That really hurts my feelings, bub. I thought we were a team.” Logan stalks closer, and Scott's vaguely aware you've gotten up, ready to break up a fight that never comes. Claws sink into the drywall beside his head at the same time he hears you tell Logan to ‘stop’. His back hits the wall, and then the asshole leans down, lips brushing his ear just like he had to yours moments prior.

“Y'know, I can smell the changes in your scent when you're pissed, happy... Can also smell it when you're turned on.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply just to tease the man further. “So either you're really into you're girl gettin’ passed around, or you wanna fuck me. Shit, or both. Which is it, pretty boy?”

“I don't want you to fuck my girl, Logan.” Scott grits put. His looks literally can kill, and he's becoming increasingly tempted to prove that to the other man. “And I definitely don't wanna fuck you.”

“C'mere, baby.” Logan coos, gaze flicking to you. He tuts when Scott goes to move, pressing his body against his to prevent him from getting too far. “Ah-ah. Stay there, pretty boy.”

You're at Logan’s side in a second, peering up at him through your lashes like an obedient dog waiting for its next command. Shit makes Scott's blood boil, his body going rigid against the other man's.

“D'you wanna kiss me, sweetheart?” He asks you, cocking his head to the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And you fucking nod, like your boyfriend isn't right there staring at you. “D'you think he wants a kiss from me, too, sweetheart? Think he deserves it? Can't have been treatin’ you right if you came runnin’ to me, huh? Maybe I should teach him?”

“Yeah, think he needs it. He's always so stressed, never wants to do anything.” Now you're airing out your relationship issues? Fucking great. Scott's practically seething now, lips parting to say something – anything – to defend himself.

He doesn't get the chance before Logan's lips crash against his. He tenses up, ready for a fight. His hands come up to push the man away, but fuck he's a good kisser. It's a lot different from a girl – rougher. There's a drag of his stubble, a pleasant burn that comes from it. His teeth sink into Scott's lower lip before tugging, then he's forcing his tongue into his mouth. Scott ends up dragging him closer, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

A growl rises in Scott's throat when he hears you giggle at his reaction, but he doesn't have much time to think on it, ‘cause Logan laughs all breathy and hot into his mouth, and it's making him short circuit. The growl quickly transforms into a low whine, his lips chasing after the other man when he starts to pull back.

His eyes open just in time to watch as Logan grabs you by your hair to pull you into a needy kiss, his free hand grasping at your hip to grind you against his rapidly hardening length. Scott feels his own cock twitching to life at the sight, a breathless ‘fuck’ leaving his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. He hasn't been this hard in months – maybe ever. He feels like a horny teenager again, leaking pre-cum steadily into the fabric of his boxers. He isn't sure what to think of it. Humiliating, is what it is.

Logan's lips are on his again, his hands sliding under his shirt, tugging him closer. He feels his cock pressing against the hard ridges of Logan's muscles, feels your own hands join his in exploring Scott's skin, your lips pressing kisses along his neck and jaw.

“Relax, Scott.” You say, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Relax, yeah. His dick is rubbing against another man's for the first time while his girlfriend is reaching around him to unbutton his jeans, and you want him to relax. This is a totally normal scenario that isn't throwing him head first into an identity crisis.

He gets lost in the hands on his body, the lips against his skin. Before he knows it, the three of you are naked and panting and pressed against each other. Scott feels like he can't breathe properly. His eyes dart between your body, and the fattest dick he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't know if he should be turned on or really, really insecure. His cock answers by jumping against his abdomen and leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. Traitor.

Logan grunts as he lifts you up almost effortlessly, his arms resting at the back of your knees, using them as makeshift slings to hold you up against his chest, which is flush to your back. He quirks an eyebrow as Scott just stares, unmoving. “Well? You don't need me to tell you where to put your dick, do you? No wonder she's so pent up.”

“Asshole.” Scott says simply in response, stepping towards you. His words lack any real bite – he's too turned on to even think about being pissy. He fists his length leisurely a few times before lining up with your entrance, pushing forward inch by inch until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs, your legs dangling helplessly at his sides.

You gasp and whine as Logan moves to slide in alongside your boyfriend, nails digging into his skin until Logan is buried to the hilt inside of you. Scott instantly peppers the skin of your neck with kisses, trying to soothe you.

“You alright, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet. He's forgotten why he was mad at you in the first place, mind foggy with arousal as your cunt clenches around him.

“She's fine, bub. She can take it. Isn't that right, sweet thing.” Another whine, then a nod. It eases Scott, if only slightly, when he feels you relaxing against them. A beat passes, and then another. His eyes meet Logan’s and they both start to move – slowly, at first, before picking up the pace.

You're so much tighter like this, sucking him in desperately as he tries to find a rhythm with Logan. He can barely focus in anything but your heat and the way his cock ruts against Logan's as they both fuck into you. It's almost maddeningly hot, and he's feeling overwhelmingly anxious that he's going to cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Scott leans down, his lips meeting yours as he rocks forward over and over. His lashes flutter as he sucks on your tongue, kissing you greedily. He feels a hand tugging at his hair, pulling him away from you before sharp teeth start to nip at his lower lip, a tongue bullying his way into his mouth. He sucks on Logan's, too, kissing him back just as hungrily as he did to you. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he picks up the pace, coaxing you into relaxing further.

A growl rumbles Logan's chest when he feels Scott fucking you faster, his hips snapping against the fat of your thighs with more intensity, like he's determined to fuck you better than the other man. He's bigger, tip bullying your cervix with every thrust in a way that makes you tear up. His nose twitches as he smells the saltiness of your tears, then he's pulling away from Scott to lap them off of your face.

“Shhh, shh… you can take it, sweetheart. I know you can.” He coos softly, moving to nuzzle the crook of your neck, nose running along the skin like he's scenting you. Both men continue to slide in and out of your slick heat, grunting and groaning like animals as they chase their release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your boyfriend coos. Scott needs you to cum soon, because he's barely holding on as it is. He doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied – especially now he's very aware Logan will gladly pick up his slack. His hand falls from your hip to make its way between your legs, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your muscles grow taut. He grins, sucking a possessive mark over one of the hickies Logan had left earlier. Take that, asshole.

Your walls flutter and clench around both cocks as you reach your peak, a shaky moan of Scott's name leaving your lips as your head falls back against Logan's shoulder. Check and mate.

“Hear that, kitty claws? I'm still her favourite.” He huffs out, hands returning to your hips in an almost bruising grip as he ruts helplessly inside your tight heat, balls tightening as his orgasm rapidly approaches.

“S'only ‘cause she's lookin’ at ya, dumbass.” Really, it shouldn't be Logan's gruff, fucked-out tone that drives him over the edge, but it is. He blows his load a second later, forehead dropping against the crook of your neck as he fills you with spurts of hot, white liquid. He gasps against your skin, nails digging into your plush flesh.

Logan isn't far behind, grunting as he forces every inch of his cock deep inside of you, head tipping back as he releases. The tips of his claws threaten to breach the skin of his knuckles, but he manages to suppress them enough that they never fully unsheathe. He pants softly, chest heaving as he thrusts shallowly through his orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hisses, slowly pulling out of you. He lifts you off of Scott's cock, settling you down on the seat of the motorcycle so you can all catch your breath. Logan rubs soothing circles into your back as Scott steps forward, all but slumping against you as he embraces you.

“Did so good, baby. Was perfect.” He breathes out, pressing kisses along your bare shoulder. He pulls back just enough to look at Logan, who's already lighting up a cigar. “The fuck did that even come from?”

That shit-eating grin lights up the older man's face again as he takes a few short draws from the cigar in his mouth. He exhales the smoke, pulling it out of his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, pretty boy. You really don't wanna know.”

[haikyu-mp4]

Welcomed mess

Your daughter's bedtime routine with dad Sakusa, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @act-nat-ural. word count; 344 – f!reader

Sakusa’s nose scrunched as he scrubbed away at his toddler while also trying to make her stay seated in the tub. The girl giggled wildly, and after trying to make her sit still and not splash him for too long, he finally sighed and sat back, looking his daughter in the eyes and lifting an eyebrow. “I thought we were a team.”

“Mama,” the girl cooed, making grabby hands at him.

A small smile crept its way between the frown lines and settled on his mouth. “Your mom’s out with her friends tonight, Gremlin.” He leaned back over the tub, carefully lifting her arms one at a time to scrub under them while she babbled.

The smile got stuck as he looked at the tiny mixture of him and you with adoration.

“Yeah, I miss her too,” he answered her as if what she said had any coherence. “But it’s just us tonight and I’m just as capable of getting you to bed without making a mess.”

He was not as confident 15 minutes later, after drying her off and getting to brushing her teeth, only to watch as she spit out any toothpaste and clapped her hands at the white art on his t-shirt.

“You’re a true artist.” Maybe he should have done the bath last.

Eventually, tiny Sakusa was dressed in pyjamas and lay in her bed, which resembled something Goldilocks would deem a little too small.

Her dad sat on a little stool beside her, stroking her cheek with heart eyes as hers started to fall closed. When you first got pregnant, Kiyoomi wasn’t sure if he was ready, but nothing could have prepared him for the protective love he felt when he finally met his daughter. Despite wanting to keep everything clean for most of his life, she was a welcomed mess (but if anyone asked, she got that from you).

“I love you so much,” he whispered before finally getting up, throwing one last look over his shoulder to check the baby monitor was on before leaving the room.

masterlist

for the requester: thank you for another great request!! sorry it's a little short this time<3

[tqlepatiia]

words we can’t take back | b. barnes

masterlist | pt.2

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before it’s too late, but y/n isn’t ready to forgive so easily. can he fix what’s been broken?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.

word count: 5.9k

The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at you—his partner, his anchor—something twisted in his gut.

In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare could’ve burned holes into you. “You almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?”

Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. “I was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.”

“Had your back?” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. “You’re a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you can’t be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. “Maybe I’m the one who should be questioning if you’re fit to be my partner!”

Bucky’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predator’s. This isn’t just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I’d find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. I’m sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!”

Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. “You think I wanted this? I’m not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!”

His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. “Team? That’s a joke. You don’t get to call it a team when I’m the one stuck cleaning up your shit. I’m done with it. You’re not my equal; you’re just a goddamn burden.”

The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. “Maybe I should just leave, then,” you said, voice trembling but defiant. “If I’m such a problem, why don’t you find someone who doesn’t drag you down?”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back—a mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?

As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasn’t over. How the hell do I fix this?

But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.

Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his head—the hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.

Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.

The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. He’d find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t shake. You weren’t just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. “You good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Sam’s scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.

“Seriously, man, you think I can't see through that? There’s a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,” Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. “You gotta talk to her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s like watching a damn dog chase its own tail—ain’t gonna end well, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission he’d ever tackled—a monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reaction—would you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.

As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess he’d made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.

It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guilt—the small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough mission—burned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.

In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.

After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mind—your laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.

“Go away,” you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I need to talk. Just… let me in, alright?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite grasp.

Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your face—red and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.

“I know. I messed up,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “And I can’t—” He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just… let me explain.”

You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compound’s machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.

“Bucky, you can’t just waltz in here and throw around apologies like they’re candy. It’s not that fucking simple,” you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. “Do you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.”

The memories of your last argument flashed in his mind—how he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.

“I know it’s not,” he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. “But you have to understand—I never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I can’t live with that.” He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.

You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. “You think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They don’t just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?” The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t matter. I want to make things right. You’re not just some partner in this crazy shit; you’re everything to me. I’m so damn sorry, Y/N.”

A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? Do you think that’s enough? You can’t just toss around ‘I’m sorry’ and act like everything’s fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow he’d ever taken. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt you like that. I—”

“Didn’t mean to?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “But you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasn’t enough! It’s like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!”

“Y/N…” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.

“No! You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you said. I don’t want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when you’ve torn me apart like this?” The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. “I can give you space. I’ll listen—just don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you.” He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the table—its absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.

“Maybe… maybe I need time,” you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I can’t be your punching bag.”

“Take all the time you need,” he replied, his heart sinking deeper. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Just… I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.

You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.

As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chest—a deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.

Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt he’d caused and the love that now felt so fragile.

One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of him—a mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.

“Can we talk?” His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you weren’t sure you could grab onto.

You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “Make it quick,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. “I need to say it again—for everything. I know it doesn’t mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear I’m trying to fix this. I’m really working on myself.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. “I just… I can’t keep running from this. I need you to know that.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. “I’m trying to work through it, Bucky. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine just because you say you’re sorry.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. “But you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t let that happen.”

Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. “You hurt me, Bucky. You can’t just wipe that away with a few nice words.”

“I know, I know! I’m fucking sorry, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But you’ve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!”

“Scared?” you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. “You don’t get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. “You’re acting like I’m a goddamn ghost! I’m right here, trying to fix this!”

“Because I need to protect myself!” you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Every time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I can’t trust you when you keep hurting me!”

The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal star—a reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.

“I fucking hate this,” he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like I’m losing you more and more every damn day.” His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.

Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. “You don’t get to say that after everything. You’ve made me feel worthless, like my feelings don’t matter. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. “I never asked for this! I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better, okay?” He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Then you need to figure it out!” you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. “I can’t keep waiting for you to get it right while I’m left feeling broken!”

As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.

Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chest—a feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.

“Y/N…” he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.

Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Bucky’s promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.

The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Bucky’s voice cut through the air like glass shattering.

“Why the hell can’t you just focus?” he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. “You’re not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!”

“Bucky, I—”

“Just shut the hell up!” he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be!”

Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasn’t a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. “Maybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,” you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not the one with the issue here.”

He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. “You keep pulling this shit! It’s like you can’t see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!”

Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not your damn punching bag, Bucky,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. “You can’t keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like it’s nothing. I’m sick of this!”

“Maybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.

“I care, Bucky!” you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. “But it’s hard to keep my head in the game when I’m constantly worried about when you’ll blow up at me next! You say you’re trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”

For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. “You think this is easy for me?” he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. “I’m trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!” You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.

“Don’t act like I’m the fucking problem!” you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. “I’m not the one who can’t confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!”

Pain flickered in Bucky’s eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. “You’re right,” he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. “I don’t know how to deal with this… how to deal with you. I’m scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I don’t know if I can fix it.” The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

“Then maybe you need to sort your shit out,” you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out while I’m left feeling shattered.” You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.

Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. “It’s killing me.” The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.

The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.

The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. “Can you just—stop fucking around? You think this is a game?” His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. “Maybe if you’d stop yelling for one second, you’d see I’m trying!” Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, you’re not trying hard enough!” he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voice—usually so steady—was strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. “I’m trying, Bucky. But it’s never enough for you, is it?” you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion you’d tried to suppress.

His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyes—something haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. “Get your shit together,” he snapped, voice low and intense. “I’m not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?” His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. “You want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.”

“Then maybe you should just go!” The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.

For a split second, his expression faltered—just long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.

“Enough is enough, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.” Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.

Bucky’s hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. “You’re being dramatic,” he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. “I'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.”

There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.

“You twist everything, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to be there for you, to understand you—but I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I can’t be the person you take everything out on.”

His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’m trying to protect you. I just… I don’t know how to do this without pushing people away. I’m not good at this shit.”

“And what do you think you’re doing right now?” you asked, your heart aching. “You’re pushing me away, and I’m too tired to hold on.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Bucky’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.

You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. “I feel invisible, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. “Like I’m just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.

He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. “Y/N, don’t do this,” His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something back—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit. “You don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”

“I don’t want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,” you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. “Damn it,” he rasped. “I’m trying, okay? I need you to believe me.”

“It’s too late for that,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.

The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photo—one he had kept tucked away in his jacket—of the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.

“I loved you,” you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. “But I deserve better.”

“Y/N!” His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!”

You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knew—deep down—that you couldn’t survive this cycle anymore.

As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didn’t stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.

He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didn’t know how to fix it.

[goldfades]

PARDON MY EMOTIONS / I SHOULD PROBABLY KEEP IT ALL TO MYSELF ── 𝐉𝐁⁵

❪ requested -> "jude angst to fluff WITH PLOT!" ❫

─ pairing | jude bellingham x fem!reader

─ word count | 1.7k

─ warnings | lots of angst to fluff, miscommunication (kind of), jude being an ASSHOLE but making up for it.

─ ev's notes ! | i'm now in my football kick due to the euros and copa america so please send in requests!!! 🤗🎀

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP with England's star football player had its ups and downs.

You got to be a WAG, enjoying the glamorous lifestyle that came with dating Jude. From attending high-profile matches and exclusive events to traveling the world and mingling with other footballers and celebrities, life was never boring. The media attention was overwhelming at times, but you learned to navigate the spotlight and maintain a sense of normalcy.

However, that was the problem. You longed for a sense of normalcy, that was all you wanted was for your relationship. The glitz and glamour of being a WAG was only fun for a bit, not it seemed like you never got a moment to yourself. This was the root of all your relationships, somehow ─ Jude never understood why you wouldn't like all the media attention.

"It's overwhelming," you muttered as you played with the bottom of your of your coffee cup, the warm ceramic providing little comfort. Jude sat across from you, his expression both of concern and confusion.

"What do you mean, overwhelming?" He replied, his gaze locked on you. "This is part of the life we have. The attention, the media... it's just something we have to deal with."

You sighed, looking out the window at the city outside. "But that's just it, Jude. I never wanted this. I love you, and I support your career, but I miss having a private life. I miss being able to go out without cameras following us or people recognizing us everywhere we go."

"Overwhelming for you?" He sighed, his expression hardening. "How do you think I feel? Look, I'm not asking for much ─ I've given you the best life I can,"

You scoffed, he wasn't listening to what you were saying. "This isn't about you or-or what you've given me. I'm grateful, I really am-"

"Doesn't sound like it," Jude cut you off, his voice rising in frustration. "It sounds like you're not happy with anything I've done."

You felt a surge of anger, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. "That's not fair, Jude," you sighed. "I've been by your side through everything, and all I'm asking for is a little understanding. I need space, I need to feel like my own person, not just an accessory to your life."

Jude stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "So, what? You want me to quit football? Give up everything I've worked for?"

"No!" You stood up as well, your heart pounding. "I don't want you to give up anything. I just want you to see things from my perspective for once. I'm losing myself in all of this, and I feel like an accessory you just get to show off."

"Well, you know that's not true," his eyes softened for a moment, but then the frustration returned. "I thought we were a team. I thought we were in this together. But it feels like you're just... giving up."

"I'm not giving up," you said, your voice breaking. "It's hard for me too, like I'm just a pretty face with no dreams or aspirations. That's what they think-"

"Who cares what they think? I know you're more than that, everyone you care about knows that." Jude let out a huff as he glared at you.

"Well it's always just been about you, Jude," you didn't mean it to come out so harsh ─ your tone hard and cold. "Moving to Spain and-and all this, it's hard on me too."

That seemed to hit a nerve because Jude's eyes went wide before he scoffed. "You think this has been easy for me? You think moving to a different country, dealing with the pressure of a new team, and trying to keep us together is all about me?"

You flinched at his words, but your frustration was too strong to back down now. "That's not what I'm saying, Jude. I just want you to see that I'm struggling too. I left everything behind to be with you. My friends, my family, my life — everything."

Jude's face softened slightly, but his jaw was still tight with anger. "I need you to understand that this life comes with sacrifices. We both have to make them, this is what you signed up for."

"I know that, Jude," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you sniffled. "But sometimes it feels like I'm the only one sacrificing. I feel like I'm losing myself, and I don't know how to fix it."

You wiped away a tear before continuing, averting your gaze from Jude. "I just need to feel like I'm more than just your girlfriend. I need to feel like I have my own purpose."

"You are!" Jude snapped, before sighing.

You sent him a glare as you sighed loudly, getting tired of not being heard. "Don't raise your voice!"

"You're being ungrateful, I've given you everything! A nice house, a nice car, you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?"

That was the last straw. Your mouth was slightly agape as you took in his words. Ungrateful? How could he say that after everything you've sacrificed to be with him?

"Fuck," you sighed as you looked up, meeting his gaze. "Is that how low you think of me? Fine, then. Let them have my position, since apparently, you think I'm just here for the perks," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.

Jude's face fell, a mixture of regret and panic crossing his features. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just frustrated. I love you, and I want us to be happy."

You shook your head, taking a step back. "That's not enough, Jude. Love isn't just about the nice things or the glamorous life. It's about understanding each other. And right now, I don't feel understood."

"That's not what I meant," Jude sighed as he began rubbing his temple. "Jesus, I need some space from you."

You glared as he grabbed his keys from the counter and you watched him walk out of the room, feeling your stomach twist in anxiety and hurt. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen. Tears streamed down your face as you sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the argument pressing down on you.

You sat there for a while, trying to process everything that had just happened. The love you had for Jude was undeniable, but the constant feeling of being misunderstood was taking its toll. You needed to find a way to reclaim your sense of self, to feel heard in your relationship.

After a few moments, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath. You needed to do something, anything, to clear your mind. You decided to go for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help you think more clearly. Grabbing your jacket, you stepped outside and started walking aimlessly through the streets of the city.

As you walked, you reflected on your relationship with Jude. There had been so many beautiful moments, but lately, it seemed like the challenges were overshadowing the good times. You loved him deeply, but you needed to find a way to communicate better, to make him understand how you felt without it turning into a fight.

After a while, you headed back home, feeling a bit more centered. When you entered the apartment, you heard the TV and sighed. You took off your jacket and made your way to the living room, your gaze landing on Jude was too immersed in the show he was watch to realize you'd come home.

He finally met your gaze and instantly muted the TV, the tension palpable as you walked toward him.

"Hey," you whispered as he gave you a small smile.

He tapped to the spot next to him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitated for a moment before joining him on the couch, the silence between you heavy with tension.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes filled with regret. "I've been thinking about what you said."

You nodded, your heart aching at the sight of his earnest expression. "Me too. I just... I need you to understand how hard this is for me."

Jude took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. "I know I've been incredibly fucking selfish, and I haven't been listening to you. I didn't realize how much you were sacrificing and how it was affecting you until now and... and I'm sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief. "I appreciate that, Jude. I love you, but I need to find my own way, to have something that's mine."

He nodded, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I get that. And I want to help you find that. We can work on this together, maybe you can look into things that interest you here, find something that makes you happy."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I’d like that. And maybe we can set some boundaries with the media, try to keep our private life a bit more private."

"Yeah, absolutely," Jude agreed, his eyes shining with determination. "I'll talk to my manager and see what we can do about that. Your happiness is important to me... you are important to me."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of reassurance. "Thank you, Jude. I just want us to be happy together, without all the pressure and stress."

He kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you protectively. "We will, I promise."

"I love you, a lot," Jude continued, his voice soft. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I was just angry. I don't know..." He trailed off, before pausing. "I don't know what I'd do with you, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his brown ones, and you could see the depth of his feelings for you. "I love you too, Jude," you whispered, your heart swelling with emotion.

As you cuddled together on the couch, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, you felt a sense of peace.

"How about we start fresh tomorrow?" Jude suggested, his voice gentle. "We can spend the day together, just us. No media, no distractions. Just enjoying each other's company."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief. "I'd love that. It sounds perfect."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Good. It's a date then."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[cozage]

HI COULD I REQUEST A SHANKS ZORO SAMJI REAUEST WHERE AFTER AN ARUGMENT WITH THEIR GIRLFRIEND THEY GET THE SILENT TREATMENT FROM THEM AND HOW THAT PLAYS OUT AOR HOW THEY RESOLVE IT? THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH PLS TAKE BREAKS AND DRINK WATER 🫶

A/N: I am definitely trying my best thank you! :) Apologies for the length of Zoro’s but i know that man would not apologize easily. 

Characters: f reader x Shanks, Zoro, Sanji

Cw: angst with a happy ending

Total word count: 1.9k

Silent Treatment

Shanks

Shanks didn’t get mad easily, and neither did you. But today you were both in a bad mood. And something that would’ve been a small disagreement had blossomed into a full fledged fight because of it. 

He avoided you all morning, but by mid-day, he realized that your mood wasn’t lifting. At night, he opted to take watch so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He hated fighting before bed, and decided it was better to let you both get in better moods before you talked about it again. 

The next morning he saw you walking on the deck. “Hey! Do you mind adjusting the sail to catch the northeast wind a bit better?”

You shot him a glare, but did as he asked without comment. 

“Thanks!” he called, but you didn’t respond to him. You just sat in a chair on the deck and flicked through a magazine. 

Oh boy. Now he was fully aware of just how irritated you were. He glances around on deck and doesn’t see anyone else, so he walks over to you. He walks up behind your chair and leans down to get a better view of what you’re reading. 

“Whatcha reading?” he whispers in your ear. His voice startles you, and you huff out an irritated sigh. You start to get up, but he wraps his arm around you and pins you to the seat. You squirm, but he only holds you tighter. 

“Shanks, get off.” Your voice is clipped and short with him. He presses his lips against your cheek for a long time, waiting for you to stop fighting him. You realize you’ll lose this fight no matter how long your struggle, so you calm down and still your body.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, tickling your skin with his voice. 

“I’m just frustrated with you!” You slam your magazine shut. “I know you have goals and they’re important, but I have goals too! You may be the captain, but I thought we were a team.” Your voice is starting to crack, and you hold back a sniffle as he holds you. 

He hums against your cheek, lips still placed there. After a few moments, he pulls away from you and walks around to bend down so he’s at face level with you.

“Your dreams are important,” he says, grabbing your hand. “You are important. I’m sorry I was so focused on my own wishes that I overlooked yours.”

You nod, accepting his apology, and wipe your eyes with your free hand. 

He raised your hand to his lips and gave it a few quick kisses. “I’ll do better in the future, I promise.” And you believe his words fully and completely.

Zoro

Zoro wasn’t an idiot. He knew he was in the wrong for escalating the fight so much. And he should’ve never said those things to you in the first place. But he figured as long as you both had time to cool down away from each other, then you could act like nothing happened. 

When he finally left the crow’s nest for dinner, he found you sitting between Nami and Luffy. He could tell you were still mad, so he grabbed a meal to go (which Sanji was happy to give him if it meant he wouldn’t have to see the mosshead’s face)

He didn’t realize just how mad you were until he went to your room and found it locked. Your fights had never been so bad that you’ve kicked him out of your room before. He banged on the door for several minutes, and when you finally opened it, he felt relief. Until you walked past him without a word and walked to Nami and Robin’s room. 

Zoro is so prideful. He hates apologizing, but he knows he needs to do it. He lays awake in bed all night trying to figure out what to do. He spends half the night thinking how he just needs to wait it out, and the other half wanting to go wake you up right now and force you to forgive him. 

He dozes off at some point, and in the morning he’s awoken by the soft click of the door opening. He bolts up, ready to say something, but he only finds Nami, glaring at him while she’s grabbing clothes from your drawer. “Apologize,” she hisses as she leaves the room. 

But he can’t, damn his pride. He hides out in his workout room, trying to ignore the pressing weight of your absence. 

After lunch, you walk into the crow’s nest. You don’t want to see him, but you need a few weights to work out. 

“Hey!” He’s not sure what else to say when he sees you, and it feels like a pretty lame start. But you don’t even look his way. You just grab your weights and start to leave.

He grabs your arm and you pull away from him, trying your best to ignore him. But then he blocks your path to the door, and you finally speak one word to him, against your will. “Move.”

He can feel the anger still thick in your voice. “I’m sorry,” he rushes, trying to keep you there. 

“For what?” you shoot back, glaring at him. “What are you sorry for, Zoro?”

“I-” his voice falters, not sure what to say or what to apologize for, and you roll your eyes and push him out of the way, taking your leave. 

He doesn’t go down for dinner, and he opts to sleep in the crow’s nest tonight. He figured that he got the bed last night, you could have it tonight. 

He hears a light knock on the door, and he rushes to open it, hopeful that it’s you. But Sanji stands on the other side. He’s holding the weights you took down earlier, and a plate of food. 

“You really are stupid, marimo,” he sighs, handing the weights and the food toff to the swordsman. 

“Wait, cook…” Zoro hesitates. He knows he’s going to have to swallow a lot of pride to do this one. “How do I fix it?”

Sanji scoffs, and Zoro can tell the cook is about to patronize him, but he stops himself. “You apologize, idiot.”

Zoro’s eyebrow twitches, and he struggles to remain calm. “Apologize for what?! She started it!”

“No she didn’t, you moron!” Sanji yells, kicking him in the side. “You started it when you didn’t listen to her wishes! And then you called her selfish and all sorts of other names, and THEN you kicked her out of her own room! You have plenty to apologize for, so do it!”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to bother her?!” Zoro yelled back, grabbing his swords. “I’m not a mind reader!”

“That's your problem, marimo! You can’t think for a damn second about how your words and actions might affect other people!” Sanji’s words finally start to sink in through Zoro’s thick skull, and he pauses, his hands still resting on his blades. 

“Just apologize and know what you’re apologizing for, moss for brains.” And with that, Sanji leaves Zoro alone to think about it for the night. 

He made a list. It was easier to write everything down. And it turned out that he had messed up on a lot of things. He was surprised you were still with him, when he had it all written down like that. 

He let you eat breakfast before he found you. He pulled you aside from the crew and led you up to the crows nest balcony. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for your hand.

“For what?” you shoot back, pulling your hand away from him. You see a hint of irritation twitch over his face, but he reaches into his pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, and for saying things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry I got so angry I didn’t see you as a person - a person that I love so much. I’m sorry I always leave my stuff around and that I make it easy for you to trip over stuff in our room. I’m sorry I never separate the laundry, and-” His eyes glance down to the paper now, and he keeps reading. “I’m sorry that I don’t wash the toothpaste out of the sink, and that I always take your fries even though you love them, and I’m sorry I steal the drinks Sanji makes for you, and that I interrupt your social time with Nami and Robin to make you train with me and that-”

You grab the paper from him and he stops. Your eyes scan over the paper, and it’s full of sloppy handwritten things that you’ve gotten upset with him over the past few weeks. Some of the things were silly, others were ones that had been irritating you for weeks, but the page is filled. 

Your eyes filled with tears and you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.

When you pulled away from him, he stared at you nervously. “So, uh…are we good?”

You laughed and rested your head against his chest. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Sanji

“Drinks for the ladies?” He’s holding out a platter of seltzer waters, but you ignore him. 

He notices it immediately, and he tries his best not to give an outward reaction. He knows he’s in the wrong, and he should throw himself into the sea for making you feel so upset. 

He cooks instead. And he makes a spread of your favorite treats with the freshest ingredients he has in the pantry. He spends all afternoon slaving away, and he’s extra snippy with Usopp and Luffy when they try to steal away any of it. 

When he serves it to you though, you give him no response. You barely touch the food he offers.

In a desperate attempt to win back your grace, he makes your favorite dinner entree for the crew as well. 

But you don’t show up for dinner, and he takes a plate away to search for you. He finds you sitting on the railing of the bow of the ship, and he cries out to you, startling you. 

“Y/N!” he weeps. “Please don’t jump overboard!” He holds you back, smothering you against his chest. 

“I’m not going to jump, idiot!” you yell, pulling away from him. “I just want to be alone!”

He calms down, but you see his eyes darken in shame. He holds up the plate as a peace offering. “I brought you dinner. Your favorite.”

You want to take it. You’re starving and it’s your favorite meal in the whole world. But you turn back to the sea, putting your back to his offer. “I’m not hungry.”

“But-”

“God, Sanji!” you scream, pissed off now. “You can’t just fix everything with food! Sometimes I need to hear actual words from you!”

You hear him pause for a moment, and then the soft click of his shoes against the wooden deck of the ship as he approaches you. His strong arms wrap around you and hold your stomach as he presses up against your back. 

“I’m sorry.” The smell of his cigarette smoke is comforting to you, and you breathe it in and lean back into him, finally relaxing. “I was insensitive and cruel and I should’ve never treated you like that.”

It’s the apology you’ve been craving all day. You just wanted an apology with words rather than food, and now he’s finally understood that. 

“I think I’ll take that meal now, if you don’t mind,” you hum, appeased with his apology. 

“Of course,” he said, kissing your cheek before he pulled away to grab you dinner. 

[taskmastercaps]

[ID: Six screencaps from Taskmaster. Rosie Jones says, "So excited to be on a team with Jackie. I just feel like we've got so much in common." Sitting beside her, Jack Dee tries to suppress a smile. Greg Davies asks, "Do you?" Rosie says, "We're both from a place of positivity. And we were a team made in heaven." She makes a beatific pinching gesture towards the ceiling. She puts her arm around Jack's shoulders and they both grin delightedly. End ID.]

[hemmingsleclerc]

Hi! Could you write a fic with dad!Carlos x reader, where they have twins, and they're in a family gathering, they're playing UNO with the kids, each has one twin, but then Carlos loses, reader won, and pretenting to be super offended and says reader cheated, and everybody is siding with her, including the twins, and he pretends to cry, and the kids feel bad and hug and kiss their daddy? Thank you! <3

UNO! ┃CS55

note: ugh I love dad!Carlos 😭💕 this request was soo funny, I loved it

The Sainz family gathered for a joyful family reunion, and laughter echoed through the living room. Carlos and his wife Y/N watched over their energetic twins, Adrian and Noah, as they ran around the room, their laughter mingling with their voices.

"Alright, who wants to play a game?!" Y/N asked. Carlos approached the large table in the living room with different board games and the twins approached the table excitedly to grab their places.

''UNO! Please!'' Noah shouted holding up the deck of brightly colored cards.

''Yes! I love that game!'' Adrian nodded in agreement

''Alright, UNO will be''

Carlos smiled, knowing that a game of UNO with his lively twins was always chaos. "Are you guys ready?" he asked, ruffling Adrian's hair as he sat at the table next to him.

Adrian nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with anticipation. "Yes, Dad! We'll beat Mommy, right, Noah?"

Noah nodded, his small hand clutching a handful of UNO cards. ''Of course, because I will win!''

The game began with cheers and jokes. Y/N and Carlos teamed up with one of the twins each, creating a competition. As the game progressed, laughter filled the room and the twins' infectious giggles warmed their parents' hearts.

''Come on Noah!'' Carlos said frustrated, ''Why do you always give me +4 cards?''

Noah giggled ''Sorry papá''

However, luck seemed to favor Y/N and Noah as they drew card after card, inching closer to victory. Carlos and Adrián exchanged determined looks, but despite their best efforts, their stack of cards steadily grew thanks to Y/N's strategies.

Finally, with a triumphant smile, Y/N laid down her last card, declaring herself the winner. "UNO!" she exclaimed, her eyes full of joy and amusement as she watched Carlos throw his stack of cards onto the table.

Carlos's jaw dropped in mock disbelief, his playful expression turning into an exaggerated pout. "No, c'mon! You cheated, amor! You must have! I was winning," he exclaimed, feigning offense.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully and her laughter filled the room. "Oh, come on, Carlos! You're just jealous because you lost fairly, once again I proved to be the best at this game, accept it cariño."

The room erupted in laughter as Carlos continued his charade, pretending to be deeply hurt by his defeat. "But…but…I thought we were a team, Adrian!" He said, turning to his son with feigned disappointment when he saw how he celebrated his mother's victory.

Adrian giggled, shaking his head. "Sorry, daddy! Mommy's the best at UNO!"

"No fair, Noah! You're supposed to be on my team!" Carlos exclaimed, turning to his other son, who simply grinned in response.

The rest of the family joined in, mocking Carlos affectionately as he continued his theatrics, pretending to wipe away imaginary tears while covering his face. However, the twins, sensing his father's distress, exchanged a worried look.

"Papá, you're the best in the world!" Adrian declared, throwing his arms around Carlos in a tight hug.''Please don't cry! We didn't want to make you feel bad''

Noah joined in, wrapping his little arms around Carlos's neck. "We love you, papá!"

Carlos's heart filled with warmth as he hugged his children tightly, his playful façade fading. Y/N watched everything fondly as she saw her husband along with their little children.

With a satisfied smile, Carlos leaned down to plant a kiss on the forehead of each of his twins. "I love you both more than anything in the world," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

[youonlyzingonce]

.... My Expectations of what I thought we were. Why?

..... Because that's how we always said that we were.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Landslide

Characters: Loki x reader

Summary: After a brutal mission leaves you battered and bruised, Loki’s protective side flares up as he confronts Tony for putting you at risk. Amidst the tension, Loki’s fear of losing you surfaces, and he reminds you just how much you mean to him.

Word Count: 1327 words

A/N: My wonderful and dear friend @iwillbeinmynest sent me this request an age ago. I am sorry it took me so long, but hopefully you will enjoy it.

The Quinjet hummed beneath you, an unsettling contrast to the agony throbbing through your entire body. Every breath ached, your ribs protesting with sharp stabs, and your knuckles were raw from the fight. You stared at the ceiling, forcing yourself to stay conscious as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away, leaving nothing but exhaustion and pain.

You had won. Barely. The mission had taken more out of you than expected, but you’d managed to hold your ground, even as the odds stacked up against you. It had been messy, and you’d paid for it with every punch and kick that landed. Tony’s voice crackled over the comms, congratulating you on a job well done, but you could only muster a weak grunt in response.

The jet’s landing gears extended with a metallic thud, and the familiar lights of the Avengers Compound loomed outside the small window. You exhaled shakily, preparing yourself for the walk down the ramp. It would be fine, you told yourself. Just make it to the med bay, get patched up, and then you could collapse in your room and sleep for a week.

But as soon as the ramp hissed open, you saw him. Loki stood at the base of the ramp, his face bright smile morphing into deep frown the moment he laid eyes on you. In an instant, he was there, his hands gently but urgently running over your shoulders, neck and face, his piercing gaze scanning over your bruises and cuts with a mixture of fury and concern.

“Who did this?” His voice was sharp, but you could hear the tremor beneath it. He was on edge, trying to mask his fear for you.

You winced as he tilted your chin up to inspect a particularly nasty cut near your eye. “It’s nothing, Loki. I’m fine.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “You are not fine,” he hissed, his touch a mix of tenderness and barely restrained rage. “Tell me who did this.”

Before you could even begin to form a response, Tony sauntered over from the other side of the hangar, tossing a helmet onto a nearby table. “Good work out there, kid. Mission accomplished. You’ll heal up quick, don’t worry.” He smirked, clearly satisfied with how things had gone.

Loki’s attention snapped to Tony, his gaze darkening to a storm. “This—this is your doing, Stark?” His voice was low, menacing. “You sent them into that chaos alone?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Loki. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s pump the brakes there, Reindeer Games. They volunteered for the mission, and they handled it. The kid’s tougher tougher than they look. And we were a team out there.”

“They should not have had to ‘handle’ anything that will result in- in… THIS!” Loki’s voice thundered through the hangar, startling some of the nearby staff. He took a step towards Tony, his whole frame vibrating with anger. “You were in charge. You let this happen.”

You reached out to grip Loki’s arm, but the movement pulled painfully at your side. “Loki, it wasn’t his fault. I—”

“I don’t want excuses,” Loki interrupted, his gaze boring into Tony with an intensity that made even the billionaire genius seem momentarily at a loss for words. “You’ve got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love. You—”

“We’re a team,” Tony cut in, his tone growing more serious. “We all take hits sometimes. You know that.”

“Not like this.” Loki’s voice was a low growl now, almost feral. “They—” He stopped himself, his expression twisting with a pain that seemed to echo in your own chest. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “They’re important… to me.” he said, more quietly now, but no less fiercely.

Tony’s expression softened slightly. He gave a small nod toward you. “Then make sure they’re okay, okay? I’m not the enemy here.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the hangar echoing with an awkward silence.

Loki watched him go, his fists still clenched at his sides. You reached up again, this time with more resolve, and tugged on his sleeve. “Loki. It’s over. I’m fine. Really.”

But he wasn’t listening. Not fully. His hands moved back to your face, his fingers lightly brushing over your cheek, and then slid down to your arm where a nasty bruise was forming. “You need to lie down,” he said, almost to himself, as if trying to control the frantic pace of his thoughts. “The healers should look at you immediately. That bruise—”

“I’ve had worse,” you murmured, offering him a small, strained smile. “Come on. Let’s just get inside.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting your weight as you walked. Each step jarred your aching limbs, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest at the way his touch lingered, his fingers gently pressing into your side as if reassuring himself that you were still there, still alive.

As you reached the med bay, you slumped onto one of the beds, stifling a groan as your ribs protested the movement. Loki hovered over you, not willing to take a step back until the medical staff came to start their assessment.

He paced as they worked, restless and anxious. Every time you winced or drew a sharp breath, his eyes darted back to you, narrowing with an unreadable emotion. When the healers finally stepped away, having done all they could for the moment, he was at your side again, taking your hand in his and pressing it to his chest.

“You shouldn’t scare me like that,” he whispered, his voice thick with something that bordered on desperation.

You squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Loki. I just—” You hesitated, glancing at him through tired eyes. “I just did what I had to do.”

“That’s what frightens me,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You always do what you think is right, even when it means risking your life. I’ve seen landslides do less damage than you.”

A small laugh escaped you at that, and you leaned your head back against the pillow, exhaustion finally pulling you under. “You’re so dramatic.”

But his expression remained serious, his gaze fixed on you as if committing every bruise and scrape to memory. “It’s not drama,” he murmured. “It’s truth. You mean more to me than you can possibly understand. And seeing you like this… it undoes me.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, soothing some of the ache that still lingered in your bones. You met his gaze, saw the honesty there—the raw, unguarded emotion that he rarely showed anyone.

“You’ve got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love,” you repeated his earlier words softly. “And that goes for both of us.”

He bent down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “Indeed, it does,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you again. “But I would ask you, dearest, to not give me so much practice.”

You smiled faintly, your eyelids growing heavy. “I’ll do my best.”

As you drifted into sleep, you felt his hand still wrapped around yours, his thumb brushing gentle circles on your skin. And though you were battered and bruised, you felt a comfort that ran deeper than any healing spell or serum—a reassurance in knowing that, no matter how high the stakes, you would always have him to catch you when the ground shifted beneath your feet.

Loki watched you for a long time, his heart swelling with both relief and fear. He had come too close to losing you today. But as he looked at your peaceful expression, he felt a steely resolve harden within him.

Whatever it took, whatever battles lay ahead, he would keep you safe. He would not let you fall again.

[slickfordain]

POOKS I HAVE AN IDEA

Ahem...yandere aiden, logan, tyler n ash or whoever u want w WEAK READER N YK THEY R PRETTY OVERPROTECTIVD OF HER WHY? bc she is fragile af-- always manage to get herself injured in the most dunb ways possible n how tf is she gonna manage to survive in this realm? She needs them ‼️‼️

𝕭𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 // School Bus Graveyard

TW: Yandere themed, NO NSFW, gore/injuries mentioned, fragile!female!reader who is paranoid and anxious, AU explanation-wise writing? It’s kind of short but it’s like an explanation what my SBG x reader AU is;;u ;

You don’t know how you even ended up here in this situation…. Restless sleep, insomnia, hallucinations,— Ah… Who am I kidding? You knew exactly what was happening and it all started way back when you were ordered to tutor around the new students. Being the one who wasn’t new, it was hard to keep a conversation with them because….. One would keep her distance away, one would be thrilled to nag the girl who distanced away, the twins didn’t give a damn, and… Ben and Logan were probably the only ones who ever offered to listen to you.

However despite those hours you eventually got to bond with them, all because of… Well…. You tripping down the stairs all of the sudden until Ashlyn caught you. And that’s where the spark happened… That’s what clicked in Ashlyn’s mind to suddenly want to protect you, with you in her arms looking hopeless and defenseless. The group claimed you as their pink princess but, you didn’t thought much of it….

And why they even bother to call you that, you still felt loved at least by your friends.

But… Every time you walk home after hanging out with them, especially on that trip, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The thought of that hideous creature behind Ashlyn…. You haven’t left your house since then, and gave excuses to your teacher even for him to understand.

You’ve never felt anything weird like this before… The ones you are looking to avoid were mostly creepy men, or just in general a group of people who you think could possibly bully you, or take advantage.

So why? Why did you suddenly have to endure horror?

���[NAME]!!!❞

You’ve impaled yourself on accident by trying to get away from a monster, you’ve tripped and fallen into a dark void where you died by the fall, you even somehow died by trying to save Tyler, but you ended up dying anyways! It was getting so… So much harder…

You’ve gotten injured. Over, and over, and over again. It’s pissing Ashlyn, Aiden, Tyler— everyone off. It was as if they saw life flash before their eyes…. And while you’re alive in the real world, with no scratches or injuries, they couldn’t afford to lose you again. To make you hopeless, to make you unable to walk.

It was another dream, another dream where suddenly you’re locked in the bird cage Aiden had somehow decided to buy… You stared confused, yearning for an explanation…. But the boys and girls wouldn’t give you any.

❝Guys..? Please… I thought we were a team..❞

❝Princess… We are! We swear…! Please don’t take it badly! We’re doing this for your own good…❞

You couldn’t really argue with them. You’re just tired and you have been unable to get proper sleep… You suppose it’s okay but… It wasn’t getting better as you thought it would. Despite dreams having you only locked up every now and then, in the morning in reality- you are FOLLOWED constantly by either the twins, Ashlyn, Aiden, or Ben… Logan? Probably cameras in your house (not your bedroom or bathroom) to ensure you made it home safely.

It’s getting out of hand. It’s going bizarre, but are you doing something about it? NO! Their parents scares you! You don’t want to break your friendship either… You knew how easily broken they’d be… And… You don’t want to handle or deal with Aiden’s family, nor do you wanna karate with Ashlyn’s mother. You can’t even fight!

So the only thing you could do was just… Accept it as it is. And let it be… Although you probably aren’t aware that the parents adores you, finding you so sweet and matchable for their little children. You don’t pay attention to that, all you could focus on were your eyebags and your injured body…. There wasn’t anything, reality-wise, but God it stung that you could barely make it through school. Even though I kind of said you give excuses…. You still had to do exams for at least collage….

Don’t take them wrong, they’d love for you to stay safe and to not join the horror attraction… But also, after the reveal when the parents could also see the demonic creatures, it instantly clicks that you weren’t safe. Nor were your parents. (Don’t give a damn about your parents, they don’t like them)

They need you. They constantly need you. They can’t have you out of your cage, but they can’t have you out of the dreams as well…. Which considers leading it to having you as some sort of a motivation. They need you to support them for everything they do.

So when the parents are going into that situation, it’s best to believe they NEED you with them so nobody in reality can kidnap you while they’re asleep…. Fighting off monsters, you know?

And the shady guys? Do not worry a single thing about them at all.

I mean, what more could you possibly do than to be stuck in your own bedroom or classroom? You’re going nowhere near the stores or arcade. Not after that Logan incident, that is….

[sapphossparenoterbook]

Domesticity

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Nobody could tell Rio Vidal that the boy wasn’t hers. Technically, of course, he wasn’t, and she knew that deep down, but she often chose to ignore it. She had raised that boy, looked after him, and his mother, and she cared about him so much that anyone who thought otherwise would have to be blind. 

Sure, his green eyes have nothing to do with her, and he gets his black hair from his mother, but his snarky threats of strangely gruesome violence, and his hatred for vegetables was definitely, 100% from her. So who cares if he shares little to no physical attributes with her? Or if half of his DNA is from some random man that Agatha met one night? She staked her claim over him, and nobody, especially not some deadbeat sleaze bag, would ever dare to challenge Death. 

Nicky would spend most of his days with his mama, and when Rio would come home from her frequently long ‘work trips’, he would cling to her side like glue, and they’d play all sorts of silly games that he had thought up–he’d always been a creative boy. He’d call her mamí,  and she’d grin happily and tell him he was getting so good at his Spanish, despite the fact that he was butchering his pronunciations of any other word so bad that it would hardly be intelligible. But see! If he wasn’t hers, then why does he know her first language, and why does he refer to her as his mother? 

Right now, they sit at the dining table of their small cottage, a few miles deep into a wood so that none of the local bigoted villagers could find them, and as Agatha turns her back on them both, Rio makes disgusted faces at the sight of the vegetables left on her and the boy’s plates. His laughter fills the house, little giggling that he’s trying to suppress, and no matter how much Agatha purses her lips at them, they all know that she is trying not to laugh too. 

“C’mon now, Nicholas” Agatha’s smooth, low voice breaks through the giggling in the room, “You have to eat your vegetables–your mother is being bad, be better than your mother!”

Nicky instantly stops giggling, a pout on his face oh so similar to the purple witches' own. “But Mama! You always say that to be bad is to be better than everyone else! You say to ignore people that say bad is wrong!” 

Rio can’t stop the loud laugh at her boy’s quick wit. How is her darling going to get out of this one?

“Nicholas. How do you expect to grow up and become a strong witch, if you refuse to eat your vegetables, hmm?” Agatha says, her face morphing into that look that she always gives Nicky to tell him that he’s in the wrong, that he needs to listen to his mother. “And besides, your mother will not be getting up from the table until she eats her vegetables, as well.” Agatha turns back around again, looking through a window out into the forest as she washes some dishes. “So if you both want to spend all night making faces and giggling at each other behind my back, then be my guest! But you won’t be getting up until your plates are empty” 

It’s Rio’s turn to pout now, to protest against this cruelly unfair decision from her lover. “Pero cariña! I don’t need to eat!Lt alone eat vegetables of all things–!” Rio quickly starts whining, but stops and gasps loudly as she spots Nicky mocking her from where he thinks she cannot see, as he is mostly body blocked by his mother right now.

“The betrayal!” She gasps, her hand on her chest. “How dare you do this to me, boy! We were a team!” She purposefully adds to the dramatics, wanting to hear his mischievous little giggle again, and he’s quickly wolfing down his veggies and running off out of the room. Rio gets up to go after him, not wanting the boy to just get away– but Agatha stops her at the door. 

“Ah, ah ah. Back in your seat, missy.”

“But Agatha– he’s getting away! And I’m an immortal being, you can’t scold me like a child!” Rio says, pouting again and trying to get past her beautiful wife, who does nothing except lift an eyebrow at her questioningly. 

“Our seven year old son just ate his vegetables, and you won’t?”

Rio opens her mouth to argue back, but no excuse comes to her mind, and she embarrassingly trudges back to the dining table, and to the plate of disgusting squares of green and orange on her plate. At least the carrots were nice, they’re a little bit sweet. But everything else? Hell on Earth, especially because it’s brussel sprout season. 

“The great Lady Death, subdued by a measly piece of broccoli.” Agatha mockingly mumbles from behind her, bending low to whisper the mocking words in her ear. “Imagine if your enemies could see you now. So easily defeated by the thought of having to eat healthy!” 

Rio turns, a grimace on her face as she forces down a mouthful of broccoli. “Maybe it’s just your cooking?” She says, her words slightly muffled through the food. 

“Bad manners, too? Insulting the chef and talking with your mouth full–maybe you are a bad example for my child.” She says in a mockingly sweet tone, watching as Rio’s eyes flash with the challenge. 

“Oh yeah? Well who taught him to tie his own shoelaces, huh? Who taught him to fish? To avoid the village folk when he goes to play with the other boys from his school?” 

Agatha’s mocking smirk widens into a great, wide smile. The type that makes it look like her face will crack in half with pure joy, the type that she had been told many times growing up to stifle, the one that her mother had told her makes her look ugly and threatening. 

To Rio, it’s the greatest thing on Earth besides Nicky’s laugh, and Rio is suddenly aware of the face that Agatha had riled her up just to hear her fight back the challenge towards her motherhood. 

“Dear, you have got to stop doing that… you know it makes me angry.” Rio mumbles, a slightly exasperated tone. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t eat your vegetables! And also, you’ve never so passionately defended anything quite like you do whenever anyone challenges you, it’ll never get old.” 

Rio’s lips purse, and to prove a point, she shoves a fork full of cabbage down her throat, focusing on not grimacing. “Yes I have! I used to fight for you like that all of the time–remember?” She says, before pausing to swallow. “Goddamn it, can’t step a foot into that village now because of what I did last time, and you don’t even remember–”

“Oh, blah blah blah! So I forgot that you like to argue with people on the streets about me! Do you want a medal, baby? You know I meant besides me, that is sort of always implied.”

Rio finishes the last vegetable on her plate–a damned sprout, of course. Disgusting. Before she can reply to Agatha, she gets up, kissing the woman on the cheek. 

“Where is that rascal? He’s going to pay for betraying me…” Rio says as she practically charges out of the room and around the house, checking all of the usual hiding spots. If Agatha didn’t know Rio, she’d be worried, but of course, she knows that Rio would never do their son any real harm. Rio would ever hurt the little boy. 

A few years later, when Nicholas is eleven, refuses to be referred to as ‘Nicky’, and is much more independent than he was, Agatha dives in again on her quest for powerful dark magic. Rio can admit, she loves seeing her wife so impassioned, but at the same time, she doesn’t like the idea of Nicky being in the house alone, while his mother is upstairs cooking up some dark rituals he could accidentally get involved in. So she stays home much more often, and keeps Nicky–Nicholas, company. 

Agatha’s fingers once again become stained black, after years of them being the pure, natural colour due to her lack of dark magic use. 

The amount of times Rio has to drag her lover to bed, wrenching her away from a spellbook, is uncountable. It happens almost every night between Nicholas’ birthday and Easter. 

Eventually, Agatha gets her hands on a copy of the Darkhold. Rio can no longer hear her heartbeat from wherever she is in the world, doing her duties, as Agatha is no longer less powerful to her. They’re now equals, and Rio misses her lover's heartbeat soothing her to sleep across continents when she is away, collecting souls. Of course, Rio would always love Agatha. Would always follow her. But how could she not? Rio is Death, she walks the path of life, collecting souls. Agatha often paves that road, killing so many, being so surrounded by death and decay. That is how they met, after all, Rio chased her through all 13 British colonies those first few years, back in the 1690’s. 

That’s not to say that their home life was strained, of course it wasn’t! Realistically, Rio was using Agatha’s increased magic usage as an excuse to be able to stay home. She’d never admit it, but she was always slightly insecure of how often she would have to go away when Nicholas was younger. She always had the smallest fear that she would get back one day, and find Agatha with another woman, with Nicky calling her ‘mother’, and so she was glad to stay. 

Glad to litter her lover's flesh with marks. Lovebites, the crescent shaped cuts from her nails digging in to her supple flesh when Agatha made her feel a little too good, gentle bite marks from when Agatha would get snarky when they laid in bed together, doing nithing but enjoy the other’s company. 

Suddenly, everything changed. The happiness was replaced with a tension, and Agatha and Rio would often fight. Badly. 

Rio had gone off to collect a family that had recently died of Scarlet Fever. They lived not too far away, closer to the village as them, but only about a five minute jog away. 

Rio’s heart had dropped to her gut when she saw the boy who Nicholas had walked to school with just yesterday, dead in his mothers arms. He seemed to have the worst of the illness, being in much later stages as the rest of his family who must have caught it off of him.

As soon as Rio gets home, she searches Nicholas’ hands, arms, feet, legs and chest for any signs of a rash. 

She finds it on the back of his thigh. 

This is the source of Agatha and Rio’s arguments. At first, Agatha is in denial and refuses to believe what Rio sees as the truth. She tells her to be calm, and rational. “We’ll try some basic potions before we jump to conclusions!”  She had said, “There’s no need in stressing him or ourselves out, if it turns out to be nothing in the end”. 

Of course, they tried every goddamn potion in any of their spell books that looked like it might work. They didn’t. 

Then Agatha tried actual spells, hoping it would be something even more basic like poison ivy, and that a spell could draw out any toxins. It didn’t work. 

The boy just got sicker and sicker. It only took two and a half days before Agatha got antsy. Their boy was now bedridden. He couldn’t walk and was close to death. They could both see it, but Rio could also feel it. Her son’s soul is preparing to remove itself from his body. Preparing to leave. 

Rio can’t hide the ache in her chest. Her look of yearning and pure sorrow as she sits by his bedside, and he reverts to his childlike desperation once again. 

“Mamí… please? It hurts here…” He would mumble to her, pointing at his throat and stomach, just like he had done as a child when he had nothing but a weak stomach ache, or a headache that wouldn’t go away.  

Those times, she could use her magic to fix him right up. But she’d tried that, and it didn’t work this time. All it did was make his symptoms easier to handle, but she could still feel as his soul disconnected with his body, with his mind. 

Her hands would shake profusely in the time it would take for her to reach out and rake her hand through his hair, a sign that she could barely keep it together. 

The day he died, she was dragged away for some old man across America, he had lived a full life, and had loving grandchildren around his deathbed as he faded away. His name was also Nicholas.

When she had returned, Agatha was found next to their front door, crumpled to the floor and sobbing–no, wailing, at the loss of their boy. 

Rio’s cold body ran colder, and she stayed with her wife until she was lucid enough to walk up the stairs with her, into their son’s room, so that they could collect him together. 

Rio can tell instantly that this was not a natural death. He smells like burnt hair, like magic gone wrong, and Rio’s heart wrenches in her chest at the realisation that her wife had done this, that he might still be alive right now, if it wasn’t for Agatha. 

She can’t look at her. Her wife, the love of her life… Had killed their son. By accident or out of mercy, Rio can not tell. But as she scoops up Nicky's body, and walks out of the house with him, she does not look Agatha in the eye. 

Holding down her sobs and wails, she walks down the path to where she knows she can leave his soul and help him through to the afterlife. A part of her yearns for him to be in purgatory–a soul that can not leave, so that he can haunt her.  At least he would still be there. Eventually, she tricks her mind into thinking that she is just carrying him to bed, like she used to when he was just five. 

‘He’s all tuckered out from a long day with his friends’ She would think to herself. Despite her mind screaming at her to refuse to take him. To cry, to scream, to do anything except this. 

But all mortals must die, and she knew that this would happen one day. Of course she had hoped that he would live to go to 400, a strong magic user like Agatha, but he may not even have any magical tendencies, they didn’t know who his father was, after all.

’He’s just sleeping, he’s just sleeping, he’s just sleeping’ she chants to herself, despite his body being unnaturally cold.

’He’s tired, he had a busy day. He’s not gone.’ She mumbles to herself, despite the realisation setting in that her life will most likely never be the same again. 

Her son is dead, by the hands of her lover, and she cannot look her in the eye. She cannot return there, to that house that holds so many happy memories. If she does, he will haunt her there, she will be constantly tormented by the loss of her son. 

She knows Agatha had most likely already fled their home. She cannot follow, as she cannot hear her heartbeat. Agatha knows this. 

Oh well. It’s not like Rio would follow her now. Not after this. Not for another few hundred years–if Agatha makes it that long. Only the most powerful witches ever do.

[justme315]

New family 1/?

Next part:

! Warning !

swearing, angst, fear, step-family, g/t family, abuse, mention of abusive giants, gigantophobia, mention of the character being religious, sickness

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

I was fucked.

I'm sorry for using that kinda language but I really was. You see, my whole life has been destroyed by thoese damn giants.

Sorry, I don't think I introduced myself yet, I'm Zack.

Me and my mom were always a team. After my dad has passed away when i was 6 she was the only person important to me. It was basically us two against the whole world.

Something that might also be important for you to understand my story is the fact that we live in a world full of humans (like my and my mom) and giants. Giants are.. humanoid 60-ish feet tall creatures. Easily to say - their dangerous. The government rightfully understood the danger and the fear of us humans and created 'human-only' zones, cities, countries even. There were also a few 'giant-only' zones, but I'm not really sure why. It's not like the giants would fear us. Most of the places thoese enourmous beasts live are simply 'mixed-zones', places where both humans and giants can live. Thank God that me and my mom always lived in a 'human-only' zone. I was always skeptical and yeah, terrified of giants.

My mom was different though. Maybe she was just dumb (sorry for saying that mama) but she just couldn't sense danger. She worked in a company that required her to sometimes travel to 'mixed-zones' or 'mixed-cities'. I was always opposed to that but she.. enjoyed it. She even said that she made some giant "friends". I never believed in their honesty though.

But what changed my life once and for all, had happened when I was just 16. Well, going on 17 already, but yeah, still 16.

I never ever once questioned my mom's romantic life after my dad has passed away. She just.. never acted like she wanted to start a new relationship. And I was very okay with that.

But one unfortunate day, just after she came home from one of her business trips she told me that she has got a boyfriend.

That was weried to know, I mean c'mon, picturing your mom having a crush, dating, falling in love etc. is just.. weried and kinda disgusting if you ask me.

Of course, I questioned her and soon I reaveled her secret.

"Zack, I have been dating him for a little over a year. I was just scared of how you might react. But now, I must tell you since.. he proposed."

That felt like I was stabbed straight into the heart. How could she have kept having a boyfriend a secret from me for so long? Why would she? Being lied to by her felt horrible. I thought we were a team - we always told echother everything. But I guess I was wrong.

Really soon I found out that my mom's boyfriends (and now fiances) name is Andrew, that he was just slightly older than her and had two sons about my age, he was also a widower, and according to my mom, we had much in common.

I really couldn't understand why my mom would keep her boyfriend a secret. Untill she revealed she wanted for us to move in with him and his sons. I mean, she had a lot of planing to do, as she was soon to get married again, so that was kinda understandable. I wasn't opposed to moving into a new home, but changed my mind really quickly when my mom reaveled that our new home would be in a mixed-city. I mean, I was never even in that kind of a city, never even seen a giant in real life and was hella terrified of them! She should've understood me. Before she 'fell in love' she always has.

I asked her a milion times if Andrew and his sons can't just move in with us but she always found some excuse. Once, our house was too small, then his older son didn't want to switch universities, another time Andrew was scared of loosing the job. It was always a stupid excuse. Untill she finally reaveled the truth.

You see, Andrew, my mom's husband-to-be was a giant. And so were his sons.

To say that I was mad and scared was an understatement. I felt lied to. I felt like I was being dragged into something I didn't want to be a part of. I, understandably, questioned the honesty of my moms relationship, which angered her the most. I was angry with my mom for over two weeks after finding out about the size of my soon to be step-family and barely spoke with her. I couldn't be away from her for long though and forgave her, but in my heart I still had plenty of doubts.

My friends didn't help ease my fear. I told my best buddies at school and the stories they have told me only made me more afraid and suspicious of the said Andrew and all giants at that point.

"Don't y'all remember Joseph from middle school? He moved to a mixed-city with his parents. He was stepped on by a giant and died!"

"That's nothing compered to what happened to Amy. A quick death is better than being tortured. She is my cousin. She moved to a mixed-zone because she wanted to go to a better collage. One of her giant male classmates kidnaped her and done horrifying things to her. Once she was found she had missing limbs, many scars.. She was mentally, physically and sexually abused by him for months, untill they found the giant. And he barely got any jail time for that! She's still in mental health hospital!"

"My dads best friend Thomas was freaking eaten alive!"

Yeah, I think 3 stories is enough to give you the idea of how freaking terrified I was of the said 'step-family'. Some might say I am a specist (a person that discriminates based on the species (giant and human)) but I wouldn't agree. I don't really think that a human can be a specist becouse we are in the more vaunurable position. Also, I don't hate giants becouse of their size. I hate and fear them because of how brutal and cruel they are towards humans. Maybe a giantophobe would be a more appropriate term for me.

That day was the worst day in my entire life. And it's really hard to beat the day my dad had passed away.

We sold the house. We were at the airport. All ready to go to a mixed-city, over the wall that the government made.

Mom was all smiley and happy, her nose never leaving her phone.

"Andrew texted me that he and his boys are at their side of the barrier already, waiting for us. They can't wait to meet you!"

Right, didn't I mention that they all knew echother, but me?

"I just can't wait to show you the city and our new home!"

I was standing there quiet. No matter how many times I told my mom that i don't agree with her choice of dating a giant or for the fact that I didn't want to move away into a mixed-city she would always say that I will change my mind once I overcome my fear. Hell, I would.

I held my bag closely, trying to hold onto whatever I have not to lose my composure. I was terrified and angry, sure, but showing thoese giants from the start that they have some power over me, even though it was obvious, wasn't something I would do. At last, if I could hide my emotions.

Just a few minutes before our flight, a flight in the opposite direction landed. I saw all those humans, coming back from the mixed-city, most of them seem okay. That made me confused and curious. Would it really be all that bad?

Untill I saw a girl, probably my age, on a wheelchair. I mean, there is nothing wrong with disabled people, don't get me wrong, but she was crying so she easily got everyone's attention. A woman run up to her.

"Mom!" The girl sobbed, opening her arms to hug her mother. The woman tried calming the girl down but she just kept crying and screaming "It was just supposed to be a student exchange program!! This scary giant crushed my legs!"

The girls voice echoed in my head. It was different to hear stories of distant people, but to see someone hurt by thoese monsters in front of my own eyes was completely different.

Even my mom lowered her phone and looked at the girl with pity in her eyes. I prayed to the Lord to open her eyes and return home safely with me.

"Poor girl" she signed "That must have been a.. horrible accident".

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Accident?" I looked at my mom angrily, finally letting my emotions out "A giant crushed her legs".

"Honey, I'm sure they didn't mean to.." she looked at me, somewhat shocked at my defensiveness. I shouldn't have expected her to understand. She just simply couldn't sense danger. And that could get both of us killed.

"Her legs were crushed by a giant, mom!" I raised my voice, even so slightly as I couldn't believe how blinded she was by her feelings.

"Zack, calm yourself down" she looked at me more strictly now, as I was getting other peoples attention. I couldn't bare the thought of how stupid this all was. I just wanted to be home. Or anywhere at that point. Anywhere but in a spece where giants were allowed.

"You-" I began to speak.

"The flight 16-399Bhc** is preparing to take off. We ask all the passengers to board the plane within 5 minutes. Thank you and have a good flight" said a voice from the speaker.

"That's our flight!" My mom cheered up and grabbed my arm, pulling me as she ran to the plane.

She was so excited it made me feel like I was gonna puke.

Don't get me wrong, I always loved planes but this time I felt uneasy. My whole body was shaking ever so slightly, I felt like I was about to puke, I swear I heard my heart pumping blood, my head was spinning..

That can easily be called my worst ever flight.

After we landed I needed a good 15 minutes in the bathroom to regain my composure.

"Honey, are you alright?" I heard my mom knocking "Are you sick?"

"I'm fine mama, I'll be okay" I mumbled, though I didn't feel like I was going to be okay for at last next few hours. I was also convinced my life was about to end so why bother worrying my mom. But before I cross the barrier of the airport, I didn't have to see or interact with any giants. Maybe me feeling sick was actually a gift from God to give me more time to get ready for what was about to come? As I was almost ready to go I hear my mom speaking:

"Honey, are you sure? I texted Andrew and he and Ethan are worried sick. They can drive us to a hospital"

And then I got sick again at the mention of the giants.

Oh, you might not know who is who. Andrew is my moms 45 year old husband-to-be, but I'm sure I have spoke about him already. Ethan is his older son, he was 21 back then. His younger son - Ryan - was 17.

After, what appeared to me as a minute and to my mom as an hour I finally could exit the bathroom.

My mom rushed me, saying that the boys have been waiting for us long enough. I was feeling less and less okay. I couldn't keep my emotionless demeanor. My eyes felt heavy, my heartbeat fasten as well as my breathing, my legs were shaky and I was not able to say even one word.

As I saw the enourmous glass wall behind which were a ton of giants, I felt like I was going to faint.

Or simply turn around and run.

My mom stopped in her trucks and looked at her phone. After maybe three seconds of reading what I supposed was a message form Andrew she looked into the direction of 3 giant men waiting and her eyes started to freaking sparkle and her smile grew.

She then looked at me and pointed in the direction of thoese giants, who weren't looking at us, thank God.

"That's Andrew! And Ethan and Ryan!" She said with an excited expression.

Andrew was surprisingly the shortest of the group. He had brown hair that were turning grey, a short beard, thick glasses, a blue sweater and more elegant pants. He was overall a handsome middle-aged dude, if it wasn't for the fact he was freaking enormous.

Ethan was talking with him. He had fluffy brown hair and was slightly taller than his dad. He had a few freckles and dimples on his cheeks, his smile was truthfully welcoming. His white hoodie also looked very comfy.

The tallest one was the youngest - Ryan. He had black, short hair, a pierced ear and stylist clothes. If he would have been a human, he looked like one of the popular kids that you always look up to. I really liked the belt he had, same with the rings on his fingers.

All three giants had the same eye color - hazel.

My mom grabbed me again and pulled me into the direction of the glass wall that was the last thing keeping me outside of the reach of giants. She looked so happy to see them that it was hard to recognize her. She only ever smiled at me like that before.

Soon enough, we were close to the exit of my comfort zone. My fear only grew as we were closer to the giants. It was still probably about 20 feet between us and the door when Andrews eyes rested on us. I felt the enourmous gaze and felt like I was stung. Soon both his sons eyes locked on me and my mom. She realized quickly and slowed down with the running. She then waved at them. Andrew and Ethan waved back. Ryan stood there, looking maybe a little conflicted but surely also kinda annoyed.

At that point I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. My heart ached. As well did my head. My legs were shaky. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath correctly.

If you think you're not socially awkward, three giants looking down at you with their enourmous eyes, almost scanning you as if you were an insect would change your mind right away. And if you are socially awkward like me? Well, you would feel as if you were just about to die.

My mom rushed me again, ready to exit the safe space, that only allowed humans. I walked behind her, but I wasn't as excited or as fast. Partly, becouse I wanted to be out of the giants reach for as long as I could and partly becouse I was feeling worse and worse.

To be honest, I don't know what was making me feel bad. Maybe it was all the emotion, fear, anger and all, maybe it was my mental health killing me and shouting at me that danger was close, maybe it was the horrible flight, maybe it was my body being sick. I don't know.

What I do know is, each step I took, the more powerless I felt. My legs felt to weak to hold my bodyweight.

My mom was already by the exit door when she turned around to rush me again. I was maybe 7 feet behind her, still surrounded by the enourmous gazes of those three giants, two of which were smiling. Their smiles made me sick in my stomache, but Ryan who was the only one not smiling made me feel ever worse somehow.

I totally expected my mom to yell at me to hurry up, based on how excited she seem but she just stared at me for a secound with wide worried eyes and then returned to me.

"Are you okay honey? You don't seem too good"

I wanted to answer her but it came out as a soft yelp. I thought I was going to puke again.

Faces of the giants became more serious and worried. I didn't like that expression either, to be honest.

I looked back at mom as she reached out to me and raised her hand to my shoulder for comfort probably.

"Are you scared Zack? Is that it? Because if it is, I assure you, they won't hurt us. Ever." She spoke in a soft, quiet voice. Her expression didn't show anger but she looked more understanding than any other moment of the past few weeks. She spoke with such confidence I could have believed her.

Well, I maybe even would have if I didn't faint.

Because just a moment after she spoke my vision went black and my body felt weak. The last think I remember before fainting were thoese scary gazes and my mom yelling:

"Zack!"

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

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the 1st part!

[theocddiaries]

Wade: Sweetheart, what did I tell you? When we get caught, we admit it so they leave us alone, and we move on to something else. Ellie: But I didn't cheat off him! Classmate: Yes, you did! Logan: Aw, Christ, another kid down the drain… I am so sorry. This kind of thing never happened when I was watching the kids. Wade: Wait, so now this is my fault? You're the one who left the family. Logan: I had to work after you lost your job. Wade: Oh, wow, well, happy anniversary to you, too. Not that you care about our anniversary. You forgot it. And I got you a beautiful ashtray made out of crystal. That's practically diamonds. Teacher: If we could bring the discussion back to your daughter's cheating on a test. Logan: You should be thanking me. I got a job and kept this family fed when you weren't pulling your weight. Wade: I'm pulling my weight now! I bust my ass six nights a week, feeling every bump in the goddamn road because I provide a valuable service! I make people happy! Logan: Well, you're not making me happy. I never see you. You're not my husband, you're my roommate. You get home when I'm leaving. You leave when I get home. You spend more time in that stupid truck than you do with me! Wade: Well, at least the truck doesn't judge me. You should be glad I called Dopinder to get that job, because now I can-- Logan: Wait! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You told me you got that job from the Employment Office. Wade: …I never said that. I said I went down there. Logan: You said you got it from there! Wade: All right, I lied! I fucking lied! Is that what you want to hear? Logan: No! Nobody wants to hear that! Wade: But I didn't take a handout! And I'm bringing money in! Logan: You took money from me! Wade: Why the fuck are you hiding money from me anyways? I thought we were a team! Logan: I had to hide it so you wouldn't blow it on another fucking TV! Wade: Oh! Oh-ho-ho-oh! You're gonna throw the TV in my face? 'Cause I didn't hear you complaining when you were watching the parade. [Mocks Logan's voice]: "Ooh, Wade! Look at the begonias!" Logan: You stole from me! And because of that, I had to pawn that locket you gave to get my invention made! Wade: Wait. You hocked our locket for your little salad thing?! And you're busting my chops about how I got my job? Logan: You know what? Just go! Never come home, for all I care! Be with your precious truck! Classmate: Stop it! Stop yelling! Okay, okay, I cheated! I cheated off Ellie! She's the genius! I hate school! I'm the only one in my family who doesn't like books! I want to ride motocross! They will call me Mr. Moto… Cross! [Sobbing]: Just let me go home! Everyone: … Wade: Well, that solves it. Knew my little baby wouldn't cheat. Logan: Ugh… Ellie: Now can I join computer club?

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Broken Circuits

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader , Oscar Piatri x Fem!reader, Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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The paddock was alive with the familiar buzz of anticipation as mechanics made last-minute adjustments and engineers hunched over their laptops, analyzing data. It was a scene I had grown accustomed to, yet today, the excitement felt like a distant echo. Logan had been struggling all season, and with each race, his frustration had grown.

Standing by the Williams garage, I watched as Logan stepped out of the car after qualifying. His face was a mask of disappointment, and I knew from the slump of his shoulders that he had once again qualified last. My heart ached for him. He had worked so hard, dedicated every ounce of his energy to this sport he loved, and yet, the results just weren't coming.

"Hey," I said softly as he approached. "You'll get them next time. I believe in you."

He didn't respond, just walked past me with a curt nod. I followed him, trying to offer some comfort. "Logan, please talk to me."

He spun around, eyes flashing with anger. "What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I'm fine? That it's okay? Because it's not! I'm sick of losing!"

I took a step back, shocked by the intensity of his outburst. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. We'll get through this together."

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "You don't get it, do you? I don't need you to tell me it'll be okay. I need results. I need to stop being a joke on this grid."

"You're not a joke," I insisted, reaching out to touch his arm. He pulled away, the hurt in his eyes cutting me to the core.

"Just leave me alone, Y/N. I can't deal with this right now," he snapped.

I felt a lump form in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. "Logan, please don't shut me out. I love you, and I want to help."

"Help? How can you help?" His voice was rising, drawing the attention of a few team members nearby. "You can't make me faster. You can't change anything. Just stop trying to fix this!"

His words hit me like a physical blow, and I felt my vision blur as tears finally spilled over. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I just want to be here for you."

Logan's face softened for a moment, but then the anger returned. "You know what? Maybe you're the problem. Every time you're here, I don't get good results. Maybe you're bad luck."

The words hung in the air, heavy and painful. I couldn't believe he had just said that. "Logan, you don't mean that."

"Maybe I do," he said coldly. "Maybe I regret ever giving you a chance. Maybe I hate you. Maybe we should just break up."

I stood there, stunned, as he walked away. My heart shattered into pieces, the pain of his rejection overwhelming. I turned and walked away, the tears streaming down my face. I found a quiet corner near the back of the paddock, sinking to the ground and hugging my knees to my chest. The sounds of the busy racetrack faded into the background as I let myself cry, the hurt and confusion washing over me.

"Y/N?" a familiar voice called softly. I looked up to see Oscar standing there, his expression filled with concern.

"Oscar," I managed to say through my tears. "He said... he said he regrets ever giving me a chance. He said he hates me and... he broke up with me."

Oscar knelt beside me, pulling me into a comforting hug. "He doesn't mean it, Y/N. Logan's just frustrated. He's under so much pressure, and he's taking it out on the person he cares about the most."

"But it hurts," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I thought we were a team."

"You are," Oscar said gently. "When you're not around, Logan's always wishing you were. He loves you, Y/N. He's just lost right now."

We sat there in the fading light, Oscar's presence a small comfort in the midst of my heartbreak. After a while, he stood up, offering me his hand. "Come on, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

I nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead me away. As we walked, I saw Logan in the distance, his expression conflicted. Oscar's grip on my hand tightened as we passed him, a silent promise that he would take care of me.

Later that evening, as the paddock quieted down, Oscar found Logan in the team's hospitality area. "We need to talk," he said firmly, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a steely resolve.

Logan looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with regret. "Oscar, I—"

"No," Oscar interrupted. "You don't get to apologize to me. You need to fix this with Y/N. You hurt her, Logan. You pushed away the one person who's always been there for you."

Logan hung his head, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. "I know. I was an idiot. I let my frustration get the better of me, and I took it out on her. I need to make it right."

"You do," Oscar agreed. "But it's not going to be easy. She's really hurt, Logan. You're going to have to work hard to earn her trust back."

Logan nodded, determination replacing the regret in his eyes. "I will. I'll do whatever it takes."

The next day, I was in my hotel room, still trying to process everything that had happened, when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Logan standing there, looking more vulnerable than I had ever seen him.

"Y/N," he began, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I never should have said those things. I don't hate you. I love you more than anything."

I looked at him, the pain still fresh in my heart. "Logan, you really hurt me. I don't know if I can just forgive you like that."

"I understand," he said, taking a step closer. "But please, give me a chance to make it right. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

I hesitated, the memories of his hurtful words still lingering. But I also remembered the good times, the love and support we had shared. "Okay," I said finally. "I'll give you a chance. But you have to prove to me that you mean it. You have to earn my trust back."

Logan nodded, his eyes filled with determination. "I will, Y/N. I promise."

As we stood there, the weight of the past few days slowly lifting, I realized that love wasn't always easy. It was messy and complicated, filled with highs and lows. But as long as we were willing to fight for it, to work through the pain and come out stronger on the other side, it was worth it.

---

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[estapa-edwards]

GROWN UP - F. NAZAR

paring: Frank Nazar x fem! reader

word count: 4.4k

requested? yes - hughes brothers realizing how much they little sister has truly grown up, and she’s dating frank and goes to michigan

warnings: use of y/n.

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Growing up in a household filled with the clatter of sticks, the thud of skates, and the camaraderie that only a shared passion can bring, my siblings and I were bound by more than just blood. Hockey wasn't just a sport to us—it was a way of life.

I have three incredible siblings: Quinn, Jack, and my twin brother, Luke. Together, we formed an unbreakable bond on and off the ice, honing our skills and nurturing our dreams of playing hockey at the highest level.

Growing up, our days were a blur of school, homework, and endless hours at the rink. Our parents were our biggest supporters, shuttling us to practices and games, cheering from the stands, and instilling in us the values of hard work, determination, and teamwork. Our house was always filled with the sounds of skates being sharpened, sticks being taped, and the excited chatter of four siblings eager to hit the ice.

Quinn, the eldest, was our fearless leader. With his natural talent and unwavering dedication, he set the bar high for the rest of us. Jack, the second oldest, was the comedian of the family, always keeping us laughing with his quick wit and infectious energy. Then there was Luke, my twin brother, my partner in crime, and my best friend.

From the moment we laced up our skates for the first time, hockey was our shared passion. We spent countless hours practicing together, pushing each other to be better, faster, stronger. Our backyard was our own personal training ground, where we would spend hours shooting pucks, practicing our passes, and perfecting our slapshots.

Our competitiveness spilled over into everything we did, from who could finish their homework the fastest to who could eat the most pancakes at breakfast. But no matter how intense our rivalries became, we always had each other's backs. We were a team, in hockey and in life, and nothing could ever break the bond we shared.

As we grew older, our dreams of playing hockey at the highest level became more and more attainable. We played on travel teams, competed in tournaments across the country, and caught the attention of scouts and coaches alike. Our hard work was paying off, and it seemed like our dreams were finally within reach.

When it came time to choose a university, Luke and I knew we wanted to continue our hockey journey together. We both had our sights set on the University of Michigan, a school with a rich hockey tradition and a reputation for developing top-tier talent. We were thrilled when we received our acceptance letters and even more excited at the prospect of playing for the Wolverines.

Our time at Michigan was everything we had hoped for and more. We were living our dream, playing the sport we loved at the collegiate level, and representing the maize and blue with pride. The competition was fierce, the games were intense, and the camaraderie among our teammates was unlike anything we had ever experienced.

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It was during our freshman year at Michigan that I met Frank Nazar, a talented forward on the men's hockey team. Frank was charismatic, charming, and incredibly passionate about the game.

Frank was known for his speed, skill, and knack for finding the back of the net. I first noticed him during one of the team's practices at the Yost Ice Arena. His effortless skating and powerful shot caught my attention, and I couldn't help but admire his talent from afar.

As fate would have it, our paths crossed one evening at a local ice rink. I was there practicing alone, working on my stickhandling and shooting, when Frank walked in. He had booked the ice for a private session, and when he saw me on the ice, he approached me with a friendly smile.

"Hey, you're Y/N Hughes, right? You and your brother are making quite an impression here," he said, extending his hand.

"Yeah, that's me," I replied with a smile. "You're Frank, right? Nice to meet you."

We struck up a conversation, bonding over our shared experiences as collegiate athletes and the challenges of juggling academics with athletics. Despite being from different teams, we found common ground and quickly developed a friendship.

One afternoon, we met up at the local ice rink for a private practice session. The rink was empty, the ice pristine and inviting. We laced up our skates and stepped onto the ice, each of us carrying a stick and a puck.

"Ready to hit the ice?" Frank asked, grinning as he twirled his stick.

"Absolutely," I replied, feeling the familiar excitement build. "Let's do some drills."

We started with some passing drills, moving the puck back and forth between us with precision and speed. Frank's passes were sharp and accurate, and I found myself challenged to keep up with his pace.

"Nice pass!" Frank exclaimed as I managed to catch one of his harder passes.

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself," I joked, feeling a sense of camaraderie and competition between us.

After the passing drills, we moved on to shooting practice. Frank set up in goal, and I took turns taking shots, aiming for the corners of the net. He was a formidable goalie, diving and stretching to block my shots, but I managed to sneak a few past him.

"Nice shot!" Frank said, nodding in approval as one of my shots sailed into the top corner of the net.

"Thanks, you're a tough goalie to beat," I replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

We continued to push each other, practicing our skating, stickhandling, and shooting skills. Frank was a skilled and supportive practice partner, offering tips and encouragement to help me improve my game.

As the afternoon wore on, we took a break and sat on the bench, catching our breath and chatting about hockey, school, and life in general.

"I've really enjoyed practicing with you," Frank said, looking at me with a smile. "It's been great getting to know you off the ice too."

"I feel the same way," I replied, feeling a warm sense of connection and gratitude. "You've been a great friend and practice partner."

Frank looked at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, what do you say we make this practice a little more interesting?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh?" I asked, intrigued. "I'm listening."

"How about a little one-on-one competition? Loser buys coffee?" Frank proposed, a flirty grin spreading across his face.

"Challenge accepted," I replied, grinning back at him. "Prepare to lose, Nazar."

"Alright, Hughes, you ready to lose?" Frank teased as we lined up for the face-off.

"Don't get too cocky, Nazar," I shot back, smirking.

The puck dropped, and we both lunged forward, jockeying for control. Frank managed to gain possession and took off down the ice, weaving through imaginary defenders with ease.

"Show off," I called out as I chased after him, determined not to let him get too far ahead.

Frank made a sharp turn towards the net and took a shot, but I managed to block it just in time. I quickly regained control of the puck and raced back down the ice, dodging Frank's attempts to steal it from me.

"Nice try," I said, grinning as I maneuvered around him and headed towards the net.

I took a shot, aiming for the top corner of the net, but Frank made an impressive save, deflecting the puck with his stick.

"Wow, nice save," I said, impressed but not deterred.

Frank grinned. "You're not getting past me that easily."

The battle continued, each of us pushing ourselves to the limit in pursuit of victory. We exchanged shots and saves, each of us refusing to back down.

During one particularly intense moment, I managed to steal the puck from Frank and took off towards the net. Just as I was about to take my shot, Frank caught up to me and managed to knock the puck away at the last second.

"Almost had you," I said, panting slightly as we skated back to center ice.

Frank laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement and admiration. "You're getting better every day, Hughes."

We continued to challenge each other, pushing ourselves to do our best while enjoying the friendly competition and flirty banter. The atmosphere on the ice was electric, filled with excitement, laughter, and the thrill of the game.

After what felt like hours of intense competition, Frank finally managed to score the winning goal, narrowly beating me with a well-placed shot.

"Looks like I win," he said, grinning triumphantly as we skated back to the bench.

"Congratulations," I replied, trying to hide my disappointment. "I guess I owe you coffee."

Frank chuckled. "I'll hold you to that."

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After our intense practice session, Frank and I headed to a nearby coffee shop to grab some much-needed refreshments. The atmosphere was cozy and inviting, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

We found a quiet corner to sit, and I went to order our drinks. When I returned to the table with our coffees, Frank was already there, looking relaxed and content.

"Got you a caramel macchiato," I said, setting his coffee in front of him.

"Thanks, you remembered," Frank replied, taking a sip and smiling appreciatively. "You know me well."

I sat down across from him and took a sip of my own coffee, enjoying the warmth and the rich, creamy flavor. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both of us catching our breath and enjoying the calm after our intense workout.

"So, was it worth it?" I asked, breaking the silence with a playful grin. "Losing that one-on-one competition and owing me coffee?"

Frank laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I have to admit, it was a pretty good game. And the coffee's not bad either."

We continued to chat and laugh, exchanging stories about hockey, school, and our lives outside of the rink. The conversation flowed easily between us, and I found myself enjoying Frank's company more and more.

As we talked, I couldn't help but notice how easy it was to be myself around Frank. He was kind, funny, and down-to-earth, and I felt a genuine connection with him that I hadn't felt with anyone else in a long time.

"So, Y/N," Frank said, leaning forward slightly with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do you think we'll ever get a chance to play against each other on the ice?"

I smiled, intrigued by the idea. "Who knows? It would definitely be interesting to see how we stack up against each other in a real game."

Frank grinned. "I look forward to the challenge."

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As our friendship continued to grow, Frank and I made it a point to support each other by attending each other's games whenever our schedules allowed. It became a fun and flirty tradition between us, cheering each other on from the stands and exchanging playful banter and compliments.

After the game, I would wait for Frank outside the locker room to congratulate him on his performance.

"You were on fire out there," I would say, flashing him a flirty smile. "I knew you were going to score that last goal."

Frank would grin, clearly pleased by my praise. "Thanks, Y/N. Having you in the stands cheering for me definitely gave me that extra boost."

Unbeknownst to us, Luke had been watching from a distance, a proud smile on his face as he observed the camaraderie between his twin sister and his teammate.

"Look at you two," Luke would say, joining us with a teasing grin. "You'd think you were on a date, not at a hockey game."

Frank chuckled, giving Luke a friendly nudge. "Hey, a little support from the stands goes a long way."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't hide my own smile. "Well, it looks like it worked. You played great tonight, Frank."

Luke looked at us, his eyes twinkling with pride. "I'm glad you two are getting along so well. It's nice to see my sister happy and enjoying herself."

I smiled at Luke, touched by his supportive words. "Thanks, Luke. Frank's been a great friend and practice partner."

Frank nodded in agreement. "And Y/N's been an amazing friend and teammate. I couldn't ask for a better practice partner or cheerleader."

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One evening after a particularly intense practice, Frank approached me with an invitation from the boys' team.

"Hey, Y/N," Frank said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "A few of the guys from the team are getting together at our place tonight for a movie night. Would you like to join us?"

I hesitated for a moment, but Frank's friendly smile reassured me. "Sure, that sounds like fun."

When I arrived at Frank's house, I was greeted warmly by the team. The atmosphere was relaxed and welcoming, and I immediately felt at ease. Frank led me to the living room, where the others had already started setting up for the movie.

As the evening progressed, I found myself sitting next to Frank on the couch, our shoulders brushing against each other as we settled in to watch the movie. The rest of the team had scattered around the room, engrossed in the film and munching on popcorn.

As the movie played on, I felt Frank's arm casually drape around my shoulder. I looked up at him, and he gave me a gentle smile, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of warmth and affection.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that we weren't the only ones being watched. Luke, Luca, Mark, Rutger, Ethan, and Dylan were all stealing glances at us from across the room, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity.

I couldn't help but smile to myself, feeling a little self-conscious but also flattered by their playful scrutiny. I looked over at Luke, who gave me a knowing nod and a thumbs-up, clearly approving of my newfound friendship with Frank.

Luca winked at me, while Mark and Rutger exchanged amused glances. Ethan and Dylan just grinned, clearly entertained by the unfolding scene.

Despite the playful teasing from the rest of the team, Frank and I remained focused on each other, enjoying the comfort and closeness of our shared moment. We continued to watch the movie, our hands finding each other's as we cuddled on the couch.

As the credits rolled and the movie came to an end, Frank squeezed my hand gently and looked down at me with a soft smile.

"Thanks for coming tonight, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I had a great time."

I smiled back at him, feeling a warm sense of connection and gratitude. "Me too, Frank. It was a fun night."

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As the play-offs approached, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. The stakes were high, and I was eager to share the experience with Frank. I knew he was a big hockey fan, and I wanted him to be there to support me and my brothers as we competed in the most important games of the season.

"Hey, Frank," I said one day after practice, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in my stomach. "My brothers have a big play-off game coming up, and I was wondering if you'd like to come and watch with me?"

Frank's eyes lit up at the invitation, but I could see a hint of nervousness in his expression. "I'd love to come, Y/N," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement and apprehension. "But are you sure your brothers will be okay with it? I mean, I've heard a lot about them, and they seem pretty protective."

I laughed, understanding Frank's concern. "Don't worry, they're not that bad," I reassured him, though I couldn't help but smile at the thought of my older brothers' protective tendencies. "They'll love you, I promise."

On the day of the game, Frank and I arrived at the arena early to find seats and soak in the atmosphere. The excitement in the air was palpable, and I couldn't wait for the game to begin.

As the players took to the ice for warm-ups, I spotted Quinn and Jack on the ice, their focus and determination evident in every move they made. I felt a swell of pride watching them, knowing how hard they had worked to get to this point.

As the game got underway, Frank and I settled into our seats, cheering loudly for my brothers and their respective teams. The atmosphere in the arena was electric, with fans on the edge of their seats as the game unfolded.

During intermissions, Frank and I chatted and laughed, enjoying each other's company and the thrill of the game. Despite his initial nervousness, Frank seemed to be having a great time, and I could see him getting more and more into the game as it progressed.

As the final minutes of the game ticked away, the tension in the arena reached a fever pitch. The game was tied, and every shot and save was met with cheers and groans from the crowd.

In the end, Quinn's team managed to score the winning goal, securing their spot in the next round of the play-offs. The arena erupted in cheers, and I jumped to my feet, cheering and clapping as I celebrated my brother's victory.

After the game, I led Frank to the locker room to meet Quinn and Jack. I could see the nerves return to Frank's face as we approached, but I gave him a reassuring smile, confident that my brothers would like him.

"Quinn, Jack, this is Frank," I said, introducing them with a proud smile. "Frank, these are my brothers, Quinn and Jack."

Quinn and Jack greeted Frank warmly, their expressions friendly and welcoming. I could see Frank visibly relax as they shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"Nice to meet you, Frank," Quinn said, his voice friendly as he clapped Frank on the shoulder. "Y/N's told us a lot about you."

Jack nodded in agreement, giving Frank a friendly smile. "Yeah, it's great to finally meet you. Thanks for coming to the game."

Frank smiled back, visibly relieved and grateful for their warm welcome. "It was my pleasure," he replied, his voice steady despite his earlier nerves. "You both played an amazing game."

As we left the arena, Frank and I walked hand in hand, both of us buzzing with excitement and relief. The evening had been a success, and I couldn't have been happier.

"See, I told you they'd like you," I said, grinning up at Frank as we made our way to the car.

Frank chuckled, squeezing my hand affectionately. "Yeah, they're not so bad," he admitted, his eyes meeting mine with a warm and genuine smile.

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Although Frank and I hadn't officially put a label on our relationship, our actions spoke louder than words. We acted like a couple in every sense of the word, sharing a bond that was deep and genuine. Our interactions were filled with affection, playfulness, and a mutual understanding that made our connection undeniable.

One of the most noticeable aspects of our relationship was our frequent displays of affection. We kissed all the time, whether it was a quick peck on the lips, a lingering kiss that spoke volumes about our feelings for each other, or a playful smooch that left us both laughing and smiling.

Whether we were at the rink, out for coffee, or simply spending time together at home, our kisses were a natural and spontaneous expression of our affection for each other. It was a way for us to connect, to show our love and appreciation, and to remind each other of the special bond we shared.

Our interactions were also filled with a playful and flirty banter that kept our relationship fun and exciting. We teased each other, exchanged playful remarks, and shared inside jokes that only we understood. This playful dynamic added a lighthearted and joyful element to our relationship, making our time together even more enjoyable.

Despite the casual and relaxed nature of our relationship, there was a deep and genuine connection between us that went beyond mere friendship. We supported each other, celebrated each other's successes, and were there for each other during the tough times. Our relationship was built on mutual respect, trust, and understanding, making it clear to everyone around us that we were more than just friends.

Despite the playful and sometimes cheeky remarks from our teammates about how Frank and I acted around each other, we never let it bother us. Hockey locker rooms are known for their banter and chirping, and our teammates were no different when it came to teasing us about our close relationship.

"Hey Y/N, did you bring your boyfriend to practice again?" one of the guys would say with a smirk, earning a round of chuckles from the team.

Frank and I would just exchange a knowing glance and shrug it off with a laugh. We didn't feel the need to justify our relationship to anyone. We knew the strength of our connection, and that was all that mattered to us.

During practice, our competitiveness would sometimes spill over into playful one-on-one battles, much to the amusement of our teammates.

"Watch out, Frank, Y/N's going to school you!" Luke would shout from the sidelines, as Frank and I faced off against each other during a drill.

We'd exchange playful banter and flirty remarks as we battled it out on the ice, pushing each other to do our best while embracing the friendly competition between us.

After practice, the chirping would continue as we headed to the locker room to change.

"Y/N, is that a new cologne I smell, or is that just Frank?" one of the guys would tease, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the team.

Frank and I would just roll our eyes and laugh it off, not letting the playful teasing affect our relationship or the way we felt about each other.

Our ability to laugh at ourselves and not take the chirping too seriously was a testament to the strength and confidence we had in our relationship. We didn't feel the need to conform to anyone else's expectations or standards. We were comfortable being ourselves, both on and off the ice, and that was all that mattered to us.

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After weeks of growing closer and spending more and more time together, Frank and I found ourselves at our favorite coffee spot near the university campus. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the conversation flowed easily between us, just like it always did.

As we sat across from each other, sipping our coffees and chatting about everything from hockey to our future plans, I could sense a shift in the air. There was a new tension, a palpable sense of something more between us, and I could tell that Frank was feeling it too.

Finally, after a moment of silence, Frank took a deep breath and looked me directly in the eyes, his expression serious but warm.

"Y/N, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for him to continue.

"Would you like to go out with me? Like, on a real date?" he asked, his eyes searching mine for a response.

A smile spread across my face as I felt a wave of happiness and relief wash over me. I had been hoping he would ask, but hearing the words out loud made it all the more real.

"I would love to, Frank," I replied, my voice filled with genuine excitement and happiness. "I've been waiting for you to ask."

Frank's face lit up with a bright smile, and I could see the relief and happiness in his eyes as he reached across the table to take my hand.

"Really? That's great, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I've been wanting to ask you for a while now, but I was nervous about how you would react."

I laughed, squeezing his hand affectionately. "Well, you didn't have anything to worry about. I've been hoping you would ask."

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A few years down the line, our relationship had flourished and grown stronger with each passing day. Frank had been drafted to the Chicago Blackhawks, and I was playing for a PWHL team, pursuing our dreams while supporting each other every step of the way.

As our love and commitment to each other deepened, Frank knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He decided it was time to take the next big step and ask for my hand in marriage.

One weekend, Frank made plans to visit my family to seek their blessing. He was understandably nervous, knowing how close-knit and protective my family was. Luke, Quinn, and Jack had watched me grow up, and they had seen firsthand the love and bond that had developed between Frank and me.

Arriving at my family's home, Frank was greeted warmly by my parents and siblings. The atmosphere was relaxed and welcoming, but the tension was palpable as Frank prepared to ask the most important question of his life.

After dinner, Frank took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned to my parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, I love Y/N more than anything in this world, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her," he began, his voice filled with sincerity and emotion. "I'm here today to ask for your blessing to marry her."

My parents exchanged a glance, their eyes softening as they looked at Frank, recognizing the love and devotion in his eyes.

"We've watched Y/N and Frank's relationship grow and flourish over the years," my mother said, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "It's clear to us how much you love and care for each other, and we couldn't be happier for you both."

My father nodded in agreement, placing a supportive hand on Frank's shoulder.

"You have our blessing, Frank," he said, his voice steady and firm. "We've always known that you would be a good match for Y/N, and we're confident that you will take care of her and cherish her for the rest of your lives together."

Tears of happiness welled up in Frank's eyes as he thanked my parents, feeling a sense of relief and joy wash over him.