#((even if they never play a part in her life again!))

[inseobts]

Heyo, I hope you’re well and keeping nice and warm? I was wondering if you’d ever consider a continuation to Undercover Lovers, maybe with putting Hiyori in between? All good if you don’t think of continuing the story, take good care!! ❤️

Undercover Lovers Part 2

zoro x reader

while waiting for luffy and the others to return from whole cake island, you and the rest of the crew are forced to go undercover in wano, where your and zoro's cover as a loving couple quickly gets complicated.

PART 1

a/n: thank you cutie, hope you like it (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡

words count: 1.2k

tags: wci and wano spoilers, fake dating, romance, soft zoro

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The streets of Wano are quieter at night, but the tension in the air never fades. You and Zoro maintain your cover, still pretending to be a loving couple, but something has shifted again since the arrival of Kozuki Hiyori.

She had appeared unexpectedly, her presence like a gentle breeze, graceful, elegant, and far too comfortable in Zoro’s personal space. At first, you brushed it off, knowing that she had her reasons for staying close to him. But as the days passed, irritation settled in your chest like an immovable weight.

After escaping Orochi’s men, you, Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko take shelter in an old, hidden house in the Ringo region. The place is small but safe, with only a single futon, a few worn-out blankets, and enough food to last for a few days. You expected this to be just another part of the mission, but soon, it starts feeling like something else entirely.

Like you don’t belong.

Hiyori insists on tending to Zoro’s wounds, her delicate hands carefully wrapping bandages around his torso. You sit in the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching in silence. Toko giggles as she plays nearby, occasionally running up to Zoro and poking his arm, completely at ease.

“You should be more careful, Zoro-san,” Hiyori murmurs, her voice soft “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Zoro huffs “I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You clench your jaw. A scratch? He was bleeding all over the place earlier, and now he’s letting Hiyori fuss over him like a doting wife? You should be the one doing that, you’re supposed to be his partner in this mission, not her. And after what happened with that Miyamoto man you really started feeling you and Zoro could be closer.

Hiyori dabs a cloth against Zoro’s chest, far too gentle for your liking. You shift uncomfortably, biting back the urge to yank the bandages from her hands and do it yourself.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Toko’s voice snaps you from your thoughts.

You force a smile “Yeah, just tired.”

Hiyori glances at you but says nothing. Instead, she returns to Zoro, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues tending to him. The sight makes your stomach twist.

Over the next few days, things only get worse. The house is small, which means you’re constantly near Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko. And with each passing moment, you feel more like an outsider.

Zoro and Toko have a strange yet adorable bond. She clings to him, calling him “Zorojuro” and making silly faces until he chuckles, something he rarely does. Then there’s Hiyori, who always sits gracefully beside him, laughing at his blunt words, tending to his wounds, and cooking meals as if this is their normal life.

It’s like you’ve walked into someone else’s home.

One evening, after dinner, Toko jumps onto Zoro’s back, giggling “Zorojuro! Carry me like a samurai!”

Zoro grunts but obliges, lifting her effortlessly. She throws her arms out, pretending to fly, while Hiyori watches with a soft, affectionate expression.

“You’re quite good with children, Zoro-san,” she comments “I think you’d make a wonderful father.”

You freeze. The image before you is too much... Zoro carrying Toko like a father playing with his child, Hiyori watching like a proud mother. And then there’s you, sitting in the corner like some outsider who stumbled into their perfect little family.

Zoro scoffs at Hiyori’s words “Not happening.”

Hiyori only smiles knowingly “You never know.”

Something in you snaps. You abruptly stand up, your chair scraping against the wooden floor “I’m going for some air.”

Zoro’s gaze flickers toward you, but he doesn’t stop you. Hiyori, on the other hand, tilts her head curiously “Be careful, Y/N.”

You step outside, taking a deep breath. The cold Wano air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sting in your chest. Why does this bother me so much?

You lean against the wall, closing your eyes. You’ve faced enemies, fought battles, and endured grueling missions. But somehow, watching Zoro with Hiyori and Toko feels like the hardest challenge yet.

Because for the first time, you’re not fighting an enemy.

You’re fighting the sinking feeling that maybe… you’re not needed here at all.

That night, when you finally return inside, Zoro is awake, sharpening his swords by the dim candlelight. Hiyori and Toko are already asleep, curled up comfortably in the futon. You hesitate in the doorway, watching the flickering light dance across Zoro’s face.

He doesn’t look up, but he speaks “You’ve been acting weird.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe “Weird how?”

Zoro sets his whetstone down and finally meets your gaze “You keep running off. Snapping at little things. Something bothering you?”

You scoff, shaking your head “Nothing. Just tired.”

His eyes narrow slightly “Bullshit.”

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples “What do you want me to say, Zoro? That I feel like I don’t belong here? That I feel like I’m watching some perfect little family while I’m just… there?”

Zoro blinks, clearly caught off guard. He sets his sword aside, his gaze unreadable “You think that?”

You gesture toward the sleeping figures “Look at them. Look at you. It’s like you fit into this life so easily. And me? I’m just—”

“An idiot” Zoro interrupts.

You glare at him “Excuse me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair “You really think I see it that way? Hiyori and Toko are just people I helped. That’s it. And yeah, they’re nice, but they’re not—” He pauses, exhaling heavily “They’re not you.”

Your breath catches “What?”

Zoro leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now “I’m not doing this mission with them. I’m doing it with you.”

His words send a warmth through your chest, but before you can process it, Zoro steps closer, his gaze locked onto yours. The air between you grows thick, and then without another word he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is firm, reassuring, yet impossibly gentle. His hands find your waist, grounding you as your heart pounds against your ribs. You melt into him, gripping his yukata as if he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours “That clear enough for you?” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, breathless “Yeah… pretty clear.”

“Go to sleep,” he mutters, picking up his sword again “Stop overthinking.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod. As you lay down, the warmth in your chest lingers, pushing away the doubts. Maybe you weren’t just an outsider after all.

Maybe you actually had a place here, with him.

The next morning, the atmosphere is tense, but different. You’re still processing Zoro’s words when Hiyori approaches him with a bright smile “Zoro-san, would you like me to prepare your meal first?”

Before you can react, Zoro casually drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer “Nah. Y/N always eats with me first.”

Hiyori blinks in surprise, her eyes flicking between the two of you “Oh… I see.”

Toko giggles “Y/N and Zorojuro are togeeeeether!”

You feel your face heat up, but Zoro doesn’t let go. Instead, he smirks slightly, squeezing your shoulder just enough to make you relax “Yeah”

Hiyori simply smiles, nodding.

You glance up at Zoro, your heart hammering. He looks down at you with an easy smirk, his fingers gently tracing your back in an absentminded yet possessive gesture. And for the first time in days, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel like you belong.

With him.

[bucktommyscones]

it's probably been said like 50 million times by now but like. Buck's relationship with Tommy was so much deeper than his relationships with Taylor or Ali or Nat (Abby comes in at a close second but still doesn't quite meet Tommy's standard). How do I know?

Look at Buck's behaviour.

With all of the women he's dated, he's very clearly been putting on a performance (that doesn't mean he didn't like/love them, don't worry, I'm not going all "he's secretly Gay" in your inbox rn). He didn't really let loose with his silly-goofy side with any of them. For Abby, he acted more mature than his age. For Ali, he acted more suave. For Taylor, he acted more committed than he was. For Nat, he acted more nonchalant about his own literal near-death.

None of these things were real about him. It was an act, he was in the mindset the entire time that he had to be that way so they'd like him and stick around. Abandonment issues strike again.

But with Tommy.

With Tommy, we got substacks. We got "oh so I am gross". We got sass and snark and pouting. We got Buck, as himself with a partner for the very first time. Tommy made Buck comfortable with being himself. He didn't need to put on an act to impress Tommy because he's already seen Buck at his worst (petty bitchy jealous) AND at his best (cruise liner rescue, competent, dependable) AND at his silly-goofiest ("that should be our motto: who cares!") before they even got together. Buck didn't need to downplay the risks of his job because Tommy knew it intimately. Buck didn't need to pretend with Tommy.

He played a part in his last relationships. He performed the way they wanted him to, and it fell through every time. Abby couldn't commit. Ali couldn't handle his job. (Taylor did actually have a valid reason to leave so we'll skip her.) Nat couldn't handle that he had an entire life outside of his death.

Tommy was the first person Buck dated who actually liked him, without the performance.

And then they took him from Buck.

Yes, Anon! I am kissing you on the mouth. We never saw Buck be unapologetically himself as he was with Tommy. Tommy saw Buck at his most brattiest and looked at him with hearts in his eyes.

How do you watch a man like Tommy tell Buck "You're a vision in a cone" and think this isn't the best person for him??

Thank you anon!

[moonybelgug]

warnings: fem!reader, children lmao, not much really, being referred to as 'mother', no smut, some drunken flirting. building relationships with the kids. i took so long to do this part...... sorries.,, part 1 part 2

After a month of getting your affairs in order, you’d like to think you’ve made some semblance of a job out of your situation. You started with watching Arlecchino, figuring out what it was that she did that made her the “Father.” It turns out, that was simply not showing emotion to the children and holding them to high expectations. But trying to convince them to open up to you was aimless, seeing as most of them had been taught that emotions were weakness, (you’re going to work on that later,) and do not even trust you to begin with. So you began in the kitchen. As much as you are not a cook, you know your way around some beloved childhood recipes, and so you helped the kitchen staff learn more homely food. Rather than something bland and fancy for breakfast, you give them the recipe to pancakes and you visit each child to ask what they would like their’s topped with. Lunches became a build your own sandwich buffet, which was met with more excitement that you anticipated and dinners stayed the same for the most part- protein and veggies. However, your presence alone comforted scared and picky kids to try new and scary foods they wouldn’t have before (and you snuck them something you knew they’d like afterward.)

It was a long day, but you had managed to lead the last group of kids to eat, the rest of them were either in the showers or in bed. You stood in the doorway of the dining hall, arms crossed as you watch them eat and chatter. A warm presence sidled up next to you, your arms brushing against each other. You saw less of Arlecchino than you had expected. She was also less involved with the children, or at least, from what you could see. You truly had no idea what she really did, you knew she was a harbinger and very strong but you couldn’t begin to fathom what she did outside these walls. You didn’t really want to. 

“Good evening, Father, are you joining us for dinner?” You ask her as she brushes against you. 

She hums thoughtfully, as though considering it as she always does. “Not tonight. But thank you for the invitation, Mother.”

You can’t help but blush and hope she didn’t see it. The way she says your title.. it feels as though she is purring it, tasting it in her mouth before speaking it. Arlecchino looks down at you from the visage of her children eating. “They are happier since you had arrived. How did you manage that in only a month?” 

“I’m not sure myself,” you say, feeling warm under her gaze. “I just.. I tried to live up to my name. I can’t help but want to know them all, even if a few of them scare me.” Though, none have threatened your life, seeing such young people with weapons is never a reassuring sight.

Arlecchino laughs and turns to walk into the main entrance room, away from the dining hall. You cast another glance at the children before following her.

She’s walking into the foyer, reaching for her coat. “Did I not scare you when we first met?” She asks, pulling her hair from the back of the gray jacket.

“Maybe a tad. But that’s because of how I was raised, you know that,” you say, pouting a little. She tuts, reaching for your cheek to pinch before she thinks about it and pulls away.. 

“Still so cute. You scared me too, you know. All bright eyed and excited, talking my ear off about things I couldn’t give a damn about. Reaching through that fence to try and touch me…” she sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll be gone for a while. I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

Before she gets too far out of the entrance, she hears you sigh disapprovingly. “Playing the absent father, are we?” It makes her chuckle. 

Thunder sounds all around you, shaking the Hearth and startling you from your sleep. Thunder was never a pleasant experience, but you wouldn’t say you feared it. But that was just your experience. There was a gentle knock at the your bedroom door. 

You wrap a robe around yourself, wondering who could be knocking at this hour and open the door a crack to see who was there and were met with tens of other eyes, all stricken with fear. You open your door all the way, unsure what to say at first in the face of these frightened children. Many of them were younger, but there were a few older ones among them, looking sheepish. 

“Well.. come along, if you’re coming,” you say, watching seven children file in.

It’s not long before you’re kicked out of bed by squirming children. You don’t mind so much, it was getting to hot to even sleep, much less with a bunch of squirming limbs poking you in the side this way and that. You take a trip to the bathroom, then out the window you see the rain has loosened up a bit, it’s still coming down but less so than before, and the thunder is all but distant rumbles.

You rub on the window, removing some of the fog and just happen to see a tall figure approaching the Hearth. Who on Teyvat could be visiting at this hour? You move to look at the clock ticking in the hallway. It’s midnight. Nobody in their right mind would journey all the way through the storm just to make an unplanned visit… unless they were attempting to enter without permission. 

You race downstairs in bare feet, your nightgown and making you appear threatening as ever. You make it to the door before they do, so you grab an iron poker from the fireplace as your weapon. Stealthily, you move beside the door, waiting quietly for it to click open so you can bash in whoever is trying to get in. This moment leads you to think about how there’s little to no security and it makes you shake your head. Perhaps the Fatui’s reputation doesn’t scare everyone away.

The doorknob clicks and then turns, opening slowly. You raise the fire poker above your head and prepare to bludgeon this person, but as you bring it down, the intruder catches it and pins you against the wall beside the door. She laughs, covering in water from the rain, shaking her head unceremoniously. You squint as a few drops land on your cheek.

“Per- What are you doing!?” You all but yell, remembering there are people sleeping.

Arlecchino kicks the door shut with her boot. “If I let you go, promise you won’t stab me?”

You roll your eyes and she lets you go. “I had to return to retrieve something. Didn’t think I’d bother anybody coming at night, but it seems I was mistaken.” 

Arlecchino stands up straight. She’s wearing something completely different from when you saw her only five hours ago, her cheeks are even flushed as though she had been drinking.

“What did you forget? I can fetch it for you,” you offer, lowering you weapon to hold by your hips. 

Arlecchino taps on her bottom lip, as though considering her options. “Dinner? Or maybe a spar, since you seem so apt to attack unknown trespassers. Or, maybe some of those kisses you used to give.” She grins, leaning into the juncture of your neck and jaw, running the tip of her nose down to your collar bone. 

She was definitely drunk. If that line didn’t tell you, the wine on her breath did. 

“Father, perhaps you should lie down-“ 

“Doooon’t call me that,” she groans, her palm coming to her forehead as if it gave her an instant migraine. “Call me anything but not that. In fact, call me Peruere again, hm?”

Her arms encircle your waist before her hands settle on your hips. She gives your nightie a passing glance before lifting her eyes to yours. “So? What’ll it be?” She asks with a smirk. You assume she’s talking about the options of what she wants from you. The kitchens are closed down and you’re definitely not fighting her, so it seems you’re left with one option.

“If I kiss you, will you cooperate and tell me what you’re doing here?”

“I swear, on my title as a harbinger,” she grins. 

You sigh, looking at her rosy complexion  and then you lean in, kissing her gently on the cheek. She tilts her head leaning into it, closing her eyes. Her head turns slightly, your lips glancing over each other. You can’t help your blush as you pull away but her arms tug you closer. You brace yourself at her shoulders and create some distance. She’s clearly wasted and far be it from you to allow this to go further than it already has. You catch her inhaling the scent of your hair. 

“Peruere, what is it you came here for?”

She doesn’t answer for a while, her eyes avoiding yours. You never could read those dark eyes, and you never notice how they pull you in, like a magnet. Standing up straight, she takes your left hand, running her thumb across your knuckles before stilling at your ring finger. Her nail digs into the diamond before she releases your hand, leaving you warm. “Apologies, Mother,” she says coldly. Suddenly sober, she lets you go, adjusting her clothes. “I should see you soon. Don’t forget your duties.”

Before you can argue with her about that retort, she leaves, shutting the door firmly. 

The next morning you wake up feeling hot with a heavy weight on your chest, before you remember what happened last night. It’s still raining outside, but it seems that Celestia had calmed down. 

But you jump all the same when your door suddenly flies open. A maid stands there, holding a case, but her eyes widen at the sight of four children laying on your bed and three laying underneath and your helpless face being the only part of you she can see. 

“Your… finacè is here to see you,” she says softly. 

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Stay

Synopsis: in which Wally gets offered a better position at a school to play football. It’ll get him out of town, away from Split River, away from you. But you would never ask him to stay… would you?

Notes: Angst!! Happy endings!

The news comes casually, like it’s not about to rip your world apart.

“So, yeah,” Wally says, scratching the back of his neck. “I got the offer.”

You blink. “What?”

He shifts on his feet, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “It’s nothing, really. Just… a chance to leave. Something new.”

Something new. Something that isn’t this town. Something that isn’t you.

Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to nod, to play it cool. “Oh. That’s—” Your voice catches, so you clear your throat. “That’s great.”

Wally hesitates. “Yeah?”

You don’t meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

A long silence stretches between you. You’re standing outside your house, the porch light casting a dim glow over you both. It’s late—later than he usually stays. Maybe that’s why he’s telling you now, when everything is quiet and there’s no one around to hear the way your heart is breaking.

“You don’t sound like you mean that,” Wally says, and there’s something in his voice—something careful, like he’s stepping around glass shards.

You swallow hard, crossing your arms. “I do. Really.”

For once, he doesn’t joke. Doesn’t smirk. Just watches you, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“If you told me to stay…” He trails off, shifting closer. “I think I would.”

Your breath catches.

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue. Stay.

But you don’t say them.

Because who are you to hold him back? Who are you to ask him to stay in this town, where nothing ever changes and the walls feel like they’re closing in? Wally’s always wanted more. You can’t be selfish.

So you say nothing.

And that’s what makes him go.

—

The first few days without Wally are hollow.

You feel the absence of him like a missing limb—reaching for your phone before remembering there’s no reason to. Walking past his locker at school and instinctively glancing over, only to find it empty. Your world feels quieter without him in it, like the color’s been drained from everything.

Dawn and Maddie notice, of course. “You’ve been weird lately,” Maddie says at lunch, nudging you with her foot under the table. “I mean, weirder than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

Dawn gives you a knowing look. “Have you heard from Wally?”

Your chest tightens. “No.”

Not since that night. Not since you let him walk away.

You pretend it doesn’t bother you. Pretend you don’t wonder if he’s already settling into his new life, already forgetting about you.

But late at night, lying in bed, all you can think about is the way he looked at you before he left—like he was waiting for you to stop him.

—

When Wally comes back, it’s unexpected.

It’s a Friday night, and you’re sitting on your front steps, staring out at the street without really seeing it. The autumn air is crisp, the smell of burning wood lingering from someone’s fireplace. You don’t know why you’re out here—maybe because the house feels too quiet, maybe because part of you still hopes—

Then you hear footsteps.

Your heart jumps before you even see him.

And then there he is.

Wally stands at the bottom of your steps, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, looking like he’s been through hell. His hair’s a mess, his eyes tired, but it’s him. And suddenly, you can breathe again.

You scramble to your feet. “What—” Your voice cracks. You swallow. “What are you doing here?”

He exhales, shaking his head like he doesn’t know where to start. “I—” He hesitates, then steps closer. “I couldn’t do it.”

Your breath hitches. “Do what?”

“Leave.” His voice is quiet, raw. “I thought I could. I thought it was what I wanted. But then I got there, and everything felt wrong.”

You just stare at him, heart pounding.

Wally takes another step up, closing the space between you. His hands are shaking. “I missed you,” he says, voice thick. “I missed this.”

Your throat tightens. “Wally…”

His eyes search yours, desperate. “Tell me to stay.”

Your heart is racing, and suddenly, it’s not about being selfless. It’s not about holding him back. It’s about the fact that you don’t want to be without him, that every day without him felt like something was missing.

“Stay,” you whisper, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

Wally exhales sharply, like he’s been waiting to hear it this whole time. Then he’s closing the distance between you, arms wrapping around you, holding on like he’ll never let go.

“I’m staying,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And this time, you believe him.

[charliedawn]

I was wondering how the Hannibal family would react to the fact that they met their childhood friend, a reader? Maybe they used to be in love with her? Or were you just good friends?

Hannibal Lecter Sr.

Hannibal Sr. would greet you with perfect composure—but if you look closely, you might see his fingers tighten just slightly. You were once part of his formative years, and nostalgia is a powerful thing. But he wouldn’t let you see it. Besides, Hannibal Sr. had a terrible childhood and wouldn’t necessarily be happy reviving the memories.

"Ah…Y/N. What a surprise. Tell me, did you seek me out…or was this fate ?"

If you were childhood sweethearts, even in the innocent way, Hannibal Sr. would never have forgotten you. He’d remember everything—the way you laughed, the stories you shared, the little habits you had. Seeing you again ? It would make him remember things from his past he really would have liked to keep buried forever.

"You were always so…dear to me. I wonder, have you changed ? Or are you still the same fascinating creature I once knew ?"

Expect intense eye contact, lingering touches on your shoulder, and a deeply unhealthy interest in what you’ve been doing all these years without him. But since he is advanced in years, I would assume you are too and made a life for yourself. He would like to learn about your family and what you did during all these years. And maybe if you’re lucky…you would catch a glimpse of the nice young boy you used to play with as a child…

Hannibal Lecter Jr.

Hannibal Jr. would act like he’s completely unbothered—calm, charming, unshaken. But the moment he sees you, his mind would be racing. How ? When ? So many questions but all inconsequential next to the old feelings coming back to haunt him. Hannibal Sr. had told him you had died long ago…Obviously, he had been lied to.

"Y/N. What an unexpected reunion. You look…well."

If you were close as children, he would find it fascinating how much you’ve changed—or how much you’ve stayed the same. And if there was ever even a hint of romance between you ? He would remember every detail.

"Do you recall the last time we saw each other ? I do. Quite vividly, in fact."

Unlike his father, Hannibal Jr. would appreciate the memories of a time where things seemed so simple. He remembered when it was only the two of you at school and how excited you both were to be learning new things. If you moved on and had a life (kids, husband/wife or just new experiences) he would smile and nod politely. He would be glad you had what you always wanted…

Hannibal Jr. *takes your hand and kisses the knuckles/shakes it* : "…I have missed you, old friend. It was nice seeing you again."

Morgan Hannibal

Morgan would be completely thrown off guard at first. Let’s not forget that he was adopted quite late within the Hannibal family and he used to be abused by his old boss. He really didn’t like the man he was—weak and frustrated. But, he would hide his insecurities behind a smirk.

"Well, well. Look what the past dragged in."

If you were childhood friends, he’d be genuinely happy to see you. But if there were any romantic feelings back then ? He would be in denial. Firstly because you know who he used to be and no way would you love him and secondly, because he knows his family and would try to protect you.

"I barely recognised you. No, really—I thought you were someone else for a second. Guess I didn’t expect to see you again."

But the moment you start reminiscing ? Oh, that cocky mask would slip so fast…

"You still remember that ? Hah…yes, I guess I do too. I was a…very different man back then."

If you ever had feelings for each other ? He would smile at the past where he thought anything could be possible. And if you moved on ? He would feel sad of course but…also relieved that you managed to have a good life without him.

Kevin Hannibal

Kevin’s reaction would be immediate and emotional. He wouldn’t even try to hide it—he’d just stare at you in shock, his mouth opening slightly before he lets out an incredulous laugh.

"Holy shit. Y/N ?!"

He’d walk up to you, still blinking in disbelief, and then—without even thinking—pull you into a tight hug.

"Damn…I thought I’d never see you again."

If you were childhood best friends, Kevin would be overwhelmed by emotions. He’d immediately start talking about the old days, asking if you remember this or that, laughing as old memories flood back.

But if you were his first love ? Oh, now it gets complicated.

"Do you ever think about back then ? About us ?" Unlike his brothers, Kevin wouldn’t play games—if he still had feelings, he’d let them slip through before he could stop himself. But if you moved on ? He would respect it. Besides, he is technically still a wanted criminal so…Yeah. Not the right time for relationships.

Peter Hannibal

Peter would be stunned. Completely speechless for a few seconds, just staring at you with wide, teary eyes. And then—he’d immediately get emotional.

"Y/N ! Oh my God, it’s really you !" He’d rush forward and grab your hands, squeezing them tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. "I missed you—I missed you so much ! I thought about you all the time ! You—you still remember me, right ?"

If you were just childhood friends ? He’d be overjoyed to see you again, rambling about how he always wondered what happened to you. But if you were his first crush ? He’s absolutely melt and hold you tight.

"I—uh—I used to…I mean, I kind of—um, never mind !"

Peter is not good at hiding his emotions, so if he ever had feelings for you ? You’re gonna know.

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 7 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 1.3k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes: i apologize for andy. he's a horrible person but it's needed. no good story is complete without a conflict 😅

things had suddenly gotten weird, but interesting in y/n's life.

she and andy began dating again in secret & for so many reasons, it was wrong. the main reason being their messed up past. but part of her felt it was wrong because of quinn.

it didn't feel right to hide something so monumental from the one person she told everything to. she spent all week wondering how he would react when he found out, mainly questioning if he would be angry, upset or disappointed. or perhaps even all three.

so when quinn came home, it became even more difficult. she had promised she'd spend the day with him when he got back but how was she going to do that without telling him about her new relationship?

early the next morning, y/n and abby met quinn in the garage. he helped abby into her seat and y/n felt something tugging at her heart. they got in their own seats and quinn began to drive.

"we watched the game the other night. i'm so proud of how you played, quinn."

"thanks. i knew you'd be watching so i tried to play my best."

"you're a great player, honestly. you didn't need to try too hard."

"thanks again. not sure why but your opinion means a lot to me."

"same." y/n looked at him and smiled.

"so what else did you guys do while i was gone?"

"i spent a lot of time with bella. she's great. i love her." abby grinned as she watched the scenery outside her window.

"yeah. she's pretty great." quinn smiled and turned towards y/n. "did you have to work a lot?"

"um, no. i had dates."

"dates? as in plural?"

"yeah."

"who was it? anyone i know?"

"no. met him while i was working." y/n looked out the window.

"oh. what an odd place to meet someone." quinn chuckled lightly and kept his eyes on the road, trying his best to hide the hurt on his face.

while they were on the road, his teammates had convinced him that y/n had feelings for him and they proceeded to convince him to ask her out on a date when they got back. but hearing this was like a hard blow to his heart and ego.

his teammates were wrong and he hated how it was making him feel. he didn't think he would be able to have feelings for someone since his last girlfriend broke his heart.

but regardless of his unreciprocated feelings, he still cared about y/n and considered her to be his best friend. he would still do anything for her.

y/n looked over at quinn in time to see what she assumed was a flash of hurt on his face. the guilt started eating away at her. everything felt off and she hated it

the first place they went was the restaurant they always went to when it was the three of them. the wait staff always assumed they were a family and they never corrected them.

but today was different. after three people commented on how cute their family was, quinn corrected them.

"actually, we are not together. she's just my neighbor."

"oh. i'm so sorry." the waitress pulled out her pad of paper and took their order. while she was gone, quinn helped abby with the maze of the placemat. y/n smiled at the sight.

an hour later, quinn was pulling into a parking spot in the lot of his favorite mini golf place that also doubled as an arcade. y/n climbed out and by the time she made it around the car, quinn already had abby out and was holding onto her hand. he was perfect & y/n nearly hated him for the way she was starting to feel.

"what should we do first? mini golf or the arcade?"

"mini golf!!" abby cheered and began tugging on quinn's hand. he chuckled and followed her. after he paid, he turned to y/n.

"you coming?"

"what? oh. yeah. i'm right behind you, quinn." y/n shook her head and followed her daughter towards the first hole. she watched as quinn taught abby how to play the game. turns out, she was a natural and didn't need much help. she even started a friendly competition with quinn.

y/n felt her heart swelling with joy over what she was witnessing. something andy would never do with abby. not because she wasn't giving him an opportunity to do so. but because he genuinely would not be caught dead making a fool of himself.

it was the main reason why she was starting to regret her decision to date him. and it was the reason why she found herself falling for quinn instead.

later that night, they were walking up the stairs to their apartment. quinn was carrying a sleeping abby and any other man y/n knew would've been complaining. but not him. he was special.

"today was the most fun i've had outside of hockey in a really long time. thank you."

"it was my pleasure quinn." y/n smiled when they reached their floor. "abby really loves spending time with you."

"i love spending time with her too. she's a great kid." quinn glanced at the sleeping girl in his arms and smiled. "you did a good job raising her."

"thanks. it was difficult but i figured it out."

"well i'm not surprised. you're a smart woman, y/n." they reached their apartments and quinn gently handed abby over. she didn't wake up as he opened y/n's door for her. he followed her inside and waited for her to get abby to bed.

when she came out a few minutes later, she grabbed two glasses and poured a little bit of wine in each before handing quinn one.

"thanks." he took a sip and smiled. "i missed you while i was away, you know??"

"oh." she looked at him. "i actually missed you too. kinda hard knowing that you weren't across the hall to talk to when i had a decision to make. and trust me, i faced a few tough ones."

"really? like what?"

"the guy i've been seeing. i wasn't sure when we started going out and i wanted nothing more than to talk to you. maybe you could've talked me out of it."

"yeah, maybe." he downed the rest of the wine in his glass and smiled. "who is it?"

"promise you won't hate me?"

"i could never hate you." he placed his hand on her arm. "you can tell me anything. i would never judge you."

"okay. um...it's andy."

"andy? as in your ex & father of your daughter? the one who hurt you in multiple ways?"

"the very same." y/n could sense the judgement in his voice so she avoided his gaze just as he dropped his hand from his spot on her arm. "i knew you wouldn't like it. that's why i didn't want to tell you."

"it's not that i don't like it. it's just that i don't understand why you would want to start dating the guy you had to fly across the country to get away from." quinn stood abruptly, causing y/n to flinch. "he hurt you, y/n or are you forgetting that?"

"i'm aware of my past with that man. and i promised myself i wouldn't let my guard down until i saw some actual change that could be permanent. and that's what he did, quinn." she sighed. "i'm aware that it may have been a terrible decision but i'm not the type of person who can hurt someone. and i like giving people the benefit of the doubt. maybe he really has changed."

"yeah. maybe." he looked at the door. "i should probably go."

"quinn, i-"

"i'll see you tomorrow."

before she could respond, he was already out the door. she knew it was a bad idea to tell him.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch @hwalllllllelujah

[miffysoo]

super long rant incoming for lads (if you read this i love you to pieces, if not i still love you to pieces): im not always the biggest fan of the reincarnation/past lover trope (which is ironic bc that’s literally the entire foundation of lads lore LMAO) because sometimes it feels like the LI’s are in love with the idea of us seeing as mc in the storyline is the past version of their beloved. i just can’t help but think, like are they actually in love with MC? or are they in love with some other version of her and that’s the only reason they’re drawn to her? it almost feels like they’re projecting who they THINK she is when she’s no longer the same person at all in this current timeline & lifetime.

it almost makes it feel like current mc is “the other woman” in some sense, even though that’s a bit illogical because the past version of her is literally her but so much time has passed, things change, people change, and mc is a completely different person than who she was in their past lives. bc truly, the only one who i feel like truly loves her present day for who she is, is caleb. i would argue zayne to an extent too because he technically doesn’t have any memories whatsoever of his past lives so him and MC falling in love feels like it’s happening for the first time again, it’s a blank slate.

and not to say that the boys can’t grow to love who she is without painting her as her past version, but a part of it feels ingenuine sometimes to me. bc although she shares the same face, the same body, arguably the same soul as her past self, seeing as it’s again, literally her SELF, at the core of it, she’s not actually HER anymore. she’s someone completely different. so sometimes it feels super bittersweet & the lines get blurred. i have a love hate relationship w some of the lads lore for these reasons.

so sorry for the fatass post, but the lore & past life concept in the game always makes me feel hesitant to truly immerse myself into the game (i don’t even actually play the game, everything ik and have seen are from youtube clips that people have uploaded for all the myths, memories, and the overall storyline). this isn’t to say i don’t look forward to new updates and such, i love love lads. but like whenever i indulge in fanfic, especially as a chronic reader of ‘x reader’ fics, i have to separate reader from being MC, which is why i always stray towards non!mc reader bc there’s no tangible lore and past lives/reincarnations attached to a nonmc! reader. at least not to the same extent as the og MC depending on how much the author diverges from canon and just basic background context for reader. but overall imo, non!mc reader just doesn’t carry the same heavy implications of the boys’ true feelings when it’s the actual MC vs a non!mc reader if any of that connected 😔

similarly why i also love iseki/transmigration fics as well; basically any concept where the reader is NOT the mc. bc just like in iseki fics, the boys don’t have the same attachments & feelings towards reader as they do MC. it just feels more sincere imo, idk.

i wonder if im just crazy and have too much time to think & talk to myself about this, or if other players/readers feel the same way. bc ik the whole point of an otome game is that WE are the MC. but ive just never been able to fully immerse myself like that, i see MC as a completely separate character, almost like an OC sometimes. like i just can’t connect or fully enjoy any fanfic with MC being the “reader”. i view MC and reader to be two different people if that makes sense.

and again, im completely aware that as the storyline continues, the boys have obviously shown to care and have deep affectionate feelings (love is a bit too ambiguous imo to truly label that as what they feel for mc) for current mc and its probably only going to strengthen as the story moves forth. but my mind still spirals and thinks about all the “what-ifs” and semantics of reincarnation and past lives. i wish i didn’t think this way, the game and concept of it would probably be more enjoyable all around for me, but i apparently hate myself to think too light heartedly, even for a fictional game/story 😭

truly tho, it’s never that serious, i just had to get that off my chest bc i really don’t know if any other (not sane) person felt this ardent & torn about this as i do, which is a little silly honestly but here we are LMAO 🧍‍♀️ but in the end, there’s something for everyone here in the world of fanfic & delusions! 🫶🏼🫧

[ficsinhistory]

Gun and Stones

So, I was thinking about Stone these days and some small thoughts came to mind, especially thanks to @shitposting-for-the-soul

Many people think that Stone will become the big villain of Sonic 4 and while I want this man to go through the very valid crash out that he needs to have… I don't believe that this will translate into villainy.

Not against Earth and the team of heroes at least.

Stone is evil. But he also has standards. Are they only relevant to him? Yes, but he does. We've already seen that he's not xenophobic, not caring about Shadow's world domination because he considered him an ally and treated him as such, regardless of the hedgehog being an alien. He took control of a café in Green Hills through shady means, but only because he followed Ivo's manifesto and it didn't even cross his mind to dominate the world without the Doctor.

And that's the thing, Stone wanted to dominate the world with Robotnik. To be his right hand man.

And with Eggman presumed dead, I don't believe any plan to enslave humanity would even cross his mind.

You ask me: Stone has already started a posthumous plan for Ivo once, why not start over?

And I answer: Because of the way Ivo died.

Robotnik sacrificed himself to save the Earth, since he couldn't save it. Not only that, he made that very clear in his final message. And I doubt Stone would want to attack humanity after the most important person in his life sacrificed everything to keep it.

Taking over the Earth would not only be empty without Ivo, it would tarnish the Doctor's ultimate sacrifice. And Stone would never act against Eggman's wishes.

But Stone is also grieving, and that pain and sadness needs to go somewhere.

And I believe it will be directed in two ways, although both end up on the same target: GUN.

The first is that Stone's anger and sadness is directed at GUN from the beginning.

He was once part of this organization and Stone knows how insidious it is. It was because of them that Gerald went crazy and built the Eclipse Cannon. It was because of them that Ivo was discarded without further ado. All this chaos happened because of them.

And Stone wouldn't let that go unpunished.

Maybe he plans to act against GUN alone or when Sonic and the others inevitably face them - especially since Rockwell will probably be the new leader - they need Stone's help, who will be more than happy to help.

Add to that the possibility that Stone will become Shadow's new guardian and this man's anger will triple.

The second is more complicated: Stone will try to get revenge on Sonic and company… because he thinks they were responsible for Ivo's death.

Yes, yes, we know that Tails and Knuckles saved Eggman from his despicable grandfather… but not Stone. Sonic already tried to kill Ivo once and was disappointed when he realized he hadn't succeeded. He has no reason to think that this wasn't what happened again.

Stone would blame them…and that's where GUN would come in.

With Rockwell in charge, the Wachowskis are already on thin ice. With Metal Sonic and Amy Rose showing up? Nah, they're going to be on a witch hunt for all the aliens. And they took advantage of Stone's grief by claiming that it was Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles who killed Robotnik in an attempt to bring him over to their side. Is that a blatant lie? Absolutely, but it's not like GUN plays fair and has any morals anyway lol.

Of course, this would only work if Shadow isn't under his care.

But assuming he isn't, that's quite likely. As is the truth coming out.

My best guess is that Amy would bring Stone to his senses with a speech like she did with Shadow in SA2, perhaps using her temporal powers to show him what really happened (Amy and Stone would get along well in general in my opinion since both characters have caring and unconditional love as a big part of who they are).

We also have the possibility of the team or even Shadow himself telling what really happened.

And Stone would be livid with GUN using him. Again. And tainting Ivo's memory and wishes.

Anyway, I can't wait to see Stone back and terrorizing GUN! Thanks for reading!

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Manny doesn't just care about Abby the way comrades do. He cares about her as a person.

Despite the turbulence of Abby being lost, hurt and absolutely running herself into the ground, he sees her. He meets her there.

And he also knows she's too damn stubborn for her own good, but that, my friends, is the price of unconditional loyalty.

Manny is one of the few people in Abby's life who isn't constantly demanding something from her.

He doesn't always agree with her choices, but he's willing to walk through the fire by her side. Once you understand this, it really opens up the depth of Manny’s character and their friendship.

It goes both ways, as you’ll experience later on during the sniper conflict.

If you play the game and really sit in this scene, and this entire section of her storyline, really... I think it’s worthwhile to pay close attention to the things neither of them dares to say. It’s rather incredible, actually.

In rare form for Abby, their silence isn’t based on miscommunication and unresolved tension.

The unspoken concerns are felt and acknowledged.

They simply don’t need to go there. They accept each other without pretense, even when it sucks.

That level of trust rarely requires words. Manny knows how Abby's mind works and how her heart refuses to let go. He's seen it time and again. When she decides something, there's no shaking her from it.

Is it because they are cut from the same cloth?

Here's the thing most people miss about this part.

Manny says:

"I’m coming with you."

He absolutely would’ve done so. But reluctantly, he stays behind, because it's his duty, and because it's strategy. But there's more to it. Sure, he's her alibi with their leader, holding things down at the base, but he's also looking out for the bigger picture.

Manny is a protector, too.

He's consistently been Abby's rock, always there to pull her back from the edge, even when she resists the help. Manny balances respecting her decisions with his affection for her, and he does it without fear of calling her out.

He challenges Abby but he doesn't withdraw affection from her when the outcome doesn't fit his vision. One of my favourite aspects of their relationship.

I'm willing to bet that sending her out there alone goes against everything Manny's instincts are screaming at him. If you notice the tidbits the other WLF characters mention after the fact, this point is emphasized.

Manny is worried sick while she’s gone.

It's my interpretation that his genuine concern and connection with Abby plays a major role in his tone here.

Normally, he'd suit up and follow her straight into battle. Fuck Isaac, fuck their obligations.

But he can't.

Maybe he fears this will be her undoing. Maybe he also worries that if he joins her, they won't have a home to come back to, and they've both already been through that devastating loss.

And then Abby says:

"I've done this before."

And okay, she's got to be the most stubborn, blindly determined girl in existence. But there’s a reason for it.

Abby has this internalized idea that she can handle things on her own because she has, for the most part, always done so. Many people have come to expect this level of independence from her. Looking at you mother freaking Isaac.

Manny’s rebuttal?

"Not with this many Scars in the area."

Well, there might as well be an exclamation mark at the end of this one. Manny's immediate concern has never been whether Abby is capable.

He knows she is.

But he's just being realistic, which is something Abby often struggles with when faced with her heavy emotions. Manny is looking at the overall risk here. He isn't dismissive and frustrated.

He's scared for her.

"Manny, please."

That shift in her voice. What I think she's really saying here?

Manny, I need you to understand.

"Alright. You know best."

You could interpret this as sarcasm, and I think if you play the game without caring much about the tone or their dynamic, it's easy enough to do.

That's not what I hear.

Manny doesn't lecture her further or fight her on this because he trusts her. That type of love comes from knowing someone so deeply that even when you don't agree with them, you stand by them anyway.

I would kill to see someone break down Manny's inner conflict throughout the larger scene. There's so much to observe and yet most of what we seem to get is a bunch of bullshit about how the WLF crew has no personality.

Perhaps the issue isn't the WLF crew.

There is depth to Abby and her friends. You don't have to look that hard to find it.

You’re allowed to want things for the people you care about, even if they ultimately choose a different path—and you? You can still choose to support them through it.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

“I’ve decided to call off of work for a while,” my wife explains to me over breakfast. “I’d rather be around if you need me than be at work, and we’ve got ample savings to live off of in the meantime.”

I ask her if she’s sure about that— I don’t really need a babysitter, I’ve already gotten over my meltdown about this whole thing— but she assures me that she believes it’s the right decision.

“What do you do for work, then, that they let you have time off so easy?”

She hesitates.

“I work for Tony Stark,” she replies after a moment. “As it stands, though, he’s got an excellent team, so they can share the load of whatever I’m leaving behind. Besides, it’s time I took a vacation.”

She’s keeping something from me, but I let it slide.

“Babysitting me is hardly a vacation.”

She shoots me a sly grin over her cup of coffee.

“Who said I was babysitting? Keep up the sass and I’ll call Dolores to sit with you while I go to Bali.”

I’m startled into a laugh.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I? Try me, soldier boy.”

There is a strange energy between us that makes me feel oddly playful. I want to forget about eggs and bacon and chase her around the house instead.

Gradually, though, that energy fades as we run out of things to talk about. Awkwardness subsumes us again, and since I cooked, (Y/N) offers to wash dishes, presumably to escape the weight of the silence between us.

About an hour of that tension is all either of us can stand. 

“I’m going downstairs to train,” she says, throwing a bar cloth over her shoulder. “Would you like to join me?”

I blink.

“We have a downstairs?”

“Yes— a basement.” A fond smile comes over her face. “You designed it yourself.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I did?”

“Oh yes.” She grins. “Come on, dear— I’ll give you the tour. You’ll love it.”

She walks past me just close enough for me to feel the heat from her body, but does not touch me. She keeps going just long enough for me to see the full length of her figure, then turns back to throw at me a mischievous look over her shoulder. 

“Well? Coming?”

She keeps walking, and I keep staring. This time, though, I grin. This hint of playfulness gets a rise out of me not unlike the one from before, and I realize that this must be what normal is for us.

What a fox.

Like a hound dog wagging his tail, I move to follow her. This, if nothing else, should prove interesting.

***

Three and a half hours later, I’m sore, sweaty, and I can’t feel my face.

To be fair, we’ve only been working for most of three hours. The majority of the first hour was spent on rediscovery— and what an hour it was! Not only did I apparently stock most of the cool machines I’d used in Wakanda, but there were also some things I’d never seen before, such as the combat simulator that Shuri had apparently gifted me last year for my birthday. (Y/N) warned me that it felt real, but I didn’t believe her until those nerve stimulators of Shuri’s mimicked exactly the feeling of a bullet ripping through my shoulder. It’s unpredictable, the simulator; it generates combat scenarios at random, and not every conflict ends well even if you do everything by the book. It’s a genius invention, and I spend an hour and a half on that alone.

As fascinating as the combat simulator is, though, it doesn’t hold a candle to what comes next.

While I rest from playing with all my (new) gadgets, my wife has been working slowly and steadily, alternating between lifting weights and training with a punching bag. She’s sweating heavily, and she looks pretty fatigued, but she keeps at it with a determination that reminds me of Steve. Eventually, though, she sits down to rest too, and between gulps of water, she says,

“Spar with me.”

“What?”

The word comes out as a laugh. She smirks.

“Laugh now, Sergeant Barnes, but I learned from the best.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenge playfully. “Who?”

Her smile is radiant and warm; it feels like a house fire in my chest.

“You.”

My heart skips a beat. 

She thinks I’m the best.

It’s a stupid thought, perhaps even a silly one, but it’s there. Even so, looking at her now, moving to stand with her hair all mussed and her face all sweaty, I know I can’t seriously spar with her. 

At least, that’s what I think until she whirls a kick at my head, forcing me to block it with my forearm.

“I said,” she pants, baring her teeth in a feline grin, “spar with me.”

The word no had been on the tip of my tongue— but I’ve never been one to leave a blow unanswered.

I grin back, and the game is on.

I launch myself from my seat, aiming to use my size to my advantage and grapple her— safely, gently, of course— to the ground. All my arms catch is air. She bounds lightly backwards, as graceful as a dancer, and holds her hands up in a ready position. 

After I aim a few hits at her, missing each one, I realize her strategy. I’m bigger, stronger than her, sure, but it takes a lot more for my muscles to move my larger body than it does hers. She’s baiting me into my strikes, hoping to fatigue me before she presses what then will be her advantage. I adjust accordingly. I feint left, but move right— the motion traps her as my metal metal hand closes around her soft flesh. I think I have her until she uses the same momentum that I use to pull her to me to bash her forehead against the bridge of my nose, stunning me. She wrenches free and tries to sweep my feet, but I’m too sturdy for her. Instead, she falls with the motion, and I follow her to the floor in an unsightly but effective crawl to try and close the distance between us for a grapple. She doesn’t make it to her feet before I’m on her, and I know it’s game over now.

Size for size, strength for strength, I’ll win.

Surprisingly, though, she still makes me work for it.

In an impressive show of agility, she rolls away from me before I can grab her— but not before aiming a kick at my temple that, had it landed, might have been deadly. Frustrated, I make a grab at the foot that kicked at me, and she stomps my fleshy hand with her heel— meet punishment for the pettiness of my grab. Truly irritated now, and in sorry pain, I get my feet underneath me and throw myself at her once more.

She rolls again, and my hand misses her arm by only half an inch. In fact, she almost makes it to her feet before I finally latch both arms around her waist and bring her down hard. I win the ensuing scramble; only a few seconds pass before I have her pinned beneath me, my hands circling her wrists and forcing them to the ground beside her head. Her legs are pinned open by my knees, and I grin in fierce triumph.

“I win,” I say, and I know my expression must be wild with joy.

Her expression doesn’t exactly match mine, though. Her eyes are wide, her lips are parted, and…

And her chest, slightly exposed and pressed forth by her raised arms, is heaving.

The world slows. My awareness narrows to just the places where our bodies are touching, which is… a lot of places. My heart is racing, I can’t catch my breath— and neither can my wife. My wife, who is panting, sweaty, and beautiful, whose soft thighs are on either side of mine, and whose eyes say she wants me to close all the distance that there is between us.

“Bucky.”

She breathes my name like a sigh, and I know that in this moment, I’ll do whatever she asks of me. 

“Bucky,” she repeats, “I think— I think I need to shower.”

That’s… not what I wanted to hear.

I let her up. She dusts off like it’s nothing, but I can see the tremble in her limbs. She’s fatigued beyond fatigue, utterly exhausted— and so, I find, am I. On unsteady legs, I move to follow her, then stop.

“Eat something,” I tell her belatedly, uselessly. “I mean, to keep your strength up, you should probably eat.”

She turns. Her smile is sad.

“Thanks Buck, darling. I will.”

And thus, like a newborn fawn, she stumbles out of the room on shaky legs, leaving me to stand in humiliating silence with a raging hard-on and nothing to do with it.

***

While (Y/N) showers, I raid the kitchen. 

My own shower was short and cold. I took it in the guest room, which is just as richly furnished as the rest of the house. It wasn’t the best shower I’ve ever taken, though, since I wouldn’t exactly call it refreshing. I came out of it just as I came into it— tired, frustrated, and hungry.

One of those things can be fixed quick, fast, and in a hurry by an enterprising guy like me, though, and I place my bets on the fridge as I crack it open for a peek at its treasures.

There is everything imaginable in that refrigerator. So much that I have a hard time choosing anything at all. I settle on boiled eggs, string cheese, and an apple to start, and when that doesn’t do the trick, I manage to put together the ingredients for a simple but flavorful soup.

By the time (Y/N) returns from her shower, the soup is finished and there’s a bowl cooling for her on the counter. I serve it to her myself when she comes into the kitchen, and she thanks me tiredly as she sits at the dining room table.

“This is good.” She blows on the steaming spoonful she’s scooped up. “Thank you.”

I shrug.

“Sure thing.”

Once she’s done, I take her bowl and clean up. Her eyes are drooping sleepily, and I have to work to hide my smile from her as she yawns cutely.

“Wanda, Nat, and Bruce want to go out tonight,” she sighs tiredly, looking at her phone. “They’ve invited us, if you’re interested— although, just so you know, they likely have selfish intentions for asking us to come.”

I cock my head to the side in question. My wife blinks blearily, then clarifies.

“You can’t get drunk, so you always DD.”

“Not selfish, then.” I laugh, “just common sense.”

“Mm, maybe. Wanda gets weepy when she’s drunk, and Bruce gets cornier. Natasha stays Natasha, but sometimes her languages become… interesting.”

“And you?”

She grins.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m a delight, as usual, even when I’m drunk.”

Oh, I can translate that pretty easily. My money says she’s worse than all three of them combined.

“So,” she continues, “you in or out?”

I consider declining— (Y/N) seems too sleepy now to go out later in the day— but then I remember our sparring earlier and decide that, super-soldier-ness be damned, a drink might be a good idea after all.

“I’m down. You sure you’re not too tired? We worked hard earlier.”

“I’ll nap,” she yawns. 

I continue cleaning up, and she shuffles in the direction of the master bedroom with a muffled thanks for the food.

A little while later, I settle in on the couch and very politely pretend that I can’t hear the distinct buzz of a vibrator through the walls as my wife, on the other side, softly calls my name, doubtless thinking me unable to hear. 

Damn that super soldier serum. Never did me any damn good. 

***

I’ve never taken so long to dress in my life.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I completely fried my brain looking at the wardrobe in front of me. There are… there are colors here. Colors and designs and textures— how the fuck am I supposed to match any of this to anything else? I have half a mind to ask (Y/N) for guidance. However, the other half of my mind would insist that I jump off a bridge before resorting to having her dress me like I’m some kind of doll, so instead of looking at the clothes and continuing to overwhelm myself, I move to look at myself in the mirror and try to imagine an outfit that I would like.

While I’m scrutinizing myself trying to find the best outfit, I realize that my hair is different than I remember it. It’s still long, but there are more layers. I like it, I think. It makes me look cleaner, sharper. 

I finally settle on a black button-up and a pair of jeans. There’s a jewelry box on the dresser that I found my socks and underwear in, and I open it to find jewelry that must belong to me: a couple medals (Jesus, they’re old!), a silver chain, and a set of cufflinks.

There is also a wedding ring.

I lift the wedding ring and examine it. There is an inscription looping on the inside of it that reads,

In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

I consider putting it on my finger, but I decide against it. I haven’t earned the right to wear it— not yet. I have no right to my wife; as I am, I can’t be what she needs. I’ll need to wait until I can prove to her and to myself that I can still make her happy before I can feel right about it.

I place the ring back in the jewelry box and try not to feel disappointed.

I pick up the silver chain. It might be a nice addition to the outfit, I think. I put it on, stare at it, then take it off. I peer at myself, sigh, then put it back on. 

It’ll have to do.

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally manage to meet my wife in the living room, ready to head out. I make it halfway through the threshold to the living room before my jaw hits the floor.

Her dress is champagne gold with a perfectly-draped neckline that I feel sure makes my eyes bulge out in cartoonish heart shapes. The thin straps of the halter neckline settle pleasingly over her shoulders, and when she turns, I thank God for every roll, dimple, and contour of her back. Her long, delicate earrings brush her shoulders as she turns back to me, and I decide then and there that it’s over for me. There’s no way I’m not going to spend every minute of every day trying to make this dame happy for the rest of my life. Greek statues would be jealous of such a beauty. Hell, I don’t discriminate— statues of every race, color, and creed can eat their hearts out. They could never compare to her.

“Hey handsome. Whatcha think? Will I do?”

My approval must be obvious; she smiles cheeky and adds,

“It has pockets!”

To show me, she sticks her hands in them. The motion makes her breasts jiggle prettily, and I fix my gaze on the light fixtures in the ceiling trying to will away the urge to peel that fucking dress off of her with my teeth like I have any right whatsoever to do so. 

I really don’t know what the hell’s come over me. I feel like a hound-dog slavering over a fox. I’ve always loved women— who doesn’t?— but this feels… different. I ache for her in a way that makes me want to crack open her rib cage and live there.

“You look great.” My mouth is dry. I clear my throat. “Really great. I feel a little underdressed, looking at you. I can change, though, if you— ”

She grabs my arm, right on the muscle of my bicep.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “If you look any better, I’ll have to keep a baseball bat around to beat the women off of you.”

She squeezes my bicep, then releases me, her expression subdued.

Was that… jealousy? 

Interesting.

I offer her my arm— the metal one. She takes it, and I try not to feel smug.

“Ready?”

She smiles, nods, and accepts the arm I offer— but not before glancing at it and frowning. I frown too, confused about what might have displeased her, but there’s nothing I can figure out before we’re loading up in what is apparently my Jeep Wrangler. She directs me to each of our friends’ houses— “Wanda last,” she insists, “to give her time to put the kids to bed”—and then to the nightclub Natasha likes.  

The club is nice— the whole place looks like the inside of a lava lamp— but it’s full to the brim with sweating, drunk, scantily-clad people who all seem to feel entitled to touch everyone else. I personally don’t have any interest in that sort of thing, especially not this grinding business that looks little better than public dry-humping. Back in the day, I’d be spinning girls all around the dancefloor; I’d keep them on the floor until their feet hurt and even after. Now, though? I wouldn’t be caught dead doing… whatever that stuff is.

Well, if (Y/N) asked for a dance, I’d do my best. Anybody worth their salt would know better than to say no to a dame like her. But the thing is… she doesn’t ask me.

“I’m going to dance for a while,” she yells at me over the sound of the music. “Are you good here?”

“Peachy,” I shout back, propping my feet up on a rung of the barstool I’ve claimed. “Have fun, beautiful.”

Her smile glows in the blue-green light, and then she’s gone with Wanda and Natasha, who seem just as eager to dance.

Out of politeness, Bruce hangs out with me at the bar for a little while and we talk shop— S.W.O.R.D’s research and operations, Steve’s programs there— but it’s clear that he wants to dance as well. Before long, I send him off with a clap on the shoulder for encouragement, and then I’m alone at the bar, sipping surprisingly good whiskey.

A while later, a woman sidles up beside me to order a drink. I turn to look at her. She’s a dark-haired beauty with skin the color of polished bronze and hair like big, dark, fluffy clouds. Her lips are full, and they glitter with reflective golden gloss.

“Hi!” She greets me as we make eye contact. “You’re super handsome, oh my God!” 

I blink.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Say, do you wanna dance?”

“No can do. I’m here with my wife.”

The response is automatic. I shock myself with it. For a guy that’s only been married less than forty-eight hours, I’m coming to find that the “nope, I’ve got a wife” instinct sure does kick in fast.

“Oh my bad king! Have a good night!”

She turns to go, but I reach out and grab her arm.

“Wait, wait!” Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve got to be the stupidest man alive… but this might just be what I need. “I… think I might need some advice. Do you know stuff about relationships?”

She purses her lips in thought, then nods her head.

“Bad ones, yeah. Good ones, not so much. Also, babe, I’m a little drunk so I dunno how useful I’ll be to you right now.”

“That’s fine.” Reconnaissance, I tell myself. This is just simple reconnaissance. “You mind if we talk a minute?”

“I don’t mind at all! Yap away!”

I tell her the important bits and leave out the stuff she probably shouldn’t know.

“Like I said, I just feel like I barely know her anymore, but I… I want to try and make it better. She’s good to me, and I want to be good to her. Plus, the chemistry is…” I think back to that sly smile, the press of her thighs against mine. “Off the charts. I just wanna be the man she fell in love with.”

Lani— that’s my new friend’s name— nods thoughtfully. 

“And you say you’ve only been back stateside for a couple days?”

I nod and feel a little guilty using someone else’s war for my white lie. Still, though, I don’t know what all my excuses would consist of if there was only peacetime in recent years.

“Then this is just relationship throat-clearing,” Lani tells me confidently, throwing back the shot I bought her. ��Ack— that’s strong. But yeah, it’s just a phase. If you wanna speed stuff up, I recommend physical touch. Not the sex kind, you understand— just hold her. Your bodies have probably done a little forgetting even if your minds haven’t. Might be a good idea to start there.”

“But how do I initiate it without coming off.. weird?”

Lani and I talk for a long time. I lose track of how long. Before I know it, it’s been two hours, and I look up to realize that I haven’t seen my wife in that amount of time. I look around, but I don’t see her.

“Don’t worry,” Lani is telling me, “You seem like a good guy, and you’re trying. If she loves you, you’ll work it out just fine.”

A weird look comes over her face, and she adds, “Besides, if I’m guessing correctly… she’s definitely still burning hot for you, king, so good luck out there.”

I turn back to her and thank her sincerely. She pats me on the shoulder and thanks me in turn for the drinks. It’s only right, she insists, that her bad experiences should serve to help someone else prevent them. With that, she’s off, and I’m sitting by myself once more.

Tired now, but armed with a good strategy, I stand, stretching my legs. I scan the dancefloor for my wife, but I don’t see her in the immediate vicinity. When I do catch sight of her, I wish I hadn’t— her eyes are all molten fury as she squishes her way through the crowd of dancing bodies. Whatever has happened tonight, she’s not happy about it, that’s for damn sure. Still determined to act on the advice I was given, I start to make my way toward her, but before I can get very far, I see someone grab my wife’s arm and yank— hard. She stumbles, and I catch sight of the person who’s holding her. 

It’s a man. A large, scruffy-looking man with a look of trouble about him.

I start to shove through people faster.

(Y/N) tries to snatch her arm back, fails. She’s clearly a bit drunk, and stumbles when he yanks her over to him. I’m two strides away, but not close enough to help before the situation explodes.

My wife, full of righteous fury from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head, rares back and punches the guy straight in his ugly face. 

He lets her go then, but people start screaming and the crowd jostles me away from her. I’m trying very hard not to lose my patience and start swinging my elbows— I could kill someone like that with my level of strength— but I’m starting not to care as I watch her use her fists like hammers on the guy’s skull. I’ve seen shit like this among soldiers before, back in the day. She’s drunk, she’s angry— and, judging by how long she lasted against me sparring, she’ll catch a fucking manslaughter charge if I don’t intervene soon. 

I scream her name above the din, but she doesn’t hear me. Her knee connects with Ugly Guy’s nose, and I finally break free from the people-prison that had me trapped. 

“Hey!” I call out to her, reaching for her arm. “Baby, hey, he’s had it, okay, you made your—”

She whirls on me, and I catch hell in the form of a cupped hand smacking painfully against my ear.

“Stay the fuck out of this,” she snarls at me, vicious and cruel. “I’m not done here.”

Oh, but she is. I can be every bit as vicious and every bit as cruel as she can be, and I prove it by grabbing her from the back and putting her in a metal-armed headlock.

“Stand down, babygirl,” I growl close to her ear. “You don’t want to kill him.”

“I do,” she confesses darkly, struggling vainly against me. “I want his bleeding heart in my hands!”

“Then not here, not now.” Bouncers have finally noticed the commotion— too late, sadly. They’re heading for us, but I keep my voice level and calm. “Behave or I swear to God I won’t let anyone bail you out of jail.”

“You have no right to command me!” She thrashes in my arms like a trapped animal. “Let me go, asshole!”

“I have every right.” I tighten the lock.

“Says… who?”

“Says this.” I tighten my arm more, and she wheezes like a squeaky toy with the squeaker ripped out. “Now behave. I don’t wanna go to jail.”

And, let’s be real— if that stupid, ugly fuck decides to raise his hand to her even in self defense, it’ll be both of us sitting in a jail cell. I’d kill him for it.

I let her go then, and she stumbles, clutching at her throat and gasping for air. I feel an instant flash of regret, but I have no time to process it before I’m gathering her in my arms and promising the bouncers that we didn’t start it, but that we’re leaving so as not to cause more trouble. They look at us skeptically, but decide that we’re apparently not worth the trouble and send us on our way. 

Natasha and Bruce catch up with us at the doorway. They saw the whole thing, apparently, and had the same trouble I did with trying to reach (Y/N) before she caused more trouble for herself and us. 

“You guys go on home,” says Natasha, a strange look in her eyes. “We’ll catch up with Wanda and we’ll all get an Uber home when we’re ready.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, desperate for an answer in the affirmative.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Bruce says, placing a reassuring hand on my wife's shoulder. “We all get mad sometimes— and sometimes, we all need a break.”

If Bruce Banner tells you that you need to take a chill pill, you take one. 

And so that’s how my wife and I end up parked in our garage, staring straight ahead at the wall in absolute silence. I’m lost in thought, pondering how such a promising evening went to shit so fast, when (Y/N) breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry I hit you.” Her voice wavers a bit. “And that I called you an asshole. I was just so mad…”

She’s fighting tears. I want to stretch out my hand to her, but I don’t know that the gesture would be welcome.

“S’okay. You had a right to be mad at that guy. He was a total creep.”

She shakes her head.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t mad at him. I mean, I was, but not initially.”

I turn to her, but she’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched. With great effort, I keep my voice gentle.

“What happened? Why were you angry, then?”

Her lower lip trembles.

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Bucky.”

It’s not the answer I wanted, but it is an answer I will accept.

“That’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.” I think for a minute, then add, “Also, I’m sorry for putting you in a headlock and then insinuating that I have a right to order you around.”

She huffs a laugh.

“I deserved it. All you did was keep me from making a pretty big mistake.”

“Still,” I insist, “I was meaner than I would have liked, and rougher too. I’m sorry.”

“Bucky, please don’t apologize— not for this. It was the right call.”

“But I am sorry it had to happen that way. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

To my shame, there is still a red line at her neck where my arm pressed against it. It’s not bruised or anything, but the mark itself shames me.

My wife turns to me, rigid and acerbic. She says,

“James Buchanan Barnes, I have begged on my actual knees for the same thing you did this evening and worse for my own, selfish… lascivious reasons. When I tell you that no apology is necessary, I mean it. You have nothing to apologize for. No touch from you could ever be too rough for me.”

The implication she just made— that she enjoyed being in a headlock, that she… gets off on that rough and ready side of me— lays heavily between us. 

I’m utterly speechless.

“Ugh, I’m still fucking drunk,” she groans. “Don’t listen to me. I’m going to bed.” 

She clambers out of the Jeep and makes her way into the house. I sit there for a minute to process, then turn the car off and follow her inside.

By the time I make it in, the water to the main shower is running. With a loose plan in mind, I undress down to my boxers and slip between the covers of our shared bed adjacent to the bathroom and wait for her to finish. 

Then my hearing picks up on something I’m not supposed to hear— a whispered phone call that is meant to be masked by the running water of the shower, but isn’t.

“I don’t know, Shuri.” My wife is saying, her voice thick with tears. “He may wake up tomorrow and remember everything. No, the tests won’t be back for— oh stop that, you know we don’t have Wakanda’s resources. No, I don’t think international travel is a good— Shuri! Listen to me, he’s okay. Why am I so emotional then? Why do you think! Because— ” there is a pause, a shuddering breath, then, “Well, I’ve made a fool of myself. Oh, Shuri, what a jealous fool I’ve been!”

(Y/N) recounts the evening as she remembers it, and I am horrified to discover her version of events. Right off the bat, I apparently managed to fuck up by not wearing my wedding ring— apparently she saw that as a sign of rejection and not the show of respect I had intended it to be. That pain, of course, exacerbated the jealousy she describes to Shuri as me openly flirting with and buying drinks for a hot, drunk chick— a jealousy that she thinks she doesn’t even have a right to feel because I’m no longer hers— or at least that’s what she thinks I seem to think.

This account paints me in a terrible light indeed. I feel physically ill listening to all of my actions being laid out and twisted into something they were never meant to be.

“I can’t even be mad at him, Shuri,” she cries, a terrible, aching sound that wrenches my heart and roils in my gut. “It’s not his fault— he doesn’t even know me. And— I mean, yeah, I know he saw the ring ‘cause he had on the necklace, so he had to have looked in— ugh, don’t distract me! My point is, what if he never remembers? He— he may want to leave. No, I won’t stop him— I want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. I just— I love him, Shuri. If he leaves, it will break my heart.”

I keep listening , but those words bounce around in my brain. 

If he leaves, it will break my heart.

“I don’t even think he thinks I’m pretty anymore. When he saw me in my cute little dress— you know, the gold one with the pockets?— he looked up at the ceiling as if he’d rather look at anything else. Oh, Shuri, it’s over. It’s hopeless!”

It’s all I can do not to bust the bathroom door down and correct every misconception she has. Instead, I bide my time, resting my eyes and my body as she finishes her phone call and her shower. She needs this time and space, so I give it to her until the water shuts off and she makes her way to the bedroom where I lay in apparent sleep.

(Y/N) steps softly up to the bed, then hesitates. I’m willing to bet she’s contemplating sleeping in the guest room. Without opening my eyes, I say,

“Don’t be shy. There’s plenty of room.”

Gingerly, she climbs into bed. She settles as far from me as she can get— an admittedly respectful distance in a circumstance such as this one. Still, I’m unsatisfied. 

“You can stay there if you’d like,” I tell her, “but I’ll feel terrible if you fall off.”

She doesn’t move. It’s remarkable how quiet her crying is, but I can feel the sadness radiating off of her in waves.

I sit up. 

“Hey.” I open my arm— the metal one— up to her. “Come here.”

She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to do this, Bucky,” she sniffles. “You— you’re really not obligated to comfort me. If anything, I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“Why?” I ask. “I’m not the one who’s lost anything. From where I’m sitting, I’ve only stood to gain. I have a home, friends, and a beautiful wife where I used to have none of those things. But you… you’ve lost a husband.”

She covers her face with her hand, and I take it upon myself to close the distance between us. I pull her to me, and she buries her face in my chest while she cries.

“I’m sorry,” she says, over and over. “I’m sorry…..”

I soothe her as best I can. I rub circles into her back and hold her close. When she shifts awkwardly, I grab Kleenex from the nightstand and let her blow her nose. The whole time, I take Lani’s advice and don’t let her get more than three inches away from me. 

When she’s calmer, I begin to speak. I start with what I feel should be the most obvious fact that she has misunderstood.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” I tell her firmly, brushing hair away from her face. “I’ve seen a lot of women in a lot of places all around the world and even outside of it, and to me, you beat the hell out of all of them. When I saw you in that dress, it was all I could do to keep my hands off of you and go back to whatever it was we were doing in the basement earlier.”

My wife blinks owlishly. I don’t wait for her to respond before I press on.

“But,” I continue, “I kept my hands to myself because I haven’t earned that yet. I’m stumbling in the dark here with no clue what I’m doing— I’m not the man you married. At least, not yet. But I’m trying to be. I want to be him. That’s why I didn’t wear my wedding ring. I wanted to be worthy of it— worthy of you— before I put it on. In retrospect, I’m realizing I must have seemed like an asshole by not wearing it— even further from the man you know and love.”

“Oh Bucky,” she sighs, tears streaming down her face, “you really are the man I married, even if you don’t know it, you sneaky, conniving, eavesdropping bastard. You listened to my phone call with Shuri, didn’t you?”

I turn pink from the top of my chest to the tips of my ears. 

“That depends on how mad you’ll be if I say yes.”

She lets out a snotty giggle that’s stupidly cute.

“S’what I get for marrying an assassin and a spy,” she smiles through her tears. “Go on, dear— you might as well finish up. You’d better have a jam-up excuse for letting that girl fawn over you all night, or I’ll still be cross with you.”

I shrug.

“That one’s easy. I was asking her for advice about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She’s quiet for a long time after that. I keep handing her tissues and she keeps blowing her nose until the fount of her tears finally dries up.

“So?” I probe gently, taking her hand in mine, “Am I forgiven?”

“Of course.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s me who should be asking for forgiveness— I should have trusted you to start with.”

I shake my head with a grin.

“My wife can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned. Even when she does something wrong, I’ve got to assume that it’s my fault somehow.”

“Bucky,” she laughs. I lean my forehead against hers and decide to press my luck.

“Can I kiss you? I’ve wanted to since we sparred earlier, and I think it would go a long way towards soothing any ruffled— mph.” 

Her lips are soft against mine. She kisses me once, twice— and then I deepen the kiss, adjusting our bodies until my hand is threaded through her hair, forming a cup around her skull as we kiss deeply, unhurriedly, as though we have all the time in the world. Her hands roam and so do mine, and in this slow, sensual exploration, I am completely, utterly lost. 

Selfishly, I want more. I want to pull my wife into my lap and let her feel what she does to me— I want to kiss and touch her and make her feel good— but Lani had advised me against this temptation.

“If you give in too soon, somehow sex and intimacy become the same thing, which… they aren’t,” she’d told me. “She needs one much, much more than the other, and I’ll give you a hint— it’s not sex. Trust me, even if it feels right in the moment, it won’t later. It’ll feel transactional. That's the worst possible outcome, ‘cause when it comes down to it, there’s always a better deal somewhere else. Give her safety, though, and she’ll always be yours.”

So that’s what I do. I hold her and kiss her and touch her until she’s tired, and then I tuck her into my chest and wait until her breathing evens out to close my own eyes and sleep.

[emilys-bangs]

Plant mom Prentiss strikes again! I can't stop thinking about her 🥺 How much she learns about then and start to appreciate every plant you've gifted her. I think she'd realize gift giving is sort of your love language and maybe, just maybe you'd like her.

Would she invest in some of those special lamps which help plants to grow and set couple in her office? Would she rant about Bailey or another annoying person to her plants because you said one day that plants supposedly like it when you talk to them. It could be bullshit for all Emily knows but she loves you so she'll listen to everything you say and would do anything you say. Would you walk by her office and hear her talking to an especially stubborn plant who looks like it's on the verge of death but yet persist?

It dies. But you replace it with a new one when Emily's on a case with the others (knowing Emily really liked that one and would have been upset) and you're stuck with Penelope in DC. Good thing is you get to play plant mom to Emily's growing plant collection.

One day when you're visiting Emily's apartment you noice how there are more plants than last time. You're sure there were none the last time you came over.

Would you consider writing a fic about plants mom Prentiss?

-🔮

Same!! Plant mom Prentiss is canon to me now idc. When she started off with taking care of them it was really only to oblige you, but along the way she started getting interested in them on her own! She starts adding to her collection that you've gifted her; I think she’d be particularly interested in herbs and growing her own—mint and basil and rosemary to include in her cooking (Dave has been telling her to for YEARS and she always ignored him, wonder why she’s finally getting on it now?). She has them all lined up on her kitchen counter, and they’re lush and green and fragrant, her kitchen smells heavenly.

I’m dying at the visual of her ranting to a plant about Bailey, she’d TOTALLY do that 😭😭😭 (with the blinds closed ofc, but sometimes her voice carries). When you teasingly tell her she's supposed to tell the plants nice things she rolls her eyes, but then she sees the wilting plant and whispers to its dying leaves that she thinks you've bewitched her—there's no other explanation, because she realizes that this is borderline insane. A tiny part of her hates herself for talking to freaking plants, but eventually it feels like talking to Sergio, although she never does either in anyone's presence. The thought idly registers to her that she's not only a cat mom now, but a plant mom, too (what even is her life?). She's already subjected to so much teasing from the team now that her office has become a greenhouse, but maybe she would have a grow lamp or two at home🤔 she'd keep them safe in her home office to keep Sergio from destroying them. Speaking of Sergio! When Emily learns more about all of the plants you've gifted her, and more specifically the fact that they're all non-toxic to cats, she goes all mushy on the inside and decides that's it, it's time to ask you out on a date (the bau breathes out a collective sigh of relief). (But the plants don't go away.)

Honestly I think a plant momily fic is inevitable at this point....with pa!reader, too....anon you really cooked with this one

[mauveisroyalexo]

C H A P T E R — T W O

Summary: As the days lead up to the infamous dinner for the courting season, Akira becomes overwhelmed with all the sudden changes. Secrets are revealed and relationships are formed, but is it all for Akira’s benefit?

Warnings: strong language, breeding kink, heavy smut, strong violence, angst, parallel polyandry relationships, omegaverse, a/b/o, slow burn, trauma/healing themes, abusive family.

WC: 8,966

Previous | Next

“Akira, can I talk to you for a moment?”

I was in the middle of packing my books away when my mother entered my room. I never really saw my mother before, like really see her. She didn’t look like she aged much, even with the few streaks of gray in her curls. We were nearly built the same but still, she was slimmer than me. And her caramel complexed skin seemed a few shades lighter than my own.

“Did you need me to do something for you, mama?” I stopped what I was doing and straightened my posture. She just shook her head, closed the door behind her and walked over to me. I moved the cardboard box I was placing my books in, to the top of my bed and sat down. When by my mother sat down, I could see the tiredness in her eyes. I could see the worry and the concern. I had no idea what was troubling her, but like always, I knew it had something to do with me,

“Akira…baby, I know your life hasn’t been an easy one.” I looked down at my shirt and started playing with the hem. I hate awkward conversations like this. I don’t like getting into the details of my childhood, much of which I’m thankful I blocked out. “Last night’s celebration dinner shouldn’t have happened. We should’ve fully celebrated you finding your pack too.”

“It’s fine mama, I’m used to it.” I shrugged, getting up quickly to grab more books when I saw that she was about to reach for me.

“It’s not fine, Akira. Your brother tells me that the leader believes his pack are your mates? That’s a higher rarity.” I looked up from my books when I saw how interested my mother looked. I squinted,

“I seem to hear that a lot lately. I’m a “rarity”. It’s rare for a full human to be born in a family of wolves; it’s rare for me to have mates, let alone seven of them—I’m really confused and really tired of hearing it.” I usually never get upset with my mother but the word ‘rarity’ suddenly became triggering. I felt like I didn’t belong, like I was the family pet or an unwanted guest. Being rare in something that should be normal didn’t make me feel special.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you, Akira. I just meant that knowing that your pack is filled with your partners and not just strangers is rare. It changes things now.” My mother tried to explain. I frowned, still confused,

“How?”

I watched my mother sigh as she tried to think of a way to explain things, “In our world, when wolves find their true mate, be it an alpha with another alpha or an alpha and omega—even omega and omega—they have to go through the courting process. Betas do too but because we don’t really have mates, it feels more like…human dating than it is with wolves.” I know that she’s trying to explain, but once again my mother lost me.

“I’m still confused, mama.” I started my packing again, making sure the last of my books were secured before moving on to my clothes. Opening the closet; I looked at the limited amount I had in the small storage space. I truly didn’t own much.

“The process starts out similar: during courting, you have to get to know each other. Then there’s the meeting of the familial packs, followed by a crossover ceremony—.”

“A crossover ceremony?” I interrupted, “Where exactly do you crossover to?”

My mother giggled, “It’s a ceremony when the familial alpha transfers the responsibility of taking care of their pup over to the new pack leader. You become part of the new leader’s pack.”

“Like a wedding ceremony.” I figured that’s why it was so similar. It’s exactly like a wedding.

“Yes, similar to that. Only when involving mates, the difference is you have to meet with the family. You have seven mates, my love, that’s more than what’s required.” She laughed again, “With betas, it’s more like a human ritual, an actual wedding, to make it more special because our wolf is neutral. It does not need to seek a mate, it simply just wants to have one, it’s not as instinctual like it is with alphas and omegas. If it were just a regular crossing over, like with Justine and Theo, who aren’t mates, it would be like a regular wedding type of ceremony.”

“But…I don’t feel anything that they do.” I shrugged, throwing my folded clothes into another box. I wouldn’t really be leaving until the courting process, I guess, was done. Whatever that may look like for me, “I don’t feel anything werewolves feel.” I walked back over to my closet to grab more folded clothes, “Why are we talking about this? Are you saying you have to marry me off in order to have me move in with a new pack?”

“In a way…yes. Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d be having this talk with you.”

“Neither did I.” I agreed. I kind of thought I’d be at home taking care of my parents but I guess they had other plans. “I don’t think I even pictured my life with anyone.”

“Akira…” my mother frowned as I placed more clothes away, clothes I knew I wouldn't be wearing for a while, “I promise I didn’t mean it in a negative way, it’s just…there’s certain things that you have to know and do—.”

“Oh god, please tell me you’re not telling me I have to sleep with them, too.” I froze, scared that this is what this conversation was really about. My mother shook her head,

“No, and I’m so sorry about what your father said. You do not have to immediately sleep with them, or ever, the point I’m trying to make is that courting is a little different than just dating. It leads to a sort of marriage. If you were an omega, alphas would gift you things that omegas need: soft blankets or clothing to feel warm, things with their scent so that you’d feel safe, things you’d need for a nest. For alphas, they just want a true alpha to take charge, to know where their place is in a hierarchy. It takes the pressure off of them.”

“And for betas?” I questioned, curious.

“Well, for me and other betas, we liked being considered. Betas' role in society is to mediate. Our job is kind of like we’re second in charge; we temper alphas when they get too out of control. But we like knowing that our words are heard. That everything we say and the reasons behind it are taken into consideration.” I looked away. I find it funny that her job is to temper my father, and yet that isn’t at all what’s been happening. I could feel her eyes on me, “…I know your father’s temper isn’t great,” she spoke quietly. I covered my bruise as her eyes lingered on my arm, “but he still loves you.”

“Please,” I nearly snapped, rolling my eyes to myself, “don’t lie to me. Joseph hates me and you trying to sugarcoat it isn’t helping anything.” I scoffed, finding a stopping point in my packing. I would have to start lunch soon since my large family likes to come over for every meal.

“It’s the truth Akira, your father does love you.” My mother stood, reaching out to touch me. I didn’t even think about it when I flinched away, expecting her to grab me harshly too. That seems to be this family’s go-to.

“He doesn’t love me, he tolerates me. I know the truth now and I’m learning to live with it. Once this courting thing is done for Naomi, I will leave. You shouldn’t have come here, I don’t need a ceremony, I don’t want it! I don’t need a pity party because you suddenly feel guilty, just—.” I stopped spouting, trying to calm my nerves. “You don’t have to lie anymore. Whatever his reasons, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Akira, you couldn’t be more wrong. Your father does love you and no, he doesn’t show it, but he won’t deny it—.”

“He told me if it were up to him he would’ve left me in the woods years ago! That you begged him to keep me!” I was fed up with my mother’s blind trust in this man. He was no longer my father and if she keeps it up, she would no longer be my mother, “Stop apologizing for him! Stop lying to me and most of all, stop lying to yourself because we both know if I had presented, none of what I’ve been through would’ve happened!” I moved past my mother and left my room. I started feeling guilty for having this fight with my mother, but I also didn’t want to apologize for finally saying what I felt. I have been holding in my feelings for so long, to finally express them felt relieving. I don’t know if I could ever go back to hiding it anymore.

“Would you like some help today, Akira?”

I stopped peeling my potatoes to see Naomi standing in the open archway of the kitchen. I looked at her confused as to why she suddenly wanted to help me. I watched as she walked further, snatching an extra apron off the hook on the pantry door and tied it around her. I felt like I was stuck for a moment. Frozen in place over how she quickly grabbed a potato and a peeler, then got to work, “…Naomi, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping, what does it look like little sister?” Naomi laughed, peeling carefully. I stared at the sink for a moment before putting my potato down,

“Why are you helping me? Don’t you usually keep to yourself?” What is it with my family all of a sudden? One is trying to tell me about wolf traditions, another is trying to help me cook—I’m starting to think I’m in the twilight zone.

“I just want to help, don’t make a big deal out of it.” Naomi shrugged, placing her peeled potato into the bowl of water before moving onto the next one. I looked at her for a moment longer before going back to prepping lunch in silence. Making such large batches of food was common in my family. Everyone on the compound came to eat, it was a tradition my grandmother started and it just stayed that way. With my aunts and uncles and their children and grandchildren, it can get pretty rowdy, but nothing I wasn’t used to. Once prepping was done, I was now getting anxious with the silence between Naomi and I. This was out of the norm for us and usually, cooking was my only alone time, my time where I felt safe. “Naomi, please, why are you helping me? It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just…weird.”

“Fine. I felt bad about what happened at the summit.” She stared at my arm for a moment, probably noticing the bruise. It finally stopped hurting this morning, thankfully. “Yesterday, I should’ve noticed your fidgeting, but Jackson and I were talking more and more and I just—.”

“It’s fine Naomi.” I shook my head, checking over the pork chops we were having today, “You seemed to be hitting it off with Jackson, my thing with father shouldn’t interfere with that.”

“How do you do that?” She asked me quietly. I furrowed my brow,

“Do what?”

“Shrug every grievance off like it’s nothing; look at your arm. It’s the nastiest bruise I’ve ever seen. And that thing at dinner last night, he’s putting something that happened to grandpa onto you and you just take it.”

I sighed, stopping my stirring of the gravy on the stove to get my anger in check. Then I replied, “What exactly am I supposed to do, Naomi? He’s stronger than me. He’s bigger than me. If he really wanted to—and let’s face it, he probably does—he could kill me by snapping my neck in half. You’re telling me to stand up against him, against everyone who is like him in our family like I have a choice, I don’t! I represent everything he hates! I represent the very thing that took his father away from him, that man will never love me like he loves his other children and that’s the bottom line of it!” Naomi stared at me like I had three heads. Maybe because she didn’t expect me to get angry, maybe it’s because I refuse to fight him, but I have three months of this left. Once the ceremony for Jackson and Naomi is over, I have to start my life over with the Kim-Bangtan pack, and I’m actually not scared about it anymore.

“Once I found out the truth, accepting my fate just seemed…easier.” I went back to stirring the gravy, “Joseph Baptiste doesn’t love me and he wants me gone just as much as everyone else does.” I felt my face become warm and my eyes start to burn, “Over the years, I thought that that was just his way, that he wasn’t an affectionate man. But it wasn’t until recently, right after you spoke to me in my room, before the summit, that I started remembering everything I blocked out.” I looked over at Naomi, barely making out her face due my eyes watering. Naomi had this look on her face, I couldn’t tell if it was disgust or concern or sadness, “You were right, we didn’t celebrate my birthday as much. Then we just completely stopped altogether. Christmases, I was lucky if anyone remembered me, usually it was grandmother, while all of you got mountains of presents. Halloween, everyone got costumes they wanted while suddenly there was no time left to buy mine so I had to use hand-me-downs. Eventually, I just stopped asking, I stopped going with you. There were no sweet memories like baking with mama or going fishing with Joseph. You all have those, I don’t. You didn’t cry yourself to sleep, I did. You didn’t get whoopings when you did anything wrong, I did.

“I never rocked the boat. When everyone joined team sports or activities in school, I never asked to join because I didn’t want him or mama to have to spend even more money on me. I didn’t even fight back when he decided to take me out of school my junior year of high school, I just accepted it. I learned to..block it out.” I chuckled, stepping back from the stove as tears fell down my face, “I taught myself to be quiet. To do what was needed to not make anyone upset because it was easier. To be numb was just easier.” I wiped my face and closed my eyes as I tried to control my breathing, “I kept telling myself that if I just did what he wanted me to do—clean, cook, stay quiet, don’t bother him, whatever…it’ll be easier. I could survive it. It’s like I never existed as part of this family, and that’s the way he wanted it until now.” It surprised me to see tears stream down Naomi’s face. “You told me once how you didn’t like that the attention was on you. I don’t know what that feels like at all.” I shrugged. The saddest chuckle I could give slipped past my lips. I walked over to the counter near the kitchen sink and grabbed a paper towel to wipe my face.

The wind was knocked out of me as the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around my waist. My heart rate sped up, thinking I was in trouble when I heard a whimper, “I’m so sorry, Akira. I’m sorry I never did anything to stop it.” I never heard Naomi cry, ever, and it was unsettling. If anything, it made me even more nervous, “Your heart is beating so fast are you…are you scared of me too?” She seemed hurt? It wasn’t an emotion I would easily associate with Naomi, hell yeah I was scared.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve been scared of all of you ever since we learned I wouldn’t be a werewolf, and it’s the first time you’ve hugged me, ever, please let go of me.” I was shaking at this point. Feeling as though she could probably snap my spine in half if she squeezed too tight. Naomi let go of me and I let out a shaken breath.

“That’s fair, I don’t blame you for how you feel.” Naomi wiped her face, “If I was in your position, I’d be scared too. You endured so much over the years, I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”

“I almost didn’t…” Naomi’s eyes widened. I wasn’t going to tell anyone about my suicide attempt but for some reason, I wanted to tell Naomi. I think I wanted to trust her. “When I was sixteen…Joseph took me out of school. It was the only place I felt comfortable. You didn’t talk to me then. I guess you and Braxton didn’t want people to know I was your sister, and that was fine, I made friends with humans like me.” I shrugged, picking at the paper towel, “It wasn’t like I was doing poorly, I made really good grades, good enough to skip to senior level if I wanted, but I guess after a month or so of school left, when he found out that Keith Jackson planned to ask me out after he kissed me one day during P.E., he pulled me out of school. Til this day, I still don’t know how he found out, but we argued as soon as we got home. I don’t remember much of that day but what I do remember was him grabbing his belt and whipping so hard that you could hear the belt before it connected. I remember being grabbed by the back of my neck so hard it bruised. He didn’t care when mama told him to stop, he wanted to make an example out of me. So I just laid there on the living room floor and went somewhere else in my mind until it was over.”

“We were told you got in trouble at school, we didn’t know that was the reason…Fuck Akira, you couldn’t leave your room for a week, you were so bruised.” Naomi gasped.

“I tried slitting my wrists later that night but couldn’t go through with it so I found pills in mama’s medicine cabinet. I knew it was strong enough to put me to sleep but I ended up not taking enough.” I sighed, regretting not finishing the whole bottle, “God, 7 pills was just not enough.”

“Do you..do you still think about it?” Naomi questioned me. I looked her dead in the eyes, unmoving,

“What do you think, Naomi?”

“Lunch was delicious Akira, thank you! I think the kids even wanted thirds!”

I smiled as my Aunt Regina handed me her empty plate. “I can’t take all the credit, Naomi helped.” Everyone’s eyes shot to Naomi who felt very on the spot. I bit my lip, shrugging.

“I uh..I figured I needed more practice in the kitchen seeing as how I’ll have seven mouths to feed now that I’ll be joining a new pack. I wanted to see how Akira managed it all by herself.” Everyone seemed pleased with the answer but my father was unfazed. He wiped his mouth then held out his plate for me to grab. I sighed, then grabbed his plate. Naomi got up and started helping me clear the dishes, “Oh, Naomi you don’t have to get that, I’ll clean up everything.”

“I want to.” Naomi smiled, “I wanna help.” After gathering all the dishes, we headed to the kitchen. The children at the smaller dining table were making a mess, but nothing that was too big to clean up. I sat the dishes in the sink before heading over to the table, grabbing the littlest of the children out of his high chair. I placed him on my hip then told the children to finish up so I could clean up. Naomi just pretty much watched me the whole time, watching me take care of our cousin Nikki’s son, Jayden, “Did this little pup make a mess today? Yes you did!” I tickled him, listening to his cute laugh. I cleaned up his face and picked up the shirt I took off earlier back onto him.

“You do this every day? Clean this house, cooking all the meals, watch over the kids? Did you even eat yet?”

I shook my head ‘no’, “If I have time to, I’ll eat, if not, then I just end up binge eating. Probably the reason why I’m so big now.” I muttered the last part to myself, though I’m sure Naomi could hear me, “I get to eat after my chores are done and everyone’s left.”

“That’s really sad, Akira. How are you taking care of so much and not taking care of yourself?”

I squinted, “It’s not like I get a lot of help. You realize this is the first time you've helped me in the kitchen, ever, right?” Naomi looked away. I sighed, “Sorry. I’m just not used to you saying more than two words to me, yesterday and today kinda threw me off.” I fixed Jayden’s onesie then placed him back on my hip.

“Was I really that bad of a sister to you?” Naomi seemed genuinely curious about her behavior towards me. Over the years, she was indifferent. She didn’t seem to care either way about what I did or what happened to me. She just seemed to exist in her own world, “Was I so bad of a sister that I didn’t see your depression?”

“You weren’t bad, you were absent. You didn’t want to see, Naomi.” I snipped, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention she was giving me, “I don’t know what type of game you’re playing at, and I don’t care. Just please, go back to how you used to be with me, by ignoring me.”

“It's not a game, Akira, I really feel horrible about how I didn’t treat you like a big sister is supposed to.” Naomi urged, walking a few steps closer to me, “I thought about my own situation and ignored yours. Compared to yours, mine wasn’t even that bad.”

“Don’t do that.” Naomi tilted her head at me, “Don’t downplay your situation in this family by sympathizing with mine. I may not know what being a beta is like, but I do know what it feels like to have expectations forced on you.”

Naomi chuckled lightly and shook her head, “There you go again, little sister. Always thinking of others, never yourself.” I didn’t reply to that statement. I rocked Jayden, who decided to lay his head on my chest. Naomi decided to clean up the table and put the kids' dishes away. Each one of the kids hugged me and then I handed over Jayden to his older brother, Jacobi. After cleaning up the area, Naomi decided to help me with the dishes. She decided to talk more, telling me about her phone calls with Jackson and how he wants her to meet the rest of the pack soon. She asked about Namjoon, “Um, Namjoon is nice, I guess. He texts me, I guess he figured out I don’t like to talk as much.”

“He thinks you’re nervous, I can smell it on you.” Naomi motioned, taking a sniff, “Jackson said their packs grew up together, that they’ve been brother packs for a long time. He thinks Namjoon really likes you.” Naomi smiled. I blinked, the new information surprising me,

“You…You think he does?” I asked nervously. I wasn’t sure if I like Namjoon that way but I knew I felt something with him. Yesterday, at the summit, he seemed solely focused on me, even his beta, Jin, seemed more focused on me, “Mama said that his pack are my mates. I thought you’re supposed to have one mate. I thought humans couldn’t have mates.”

“It’s not black and white. Having a human mate isn’t taboo but it’s not necessarily normal or heard of. Having a human partner is a choice whereas having a mate is not. You’re biologically fated to be with them. Your pheromones are supposed to complement each other. That’s how you find your mate so really, you being mated to them is a phenomenon within itself, especially since three of them are betas. Betas don’t have mates, and the way I saw Jin react to you at the summit? Biologically, this isn’t supposed to happen.” Naomi was in deep thought by this point, I could see it on her face.

“What do you mean how he reacted?” Now I was curious myself at what she saw.

“There’s this thing that happens to alphas and omegas when they find their mate. Their wolf takes over their human mind for a brief period of time, no more than a few minutes. You notice it in the eye color; their eyes shimmer when their wolf is present. That doesn’t happen with betas, they don't have mates, and it definitely doesn’t happen with humans. It’s actually very odd that we noticed it.” I assumed the ‘we’ was my family when they spoke at the summit. Rather than make both of our brains implode, I changed the subject, “I wish I understood what the courting ritual process was like. Mama tried to explain it to me, but I don’t really understand it.”

Naomi shrugged, “From what I heard, there’s a ritual for each sub gender. It’s three months long and the heads of each familial pack meet to discuss the terms of their alliances and lay down the rules. Like if anything were to happen to us while we’re in the responsibility of our mate, the alliances would be broken. First we, as the ones being inducted into a new pack, have to honor our new pack’s familial leader by giving them a present. Then, the pack we’re being transferred to has to give us a present. It’s a sign of welcoming. If they're your mate, it’ll be something special to them to give to you since that’s their way of being vulnerable. If not, it’ll be something special, just not something of theirs, it’ll be store bought more than likely.

“Then there’s the first dinner. Each family wants to watch how you work with each other, to see if it’ll be a good match. After which the mothers or the highest ranking female of each family will start the planning process for the ceremony. While they go do that, the courting phase between the intended is like…dating for humans; you go out on dates, you spend time getting to know each other, etc.. Throughout all of this, there will be dress fittings and preparations for the grand ceremony.”

I probably looked terrified to her because Naomi just laughed, “What happens at the ceremony??”

“From what I was told, you pledge your alliance to your new pack, light the unity candle and kiss. The mating mark comes later, but that’s for betas to decide if they want the mark. For alphas and omegas, it’s instinctual, but betas have the right to choose if they want it or not since we don’t really have mates.”

“Would you get your mating mark?” I wondered, wanting to know her thoughts on it.

“Probably not. That’s something you do if you really love that person; you’re linked to them forever if you do that and while I like Jackson, I don’t know him. Three months is not a long time to know if I want that deep of a commitment.”

“But you’re practically marrying him.” I theorized, putting away the dishes in the dishwasher while Naomi scrapped the remains on lunch down the disposal, “That’s a commitment within itself.”

“But I can choose to walk away. Like I said little sister, it’s not all black and white. A mating mark symbolizes your wolf connection being made. Your emotions, your thoughts…your soul is forever linked to each other. If one of you dies, you’re forever mourning the loss.”

“Like grandmother..” I realized now how she never truly looked happy but the only time she did was when she talked about grandpa. “God, I can’t imagine living like that.”

Naomi placed the last dish in the dishwasher after rinsing it off, “Honestly, I have no clue what all of this will be like for you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of humans with a mating mark, let alone having to go through the ritual practices with multiple mates and their families. I just know based on what mama told me her experience was.” I nodded in reply, still reeling over the fact that I have to do all of this. Still, I didn’t believe that that would be the case for me, “I don’t know. I don’t exactly see our parents shelling out money for my ceremony. If anything, I expected them to solely focus on yours and I would just maybe get sent away to Namjoon’s.”

“No.” Naomi closed the dishwasher and turned to me, “No, I will make sure that you’re included, Akira. The crossing over ceremony is a huge deal, and even though I don’t like the attention, I’m actually looking forward to it. It’s a huge honor to know someone has chosen you, and you have seven men who are very powerful in our community, they chose you. I can’t tell you if you’re really their mate or if they think you are or if it’s biological or emotional but they chose you. It should be celebrated just as any other wolf’s crossover.”

“I’m not a wolf.” I countered.

“You are now.” Naomi quipped back.

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but the discernment I felt towards Naomi was slowly dissipating. She showed me more kindness today than I’ve seen in a lifetime. And while I was still on the fence, I couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe Naomi was trying with me, and I’ll be honest, I’m glad that she is.

“What about this? This would make a great gift to give to the head of their familial pack.”

It had been a couple of weeks since the summit had taken place, and my parents already started things in motion between Jackson and Namjoon. I managed to get out of my comfort zone and actually spoke to Namjoon on the phone. I couldn’t believe how patient he was with me. I know I’m practically moving at a snail’s pace with getting to know him, but all of it was so new to me. I have no idea what to expect from him or anyone else for that matter.

“Jade is supposed to be a lucky gem in Chinese culture, maybe this hair comb for Jackson’s mother would be nice.” My mother took Naomi and I to the mall to find gifts for our first dinner with the heads of the familial packs. Well, that was the plan. It took us an hour and a half to get to that point because Naomi and mother wanted to go shopping first, “Or look at these earrings, maybe those.”

“Maybe both? I really want her to like me.” It’s unsettling to see Naomi this way. Maybe it’s because she and Jackson talked damn near everyday since the summit or maybe she’s secretly always been this person that I’m just now seeing, but whatever the case, it’s unsettling. I would rather the nonchalant, indifferent, hate-the-world Naomi than…whatever this is.

“We should really find gifts for your in-laws too, Akira. There’s seven of them you have to impress.” My mother expressed happily, moving onto other things in the store. I don’t even know the name of the place we’re in but it felt like we’ve been here for hours. “Goodness, seven mates…this has to be the most unprecedented event ever.”

“My crossing over isn’t that big of a deal. I bet there won’t even be a ceremony for me.”

Naomi scoffed, “Please. You’re the mate of one of these most important packs in the city, you’re all anyone talks about these days.” I watched my mother nod her head in agreement, “Just pay attention, haven’t you noticed the stares we’ve gotten since being here?” I frowned, suddenly looking around the store, noticing a few glances and whispers thrown my way. Had I always been this aloof to not see the gawking and murmuring happening around me?

“This is…everyone’s really s-staring..?” I nervously pulled on the strap of my crossbody purse. I felt my anxiety get the best of me—I never had so much attention on me like this, it was uncomfortable.

“Well now you’ve gone and made her nervous.” My mother tutted, shushing me though her comment was aimed at Naomi, “It’s alright, Akira. It’s nothing to feel nervous about.”

“What if I mess up with the gifts? What if their families don't like me?? What if they don’t want their sons to have a human in their pack?!”

My mother grabbed my face and shushed me, having probably heard my uptick in heartbeats seconds before I felt it. My hands felt hot and clammy. I felt dizzy and winded, like I couldn’t breathe and could faint any moment. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of these people. I didn’t want to embarrass anyone. “Breathe Akira, I’m sure if they had a problem with you, they would’ve called it all off days ago. They are not the people to tempt fate. If your pack feels that you are meant to be with them, then that is what will happen.”

After finding presents for everyone, my mother made us go shopping for more new clothes, insisting that I actually buy some, “Half of these stores don’t sell my size, and the ones that do are for middle aged women!”

“Will you just look and see? It doesn’t even have to be anything extremely fancy, just a nice dress, Akira.” I could tell that my mother was getting frustrated with my attitude. I sighed and nodded, complying with her. I knew I was being a brat today and I think it was more of the fact that I was tired and wanted to rest. While in the store, I came across a simple black wrap dress, nothing fancy. It had long sleeves to hide the ugly bruise that was still on my arm and I knew I had some flats to go with it, “Mama, how about this?”

“Oh that would look nice on you.” She smiled, “We just need some accessories to match.”

“Oh, ma,” I felt myself about to whine and soon tampered it down, “You don’t have to do that, I feel bad that you’re buying all of this.”

My mother tutted at me, “Nonsense, you need a first dinner dress, besides, it’s very modest, which means it’s not—oh look, there’s Namjoon!” My head whipped towards another section of the store just as Namjoon’s did, probably hearing his name. He wasn’t alone; I could see two others with him, all staring at us. The smirk on Namjoon’s face was barely noticeable as he started making his way over to us. Why did I feel so nervous?

“Good afternoon Akira. Naomi, Mrs. Baptiste, how are you?” His voice was deep, deeper than I remembered. I nearly fell back into my mother as I said hello back.

“Good afternoon, Namjoon. And who are your friends?” My mother was smiling from ear to ear, you’d think she was the one getting courted.

“These are my pack mates, this is Hoseok,” he pointed to a man similar in height with a slender build, hair long enough to touch the back of his neck and just as black as the sweater he was wearing. He was tall but not overly tall like Namjoon and had a heart shaped smile when he introduced himself to me, “Finally nice to meet you, Akira. And please, everyone calls me Hobi.” His eyes were suddenly a blown out crystal blue, obviously a beta. He reached for my free hand, the icy blue of his eyes relaxed into a soft dark brown color then, while my other hand clenched hard around the dress I found.

“Would you prefer I call you Hobi?” The slight growl I heard from him shocked me. Namjoon smiled, trying to mask his laugh. Hoseok seemed to like that I called him that so I guess I will. Faintly he smelled sweet like spied lemonade, a bergamot and mahogany scent that seemed to settle me. Reminded me of when grandmother would eat gingersnaps and drink lemonade with me on her porch.

Namjoon continued, “And this Taehyung,” The next man I met was nearly the same height as Namjoon, with black curly hair that covered his eyes, one hazel brown eye, the other green from what I could see. His sharp jawline complimented his boxy smile and he was just as muscular as Namjoon. He held out his hand, the body movement making his long dangling earring swing from his right earlobe, “Nice to finally meet you, Akira, hyung told me so many wonderful things.” His smirk made me nervous. I shook his hand, watching his eyes shimmer a vibrant red before settling once again.

“Nice to meet you, Taehyung.” I replied softly. His smile widened like if he were the human version of a puppy and then he stepped to the side, back in toe with Hobi.

“So you’re my sister’s other mates” Naomi smiled, nudging my shoulder some. I felt the heat rise to my face as my eyes widened and I looked down at the floor, a little embarrassed, “Forgive her, she’s naturally shy.”

“Naomi!” I groaned internally, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Naomi, stop teasing your sister; Akira, why don’t you go with the guys, hm?” My eyes widened as I turned to face my mother, “Go on! Get to know each other better!” She had the biggest smile on her face from ear to ear. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”

“Maaaa!” I covered my face just as Namjoon chuckled while Taehyung and Hobi snickered. My mother practically snatched the dress out of my hands and pushed me into Namjoon’s chest. His hands caught my arms and instantly, I winced slightly and unfortunately he noticed. Sighing, I glanced at my mother and Naomi before following in Namjoon’s direction. “W-What brings you to the mall today?”

“Well, actually, we were shopping for you.” Taehyung answered honestly. You nearly tumbled into him as you stopped abruptly, “And before you say anything, it’s a part of the courting season.” He smiled wickedly, like he knew he had me cornered.

“Because rejecting a gift is like rejecting your alpha.” I mumbled, somehow remembering that rule out of all the others. “Just please, I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Well we’ve already finished shopping for everyone, love. Now we’re just loitering.” Taehyung continued, his obvious pet name not missing my ears. By everyone, I’m assuming the others have gifts for me too.

“Does this mean that all of you will be at the dinner?” I kept my eyes to the tiled floor of the mall as we walked, a leisurely pace set for us as we had nowhere else to be.

“Yes, all of us will be in attendance, Princess. We’re excited to be able to talk more with you, it seems like our leader has been hogging you.” Hobi joked, making Namjoon playfully roll his eyes. I don't know what came over me but I giggled—I actually freaking giggled, I never giggled a day in my life! They all stopped, their eyes shimmering various shades of red and blue as their smiles widened. I gawked, afraid I might’ve done something wrong. Namjoon pressed a hand to my non-bruised arm, squeezing lightly, assuringly, “You have the most adorable laugh.”

I snorted, “I do not!”

“You actually do,” Hobi countered, “it’s bubbly and airy, like champagne.” He winked, sending my wrecked nerves into overdrive.

“Let’s stop teasing, she’s clearly uncomfortable.” Namjoon mocked, clearly in a teasing tone.

“It’s not that, I’m just…” I sighed, fixing my purse, “I’m not used to all the attention. I just assumed this would never happen to me, it’s a little…” I trailed off, thinking of the right word to express it.

“Overwhelming?” Namjoon tilted his head, trying to look me in the eyes. I nodded, clearly feeling that feeling now. Namjoon reached out and lifted my chin with his other hand. “It can be when you’re suddenly the center of attention.” I bit my bottom lip, nodding in agreement.

“Well you better get used to it Princess because you have four other wolves dying for your attention.” I heard Hobi say, watching his smirking gaze look past me. I slowly turned my head, seeing four other men—at least one I have met before—with bags in their hands, all smiling and waving at us. My god, were they all supposed to be this beautiful?

“We can practically hear that beautiful heart of yours going crazy.” Namjoon whispered to me, making me gasp in surprise at how close he was, “Just relax, baby. We’re just as normal as any other pack.” I felt my body sway, even with his hand still holding my arm. Taking a deep breath, I follow him, Hobi and Taehyung over to the rest of the men, introducing myself to everyone and saying hello to Jin once again.

“Hyung told me you were beautiful but he never said you were this beautiful, wow.” The one to speak was Jimin, with his icy blues flickering brighter before flaming out to a nice rich brown color. He looked unreal, almost angelic. With his sculpted jawline and pouty lips. His average height and build, only slightly muscular, and his jet black hair that reached the base of his neck. I felt like I’d turn to stone if I stared any longer. “Very happy I left the den today.” He laughed.

“Hyung? What does that mean?” I felt my head tilt, no doubt a curious look on my face. Their smiles never faltered, though I wish I knew what they were thinking about.

“In Korean culture, hyung means older brother. It’s a sign of respect to use honorifics when addressing someone.” Namjoon explained. I bit my lip, already feeling nervous about my second question,

“You’re gonna kick me for this but…?” I trailed off, which Namjoon figured out almost instantly, chuckling some as he shook his head,

“It’s okay, beautiful. Honorifics are titles used when addressing someone older or higher in status. I’m the leader of our pack and older than Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. But I’m younger than Jin, Hobi and Yoongi. Leader or not, I show them respect, even though at this point in our relationship, we’ve sort of dropped honorifics.”

“So wait, who’s the oldest?” I asked, slightly confused.

“I am.” Jin raised his hand slightly, “Then it’s Yoongi and Hobi, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook.” After learning everyone’s age, I realized I was the youngest among them, “JK finally got his wish, he’s not the youngest anymore.” Jin laughed, the sound squeaky like windshield wipers. His laugh actually made me smile.

“And, forgive me, I’m still pretty new here, I think I’ve met everyone except you two,” I spoke softly, pointing towards Jungkook and Yoongi, “Which one is which?”

“I’m Yoongi.” His deep voice nearly made me froze as he spoke, reaching to grab my hand. Like Jimin and I, he was of average height, but with a slightly buff chest and arms. His skin was fairer than everyone else, even with his tan, making his long black hair stand out. And stretching along one of his eyes that seemed to shimmer a bright deep red the most was a long scar stretching from above his brow to the top of his cheek. By far, he felt the most intimidating? “That’s Jungkook. Nice to meet you, Akira.”

“H-Hi.” I stuttered before turning to the last member of the pack who was just as tall as Jin and Namjoon, with an even muscular—if not more—build. He too had long black hair reaching past his neck, with a lip and brow piercing and an entire sleeve tattoo. You would think out of all of them, he’d be the most intimidating one but when he smiles, it’s like he’s a human bunny. A fully grown puppy. He didn’t shake my hand, he fully hugged me, making me freeze, “Oh!”

“Jungkook—.” Namjoon started to warn him but I slowly started to relax, finding my hands slowly reaching to rest on his shoulder blades.

“She smells like chocolate chip cookies, hyung!” Jungkook giggled excitedly, pulling back to look at my overwhelmed face. His red eyes dimmed back to a dark, almost black color. “I like her!”

“I swear this kid has no filter.” Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples. I giggled again and that seemed to make everyone growl. I’m starting to see that when they do, it’s a good thing, so I relax some more, “Anyway, Akira did you come alone?”

“N-No. I came with my mother and sister, we were getting things for the first dinner.” I replied softly. “It was a little overwhelming, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I’m sure whatever you picked out, our mothers will love them.” Hobi answered.

“Wait, all of your familial packs are ran by women??” Now I was truly nervous, women are way harder to impress, especially mothers!

“Well everyone’s except Jimin and Jin. Their fathers are the leaders, but I promise you have nothing to worry about. Our parents are actually really excited to meet you.” Taehyung shrugged, trying to make me feel at ease. I nodded, still nervous and worried, but not as much as before.

“We were actually about to meet up for lunch, would you like to join us?” Jin asked me. Everyone turned to me, waiting for my response. When I wasn’t looking at them, I was noticing the onlookers watching the eight of us.

“Um, ok, sure.” I nodded, clutching my purse strap once again. I felt Namjoon slip his fingers on the small of my back as we started heading towards the entrance of the mall, coming up on the store my mother, sister, and I were just recently in, “Oh, uh, can you give me a moment?” I went back inside the store, searching for my mother and sister. When I found them by the home goods section, I told them that I would be heading out to lunch with the pack.

“Ok but be home by dinner, we still have a few things to go over with you both.” I nodded, saying goodbye before heading back out the store. We left the mall, heading towards a large black SUV in the parking lot. I’ve never felt this comfortable around people, especially strangers, but it seemed the more I spent with them, the more at ease I started to feel. Maybe this was good for me.

“You know you should really consider the heels.”

Startled, I turned around to see Naomi standing in the doorway of my bedroom. By the end of the week, the family dinner had snuck up on me so quickly, I hadn’t realized how nervous I started to be. The whole time I had been fiddling with my hair, she snuck up on me. “I can barely walk in heels, I don’t usually have to wear any.”

“Still, this wrap dress would look good with some. Maybe grandmother has a pair your size?” I shrugged, nodding as I picked out my curls. It took two hours to put perm rods in my hair; didn’t help that my hair was as long and thick as it was but we made it work. I didn’t use any makeup as I didn’t have any besides lipgloss, I never went anywhere that there was an occasion for it. After fixing my hair and changing my shoes, thanks to my grandmother who just somehow magically had some (yeah they planned it), I left home with the rest of my immediate family and headed to dinner. Being that there’s so many of us, my parents had to rent out a banquet hall for all nine families to attend. I was just happy everything was catered and I didn’t have to cook anything.

When we arrived, I noticed Jackson and Yoongi outside, most likely waiting for Naomi and I. Though I had only met Yoongi last weekend, we managed to talk the most out of everyone. I guess whatever job he had, he had the most flexible hours, but he managed to text me the most. We even got comfortable talking on the phone, sometimes ranging from morning to when I'd eventually fall asleep. As soon as we parked, everyone got out of their cars. I quickly grabbed the gift bags before getting out, making sure everything was right. We started making our way to the entrance and Yoongi smiled, his cheeks all plump, teeth gummy and wide. I gave him back an even smaller smile, my nerves getting the best of me. “You look beautiful, Akira. Even more beautiful than the last we’ve met.”

“Yoongi please.” If I could blush, I’d be as red as a tomato right now. Laughing, he held out his arm for me to take, which I was grateful for as walking in heels of any kind wasn’t second nature to me. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” I paused; I had this overwhelming feeling of nausea settle deep within my stomach. I was scared. Terrified. What if the heads of their families didn’t like me? What if I embarrassed myself? My family? What if I embarrass the guys?

“Akira? Jagiya, are you alright?” Both Yoongi and I turned to the entrance of the hall, Taehyung came rushing over. I felt Yoongi’s grip tighten on my hip as I stumbled, the nausea hitting me once again. “Yoongi-hyung, what’s happening?”

“She’s nervous, Taehyungie. She needs to rest.” I turned towards Yoongi, shaking my head slightly,

“No, I can do this, I can get through it, I’m just really nervous.” I just really don’t wanna mess this up. I kept telling myself that, but really, I couldn’t make it two steps before pushing the gifts in Yoongi and Taehyung’s arms and running to the nearest bathroom, heels nearly tripping me up as I struggled to open the door. I ran to the first stall and threw everything up. I could feel my stomach tighten at every hurl, and the burning in the back of my throat and eyes grew worse. When I finished, I flushed away everything and went to the sinks. I rinsed out my mouth, washed my hands and wet my face. “I can do this. I can do this, it’s just dinner.” I whispered to myself.

After composing myself, making sure my dress or hair wasn’t out of place, I headed back to the door to leave. It felt like I ran into a brick wall the minute I stumbled into a hard body. Strong hands stopped me from falling and instantly, the deja vu engulfed me. I looked up just in time to see Namjoon staring down at me. My bottom lip trembled as I fixed my mouth to apologize but he spoke first, “Beautiful, I felt your distress, are you okay? We were worried.” My eyes quickly caught the faces of all seven men standing outside the bathroom, each one looking incredibly worried. “Are you feeling sick?”

“A little but,” realizing how close we stood, I pushed on his chest some, but he wouldn’t budge, “it’s just nerves, Namjoon, I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Say the word. We can leave right now.” Jimin proposed the idea and instantly, everyone agreed. I shook my head, grabbing onto Namjoon’s forearm for balance, “I am fine. You’re gonna make everyone worried about all of you coming out here like this—.”

“We don’t care about everyone else, we care about you.” Jungkook interrupted, making me pause. “Our families would understand, if something is wrong with our mate, they would understand.” I could tell he was feeling anxious, they all were, about me getting sick. I looked up at Namjoon and squeezed his arm. He nodded back, letting me go, as if he knew that I needed to reassure Jungkook that I was fine. I moved away, taking a few steps towards Jungkook, who instantly had his hands out for me.

“I’m okay, Jungkook. I promise.” I squeezed his wrist, then looked around at the group, letting them know I was fine, “When I get nervous, I get a little nauseated. This is a huge night for everyone and I guess…I guess I was scared of embarrassing you…” My eyes found the carpeted floor more appealing as awkward tension filled my body. Jungkook’s fingers rubbed the small of my back. He then used his other hand to raise my chin, making my head tilt slightly so that we were eye to eye,

“You could never embarrass us. You’re perfect, Akira.” I closed my eyes, shocked at the feel of his lips kissing my cheek. I bowed my head slightly, feeling his chin rest on top of my head. Why is my heart fluttering like this?

“They’re waiting, shall we go, love?” Hobi questioned, waiting for me to give the go ahead, no one else. I nodded, pulling away from Jungkook slightly,

“Let’s do this.”

[cagenewman]

Intimacy between them had always come so easily, felt natural. From the first time until the last time, he had always felt at ease with her, had never hesitated to show her what he liked, to let her guide him through what she wanted in return. The last thing that Cage wanted was for that to be altered in any way, for either of them to feel like sex was something that they needed to think about only in terms of numbers and figures and dates on a calendar. "I don't want to have sex with you because we have to meet a deadline or … well, because we have to, period, I want to have sex with you because I love you," and that was the bottom line. Cage's gaze dropped from her face to her body, dragging low for a moment before he flicked his gaze back up to her face and let out a half laugh, because he had liked it, too. More than he had wanted to let on; it wasn't that he was restrained with her, it wasn't that he held back, she wouldn't want him to, but it had been something tense and something passionate, and he knew that they had both enjoyed themselves, but it didn't mean that he wanted to think of their child being created in a fit of anger, in a moment of uncertainty, even if it wouldn't have changed the love that he held for them. "We can have hot, rough sex any time you want, just … maybe without the broken lamp and knife play." That last part was a joke -- even if he had used the knife to take her dress off. He didn't have to be angry with her to give her what she wanted. "Logically, I know that. It's something that happens, but in the moment, finding that out, it's all I could think about, you know? That I did this, I put too much stress on you, on the situation, that's why I want to make sure when we do this, when we try, we don't stress out about it." Trying for a baby should be fun -- of course there were going to be moments of disappointment and worry, that was a part of life, too, but he wanted to enjoy the process, wanted to look back on this time in their life with fondness and warmth. "I think I was less upset with the fact that you were pregnant and more upset with the fact that I wasn't there for you," he admitted quietly, shrugging one shoulder, "and it just…" he lifted his free hand and snapped, "I knew I had to be, for you and our baby." And once that feeling had settled into his chest, it hadn't gone away, not when he made her those muffins, not when he started thinking about changing their office into a nursery, and not when they were told that there wouldn't be a baby. Everything had changed the day that she had put that test on his desk, and it had only solidified when it changed again in that doctor's office. "Alright," he laughed, nodding his head, "I'll do the heavy labor, you gals write up the score cards. She's an incredibly harsh critic, black cats have the most ridiculous attitude, you know that?" But he wouldn't have changed her for anything.

Swaying with the shove, Cage let out a louder, more jovial laugh, swinging back around to wrap his arm around her, pulling her into his side. "Doesn't matter, I'll be there," he said with certainty, nodding his head. Whether she was going to be sick every morning, or spend her days longing for the sweetest, most sugary foods that she could get her hands on, Cage would get her anything that she needed. Do whatever she wanted. There was a certain level of excitement to his voice as he looked down at her again. "You'll have a bump," which, duh, of course she would. But for some reason, it just hit him that she wouldn't be his ex-girlfriend that he ducked down the grocery aisle to avoid when he saw her pregnant years ago in their small town. It wouldn't just be a photograph in an album, something she pointed out to him on lazy, rainy afternoons. But Cordelia would have a bump, a belly, she would be growing their son or daughter in there as she baked brownies for Cienna's class, or helped Rosalyn pick flowers from the garden. But he couldn't think about that, couldn't let himself get that distracted -- the boys. They had to talk to the boys first, that was where he put his thoughts. "Shawn had Cienna, and Colton's been amazing with Archie, whenever he's around him," he pointed out with a nod. Sure, he might have teased Lucie about dirty diapers and messy burps whenever he spent time with his cousin, but he still was so gentle and careful with him as a newborn that Cage didn't worry about that. "It'll be… a lot to take on, adding a baby to a family with four kids, but I think we can do it. I just -- I need you to remind me sometimes that I can do it. I don't doubt that you can do it," he let out a soft laugh, "but unless you want my whole head to go gray…" he wasn't quite ready for that experience just yet. But they didn't need to worry about how much money a baby was going to cost when they were shopping. Ironically. That would come later. Until then, jewelry. "Mhm," he agreed with a nod, temporarily distracted by the smell of her hair as it brushed against his nose, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and then looking at the pieces in the case. Raising a brow as Cordelia said that she wanted something pre-1940s, Cage was impressed, though he kept that to himself as he watched the exchange, talking when prompted, mostly letting his wife and the attendant speak as he stepped to the side to examine a few pieces himself. Each ring that Cordelia tried on, he had some sort of comment for, a thumbs up or a thumbs down, interested, but wanting it to be her decision until he saw the look on her face, the way that she picked up her hand just enough to catch the light, turning it so that the diamonds shone. He didn't need to ask Cordelia if she wanted it, didn't bother to put it to a question as he reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, holding the card out with a low laugh. Cage knew his wife by now, far too well. "She'll take it."

There was almost a relief in Cage's eyes when she said she wasn't going to make this into some kind of thing they planned every single bit of. Maybe if they hadn't conceived in six months to a year they would consider talking to a fertility doctor and tracking at least ovulation but there was no need to go that way until they had to. They had the knowledge to know that Cordelia could get pregnant, it was just more about being the right time and hoping that it actually stuck around. Everything he said made sense, "No I get it, I don't want sex to become a business transaction, something we're strictly doing to get me pregnant. Kind of takes the fun out of it and I don't think we need to do that when we have a pretty great sex life as it is." Which was true, why ruin a good thing? Giving a roll of her eyes, "I didn't mind the bruises on my thighs and hips, I liked it." Looking at him a grin tugging at her lips, "I mean it, I enjoyed it, more than I wanted to admit because I was angry, but angry sex, kinda hot. Maybe a lot hot." she pointed out, because it kind of was, "And it's not some sadistic karma that caused all of this, it was the fact that my body wasn't ready to be pregnant. Maybe stress played a factor into it but no one knows the exact reasons, it wasn't like I fell, it wasn't like I got hurt or did anything crazy it just wasn't the right time. There's nothing wrong with how our first would have been conceived but I get wishing you had been more excited and I won't pretend that I wished you had been happier but I also understand that you weren't there yet." It was hard that for him to realize what he wanted he had to lose that very thing and then have to live with it as much as she did, only experience a different type of guilt feeling. Though neither one of them were guilty of anything. They had done their best with what they had been given, and now moving forward all they could do was try and hope for the best and that it wouldn't become a stressor to them personally or their marriage. Honestly, Cordelia was just happy that Cage was opening up about how he was feeling and everything that had been on his mind. Maybe getting away from Merrock for their anniversary had been the best thing, a place to openly talk away from everything, memories and just get it all out on the table and now look where they were? Communication was at least far better right now, not that she didn't expect there to be hiccups at times. "I can promise you that you will not catch me attempting to pick up hay bales prior to getting pregnant either." After losing the pregnancy so early she wasn't going to risk doing anything too crazy in case she got pregnant, and like what happened didn't know and cause any potential issues, but she also knew she'd go about a lot of her normal every day life like she had before. "Think that sounds fair, Twix and I will give you scores on how good you are at moving the bales, I'll get her her own little score board too." she offered a grin pulling to her lips, "But remember she may love you but she's a harsh critic."

Reaching out she shoved him gently, "Oh shut up, I could have cravings without being pregnant." Which was very true, Cordelia loved food and there was always a chance something could pop up in her mind that she would want, and it didn't mean she was pregnant. "Just buckle in, that's all I'm saying, because who knows I could have wicked cravings, or I could be horribly sick and threaten you to keep all food far, far away from me." Might sound a lot like her saying keep it out of the house and dramatics being her favorite form of emotions she might come up with some kind of crazy thought of get rid of it all, but she wouldn't actually mean it. They had four kids to keep fed, two of which were growing teenage boys that she was convinced were actually trying to eat them out of house and home. "No I agree, I was worried about telling them." When she had been expecting, the way her gut would drop remembering they had to break the news in a way that was kind of like, well here this is, without even having a conversation that they had or hadn't been considering this. Talk about the worst proof of non-safe sex to say it just happened to two teenage boys. "Know that that is where we're at that we can give this new little one, when he or she is ready to you know.... happen, the love and time they deserve. Deep down I think Colton and Shawn would love to have a baby sibling, I know Colton got to be around Rosalyn once she was almost a year old but think he would have enjoyed her as a baby baby, and like you said, Shawn loved having Cienna." she pointed out, maybe it wouldn't go so bad if they pointed out the fact that it was because of the four of them and how much love they proved in their family that gave them the ability to know one last child would be given that same amount of love, respect, and care needed. As she saddled up towards the few cases of jewelry it didn't take long to feel Cage behind, press up against her slightly, hands on her hips. "You know I've always loved the idea of a vintage piece, something that had history even if we don't know the history." Of course her ring was technically going to eventually fall into that category given it had been his mother's diamond. A woman approached them with a soft 'hello' and how could she help them. "Oh we're just looking, we're here on vacation for our anniversary and I kind of wanted to take a peek at a few things special maybe." The woman was kind and generous, asking them how long they had been married, them taking turns to explain the finer parts of their relationship from high school to reuniting, maybe leaving out their difficultly at first reconnecting and the whole soup debacle. "I was hoping to look at some bands maybe? For my left hand. Something antique, maybe pre-1940's if you have anything?" The woman nodding happily before returning with two trays of rings. "Oh!" Cordelia's eyes sparkling seeing all the pretty rings in front of her, definitely obvious that they were dated given the looks of some of them. Trying on a bunch the woman took the time again to explain each ring, the period it was from, Cordelia holding her hand up for Cage to see, knowing he was mostly there to oh and ah, before she picked up a particular ring, this one slipping onto her finger with ease. The woman explained it was from the 1920's, with miners cute diamonds, 7 to be exactly, and Cordelia knew it, the second it fit on her finger and held it up, the seven stones sparkling in the light, she had fallen in love.

[gingermintpepper]

I saw it in your tag game post that you're also fond of the Apollo-Heracles conflict 👀 for a myth that appears in only a couple of sources, it sure has a lot of presence in the vase paintings (no seriously, everytime I think I've seen the last of it, I find ten more)

SO do you have any favorites among the paintings that represent this story??

OMG OMG THIS ASK IS A GIFT. IT IS A GIFT THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT THIS

I also think it's extremely interesting that it's a story so popularly portrayed by vase paintings and in such a variety of ways!! It's certainly one of the stories that gets left out of written compilation of Heracles' legend a bit (which is a shame, I think it's a fantastic story) but Apollo had a very peculiar relationship with Heracles in general that I just kind of find amazing (and very, very funny).

Apollo is not a god with any legitimate grudge against Heracles, but he does argue with the mortal a bit like he argues with his favourite brothers 😂Part of why I love the story of Apollo and Heracles fighting over the tripod so much is that it is such a little brother thing for Heracles to be upset with the proclamation his elder brother has given him and so, he throws a great fit, taking up the chair and declaring that he'll just give himself a better prophecy! And Apollo, instead of being a marginally professional big brother, decides to fight him for it until their father has to break up their cat-fight. Like was that not just the plot of the Homeric Hymn to Hermes? Is this not exactly how Apollo treated Hermes when he was a child and now those two are inseparable? 💀

Because of this, my favourite vase paintings tend to be the ones that highlight the personal squabbling between Apollo and Heracles the most. There are some very elaborate ones that have the full host of them - Athena, Heracles, Apollo, Artemis, usually a dog and a doe, I've even seen a couple that had birds and plants etched on them, but the simplest ones that show Heracles about to bonk Apollo with his club out of frustration or depict Heracles nyooming away from Apollo while Apollo (presumably) yells curses about how he's going to fling Heracles head first into Tartarus for daring to take his things? Yeah, those are the premium big brother/little brother things I'm looking for.

(Photo. Marie-Lan Ngyuen)

(Photo. Museo Claudio Faina)

Also the one in the Theoi.com archives is a real classic - perfect energy.

[milolunde]

We all know Timmy is Wanda’s mama’s boy but we need to keep in mind he’s still Cosmo’s kid too and that Cosmo would love him just as vehemently as Wanda

[katsdynam1ght]

no harm no foul then! i’m fine with discussions i just need it clear that they are discussions and not arguments lol

if you’re genuinely curious half of my reasoning for this does come from my own family (my parents aren’t queer and aren’t at all like enji and rei but my siblings… we have some issues aka i sort of want two of them dead)

among the four of us kids, only one (the third child) is cishet and even though he claims not to be homophobic… he sort of is regardless. i think this is similar to how it would be with natsuo. when it comes down to it the todoroki family is very traditional in beliefs and mannerisms and i think natsuo succumbs to that more than any of his siblings, as ironic as it is.

note that i haven’t read the manga (please don’t spoil it), but i know enough about characterization to take some guesses about how his arc plays out and i believe he is the most likely to perpetuate the dynamics of his family (i do not think he’s abusive but i do think there’s a more traditional setup in his household… esp considering his wife appears to be some type of rodent heteromorph? i hc her as a mouse and quite timid in personality so he’s a bit more domineering in their relationship anyway)

of course none of that is canon and there’s very little foundation for it. just how it is to me and that’s part of why i don’t really care to argue because no one’s interpretation would be at all canonical anyway, yk?

natsuo does not want to be like his father but he harbors a lot of anger, and anger festers and bleeds and rots. inevitably if one cannot forgive or find a way to move on, one will repeat the cycle. again i don’t think he’s as extreme, but i think he absolutely has issues that he doesn’t resolve properly until much much later in life. again, this is just headcanon and speculation, but is how it is to me.

i’ll allow that natsuo Could be bisexual, but if he is, i don’t think he knows. he was raised in a traditional household with traditional dynamics and i believe he succumbs to some of those beliefs. he is supposed to marry a woman and have kids. that’s how life goes. those are the steps. if he isn’t straight he won’t know until further down the line and by then there’d be no point, so it’s just a repressed thing forever.

(i also am generally not a big fan of labels, especially hyper-specific ones. fandom spaces tend to be super big on labels for all the characters but like… idk man. most people do not think that hard about stuff and especially in a world like mha i don’t think it’s the main concern. there are too many other things to worry about than what gender someone likes. again there are people with windex bottles for heads so ??? worry more about that)

as for enji: idk how to explain this. it’s just how men are. you can be homoerotic without being gay but i think for him there is a level of attraction. i also think he knows nothing about what that means, so it can never and will never go anywhere. another one of those things that just is, you get me? he looks at all might (a man roughly ten years his senior) and wants to Become that. there is a level of attraction there. there has to be

all this to say: sexuality headcanons have zero basis in canon but they Do have basis in My canon. all of this is based on a lot of concepts i have for the todoroki family that i can’t really get into here because it’d take forever but trust me when i say i have reasoning for all of it (natsuo’s is so much more complex than my few-paragraph summary but. that’s the best i got rn)

my point with all the “don’t argue with me” is basically just “there’s no way to really argue this because it’s completely subjective” lol. but here are the summarized thoughts if you’d like to read them

sorry but i’m convinced natsuo is the only straight person in the todoroki family. he’s only homophobic because of touya though. (he would be more homophobic if he knew about his dad but i don’t think enji even processes his own sexuality so none of them know)