#(Some of these I saw while growing up I think)

[wbbobsesser]

ᯓ sweet spot — chapter three

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

notes: honestly, i fucking hate this chapter but i didn’t have it in me to redo it all. it’s all over the place and for that i apologize. i’ll try to make the next one better. but regardless, i really hope you all enjoy! and thank you guys so much for all the nice comments, they truly make my day. i’ve already started chapter four so it should be out tomorrow, monday at the latest. love you.

wc: 2.7k

paige laid on her stomach, face half-buried in her pillow, phone in hand. the screenshot of azzi’s private profile stared back at her like it was daring her to do something.

she wasn’t doing anything, though. she had decided that.

until nika texted again.

n: i bet she’d accept it

p: i bet i’d implode

n: stop being so dramatic. it’s not that deep

paige groaned dramatically, flipping onto her back. she tapped her screen off, then on again. back to azzi’s account. still private. still untouched.

she wondered what kind of stuff azzi posted on there. stories? rants? screenshots of text convos with her boyfriend? paige tried her best not to flinch at that last one.

azzi had mentioned him so casually.

“my boyfriend.”

like it wasn’t a knife to her goddamn chest.

it naturally got brought up again the following day, when paige was shooting around early, headphones in, trying to look chill. emphasis on trying. she caught herself glancing toward the doors every five seconds like some romcom loser.

then she saw azzi walk in, hoodie on, hair pulled back, yawning like she hadn’t slept. paige’s heartbeat tripled.

azzi waved when she noticed her— just a small one. paige waved back. cool. normal.

totally not weird.

then nika appeared, completely ruining the illusion of calm.

“so,” she whispered, bumping shoulders with paige mid-dribble, “you follow her yet?”

“jesus, nika.”

“she posts the funniest shit. like crying selfies, bad song lyrics,” she laughed. “it’s like a whole different side of her.”

paige blinked once. “you followed her?”

“duh. we’re friends.”

paige hated how jealous that made her.

“she hasn’t posted about noah in a while, though,” nika added, almost too casually. “that’s all i’m saying.”

paige said nothing. just stared at the rim and tried not to read into that.

the blonde laid in bed, lights off, hoodie on, thumb hovering over her screen again. she couldn’t stop thinking about azzi yawning that morning. or the way she’d smiled yesterday. or nika’s dumb snarky comment.

without giving it another thought, she hit the follow button.

instant regret.

she tossed her phone across the bed like it caught on fire. then crawled under her blanket and pulled it over her head.

her phone buzzed twenty seconds later.

follow accepted.

paige peeked out from the blanket.

her heartbeat might’ve actually stopped.

azzi had accepted her request.

paige unlocked her phone with trembling fingers and opened the profile.

the first post was a close-up of azzi’s face, clearly crying but also clearly laughing. the caption read: “i swear this was about a group project and not a man. probably.”

paige nearly dropped her phone all over again.

she scrolled, curiosity growing.

more chaos. rants. song lyrics. selfies of her and with some friends. a mirror pic with the caption: “am i cute or do i just have anxiety?”

and then, finally, a pretty sunset over some beach in california. captioned: “miss this sometimes.”

the post was from one week ago.

paige didn’t like anything. didn’t comment. didn’t breathe.

she just stared.

and she knew— knew— that she was so, so royally fucked. because azzi was so impossibly beautiful that there was no other way to be.

paige scrolled back to the sunset post. the caption hit harder than she wanted to admit. she knew what that kind of homesickness felt like— how it crept in during the quiet moments, curling into her ribs like smoke.

she stared at the photo for a long time, thumb tapping the edge of her phone like a metronome. the caption was simple— miss this sometimes— but paige felt it in her chest.

the picture wasn’t even anything dramatic. just a hazy sunset over rooftops and a caption typed too fast. no filters, no nothing. just a soft sort of sadness, and something unspoken.

before she could talk herself out of it, she opened azzi’s dms. clicked her name.

typed. deleted. typed again.

p: just saw ur post about missing california. i get that. sometimes it hits out of nowhere, and then it’s all u can think about. if u ever wanna chill or smth, i’m here

she sent it. then quickly added:

p: just thought id say that

immediate regret flooded her. not because she didn’t mean it— god, she meant it— but because it felt personal, a little vulnerable.

she turned off her phone and tossed it to the foot of the bed like it burned her. a few minutes later, she turned it back on.

no response.

then suddenly— three dots.

a: that’s actually really nice to hear right now. it’s been a weird week. sometimes it feels like i’m walking around in someone else’s life. thank u for saying that

paige exhaled. her heartbeat sped.

p: no problem. really. i mean it

another pause.

a: honestly? i wouldn’t mind hanging out

p: i got u. wanna come over?

p: i’ve got snacks and a bunch of shitty netflix recs from nika that i’ve been putting off

a: deal. i’ll be over soon

around thirty minutes later, azzi— in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie—knocked on paige’s door like they’d done this a hundred times before.

paige flung it open, trying not to look like she’d been pacing for the past ten minutes.

“hey,” azzi said quietly. “thanks for inviting me over.”

paige smiled. “yeah, sure.”

they sat on the floor with a shared blanket between them and a bowl of popcorn that neither of them touched much. the movie played in the background, but neither of them watched it.

instead, they talked.

not about basketball. not about school. just… stuff. small stuff. azzi mentioned a diner she used to go to back home, how they served pancakes all day. paige talked about her favorite childhood memories from when she lived in minnesota.

at some point, azzi leaned her head against the wall, eyes half-lidded.

“i don’t miss california,” she said. “not really. it’s more like i miss who i was there. before everything got so complicated.”

paige didn’t answer right away. she just nodded in understanding, watching the soft flicker of light play across azzi’s face.

“yeah,” she said quietly. “i know what you mean.”

the popcorn went cold. the movie ended. but neither of them moved.

it wasn’t a date. it wasn’t anything like that.

but it mattered.

and paige knew she wasn’t going to forget it anytime soon.

after that night, azzi started hanging out in paige’s room a lot.

it wasn’t like they planned it. it just sort of happened. a post-practice cooldown turned into ice cream. then it became watching film together. then music. then nothing at all. just existing. together.

paige definitely wasn’t complaining.

except… she was, internally. constantly. because being near azzi and not being able to kiss her was basically slow, romantic torture.

azzi would curl up on paige’s bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, brown curls framing her face in a way paige adored, legs tucked under her. paige would sit at her desk pretending to do homework while her entire brain short-circuited from the proximity.

tonight, azzi had her head on paige’s shoulder while they watched love & basketball on her laptop.

“this movie’s so dramatic,” azzi mumbled, half-asleep, “but i love it.”

“same,” paige whispered, very aware of how azzi’s cheek was resting against her collarbone. “you’re the q to my monica.”

azzi laughed gently. “that makes you the love interest.”

i’d like to be. paige didn’t say it. but the words pressed up against her throat. instead, she said, “you doing okay?”

azzi was quiet for a second.

then: “honestly, i don’t know.”

paige looked down. azzi was staring straight ahead, lashes long, voice soft.

“i talked to noah yesterday,” she said. “he got mad i couldn’t facetime right after class. it’s just… hard, lately. the distance. everything.”

paige felt something clench in her chest. she hated that he made azzi feel like this. that he could.

“you don’t deserve that,” she said, firm and direct.

azzi shrugged. “he’s just stressed. i get it.”

paige didn’t. but she kept that to herself.

there was a pause. then azzi nudged paige’s side gently.

“you’re so sweet, you know that?”

paige scoffed, blushing hard. “me? no. you’re literally… like, the kindest person i’ve ever met.”

azzi smiled, eyes soft. “that’s not true. you’re not like how everyone thinks you are.”

paige shook her head, was silent for a moment. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

azzi tilted her head. “what do i do to you?”

paige blinked. shit.

“uh— nothing,” she said too fast. “i mean— like— not nothing, but not—”

azzi was smiling now. “are you nervous?”

paige buried her face in her hands. “you cannot just ask that.”

azzi laughed and bumped her shoulder. “you’re adorable.”

she’s going to kill me, paige thought. this is how i die. at the hands of sweetness.

later that night, paige was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. she hadn’t stopped replaying every word since azzi left.

fuck it. she gave up trying to sleep and texted her.

p: u make it back to ur dorm okay?

azzi replied instantly.

a: yup. thank u again for letting me hang in ur room. i swear its cozier than mine

p: that’s bc its been blessed by ur presence

p: scientifically proven

a: lol ur too much

a: fr tho ur such a good friend. its been nice having u around lately

paige’s fingers hovered.

fucking friend. paige tried her best not to roll her eyes.

p: always here for u. friend or otherwise

azzi didn’t reply for a minute.

then—

a: goodnight paige

a: sleep well <3

paige turned off her phone and curled deeper into the covers.

she wasn’t going to sleep. not with that stupid little heart pounding in her head.

it was a rare night off, and coach had ordered team dinner at this little family-owned italian place downtown. long tables, red-checkered tablecloths, warm lighting. the whole team packed in tight, plates of pasta being passed around, laughter echoing off the walls.

paige sat at the end of the table, half-listening to nika’s story about a tinder date gone rogue, when she felt it— azzi sliding into the empty chair beside her.

her breath caught. she hoped nobody noticed.

“you look nice,” azzi said quietly, nudging paige’s knee under the table.

paige blinked. “sorry— what?”

azzi grinned. “didn’t think the team dinner dress code included looking like a low-key goddess, but here we are.”

paige laughed a little too loud and immediately looked down at her outfit. she was in jeans and a black zip-up. casual. nothing special.

but azzi was looking at her like she was wearing dior.

“you’re one to talk,” paige mumbled, hoping the restaurant lighting masked how pink her ears had gone. “you could wear a trash bag and still look perfect.”

azzi’s grin widened as she sipped her lemonade. “so dramatic.”

“you started it.”

they smiled at each other for a beat too long.

that’s when kennedy— one of paige’s flings she’d forgotten all about until this moment— walked up out of nowhere, and immediately leaned in.

“so, paige,” she said, twirling her straw in the drink she was holding. “you dating anyone?”

azzi blinked.

paige flinched like she’d been slapped. “uh… no. not really.”

kennedy smirked. “crazy. someone like you? i just assumed.”

across the table, azzi was quiet. still smiling, but not quite the same.

paige tried to steer the conversation away, suddenly hyperaware of azzi’s leg brushing against hers under the table. she didn’t dare to move.

halfway through dinner, paige reached for the bread basket, and so did azzi. their fingers touched.

azzi didn’t pull away. neither did she.

“you’re warm,” she whispered.

paige looked at her, heart in her throat. “so are you.”

they froze like that for a second, hands still barely touching.

azzi opened her mouth to say something, but—

nika’s voice cut in from the other side of the table. “hey azzi, what’s your dog’s name again? the one in your story?”

azzi blinked, pulling her hand back. “oh— stewie. she’s tiny and thinks she owns my parent’s house.”

paige stared at the empty space between them like it had just betrayed her.

only a few hours later, however, paige— comfortably positioned on her bed— typed out a message.

p: u were gonna say something earlier. what was it?

she stared at the text.

deleted it.

she tried again.

p: i like when u sit next to me

fuck no. she’d never send that. not in a million years.

she deleted that too.

in the end, she sent nothing. just stared at the ceiling and thought about how good azzi looked tonight— pearl earrings, soft smile, words lingering behind her teeth.

almost.

the gym was nearly empty.

most of the team had left after practice, but paige lingered, shooting free throws in silence. her earbuds were in, but no music played— just a shield, something to make it feel like the world was further away than it was.

she didn't hear the door open.

but she did feel the presence.

“didn’t think anyone else would still be here,” came a voice she knew like the back of her hand.

azzi.

paige turned, saw her in gray joggers and a uconn hoodie, hair pulled back, cheeks still flushed from practice. paige pulled out one earbud and tried to act casual, even though her heart was now sprinting.

“you caught me trying to live out my late-night kobe fantasy,” paige said, grinning.

azzi smiled, walking toward her. “mind if i join?”

paige tossed her the ball. “only if you promise not to show me up.”

azzi smirked and drained a three like she wasn’t casually pulling on the strings of paige’s heart.

they played for a while— just light shooting, taking turns. no talking. just the sound of bouncing rubber and squeaking sneakers. paige was too busy watching the way azzi moved, like everything she did was effortless. beautiful, even when sweaty.

at one point, azzi missed a shot and groaned. “ugh. that one was for pride.”

paige grabbed the rebound and passed it back. “guess your pride’s mine now.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “is that how it works?”

“yeah,” paige said, stepping closer. “you lose a shot, you owe me something.”

azzi’s lips curled. “what do i owe you, then?”

paige paused. she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“dinner,” she said before she could stop herself. “like, i dunno. team dinner. or— if you want— just us.”

azzi’s smile faltered, just a fraction. “paige…”

paige knew that tone. that soft, sad, hesitant tone. her stomach twisted.

“it doesn’t have to be a thing,” she said quickly. “i just like being around you.”

azzi dribbled once, staring down at the ball.

then: “i like being around you too.”

paige took a breath, let it out slowly.

azzi looked up again, something unreadable in her eyes. “noah called me earlier. said he might fly out next month.”

“oh,” paige said. her voice came out flat. she hated that it did.

azzi stepped forward. “i don’t know what i’m doing. with him. with any of it.”

paige didn’t move.

“you don’t have to figure it out right now,” she said, softer this time. “i’m not asking for anything.”

azzi nodded. “i know.”

a beat passed.

then, quietly: “but sometimes i wish i met you first.”

the world felt like it tilted on its axis. her heartbeat was definitely thudding at an abnormal, mildly concerning rate.

paige opened her mouth. closed it, unsure what to say.

azzi looked at her like she regretted saying it, but didn’t take it back. she simply said, “let’s get out of here, yeah?”

paige nodded.

she didn’t say it out loud, but in her head, she screamed:

fuck noah. i’m right here. i’m all you need. you’re all i need. i would never treat you like he does.

those words stayed put in paige’s brain, never leaving once. because god, did she mean them. every single word, every letter.

© wbbobsesser

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: Age Gap, violence against healthcare workers, violence against violent patients, implied PTSD, threatening murder, crying, bad flirting, this is choppy af, please forgive me

Summary: After an attack by a patient retruning back to work does not go exactly as planned.

A/N: Listennnn people, I am so sorry that this took so long and this chapter is just to continue to build tension, I think I will conclude this with chapters 6 and 7, though I am not sure. I feel like the end would be more natural if I wrote another chapter during which they confess and maybe in the last chapter there is fluff and smut idk, but I still hope you enjoy this :) Also this is very, very, very losely inspired by ‚Shelter from the storm‘ by Bob Dylan

She wasn‘t sure what had shifted between them after that night, after death upon death coming their way something had changed. The tension that had been there before had not dissipated, it had begun to grow, though now there was more to it, more to the way his gaze lingered on her, more to the way she would seek him out in a crowded room. Then there was also the granola bar, she couldn’t eat one on her own now, always saving half for him, slipping it into his hand at a quiet moment.

He checked in on her more than before, it seemed that he hovered more, but he simply checked on how she was doing. Giving her more opportunities to try out something, quietly encouraging her. A warm hand on her back here, a gentle touch against her arm there.

It became a constant during her shifts, knowing that he wasn‘t far away at any given time, that he would be right next to her within the blink of an eye. For some reason it eased her mind, made her relax a little. The way she had always been a bit panicky during the shifts was now gone. Maybe because the lingering fear of him pushing her away again had finally started to dissipate.

On this particular evening shift change had gone smoothly. Standing at the nurses’ station she checked a few patient files, making sure that she knew what she was heading into. There was nothing too dramatic, though one name sounded familiar, yet she really couldn’t place it. Humming softly she looked around, most of the day shift had already left, only a few of the nurses and Dr. Robby was still lingering around. Sometimes she really wondered if Dr. Robby ever truly left this ED or if his body simply shifted to another place but his mind stayed here. Shaking her head, she checked the board one last time then started to head off towards one of the rooms she had been assigned to tonight, nothing world changing, but it was simple enough.

The tune still stuck in her head, humming softly as she started walking away, though before she was able to completely leave central a loud screech pulled her out of her thoughts. Whipping around she saw a large, burly man shove Princess to the ground, though he was not looming over the woman. His eyes snapped up, in her direction and he started stalking towards her, his gate stiff, like he was hell bent on bringing pain. Swallowing harshly she was frozen in place, fear curling up her neck as she stared at the man, she wanted to run, but then there was recognition. The guy that had cut this hand, the guy that she and Tommy had treated as their first patient together. He was only a few feet away from her now.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he hollered, taking another few steps towards her, practically looming over her now. His hands shot up, one to her throat, the other to her scrubs, his fist bunched in the black fabric while the other hand wrapped itself around her neck, squeezing hard. “YOU FUCKING SLUT, YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Cold sweat ran down her back as she stared at him, getting light headed, panic seeping through her. Around her people were shouting, but his grip did not relent, though it felt like the grip around her scrubs had loosened slightly. Within a split second her brian made a decision, hoping that Gloria would not have her head for that. Grabbing his wrists she thrust her hip forward, pulling her knee up in the same motion. The grip on her throat and scrubs was completely gone the moment her knee connected with his groin, a howl of pain escaped the man. He took half a step back, her brain yelling at her, the fight or flight instincts kicking in the moment she had free range of motion she swung at the man, fist balled up tightly. It connected with his nose, a sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by a groan, two steps and thud, with the thud came another sickening cracking sound, his head hitting the ground. Staring at the crumpled form of the man on the ground her ears were ringing, everything around her spun like a mary go round, her own heart beat seemingly the only thing she could hear.

Her name was being called by someone, her first name, it cracked through the moment of shock like the sun breaking through thick clouds after a storm.

Looking up she saw him standing there, his eyes filled with concern, his mouth was moving, though she didn’t hear a single word, it was like someone had wrapped her in bubble wrap. Then her name fell again, two warm hands wrapping around her face.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, gentler than it should be at that moment, she had just hit a patient, “Are you okay?” his brows were furrowed, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones.

“What?” she breathed out. Hot tears began to gather in her eyes, pain bloomed on her neck, and her hand. Glancing at her hand she could see blood, though she was not sure if it was her own or the guy’s blood. It was swollen, but not too much, it might just be a bruise. A wince of pain escaped her as she moved her neck. The spinning didn’t stop and a strange kind of nausea settled in her stomach. Trying to turn her head to look at the man on the ground Jack’s grip on her face tightened.

“Don’t look there,” his voice was gentle, he held her face in his hands, making her look at him. Shuddering breaths escaped her as she felt herself shaking.

“I think I need to sit down,” she whispered softly. He nodded, carefully his hands let go of her face, one of them went right between her shoulder blades, the other one rested on her shoulder, he slowly guided her towards one of the chairs by the nurses’ station. With so much care he navigated her to sit down, crouching down in front of her taking her uninjured hand in his.

“Alright, listen,” he gently tapped her hand, then her thigh, making sure that she was listening to him, “I am going to put you in line for an x-ray and a CT for now, just to make sure that nothing is broken or damaged,” he was still speaking in that soft tone, the kind of tone most people reserved for scared children or frightened animals. For a split second his eyes drifted towards her slightly swollen hand. She nodded, trying to only focus on the soft hazel colour that had bewitched her from the moment she had first seen them, “While you wait for an x-ray we are going to ice your hand, okay?”

She nodded, as he got up from the ground and was about to leave, she held on tighter to his hand, fear of being alone trickling through her mind. He stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards her and tilting it to the side in question. The shaking had only gotten worse and she felt like that if he left she would break down completely.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. The panic that wrapped itself around her mind, the panic that had kept her going was beginning to dissipate completely. The gravity of the situation only hitting her now, she had been strangled, he had threatened to kill her. Still she would consider herself lucky if Gloria didn’t take off her head for that, an intern assaulting a patient even in self defense.

“Alright,” he stopped in his tracks, looked around and called over Mateo, telling the nurse to get an ice pack. Her hand went to her throat, the heat coming off of it in the shape of a hand, the nausea buried itself deeper.

“I treated him,” she whispered softly, trying to give an explanation for what had happened, but couldn’t find anything, “I didn’t do anything wrong,” This time it was more wretched as she spoke, the tears now running uncontrollably. It started with a single sob until she was practically unravelled, sobs and hot tears, quiet whimpers escaped her. Clinging to Jack’s hand like a lifeline while everything around her felt cold and empty, the warmth in her hand a strange sense of comfort.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” coming out in quiet whispers or louder croaks while she cried. Seeing Jack move panic set in, he couldn’t leave, though he simply shifted, standing up from the kneeling position, carefully he bent down and pulled her into an awkward hug, the angle the fact that snot was running down her face and that her hands were uncontrollably shaking didn’t make it any less awkward, though his arms around her shoulders, the warmth of him, it was all so comforting in a strange manner.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you did everything right.” his voice was soft as he held her, “You did so well,” his hand was now in her hair. “You did so well,”

—————

Her hand had not been broken, simple bruising, just like her throat, though Gloria still put her on leave for almost two weeks, not chewing her up. The hospital board insisted that she should press charges. Though she was not too sure about it, not too sure that it was a good idea to do that.

It felt like she was climbing the walls of the apartment. Tommy kept her well informed about the gossip at work, though she knew that he probably left out the juiciest, hottest bet running at the moment. Still she felt like an animal, trapped in a too small cage.

The place felt cramped during the day and during the night, she barely slept, the melatonin gummies that usually knocked her out like a light didn’t work properly at the moment. While Tommy was at work and Masie slept she was left alone with her thoughts, with the feeling of Jack’s hand in her hair, the way his lips had brushed her forehead when he had pulled away from the hug the moment Mateo told him that she was next in line for the x-ray. She still wasn‘t sure how long he had held her in that awkward position. The panic setting in during the middle of the night, the feeling of the hand wrapped around her neck shooting back to the forefront of her mind, it felt like someone was torturing her.

Coping with it was hard so she baked and cooked. She was not sure how much she had made in the last two weeks, probably enough to feed all of Pittsburgh, they now had enough food in the freezer to get them through the next month or so and all of their neighbours as well as the day and night shift at the Pitt had gotten trays upon trays of her baked goods over the course of the last two weeks.

Tommy and Masie had both tried to talk to her about what had happened, but she did not want to talk about it. She really did not, even if it was Jack that asked her to talk about it she probably wouldn’t though it appeared that he had understood it rather well when he had comforted her.

Laying in bed she listened to Tommy and Masie talking in the living room, their voices loud enough for her to hear, they thought that she was sleeping, it made sense, she should probably be sleeping, but it eluded her like it had for the past few nights.

“Are you serious?” Masie sounded mildly scandalised as they were talking. She had closed her eyes, maybe it was to hear them better, maybe it was because she actually wanted to sleep.

“Yeah, I mean, he seems really worried about her. Always asks how she is doing when we do something together.” she heard Tommy sigh. “And listen Mase, I get that you have your girl’s code or whatever, but can you finally tell me what you know?”

“I told you a million times before, Tommy, I don’t know anything,” Masie sounded annoyed as she spoke.

She knew that it was a lie. Masie knew everything, she had been the first person she had told about her encounter with Jack at the hospital, she had been one of the people in her friend group encouraging her to talk to him. Masie knew almost every little detail about the night they had spent together and the feelings of betrayal connected to the whole situation, but also the longing and that deep feeling of connection she had never felt before. Masie knew about everything regarding Jack Abbot, to Masie he would always be the hot older guy she had met at the bar. The guy that had managed to get her more attached to him than anyone else had ever managed over years of trying.

“Please! I just want to know why they knew each other, I knew from the moment they first interacted that they knew each other, but come on! It’s just a little bit of information, what harm could it do?” Tommy sounded so desperate that for a brief moment she wondered how much money he had bet. Probably something in the mid two digit range.

“You know that you are talking to someone that works in protection of data privacy for a living right?” Masie sounded so deadpan that she almost had to laugh. For some reason listening to the conversation was slowly lulling her to sleep, the last thing she heard before completely drifting off to sleep was the quiet giggling coming from Maise, Tommy was probably tickling her.

The ghost of hands in her hair was a comfort she clung to, wishing for the warmth of the blankets to be the warmth of his body.

——————

Being back at work was not how she had imagined it to be, it was strange in the best way. People were excited to see her again, telling her that they loved all the baked goods she had sent to the hospital via Tommy. People asked her how she was doing, telling her that they were glad that she was back.

Yet the halls of the hospital felt strangely hollow, they felt haunted by the memory of those eyes filled with rage haunting her every step. The sound of threats being shouted seemingly choking her just like the feeling of a hand around her neck.

Standing at the nurses’ station she glanced up at the screen, arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot against the tiled floor. No one seemed to notice the nervous tick, even if they did, they probably decided to not mention it. She hadn’t seen Jack yet, it made her uneasy, made her want to rip out her hair.

“A word,” a warm hand between her shoulder blades, the rough and familiar voice of Abbot right beside her, still she flinched. Slowly he guided her away from the nurses’ station, she simply followed his lead, he maneuvered them into the staff lounge, closing the doors behind them, with the soft click of the door shutting she felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“You are on edge,” was the first thing he said to her, not ‘It’s good to see you again’ or ‘Nice that you are back’, no it was this. Though it felt right coming from him. There was no harshness to it, no judgement, just a simple observation. Even maybe some worry laced in his tone.

“Yeah, how couldn’t I be?” her voice was tight as she spoke. She was excited to be back at work, of course she was, she was happy to be back. The feeling of being caged was finally gone, but that panic having taken residence at the back of her head seemed to take its place.

“Of course, but you don’t need to be,” again there was this strange tone to his voice, it wasn’t judgement, it wasn’t worry, but it also wasn’t quite fondness though she would describe it as something close to that. He had moved across the room so that he was leaning against the counter.

“I know,” she nodded, the tension in the air crackled for a moment, it was like there was a rope being pulled tighter and tighter, the single strands slowly beginning to pop. “I just need to get used to it again,” she spoke softly, turning her head to the side just slightly. Turning her head back as she heard a sharp exhale.

“I know, they haven’t gone away just yet,” she whispered, gently touching her neck. The handprint on her neck was still visible, still there, it was faint, but people would still be able to see it.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” his tone was tight now as well, like he was contemplating saying something, “You need to know something,” he paused, his hands clamping down on the counter. “I wanted to apologize to you,” That knocked all the air out of her lungs, his eyes were gentler now.

“For something you had no control over?” she tilted her head, he shouldn’t be sorry for what happened. He had no control over that, he had no idea that the man was even there.

“No, for being an old, stubborn man,” a tint of humour coloured his tone, this time it didn’t feel like someone had knocked all the air out of her lungs, it felt like he had just thrown a brick at her. An old, stubborn man, something she had called him jokingly on the night they met, calling him that when he told her that he didn’t let people in easily.

Suddenly his pager went off, a groan escaped her. He pushed away from the counter as he passed her a playful glint in his eyes.

“And thank you for the brownies,” he paused, “Just the way I like them,” with which he left the staff lounge.

A small smile on her lips as she remembered thinking that he would enjoy them greatly while she made them, a soft flutter settling in her stomach, numbing the panic slightly.

———————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06

[formulaonecrumbs]

we’re meant to be just friends

Lando Norris x best friend!reader

summary: lando and reader have been best friends since birth (their mums have been best friends since year 10) and now they have to navigate having secret feelings for each other while still growing up.

warnings: angsty, weird ass ending, girlfriend and girl best friend type trope, both of them being dicks, not really a happy ending ? idk tbh.

A/N: HIIIII this is long but i got very passionate with it. i went thru a break up recently (not a terrible one, we hadn’t been dating for that long but still sad) i felt like writing about something sad to make myself feel something. it worked. i hope u cry to this THATS THE GOAL 🙏 but enjoy nonetheless. this is low-key cringe, cheesy and i don’t even think the fight is very reasonable 😭 it’s also very badly written, especially towards the end, i got very tired as i wrote it even tho i kept going 😭 i have chapters and chapters written on these before any of this even happened (like happy cutesy ones) so if u want those LEMME KNOOWWW i love yaaallllll ❤️❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you texted him at exactly 12:00am.

happy birthday lando. sixteen looks good on you.

you stared at the message for a long time after sending it. he responded a few minutes later—something with hearts and too many exclamation points, asking when you were coming over, if you were still making him that dumb cake you promised.

you didn’t reply.

you turned your phone off.

because the night before, everything fell apart.

your mum crying in the kitchen. your dad packing a bag. voices raised and cold silence and the word divorce tossed out like it was just another sentence.

and now you were supposed to get up, put on something cute, and act like nothing had changed—because it was lando’s birthday. and if anyone deserved a good day, it was him.

so you did it.

you curled your hair. wore his favorite color. even smiled when you walked into his house with the stupid chocolate cake in your hands. you didn’t let your hands shake.

his whole family was there. some of his friends too. people he knew from karting, from school. everyone buzzing around, excited for him. and lando—he was glowing.

he pulled you into a hug the second he saw you. he held on a little too long.

you didn’t mind. in fact, you kind of wanted to stay there forever.

“you okay?” he whispered near your ear.

you pulled back fast, smiled bright, and nodded. “yeah. just tired.”

he didn’t believe you. but he didn’t push it either.

you sat through presents and cake and cisca’s terrible off-tune singing. you watched lando laugh and light up every room he entered. you even teased him for crying a little when his older brother gave him a new watch.

you didn’t cry once. not even when he sat beside you later and leaned his head against yours for a minute.

but then your parents showed up.

together. for once.

and that’s when it cracked.

your dad was late. your mum was snappy. one wrong comment turned into another. then it escalated. right there—at the door. in front of everyone.

“you said you’d be on time for once.”

“i wouldn’t be late if you didn’t change the plans without telling me.”

“oh right, because you’re so good at communicating—”

“don’t start, not here—”

you froze on the stairs, halfway down. every muscle in your body tense.

lando was near the kitchen, eyes locked on you. he looked scared. for you.

cisca stepped in fast, soft but firm. “sweetheart, why don’t you head upstairs for a bit?”

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t even speak. you just turned around and walked to lando’s room like it was instinct. like it was the only place you could breathe.

you sat on the edge of his bed, shoes still on, hands clenched in your lap. the quiet was suffocating. your ears were still ringing from their voices. from the memories.

lando walked in a few seconds later and closed the door behind him.

he didn’t say anything at first.

just sat beside you. close. not touching.

after a minute, he quietly said, “you should’ve told me.”

you stared at your hands. “i didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

“you think this is better?”

you laughed, sharp and small. “i thought i could keep it together.”

“you have been keeping it together,” he said, turning toward you. “too well. that’s the problem.”

you looked at him finally. and god, the way he was looking at you—like you were breakable, like you were everything—it made your throat burn.

“i don’t know how to do this,” you whispered. “i don’t know how to pretend that everything’s fine anymore.”

“then don’t pretend with me.”

you blinked fast. your eyes burned. your chest hurt.

“i don’t want to cry on your birthday,” you said, voice cracking.

“then cry with me,” he said. “i don’t care if it’s my birthday. i care that you’re hurting and i didn’t know.”

you didn’t mean to—but the tears came anyway.

and when they did, he was already there. arms around you, pulling you in like he was afraid you’d disappear. his hand on your back, soft and steady. his chin resting on your shoulder.

you buried your face in his hoodie and let it all out. you sobbed until your throat ached. until your fingers curled into his shirt like you needed him to hold you together.

and he did. every second of it.

when you finally pulled back, red-eyed and exhausted, he reached up and brushed your hair away from your face. his thumb hovered near your cheek.

“you’re still my favorite person,” he said, so quietly you almost missed it.

your breath hitched.

“even when i’m a mess?” you whispered.

“especially then.”

and there it was again—that moment.

the air between you shifting. your eyes flicking to his lips. his hand still on your cheek. your heart pounding so loud it hurt.

but neither of you moved.

not this time.

just a look. a feeling. a thousand unspoken things resting in the space between your faces.

and then—

he smiled.

not the usual cheeky grin. a soft, knowing one. like he’d wait as long as it took.

“come here,” he said, tugging you gently back into his chest.

you curled into him like it was second nature.

because it was.

and maybe you didn’t kiss him.

but god, it felt like everything still changed anyway.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

he missed her thing.

he didn’t mean to, but he did.

he’d been racing that weekend—some big european karting event his team wouldn’t let him skip. the timing was awful, but he told her he’d be back. swore he’d make it for her art showcase. even booked an early flight.

but delays happened. schedules changed. his phone died halfway through the day. and by the time he made it to her school, the lights were off. the gym was empty.

her project—some massive sculpture thing she’d been working on for weeks—was still standing in the corner.

he stared at it for a long time.

he didn’t know a lot about art, but he knew it mattered to her. and she’d asked him—just this once—to show up.

he went to her house straight after.

her mum let him in, gave him this soft, tight-lipped smile like she already knew how this was gonna go.

she was in her room, headphones in, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her sketchbook open. her eyes flicked up when he walked in, and something behind them just… shut off.

“hey,” he said, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

she didn’t answer. didn’t even pause her music.

“i’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “my flight got delayed, and then i—“

“save it,” she said flatly, pulling out one earbud.

he blinked. “wait, what?”

she closed her sketchbook with a sharp snap. “i don’t want to hear the excuses.”

“it’s not an excuse. i tried to get here. i wanted to be there—”

“but you weren’t.”

his chest tightened. “it wasn’t my fault.”

“it never is,” she snapped, standing up now. “you’re always off racing somewhere, always too busy, too far, and i’m just supposed to be okay with it.”

“that’s not fair—”

“isn’t it?” she cut in, voice rising. “you missed something that actually mattered to me.”

he stepped back like she’d slapped him. “i know. and i’m sorry. but it’s not like i was off partying—i was working.”

“yeah, and i’m tired of always being second place to your ‘work.’”

that one hit hard.

he opened his mouth to argue. to explain. to fix it.

but instead, something snapped.

“you think this is easy for me?” he said, louder than he meant to. “you think i like missing things? i hate it, alright? i hate missing you. but this is my life. this is what i’ve worked for.”

“and what about me, lando?” her voice cracked. “am i just supposed to sit here and wait for you to show up when it’s convenient for you?”

“you know that’s not how it is.”

“do i?” she asked, quieter now. “because lately it’s starting to feel like i’m just… here. like i’m just background noise to your main story.”

he flinched.

the silence stretched.

she turned away, crossing her arms like she was trying to hold herself together. “you used to be my person.”

“i still am,” he said, softer. “you’re still mine.”

“then act like it.”

his throat felt tight. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“i wanted you to be there.”

and there it was. simple. devastating.

“i know,” he said, barely a whisper.

she didn’t look at him.

and for the first time in their lives, he didn’t know how to fix it.

he left not long after.

she didn’t stop him.

he sat in his car in her driveway for a long time, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, trying not to cry.

and that scared him.

because fights were supposed to be temporary. but this—this felt like it might actually change something between them.

and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the thing about drifting apart is that it doesn’t always feel like a storm. sometimes it’s just a slow unraveling. a little less texting. a few more missed calls. “sorry, i’ve been busy” and “maybe next week” and “i’ll let you know.”

after the fight, things weren’t the same.

you still talked, sure. still saw each other at school, at home when your mums made you. you even laughed a few times, shared inside jokes that hadn’t died yet. but the closeness—the everythingness of him—faded.

and you didn’t know how to get it back.

you were busy too. school, college applications, helping your mum through the new house paperwork. lando had racing, constant travel, interviews, training. life kept happening.

but still, sometimes at night, you’d catch yourself staring at your phone, wondering if he was thinking about you too.

it happened on a tuesday.

you were sitting in your usual spot at lunch, half-listening to the girls next to you talk about a physics quiz, when he walked in.

you looked up automatically. you always did.

he was with someone.

she was pretty. like, really pretty.

long dark hair, soft features, that kind of quiet confidence people didn’t need to announce. she wore his jacket—his—and she was laughing at something he said, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

he looked relaxed. light. like he didn’t have the weight of the last few months still sitting in his chest.

like he hadn’t even noticed the space between you anymore.

you looked away before he could see your face.

her name was sienna.

apparently they’d met at a karting event in italy. she was someone’s niece or cousin or whatever—lando hadn’t really explained much, just said she was cool, and funny, and they’d hit it off.

he started bringing her around more often.

you’d come over for dinner and she’d already be there. feet up on his couch. curled up with his dog. flipping through channels like she belonged there.

you told yourself it was fine.

you smiled when she hugged you. laughed when she made a joke. complimented her perfume, her nails, her hair. you were everything you were supposed to be.

and it felt like hell.

one night, you were at his house. a group hangout, supposedly. except it was mostly sienna, lando, and background noise.

you sat on the floor, pretending to scroll through your phone, while she talked about some race he had coming up. he watched her talk like she hung the stars.

your stomach twisted.

you got up, said you had to pee, and slipped away.

you ended up in his old room. the one that still had your hoodie in his drawer, your handwriting on sticky notes, your pillow tucked in beside his.

you sat on the edge of his bed, heart too loud, throat too tight.

you didn’t cry. not yet. but you were close.

“hey.”

his voice came from the doorway.

you didn’t turn.

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you lied.

he walked in, shut the door behind him. the soft click of it sounded too final.

“you’ve been quiet all night,” he said gently.

you shrugged. “guess i’m just tired.”

“you sure?”

you looked up at him. he was watching you with that face—the one he used to make when he knew something was wrong, back before he pretended he didn’t.

“you like her?” you asked, before you could stop yourself.

he blinked. “what?”

“sienna,” you said. “you like her?”

he rubbed the back of his neck. “yeah. i do.”

you nodded. it felt like someone had punched a hole in your chest.

he sat beside you, close but not touching.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked quietly.

“i dunno,” he said. “guess i thought you wouldn’t care.”

you turned to him. “why would you think that?”

“i don’t know,” he said again, voice smaller. “you’ve been… distant.”

“so have you.”

he looked down at his hands. “i didn’t mean to be.”

“neither did i.”

the silence between you stretched, long and heavy.

you stared at the space between your knees. “it just feels like you’re disappearing from my life one piece at a time.”

he flinched. “i’m not trying to.”

“but you are.”

and he didn’t deny it.

you didn’t cry until after he left the room.

that night, you stayed up staring at the ceiling, wondering when exactly it had changed—when he stopped being yours, even in the way that didn’t need words.

and the worst part wasn’t that he liked someone else.

it was that he didn’t even see that you were still right there, waiting for him to notice.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it’s been weeks now.

lando’s been busy. sienna’s been around. and you—well, you’ve just been… existing. you’ve kept up the act. the one where everything’s fine. where things between you and lando haven’t changed, even though they’ve completely changed.

the worst part is, it’s not like you even meant for it to happen. you didn’t set out to drift. it just sort of happened. one conversation at a time, one unanswered text at a time. it’s like you’ve been shrinking into yourself.

and the worst part is you’re not sure if lando even notices.

but you notice.

you notice when you don’t hear from him for days. when he’s always with sienna, his laugh easy and carefree. when you’re left standing on the sidelines, wondering if you’re still his best friend or if that title’s been handed to someone else.

you don’t say anything about it. of course, you don’t.

not when you’re still figuring it out, not when you still don’t know what’s worse: the way you feel about him or the way things are between you two now.

it happens one afternoon, when you’re sitting on his bed, trying to make conversation that feels like nothing—about school, about college, about races. anything to fill the gap between you. but it’s too late for small talk.

“i saw you with sienna last night,” you say quietly, looking at the way your fingers play with the edge of your sleeve.

lando’s sitting on the floor, leaning against his dresser. his brow furrows. “yeah? we were out for dinner.” he pauses. “it was fun.”

you nod. “i can see that.”

the words come out before you can stop them, too sharp to take back.

he looks at you, confusion in his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you shrug, but it doesn’t feel like a shrug. it feels like everything you’ve been holding inside for so long, but not enough to let it spill over yet. “i don’t know. just feels like you don’t really need me anymore.”

lando goes quiet. he glances down at his hands before looking up at you again. there’s something raw in his eyes. something that makes your heart skip.

“you’re still my best friend,” he says, but there’s this uncertainty in his voice that catches you off guard. “just… you’ve been distant, too.”

“i haven’t been distant,” you snap, before you can catch yourself. “i’ve been right here. but you’ve got your new girlfriend now, and everything’s different, lando. i don’t know where i fit in anymore.”

he winces. and that’s all it takes for the dam to break.

“i don’t fit in anymore,” you continue, voice shaking. “and that’s fine. i get it. i just wish i didn’t feel like i was losing you. like you don’t even care that i’m still here.”

there’s this long pause, one that stretches so thin you’re scared it’ll snap. and then, lando finally speaks.

“i do care,” he says, his voice low. “but i don’t know how to make it right. i feel like i’m constantly messing things up.”

he runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for the first time in ages.

“i don’t know what i’m doing, either,” you say, more quietly now. “it’s just… we’re not the same anymore, lando. we’re different.”

he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the hurt in his eyes. you don’t want to be the reason he looks like that, but you can’t help it.

“maybe we need some time apart,” you say softly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, like they don’t even belong to you. but you say them anyway.

lando doesn’t answer right away. instead, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then, his voice cracks.

“do you really want that?”

it’s the way he says it that breaks something inside of you. like he’s already afraid of the answer.

you look away, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “i think we need it.”

the silence between you two is deafening, but it feels necessary. like it’s a breath that’s been held too long.

finally, lando speaks again. “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t lose me,” you whisper, but even you don’t believe it.

he gets up from the floor slowly and sits next to you, but not too close. the distance feels wrong. you’ve never been this far apart before.

“i’m sorry,” he says after a long pause. “i didn’t mean for things to get like this.”

“me neither.”

you don’t know what else to say after that. nothing feels like it’ll fix it. nothing feels like enough.

so, you just sit there, in the quiet.

maybe you just need to be apart for a while. maybe this time will give you both the space you need. maybe it won’t.

but for now, it’s all you’ve got.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it’s been five months.

five months since you last heard from him. five months since you decided to give each other space. at first, it felt like a break—a necessary one. but now, five months in, it just feels like a silence that stretches farther than you ever imagined it would.

you tell yourself that you’re okay. that it’s fine. that you’re not missing him—because that’s a lie, right?

but you do.

you miss the way he used to laugh at the stupidest things. the way he’d always come up with excuses to hang out even if it was just for a few minutes. you miss the way you’d talk about everything and nothing at the same time. the easy connection you used to share.

instead, it’s just… nothing.

his name doesn’t pop up in your texts anymore. you’re not invited to his races, not even as a friend. sienna’s always there. and maybe, just maybe, that’s what hurts the most: the feeling of being replaced, the sense that you’re not needed in his world anymore.

the worst part is, it’s not even his fault. it’s yours. you asked for the distance. you don’t want to blame him for any of it, but you still do.

you’ve been busy, too. school, friends, other things that keep you distracted. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

but in the quiet moments, when your thoughts wander, it’s like you can feel his absence in the pit of your stomach.

there’s a part of you that wants to text him. to break the silence. but you can’t bring yourself to do it. not after all this time. it’s like you’ve let the distance build a wall between you that you can’t tear down. and every time you think about reaching out, you wonder if he’s even thought about you at all.

one evening, as you sit alone in your room, your phone buzzes. it’s a message from your dad. you quickly check it, hoping for something normal, something to distract you from the thoughts that keep swirling.

but it’s nothing.

and in that nothingness, you feel it again. the void. the space that’s taken over every corner of your life, every place lando used to fill.

you push your phone aside, and the tears come anyway.

it’s stupid. it’s so stupid. he’s just… not part of your life anymore. and you shouldn’t care as much as you do. but you do. you care more than you’ve let yourself admit.

and then, there’s a knock at the door.

you wipe your eyes quickly, assuming it’s your mom. but when you open it, there’s no one there. instead, there’s just a single envelope on the floor, the handwriting on the front unmistakable.

lando.

you stand there for a moment, unsure whether to pick it up or leave it there. but your hand moves before your mind catches up. you pick up the envelope, heart pounding in your chest as you pull out the letter.

it’s short.

hey, it’s been a while. i hope you’re doing okay. i’m sorry. i never meant for any of this to happen. i miss you. - lando.

it’s simple. it’s too simple. and yet, it feels like the most important thing anyone’s ever said to you.

you read it again. and again. and for a moment, you let the tears fall without trying to stop them. because in the silence of the last five months, this is all you needed: an acknowledgment that he still thinks about you.

but you don’t know how to respond.

you want to. god, you want to. but it feels like it’s too late now. like five months of nothing is too much to fix.

still, you take a deep breath, grab your phone, and start typing a message.

hey, i miss you, too. i’m sorry, too.

you stop, staring at the message for a long moment. and then, you delete it.

maybe this isn’t the time to break the silence. maybe it’s not even time to start speaking again.

but for the first time in five months, you don’t feel so alone.

THE END :>

[666thtoolofhell]

That Kingdon slow burn is coming 😭😭😭 all I think it’ll take for Patrick and Taylor to get on board is Langdon separating or divorcing cause wdym Taylor says she thinks Mel will probably be one of the only people not judging him 😭

I just listened to the whole interview and here are some bits that weren't transcribed to the written version:

The reaching up and tapping of the door header on their way to STEMI wasn't in the script - it was all Patrick and Taylor. Patrick would always do it and Taylor thought it was funny and "boy-ish" and copied him to tease him. She didn't even think they'd keep it in the actual episode.

Apparently all the staff will be behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary happened and one of them isn't suddenly not there anymore, just going about things as normal without even touching the subject and sidestepping the Langdon-shaped hole in the room, and Mel will be surprised at not seeing him and then very confused about the whole thing. (Until the reason why is eventually explained to her, I assume. Since she won't be judging him upon his return she'll have to be in the know regarding the basics by then, no?)

Mel will be genuinely excited when Langdon comes back next season, very much like she was when she saw him again after he'd been - unbeknownst to her - fired and away from the ED for a short while. (Imagine if the joy and enthusiasm were to be proportional? If she was that elated after he'd been gone for an hour, how would she react after ten months? Fic writers, you know what to do.)

That man needs to be at the very least separated and in talks of divorce if not already signing those papers by July 4th. We won't survive the slowly burning colleagues to friends to lovers wrapped in soulmatism these two are bringing to the table. [wishful thinking]

I have no real expectations except for the powers that be to continue to focus - as much as possible with the time allotted to them as characters and as a duo - on their wonderful bond and dynamic, still partnering them up for cases as well as for breaks and significant downtime moments, letting their wholesome relationship progress further, growing and flourishing as naturally as it did during the first season.

Since Langdon is going to return fully believing he's failed her and that he's no longer deserving of her trust I foresee Mel disabusing him of that silly notion so thoroughly and so fast he won't know what hit him. Mel treating him the same, without disappointment or betrayal or pity in her eyes, still wanting to work closely with and learn from him? Being supportive and there if and when he needs someone? Just being unapologetically herself in all the ways that immediately drew him to her in the first place? That is going to be a huge help and relief for him, I think, and ease his reintegration into their workplace and team if only a little bit.

I'm hoping their friendship solidifies as something that isn't exclusive to the hospital and that we'll get a teeny tiny blink-and-you'll-miss-it hint that it'll extend into their personal lives. Something like Mel telling Langdon more about Becca and their parents; or him telling her about Abby, the dog, the kids. Sharing and commiserating. Getting to know each other better. Finding only acceptance and understanding. That'd be nice.

Baby steps.

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 5903

Sorry for the wait!! I got busy this week with exams and work😭 but I made this chapter a little longer to hopefully make up for it! I'll try to get the next part out a little quicker😊

While the others made their way to the meeting, you crutched over to the couch and sat down, not bothering to elevate your ankle. It was feeling a lot better, and although there was still some bruising, it wasn’t very swollen anymore.

You scrolled through your phone for about an hour before you heard the elevator ding and the voices of the others cut through the silence. When you looked up, once again, Bucky was the first one into the common room, coming over and immediately taking a seat beside you. His arm went to the back of the couch and his hand found your shoulder like it was all second nature.

“Hey doll,” he said, smirking at you.

You just gave him a look, but you couldn’t stop the smile from coming onto your face as you let out a little laugh.

Before you could get a word in, the rest of the team started filing into the room one by one, voices echoing and conversations overlapping, but every single one of them seemed to slow their step the second they saw you and Bucky.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned dramatically, dropping into the armchair across from you. “The way you two look at each other makes me sick.”

Tony, trailing behind, sipped from his coffee and raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself. It’s kinda cute, actually. Like a dating site commercial. So in love, it’s nauseating.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t move his hand.

Nat leaned over the side of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Honestly, I think it’s sweet. Gross, but sweet.”

You groaned into your hands. “I can’t even sit on a couch anymore?”

“You can,” Clint said from the kitchen, “but do it like a normal person, not like you’re starring in The Notebook: Avengers Edition.”

You shot Bucky a sideways glance, and he looked far too pleased with himself.

Steve finally walked in, glanced around at the chaos, and sighed. “Alright, enough. We’re not doing this again.”

“You say that every day,” Sam muttered.

Steve ignored him and turned to you. “I actually wanted to talk to you for a sec. You’re cleared to start physical therapy tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“It’ll be light,” Steve added, nodding toward your ankle. “But yeah. That means you should try putting a little weight on it today, see how it feels. Get used to it again.”

You glanced down at your ankle, then at your crutches resting beside the couch. “Okay…I can try.”

“I’ll help you,” Bucky added immediately.

A beat of silence passed before the others cut in.

Sam clutched his chest. “Oh my god, he's her emotional support soldier.”

Tony looked like he was about to cry. “They grow up so fast.”

Steve just shook his head, like he regretted every decision that brought this team together.

--

For the next hour, you were all lounging in the common room while conversations bounced lazily around the space. You’d been sipping water for the last hour, and now…nature was calling.

You sighed and pushed the blanket off your lap, slowly swinging your legs over the edge of the couch.

Immediately, Bucky sat up straighter.

“Where are you going?” he asked, already getting to his feet like he had a sixth sense for when you were about to move.

You gave him a look, amused. “Bathroom.”

He nodded without hesitation. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

You barely had time to react before the others caught on.

Sam practically fell off the chair. “Help her?” he cackled. “What are you gonna do, hold her hand while she pees?”

Nat nearly choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Bucky. Boundaries, man.”

Clint leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grinning. “Is this a two-person operation now? You gonna give her a pep talk from the doorway?”

Tony didn’t even look up from his tablet. “Let’s just be clear: if you’re gone more than 5 minutes, we’re shutting this whole thing down.”

You were laughing so hard you had to grab the arm of the couch to steady yourself, shaking your head. “I can pee on my own, guys. I just need help walking.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam added, “you two get more domestic every day. I’m waiting for him to start pre-heating the toilet seat for you.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” you wheezed.

Bucky just shook his head and offered you his hand. “C’mon, before they start planning our retirement.”

You took his hand and stood up slowly, still chuckling. “You’re not even denying it anymore.”

“I learned my lesson,” he said dryly. “Denial just gives them more material.”

As you hobbled your way toward the hall with Bucky at your side, you heard Tony call after you, “Remember to leave the door cracked, lovebirds. We need updates!”

You flipped him off behind your back without even turning around.

And as the two of you disappeared down the hall, the laughter behind you only got louder.

When you and Bucky returned to the common room, you walked in like it was no big deal – you leaning on his arm, walking a little better now but still wincing every few steps. He was quiet and calm beside you, his hand hovering near your waist like he was ready to catch you again if you so much as wobbled.

Naturally, the second you crossed into the room, you were met with more teasing.

Sam sat up straighter on the couch, eyes already glinting. “Well, well, well. Took you long enough.”

Nat smirked from where she was perched on the arm of the loveseat. “Everything come out okay?”

You stopped walking and gave them a flat look. “Really? That’s where we’re going with this?”

Clint let out a low whistle. “You sure you didn’t sprain more than your ankle in there?”

Tony looked up from his tablet. “I’m just saying, you could’ve walked on your ankle with your crutches for assistance instead of Bucky.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “We were gone for two minutes.”

Bucky sat beside you calmly, completely composed.

Then–

“Well,” he said, voice casual, “I did help her with a few things.”

You froze.

So did everyone else.

“…Excuse me?” you said, blinking at him.

He turned to you with a fake-innocent expression. “What? You needed help standing… balancing…”

You narrowed your eyes. “Bucky.”

He smirked, slow and dangerous, the kind of smirk that meant he knew exactly what he was doing. “I mean, I offered more help. She said no.”

Gasps all around.

“BUCKY!” you yelled, eyes wide as your hand smacked against his arm.

Sam howled, falling sideways into the cushions. “OH MY GOD. He’s unhinged.”

“Buck!” Steve choked, genuinely shocked but laughing anyway. “What happened to ‘respectful silence’?”

Nat was doubled over, her face buried in a throw pillow. “He’s corrupted! He’s fully gone.”

“I take no responsibility,” Tony said, raising his hands. “This is entirely on Sleeping Beauty.”

You were still glaring at Bucky. “You are so lucky I can’t run right now.”

He just leaned back into the couch, completely unbothered. “Just saying…if she ever needs other help…”

You gasped again, smacking his chest with the back of your hand before hiding your face as the room exploded into another round of laughter.

“DID YOU HEAR HIM?!” Clint yelled, nearly in tears. “This man’s got material.”

Wanda wiped a tear from her eye. “Winter Soldier’s gone full flirt mode.”

Bucky glanced sideways at you, his smirk softening just slightly. “What? I’m just being helpful.”

You peeked at him from behind your hands, face burning. “You’re gonna get me murdered by this team.”

“Nah,” he murmured, “they’d never kill the star of their favorite rom-com.”

You let out a helpless little groan and dropped your face onto his shoulder.

And Bucky just wrapped his arm around you like he’d done nothing wrong at all.

--

A little while later, Wanda looked up from the puzzle she was half-attempting with Vision. “I’m bored, we should put on a movie.”

“I second that,” Sam said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Since we can never decide on a movie, we should draw genres,” Wanda suggested. “Make it fair. Everyone writes one, toss them in a bowl, we pick blind.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement, and within minutes, a makeshift bowl of hastily scribbled paper scraps sat on the coffee table.

Steve was chosen as the unbiased picker. He dramatically shuffled them, reached in, and unfolded one with a raised brow.

He stared at it.

“…Rom-com.”

A beat.

The room groaned and cheered simultaneously.

Sam looked personally offended. “You’re kidding.”

Nat grinned. “Let the chaos begin.”

Tony threw his arms up. “YES. We’re going full heart-eyes tonight.”

Wanda turned to you with a knowing look. “You’re getting off easy. Rom-com’s practically your genre.”

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint called. “What are we watching? It has to be a classic.”

“10 Things I Hate About You,” Nat said immediately. “It’s not even up for debate.”

There were a few half-hearted objections, but no one could argue.

Soon, the movie was up, lights dimmed, snacks passed around, and everyone was claiming their spots.

You were still on the couch beside Bucky, a shared blanket draped over both your laps. His arm was still settled comfortably behind your shoulders, fingertips just brushing your upper arm. You curled your good leg underneath you, your knee resting gently against Bucky’s thigh.

He didn’t move away.

As the opening scenes rolled, the background chatter faded, replaced by soft laughter and the sounds of popcorn crunching.

A little while into the movie, Bucky’s hand – the one not around your shoulders – shifted beneath the blanket.

Without warning, his fingers brushed lightly against your leg.

Then rested right on your thigh, just above your knee.

You froze.

Your breath caught for half a second. The contact was casual – warm and steady – but somehow it made your whole body buzz.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything. Just left his hand there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You tried to focus on the movie, you really did.

But your heart was pounding.

After a few moments, though, the initial jolt settled. His touch wasn’t demanding or heavy, it just was. And it grounded you, made your chest ache in the nicest way.

You exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the screen again.

And that’s when Sam, of course, turned from the floor, where he was sprawled on a bean bag, and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey.”

You and Bucky both looked over.

Sam pointed at the two of you under the blanket. “What’s Barnes doing under there?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Sam.”

“No, no, I’m just asking,” he said, hands raised. “Because that blanket’s suspiciously still and I’ve seen that man break necks with his pinky. You’re telling me he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes?”

Bucky, still calm, still casual, raised a brow. “I’m watching the movie.”

“Are you?” Clint chimed in from the armchair. “Because from here it looks like your hand’s on a side quest.”

The room erupted into snickering.

“Where’s the hand, Barnes?” Tony called dramatically. “We need visual confirmation.”

The room went quiet for a beat, anticipation thick in the air.

Then Bucky, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “Can’t show you. It’s classified.”

The group howled.

“BUCKY!” you gasped, smacking his chest with the back of your hand as your jaw dropped. “What is wrong with you?!”

He just shrugged, clearly proud of himself, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth.

Clint nearly fell off his chair. “He said classified. I’m crying.”

Sam was doubled over, slapping his leg. “Is it stuck? Blink twice if you need help, y/n!”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in Bucky’s shoulder as the laughter got louder.

Tony clapped once. “Confirmed: he’s gone full feral. I knew this day would come.”

Nat laughed into her mug. “Honestly? Kinda impressed.”

You were trying to bury your face in Bucky’s side now, half-laughing, half-horrified, your voice muffled. “You are never allowed to speak again.”

He just leaned a little closer to you, speaking so only you could hear, voice low and amused. “You’re cute when you panic.”

You turned your face toward him, still flustered but smiling now, and smacked his chest again. “Stop talking.”

The movie played on, but no one was really paying attention anymore.

Not when Bucky Barnes – Mr. Brooding himself – was cracking jokes like it was open mic night.

Finally, the room had quieted down again as the movie continued playing.

On the screen, Kat Stratford stood in front of the class, her voice trembling just slightly as she read her poem.

You felt it coming.

The tight ache in your throat. The sting behind your eyes.

You weren’t a crier, especially not in front of everyone, but something about this scene always got you, and after the whirlwind of the past few days, it hit even harder now.

You blinked rapidly, trying to be subtle, and quickly wiped at the corner of your eyes with your sleeve.

But Bucky noticed instantly.

He shifted beside you, his arm tightening gently around your shoulders. Then, without a word, he pulled back just enough to look at you – really look.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

His brows furrowed slightly in that way they always did when he was focused. Concerned. And then, softly, his hand slipped away from your thigh under the blanket and reached up.

He used the pad of his thumb to wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

You froze.

The motion was so gentle, so tender, your breath caught in your chest.

Then–

“Oh hell no,” Nat said, breaking the silence.

You flinched and turned your head just as she sat up straighter, smirking like she’d just uncovered the juiciest secret in the world.

“Did he just wipe your tear away mid-rom-com?!”

Sam leaned forward dramatically. “That’s it. He’s done for. He’s all in. That was a whole Hallmark Channel move.”

Clint clutched his chest. “We’ve reached peak softness! I REPEAT – peak softness!”

Tony made a fake crying face. “Someone get me a tissue.”

You groaned, half laughing, half mortified, and pressed your hands to your face. “I hate you all so much.”

Bucky leaned back slowly, completely unfazed. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly, “I’ll get you a tissue next time too.”

You smacked his arm with the blanket, which only made the others laugh louder.

“I’m surrounded by emotional disasters,” Steve muttered, sipping his coffee.

Wanda was grinning behind her mug. “No, Steve. You’re surrounded by love.”

As the team slowly recovered from their collective breakdown, you leaned a little more into Bucky’s side – heart still fluttering and face still warm – and whispered just for him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just squeezed your shoulder a little tighter.

As the credits rolled and the soft soundtrack faded out, the common room slowly came back to life.

Sam stretched with a groan, mumbling something about needing real food. Tony announced he was “not cooking for you people,” and Clint was already halfway to the hallway, muttering about laundry. One by one, the others trickled out, Steve heading to unpack, Wanda to her room, Nat grabbing a snack before disappearing into the hall.

You stayed curled under the blanket on the couch, watching the room empty. Bucky stayed beside you, not saying anything, just running his thumb absentmindedly along your shoulder.

When the kitchen finally quieted down again, he turned to you.

“You hungry?”

You turned your head toward him, a little surprised by the question, but your stomach answered for you with a low, unmistakable growl.

Bucky smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “Starving.”

He stood and held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s make something.”

“You’re not just gonna cook for me again?” you teased, taking his hand as he helped you up.

“I mean I could, but what’s the fun in that,” he said, grinning.

You limped your way into the kitchen with him, heading straight for the fridge as he started pulling out ingredients. Bread, cheese, butter, a pan.

“We need to add garlic salt to the bread” you said, already reaching for the spice rack.

“Really?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Yesss, it makes it 10 times better,” you said.

He grinned and opened the bread bag. “Fair enough.”

You walked over to the stove and grabbed a piece of bread out of the bag, starting to butter it, when you shifted your weight and immediately winced.

“Sit down,” he said, amused. “You’re gonna fall face-first into the skillet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, hopping up onto the kitchen island with a slight grunt and letting your ankle dangle. “Happy?”

“Very,” he said, already back at the stove.

You helped from the island, passing him the cheese slices, sprinkling garlic salt on the bread, talking softly while he grilled everything.

When the sandwiches were cooking, Bucky stepped back from the stove and leaned against the counter for a moment. Then he turned and wandered closer – right up to where you were sitting.

He set one hand on the island beside you – not touching, but close – while you continued talking.

The conversation faded naturally, and you glanced up – suddenly realizing how close he was.

His face was just inches from yours, and his body was relaxed, but you could tell he was aware of every inch between you. Or, rather, the lack of inches.

Your heart picked up.

His gaze flicked briefly to your mouth – just for a second – and then back to your eyes.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

Then–

Ding.

The timer went off, and the skillet let out a loud sizzle at the same time.

Bucky blinked, like he’d just come out of a trance, and casually stepped back without a word, turning to grab a spatula.

You just stared at his back, trying to pull yourself together as he plated the sandwiches.

He slid your plate into your lap and handed you a water bottle from the fridge before jumping up next to you with his own plate.

The two of you ate your sandwiches right there on the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world – legs dangling, plates balanced on your laps – as your conversation continued.

“You’re telling me,” you said, chewing, “you had this level of domestic skill locked away this whole time?”

Bucky gave a small shrug. “Didn’t think it’d impress anyone.”

You snorted. “Bro, you literally wiped away my tears during a rom-com. You’re already halfway to husband of the year.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight pink in his cheeks. “I’m just trying to keep the bar low so I look impressive doing the bare minimum.”

You bumped your knee gently against his. “Smart man.”

After you both finished, the plates were left beside you, and the conversation turned soft and easy, like it always did with him lately. You swung your good leg back and forth beneath the counter, while Bucky leaned back on his hands, head tilted slightly toward you as he listened.

And then, without thinking much, you said, “You know what sounds good right now?”

“What?” he asked.

You smiled. “Ice cream.”

Bucky let out a soft hum of agreement, but the topic drifted. You went right back to talking about something else and you didn’t think anything of it.

A few minutes later, Bucky stood up, walking over to the freezer.

He opened the door, rummaged around for a few seconds, then straightened up with a sigh. “Get your shoes on.”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned back to you, already reaching for his keys from the hook near the back door. “C’mon. I’m taking you to get ice cream.”

Your eyes lit up before you could stop yourself, and you tried to fight the giddy smile that came across your face. “Wait, really? No, Bucky, that’s okay. I didn’t mean–”

He tilted his head at you. “Do you want ice cream?”

You hesitated. “Well, yeah, but–”

“Then you’re getting ice cream.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, but couldn’t hide it. “Okay.”

You jumped off the counter onto your good leg as Bucky instinctively reached out to steady you. You walked over to the door and slid on your shoes.

“I just need to grab a jacket from my room real quick.”

But before you could take a step, Bucky reached into the hall closet, pulled something out, and turned back around – holding one of his black leather jackets in his hands.

“Nah,” he said. “You can wear one of mine.”

You looked at him, blinking. “Seriously?”

“‘Course,” he said simply, stepping closer.

He held it out for you and you slipped your arms into the sleeves. The leather was worn and soft, and immediately smelled like him – clean and familiar.

He helped adjust the shoulders, tugging it into place like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You look good in it,” he said offhandedly, but his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.

You zipped it halfway, glancing up at him. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I wanted to,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Let’s go get your ice cream.”

And with that, he held out his arm so you could loop yours through for balance and led you toward the elevator.

The elevator dinged softly and you stepped out, the garage cool and quiet this late in the evening.

You both walked around to the passenger side of the car and he opened the door for you, letting you get settled before he closed it and went around to the driver’s side.

You kept up the casual conversation in the car, and it wasn’t long before you pulled up outside a little corner shop, the kind of place that always smelled like waffle cones and childhood.

Inside, it was quiet, just the hum of the freezer and the soft bell over the door. He looked down at the options while you stared into the freezer, eyes wide. “Okay, I forgot how hard this part is.”

“Life-altering decisions,” Bucky said with a smirk. “Choose wisely.”

“You’re gonna judge me, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna judge you.”

You laughed and ended up pointing to your usual – something sweet and a little over-the-top with cookie chunks and brownie pieces and caramel swirl, of course. Bucky raised a brow.

“Figures,” he muttered, but he ordered it for you anyway.

He went with butter pecan, and you gave him an amused look. “That’s an old man flavor,” you said, giggling while the worker started scooping your choices.

He just side-eyed you, smile peeking through his attempt at an annoyed look. “I am old.”

You continued giggling as the worker handed you your waffle cone and Bucky pulled out his wallet.

After he paid, you grabbed a small table outside, the night air cool against your cheeks as you sat across from him.

You licked your ice cream slowly, then looked up at him. “Thanks for this.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Figured you deserved it.”

You gave him a soft smile. That shouldn’t have made your heart skip, but it did.

You continued eating, until a few minutes later, Bucky broke the silence.

“You’ve got…” Bucky motioned to the corner of his mouth.

You stuck out your tongue and licked it, but Bucky just chuckled, making it obvious you missed it.

He leaned forward without thinking.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching across and brushing his thumb against the corner of your lip.

Your breath caught.

His hand lingered for a second too long, eyes flicking down, just once, before he pulled away.

“Got it,” he murmured.

You tried to focus on your ice cream, but you could feel the heat in your face and the rapid beating of your heart like it was trying to break through your ribcage.

When you looked up at him again, he was already watching you.

The moment stretched.

And just like earlier, he didn’t push it.

He finally leaned back in his chair, taking another bite, and said, “so…what’s next after ice cream? You wanna rob a bank or just head back?”

You laughed, grateful for the shift but still feeling that tension humming under your skin.

“Let’s save the bank robbery for our second date.”

He paused for a half-second, then smiled. “Noted.”

On the ride back to the compound, you settled into easy conversation again, still teasing Bucky about his old-man ice cream flavor. When he parked the car and you both got out, you automatically linked your arm through his as you walked to the elevator and got in.

When the elevator doors slid open, you both stepped off laughing, still linked at the arms, walking close like you didn’t even realize how naturally it was happening now.

Bucky was giving you that boyish, slightly smug smile he only gave you, when you rounded the corner into the kitchen where Nat and Wanda were pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

They both looked up at the sound of your laughter.

Nat’s eyes flicked from you to Bucky, taking in the jacket, the linked arms, the flushed cheeks.

Wanda didn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“Wow,” Nat said, closing the pantry door. “Look who came strolling in like they just got back from a rom-com montage.”

Wanda nudged her and grinned. “And in his jacket, no less. Very subtle.”

You laughed softly and gave Bucky a look like see what I have to deal with? “We just went for ice cream.”

“Of course you did,” Wanda said, amused but kind. “Was it good?”

“The best,” Bucky answered easily, eyes on you for a second too long.

Nat raised a brow but didn’t push it – for once. “We’re about to make cookies. You in?”

“Ooooh, yes,” you said. You turned toward Bucky, expecting him to stay, but Nat stepped in quickly with a smirk.

“Sorry, Barnes. This is girls only.”

Bucky chuckled, totally unbothered. “Fair enough.”

You just laughed as you slipped your arm out of his. As he started to walk away, he gave you one last look, warm and lingering. “See ya, doll.”

You smiled. “See ya.”

He turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, still smiling to himself.

As soon as he disappeared down the hall, you started slipping off his jacket, and before you could even get one arm free, the girls jumped in.

“Oh my god,” Nat said, grinning. “You’re so in love.”

Wanda leaned against the counter, hands clasped. “He wiped your tears and gave you his jacket? You two really are straight out of a rom-com.”

You gave them a look, trying not to blush. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“You’re lucky we’re being nice tonight,” Nat teased, taking the jacket and hanging it over a chair for you. “A few weeks ago we would’ve sent a photo to the entire group chat with a ‘look who’s in love’ caption.”

“She still might,” Wanda added with a shrug.

You just shook your head, cheeks warm, but you were smiling too.

You walked over and joined Nat and Wanda at the kitchen island, ingredients spread out across the counter. You all settled into a steady rhythm of measuring and dumping them into the bowl as you talked, soft music playing in the background from Wanda’s phone. It was easy and comforting, the kind of energy you didn’t realize you needed.

Wanda handed you a spoon and sighed. “You’re on stirring duty now,” she said. “My arm’s about to fall off.”

You took it, and as you stirred the thick dough, Nat leaned against the counter beside you and gave you a look.

“So,” she said casually, brushing flour off her hands. “You and Bucky.”

You froze for just a second before looking up at her. “Oh boy.”

Wanda smiled gently and bumped your arm with hers. “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna ambush you. We’re just…curious.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “It’s happening fast, huh?”

You looked down at the dough for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I mean…I didn’t expect it. Any of it.”

Wanda leaned her elbows on the counter, chin in her hands. “But you’re not freaking out?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “No. That’s the weird part. It should feel like too much too fast, but it doesn’t. It just feels…easy. Like he was always supposed to be part of my life, and I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Both of them went still and quiet for a beat, so you glanced up.

Wanda looked like her heart had just melted.

Nat blinked once. “Wow. Okay. You’re in deep.”

“I know,” you groaned, dropping your head onto your arm on the counter. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable,” Wanda said firmly.

Nat crossed her arms, but her smirk had softened. “You know, for a guy who used to look like he wanted to murder everyone who made eye contact, he’s been grinning like a golden retriever every time you’re together.”

You peeked up from your arm. “Really?”

Wanda nodded. “Like, disgustingly soft.”

“Gross,” Nat muttered. “But also…kind of sweet.”

You sat up a little straighter, a little less panicked now. “You really think he feels the same?”

Wanda smiled, eyes warm. “We know he does.”

Nat grinned and bumped your hip with hers. “And if he doesn’t make a move soon, we’ll force him to.”

You just laughed, heart full and cheeks warm as you continued to stir the dough.

When you were done, you each started rolling the cookie dough, placing them on a baking sheet as the conversation drifted to something else before popping them into the oven.

The first batch of cookies came out golden and warm, filling the kitchen with that perfect, rich smell of sugar and melted chocolate. Nat wasted no time breaking one apart, the chocolate still gooey in the middle, and popped half into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Okay,” she said with her mouth full, “we actually nailed it.”

Wanda grinned and grabbed one of her own. “We’re unstoppable.”

You took a bite of yours and immediately closed your eyes. “Oh my god. These are so good.”

The three of you stood at the counter, nibbling on cookies straight from the tray with chocolate smudges on your fingers, laughing in between bites.

Eventually, Wanda grabbed a cloth and started wiping the counter while Nat began stacking mixing bowls in the sink.

“You should take some to Bucky,” Wanda said casually, glancing over her shoulder.

You blinked. “What?”

Nat smirked, not even looking up from the bowl she was rinsing. “You know. Thank him for the ice cream. Offer a peace cookie. Maybe kiss him a little.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you started gathering up dishes and taking them to the sink. “You guys are obsessed.”

Wanda shrugged, very unbothered. “We just support love.”

Nat turned around, still smirking at you. “You’re the one who walked in here in his jacket, glowing like you just got kissed under a streetlamp in a rom-com, and we’re the obsessed ones?”

“I’m just taking him some cookies,” you said, grabbing a plate and stacking a few still-warm ones on it. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.

You gave them both a pointed look, but your smile gave you away. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“We know,” Wanda said sweetly.

Nat just pointed toward the hallway. “Go on, don’t keep him waiting.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh and made your way out of the kitchen. Behind you, you could still hear them giggling as you disappeared down the hall.

When you got to his room, the door was slightly cracked, light spilling into the hall in a soft glow.

You nudged it open with your foot and leaned in. “Hey.”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, phone in hand, and the second he saw you, his whole face lit up.

“Hey. You brought cookies?” he asked, already standing and making his way toward you. “They smell so good.”

You held out the plate with a smile. “Courtesy of girls’ night.”

He took the plate carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wondered whether or not I would get to taste-test.”

Then, gently, his free hand settled on your lower back as he guided you into the room.

“C’mon, sit,” he said softly, helping you over to his bed.

You walked over to his bed and plopped down, wincing when the pressure was finally off your ankle. You didn’t realize how sore it was until now.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat.

He set the plate down on the nightstand, gave you a quick glance, and without a word, crossed to the little mini fridge in the corner of his room.

He pulled out a small ice pack, walked back over, and knelt down in front of you, gently lifting your leg and setting the cold pack on your ankle.

You blinked at him. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, not looking up as he adjusted the angle. “You’ve been walking around on it all day. I knew it would catch up to you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

He sat down next to you, close but comfortable, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he picked up the plate again, offering you the first cookie with a soft smile.

You took it as he grabbed one for himself and leaned over and grabbed the remote.

“What are we watching?” you asked as you took a bite.

“I don’t care,” he said, pressing the power button. “You can choose.”

You just hummed and reached your hand out while he immediately set the remote in it. You scrolled through some options before deciding on a comedy movie you’d seen a million times and handing the remote back to him.

“Never seen this one,” he said, taking another bite of his cookie.

“Oh, it’s so funny, you’re gonna love it,” you responded, smiling up at him.

You sat in silence as the movie started, sitting shoulder to shoulder and snacking on the cookies, laughing together after almost every scene.

You swore to yourself you were actually going to stay awake, wanting to see his reactions to all the funniest scenes, but as you were nearing the end of the movie, you could feel yourself drifting off.

You shifted slightly, your good leg brushing his, and let out the softest little sigh. “M’falling asleep,” you murmured, voice barely audible.

Bucky glanced down, smiling as he saw your eyes flutter shut.

“I figured,” he whispered, his voice low, gentle. “You’ve had a big day.”

You just hummed in response as you felt Bucky’s arm go around you, pulling you closer to him.

And just before you slipped completely into sleep, you felt it–

The soft press of his lips on your forehead.

Barely there, but real, warm.

And the last thing you heard was his quiet voice near your hair.

“Sweet dreams, doll.”

--

Part 9 | Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat

[liberalk1tsch]

mom come pick me up there’s racists in my comment section

so actually i DONT have a problem with black representation in media cos im not a raging racist (and blackwashing is such a disgusting and inaccurate term).

i’ll admit — i’m like the least qualified person to be discussing racial injustices. i’m a scandinavian white woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. but that’s exactly why i can speak to the fact that i don’t need anymore representation in media.

i’m privileged.

from the time i was a kid, i’ve seen myself everywhere. from the books i read, to the series and films i watched, to the toys i played with, i see my demographic in everything.

annabeth chase (prior to disney’s adaptation). luna lovegood*. madge undersee. tris prior. feyre archeron. y/n in every 2014 fanfic. britney. gaga. kesha. avril. hannah montana (and lily). jo harvelle. sam puckett. aurora. rapunzel. elsa. barbie. polly pockets. groovy girls. to name a few.

i never struggled to find someone or something that looked like me.

but i have dear friends who did.

i wont pretend to know their experience, because i know i never will, but to act like i’m losing something by uplifting others who haven’t had the same privileges as me is utterly ridiculous. i have more than enough. wanting the same representation for poc isn’t «blackwashing», it’s wanting people who look differently from me to have beloved characters and singers and toys who look like them too. where they can see someone who looks like them as the heroic mc, not just the one dimensional side character who gets killed off first. where the media is representative of real world diversity as opposed to conceding to one «token» poc in an attempt to appease their audience whilst still catering to the whiteness of people like me.

the identity of every single one of those characters i mentioned would not be diminished by making them poc; if anything, it would be only add to it. the opposite isn’t true, and that’s the big difference — white people stealing poc representation actively diminishes the nuances of that particular character’s identity and erases the dynamics that have shaped their lives.

in this particular case, having a white haymitch erases the racial divide in thg. the actor has merchant class characteristics to play a working class impoverished brown kid, and while this is nothing against the actor or his appearance, it is taking away representation from some poc kid out there who saw themselves in the books, only for a casting director to decide it’s easier to double down on film continuity rather than accurate representation.

because white people are so lacking of representation, obviously. 🙄

i’m gonna shut up now cos i know this is about as far as i can go without sounding like im trying to speak over poc voices, but. yeah. this really pmo and if you think «blackwashing» is a genuine problem, please block me. and if you’re poc and i got smth wrong/phrased weird, pls lmk. i want to be corrected.

*obviously i hate jkr and think she’s a god awful bigot who deserves to burn in hell, but i did grow up on hp. luna was also one of the only characters not dripping in racial stereotypes, but that’s a whole other story😖

[bambisturns]

𝑐𝘩²

Warnings: kissing A LOT OF IT, name calling (slut like 2x???), suggestive (things that lead to the se of x but no sex,) i think thats it lmk what i missed 😋

a/n: yall can tell me if yall fw this or not. I hade to edge yall a lil. 😋🥸

wc: 2183

A few days had passed since you last saw Matt. Clearly, you two have been texting, and he was supposed to come over today, but not being able to see each other was unbearable. You’ve grown accustomed to this routine you both have—Matt would visit your dorm on Mondays, Thursdays, and some Fridays, while you’d spend time at his and his brother's apartment every other weekend. Building a connection with them was easy; you realized they are truly kind-hearted, generous, and compassionate individuals. Matt in particular. As you wait for him to arrive, you reflect on your conversations, how he mentioned finding you cute, and how he thought you looked pretty even when you cried.

Twenty minutes later, Matt arrives and, true to his word as mentioned in his message, gently runs his fingers over the fresh ink on your abdomen. The chill of his touch makes your breath hitch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Did it hurt?" he asked, his fingers continuing to trace the lines but refraining from moving further down, not wanting to overstep that boundary—at least not yet. "Mm, n-no, not really. It was just a bit uncomfortable the lower he went," you replied, glancing over at him. His eyes quickly darted up to meet yours. "He?" he questioned. "A man tattooed you there?" he added. "Yeah, the woman I usually go to wasn't available, and I really wanted it done, so I just went through with it," you answered, fiddling with the ends of your hair. He hums softly, and you raise an amused eyebrow. "Matt, are you jealous?" you ask teasingly.

"What? Jealous? Pfft, not at all, kid," he says, then adds, "Do you want me to be?" You shake your head no, but a slight shiver escapes you, likely because your shorts are unzipped to give him a clearer view of the tattoo. Despite the situation, it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable to be like this around him. You trusted him, and while it might seem unusual to others since you only began growing close about a month ago, their opinions didn’t matter. What mattered was that you both understood and trusted each other, feeling at ease in each other's company. "Are you cold?" he asks again, pulling you out of your thoughts. "A little," you reply softly, glancing over at him as he lies beside you on your bed, his eyes red and glassy from the high of the weed you both smoked shortly after he arrived.

His eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow as though he's lost in thought. "What's on your mind, Matthew?" you ask gently. "Honestly, I'm just thinking about how much I want to take a nap. For a dorm bed, yours is surprisingly comfortable," he replies. "Do you want to take a nap?" you ask, your eyes meeting his. "Kind of. Do you?" he replies. You hum in agreement. "Alright, but let’s change into some pajamas because I’m not napping in jeans and a flannel," he says, prompting you to let out a gentle giggle. Matt indeed has clothes at your place. The last time he stayed, he brought a few over, saying, I’m here almost every day anyway. It’s the same situation for you when you’re at his apartment. You had your own clothes and a dedicated drawer in his bedroom. You gradually sit up and pick out some clothes from your drawer of sleepwear. As you walk to the bathroom, Matt grabs your wrist to stop you.

"Can... can I help you change?" he asks hesitantly. You let out a small laugh, "You want to help me get changed?" you giggle. "Do you not remember the last time we smoked and you tried changing? You tripped in the bathroom, hit your elbow on my sink, and started crying," he says, laughing. You chuckle along with him and agree to let him help you. The room is softly illuminated as he gently removes your shirt, leaving you in your bra and shorts. Avoiding his gaze, you turn away, and he instantly understands the unspoken message, also aware that you don’t sleep with a bra on. He gently pushes your hair aside and slowly unhooks your bra, allowing it to slide off your shoulders. He rests his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him again. He slowly unbuttons and unzips your shorts, sliding them down over your hips until they drop to the floor with a gentle thud.

Feeling exposed, you cross your arms over your chest for comfort. "Don't hide, you're beautiful," he reassures you, gently taking hold of your arms and raising them as he carefully helps you put the shirt on. You wait there while he changes as well. He takes hold of your hand and leads you both to the bed, gently lifting you before laying you down and curling up beside you. Pressing your back against his chest. "I could really get used to this," he murmurs, nuzzling his face into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder and gently pressing a soft kiss there. Both of you stop abruptly as the reality of Matt's actions sinks in. The room became completely silent. You turn to face him, saying, "Sorry, it was just… in the moment, I didn’t mean—" but you cut off his hurried words by placing your hand over his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise at the gesture.

"Matt, it’s alright. I liked it… I think I could get used to this too," you say, shifting your hand from his mouth to the back of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. Matt exhales a sigh of relief and draws you closer, both of you wrapping your arms around each other. He softly kisses the top of your head and quietly whispers goodnight as you both fall asleep.

At 8:30 p.m., you finally wake up to find Matt still curled up against your side, sleeping with his shirt off, probably taken off while you were asleep. You are startled out of your slumber by the loud knocking on your door. Kelly's voice echoes, "Room check, Crybaby! Don't make me come in there!" as you're scurrying over Matt to get out of bed, but the door flings open before you can do so. You sit on Matt's lap, frozen in place, while you turn to see Kelly looking at you with wide eyes. As she says, "Wow, crybaby… didn't know you were such a slut," her startled expression quickly shifts to one of amusement. She asks as she moves deeper into your room, "Who's the guy?". Matt's eyes are wide and bewildered as you turn to look at him. He's wondering why you're on top of him and why there's another voice in the room. She screams, laughing aloud, "Oh my god… you're caught up with Matt!". Still giggling, she continues, "This is priceless,".

You hastily get off Matt's lap, exclaiming, "No, it's not like that! Kelly, it's not what you think!" you say, clearly anxious. ‘Shit, Kelly is going to tell everyone at school that I’m a slut and sleeping with Matt. It's not true!’ you said to yourself. Matt gradually sits up, shifting his gaze between you and Kelly. "Kelly, why do you care what she does or who she does it with?" Matt says, rolling his eyes at her. 'God, he looks and sounds so hot right now. No!' Be quiet! You block out your thoughts and glance back and forth between the two of them. "So, you're hooking up with her? Wow, who would've guessed that Matt Sturniolo, the star lacrosse player, would get involved with such a complete loser," she says with a laugh. Your lips start to quiver as your gaze drops to your feet.

"Oh my god, don't tell me you're crying just because you got caught," Kelly groans. "You're still such a crybaby!" she exclaims. "Kelly, you should leave. You've checked the room, now go," Matt says, standing up and pulling you closer to him. You step behind him to discreetly wipe the tears from your eyes. Not because you're angry, but because you're humiliated and aware that Kelly will twist the story to shame you. "Alright, alright, I'm leaving. But don't think I won't share this with someone—it's pure comedy gold." She chuckles while exiting the room. Matt walks over and locks the door. "Are you alright?" he asks, gently running his hands along your arms. "Yes? No… I’m not sure. Kelly… Kelly is going to slut shame me," you murmured quietly, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground as more tears streamed down your face.

Matt gently places his hand under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "Hey... it's okay. Don't worry about her, and why should it matter what others think of you? I know the truth, and you're none of those things," he says softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears from your cheeks. You offer him a gentle smile, and he draws you into a hug, the two of you standing in the center of the room, embraced in each other's arms. As you both eventually break away, Matt lifts you up and places you on the edge of the bed, standing between your legs while gently brushing the hair from your face. His touch is gentle and fragile, as if you might shatter at any second. He studies your face for a moment, as if analyzing you, before asking, "Can I kiss you?" The question takes your breath away, leaving you momentarily speechless. After a pause, you nod in agreement. "No," he says, "I want you to say that I can kiss you."

"Yes, Matt, kiss me, please." Those words escaped your mouth, giving you both permission to enjoy the moment you both had been waiting for what seemed like forever. Matt slowly leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours as his breath brushes against your skin. He seems to be hesitating, as if he wants to make sure that this is what you really want. His hesitation vanishes when you don't try to pull away, and he eventually gets close enough to plant a passionate, tender kiss on your lips. A whole swarm of butterflies seems to take flight inside your stomach, causing a fluttering sensation that is both overwhelming and thrilling. He pulls you closer, holding your cheeks in his hands as you place your hands lightly under his jaw.

It felt as though the world had fallen into silence. Just the two of you, with your breaths mingling as one. "Matt," you murmured softly against his lips. He leaned back just a little, his gaze meeting yours. "Hmm?" he responded quietly, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. You let your gaze travel over his face, noticing the details of his lips, the stubble along his jawline, and the scar on his brow. You take in every feature, and as your eyes meet his again, you realize he's doing the same—studying your face closely. Your breath catches, and you whisper, "Please don't stop," leaning in to kiss him more deeply as your fingers tangle in his hair. Matt gently lowers you onto the bed, his body moving over yours as his lips remain locked with yours. "Like this?" he murmurs against your lips. "Exactly like this," you reply

You both were so lost in the taste of each other's lips. Matt groans, moving his lips from yours to your neck, leaving open mouth kisses and lightly nipping your neck. There was one spot in particular just beneath your ear that caused you to let out a soft moan. Matt pauses looking up at you. “Is… is this okay?” He asks hesitantly “yes, its- its okay” you say while trying to ground your breathing. His hands trail down your sides and stop near your thighs just right where the hem of the shirt - matts shirt rests. He looks up at you as if asking if it's okay to remove the shirt. You nod your head giving him the okay to do so. You sit up as Matt slowly pulls the shirt over your head, now left in just your panties he lies you back against the bed once more.

You werent a virgin, no thats for certain and a mistake that was made on your behalf to lose. But its also almost been a year since you last had sex. “W-wait Matt… are we moving to fast?” You ask sitting up “If you feel like we are we can stop.” He says trailing his lips to the side of your neck “I… I dont want too, its just its been a long time.” You say craning your head to give him more access “Its okay, its been a long time for me too, ill be gentle i promise.” He says you let out a hum as he trails his lips back up to meet yours “god I want you so bad.” He murmurs against your lips “then have me”

© bambisturns, please do not copy, reuse, or modify any of my writings!

[howlingmod]

crawls up to you on 3 of my 4s (joldong a soda in one hand) ummmm uhh can I get a uhhh hcs for killers x a survivor reader who is a single parent of a kid. as you’d expect the spectre freakin sucks and dragged the kid there too

summary - 1x4, Jason x single parent reader

misc - ASKS THAT REMINDED ME I HAVE A SWEET DELICIOUS DRINK IN THE FRIDGE ..... thank you so much anon ..... this ones a little silly i can't lie I <3 PARENTAL 1x4 ....

1x4

-Your relationship started off as poorly as it could. You'd been with a smaller group of survivors, watching as they were picked off one by one. You didn't think it would go this bad. You all knew there were threats whenever you went out, you just didn't expect that they'd be so close to your campsite.

-You'd all gone on a small run to pick up supplies, running low on basic necessities. It was just meant to be a quick look around and then head back home, it was never supposed to devolve like this. You'd hid your kid as soon as you heard the screams, finding a place for them to hide from any potential danger while you figured out what was going on. You thanked your past self for finding somewhere they wouldn't be able to see any of this. Bodies were strewn about the ground, in all states of togetherness- disemboweled, beheaded, all clearly dead.

-You'd only managed to find one other survivor before you'd been caught, finding him hiding away in an odd corner of the area, clearly just as lost and confused as you.

"What happened? Did you see who did this?" You'd asked, struggling to keep your voice steady enough with how fast your heart was beating. His hands flew to your shoulders, clasping down tight in desperation for some support.

"I-I don't know, I was with Casper and then this thing just appeared out of nowhere and tackled him and-" He started to ramble, devolving into incoherence the more he spiraled.

"Hey, just calm down. We'll find a way out of here, I promise," you tried, mustering as much calm as you could in an effort to reassure him.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something before suddenly stopping, growing pale as he looked a little past you. His hyperventilating only got worse, much to your displeasure, after a few seconds of trying to make him look back at you, you relented, looking over your shoulder and finding the source of his fear.

They were tall, unnaturally so. You didn't have to stare long to find the swords clasped in either hand, dripping with fresh blood. You both scrambled to stand up, you immediately trying to think of a way to lose them once you started running, but your thoughts were cut short. The hands on your shoulder squeezed and, through the blood rushing through your ears, you could just barely hear an 'I'm sorry,' before you were shoved forward.

You landed hard on your back, stunned by the sudden motion as you stared up at the sky. Shakily raising your head, you watched as they ran away, slowly growing smaller. The thing behind you laughed, low and sinister before drawing closer. You didn't have any time to get back up, them catching up to you and dragging you up by the collar of your shirt.

"Well well well, the unfortunate martyr," She crooned, leering down at you. Your feet dangled off the ground, unable to find any purchase other than their legs, unmoved by your struggle. His glowing eyes found your own, delighted by the fear he saw in them. He only grinned, slowly raising the edge of one of his blades to your throat, daring you to move and cut yourself on them. He opened his mouth, ready to mock you once more before something hit him.

"Hey! Leave 'm alone!" Your blood ran cold instantly, the rush instantly dizzying you to nausea. You couldn't breathe around the ball in your throat. Of course they would come looking for you, you'd been gone so long. God, you should've just ran when you had the chance. You thrashed harder now, kicking hard at his torso and scratching wherever you could find space. To your absolute dread, she cackled, full-bodied and unadulterated.

"Well, what do we have here? This is your rescue?" He just kept laughing, dropping the blade to his side to turn to your child.

"Leave them out of this!" You yelled, falling on deaf ears.

"Let my (parent) go!" They yelled, only furthering your struggle. You couldn't afford for them to get the ire of the killer holding you hostage. You wouldn't be able to protect them in time.

"This is too rich," he hummed, thoroughly pleased. Finally, she dropped you, letting you hit the ground once more. You'd scrambled up, instantly heading for your child as they ran to meet you in the middle. You stared back up at the killer, finding them grinning back down at both of you.

"I have to admit, you're a brave one," she started, directing her attention to your child, "I'm curious to see what you'll become."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran in the direction that the other survivor had gone, leaving you to sit there in confusion. You watched her slowly shrink into the distance, disappearing behind the tree-line. You made no move yet, too dumbfounded to think of what to do next. Finally, your child had looked up at you, still caged in your arms.

"Who was that?"

-The next few months were a blur. You found your way back home with everything you were able to pick off of the others. You felt awful for it but you had a mouth to feed, you couldn't afford to overextend your kindness if that whole interaction had taught you anything. You were able to find a relative normalcy, only haunted by the new silence with your lack of company. Your kid took to sword fighting with sticks in the yard, using the dead trees as dummies to duel with. It wasn't the best life, but it was enough of a routine that you were happy with it. That was until you noticed the same monster that nearly killed you was gifting your child a sword.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" You'd shouted to your visitor, watching as your child's extended hand shot back to their side in surprise.

"Aw, don't be like that, I'm merely checking up on my prodigy," he called back, calm as can be.

"Your- That's my kid, jackass!" You were seething now, temporarily dropping your filter in disbelief.

He only laughed at that, placing the gift in your kid's hands before stepping closer towards you, "I never said they were mine, just that I've taken an interest in their development. It takes guts to stand up to me, I was impressed."

He only stopped once he was a hair's breadth away, smiling down at you like she was a family friend. You glared right back up at him, crossing your arms over your chest with a grimace.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing but you can leave them out of it. If you have some kind of problem you take it up with me, you understand?" You hissed, poking her in the sternum for emphasis. You were playing a dangerous game prodding her, but you'd much rather take the blunt of their malice over your kid.

She scoffed, turning to throw her arm over your shoulder and pull you into her side, "Are you deaf? Like I've been saying, I'm just invested in seeing their talent be used to the fullest. I'd hate to see such courage go to waste, is all."

"Here," she crooned, tugging you ever closer and leaning down to your level as best she could, "If you're really so concerned, I'll only ever come to visit while you're around. You can supervise me if you truly think it necessary."

You narrowed your eyes, glancing over to your child. They were busy looking at the sword they'd been gifted, brushing their fingers over the dull blade wrapped in burlap to protect their hands. You could practically hear her grin grow with your growing defeat.

"Fine. Only when I'm around," you relented.

"It's a deal," he chimed.

-It became routine from then on. 1x4 would come to visit, offering all kinds of gifts to your child: post-cards from far away lands and coins long out of production. In recent times, he'd begun to offer you gifts more often, bearing glimmering jewels and a surplus of food for the two of you. He'd present them to you as soon as he found your side, watching as 'his prodigy' trained. Rarely would he participate, only when you relented to your child's pleading for him to play with them under your careful eye. Usually, he'd just sit next to you in a comfortable silence, occasionally offering some kind of feedback to your child, both praise and critique. Truthfully, it seemed like they really were getting better with that sword...

-The visits would turn longer and longer, following you two into your home for dinner when your kid asked for him to stay one night. Tentatively, you'd busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing some of the supplies she'd dropped off the other day as you listened to their conversation. Your child was rambling all about the books they'd been reading, filling her in on all the stories they'd heard about drakobloxxers and princesses in castles saved by shining knights. Readily, she listened, offering her own inputs and spins on those tales with pride. Slowly, you grew calmer, finding peace in the moment.

-One day, she'd come all the same as normal. Greeting your child and offering them a piece of seaglass they'd soon put up on the shelf with all her other gifts before she found your side once more. You'd given her a nod of acknowledgement, too focused on your kid's training to pay mind to her finding her gift for you. Just a moment later, he'd presented it to you, more casual than he normally did. He said nothing, just held his palm out for you to look. It was a ring, lined with diamonds and held by a gorgeous, gold band. You'd laughed, more earnestly than he'd heard before.

"What's this supposed to be?" You hummed, warm with amusement.

He smiled back, softer than his usual mischievous grin, "A gift."

You'd snickered at the simplicity of it, readily taking it from his hand. It fit perfectly, unsurprisingly. You found he had a way of knowing things before he was told. Neither of you said anything more about it, turning your attention back to the excited child in the yard pointing out the deep cuts they'd made in the bark.

Jason

-Jason found you before you could even meet the others. You didn't know it then, you couldn't see him in the dark, sneaking through the cover of the woods. You were too scared then, too terrified to pay attention to the sounds around you over your own heart in your ears. You just needed to find safety, somewhere you could hide away with your child until you figured out where you were.

-You ran around in circles, passing the same clearings and scratching yourself on the same brambles of thorns- straining to lift your kid up above them and through the webs of branches reaching out for you both. Jason only watched as you got more and more lost, growing more frantic by the second. It'd taken watching you trip over an overgrown root and flip over to ensure you hit the ground instead of your child that finally made him draw closer.

-It was still too dark for you to really see him, only able to make out that there was a person there. You'd shot upright, scrambling backwards against a tree and pulling your kid tight to your chest, hidden behind your arms.

"Who are you?!"

He didn't answer at all, just stood staring at you from a few feet away. You were going to try asking again, only further irritated by his lack of response before he finally moved. It was purposeful but unhurried, leaving you just a sliver of time to contemplate running before he reached out and grabbed for one of your arms. You'd instantly tried to pull back, fearing he was trying to pry your arms away from your child but he was stronger, overpowering you-

He grabbed your hand, turned away, and started walking.

-He didn't talk on the way there at all either, didn't make any noise at all, really. So, you didn't ask any questions. You were terrified, you really shouldn't just be letting him drag you god knows where like this but ... if he really wanted to hurt either of you, you figured he would've done that already. You could just barely spot the glimmer of something sharp in his free hand.

-Eventually, he reached a cabin. It was a very worn, aged looking cabin but shelter nevertheless. It was only then he dropped the iron grip he had on your hand, barely turning to you and pointing in the direction of the door. You'd stood there for a second, dumbly staring at him. The thought of this all being one big trap, some game to him, popped back up in your mind. Nevertheless, you tentatively padded over to the door, tightening your grip on your child once more. You'd expected him to be on your heel, shoving you over the threshold and into his lair but, looking over your shoulder, you found he hadn't moved an inch. He stared right back at you, waiting for you to step into the house. He stayed there even when the door was shut, only turning to leave a few moments later, leaving you in the shabby house without a word.

-The house itself was in better condition than you'd expected. It hadn't been occupied too recently based on the layers of dust piling up but, compared to the woods you'd just run through, it may as well have been a fully-furnished mansion. It was just you and your child as far as you can tell. There seemed to be some kind of dirt road leading there but you'd made no move to explore, not wanting to risk it quite yet. There were enough supplies left behind there for you to provide for your kid as they slowly regained their energy and started running around the house to explore. By the time you even began to worry about running low, he came back.

-You'd been startled, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard the knock on the door, but, even though you'd barely seen him in the dark that night, you could immediately identify who it was. He didn't strike any fear into you, even with the mask and ragged clothes. He'd saved you and your child's life, you couldn't muster any ill-will towards him if you tried. You'd welcomed him in with arms warmer than he'd expected, inviting him inside and talking to him. You'd been a little worried by his lack of response until he began signing, slow and shaky but still understandable. It wasn't the clearest to you at first, but, with his repeated visits, you slowly picked it up more and more. As did your child, who would happily run up and try signing back to him, much to his delight. Their energy was refreshing, the familial situation made him feel comfortable, at peace for a time.

-The cycle repeated for a few months, you slowly growing more and more acclimated to your surroundings. You found ways to live off the land, figuring out what was and wasn't safe to forage with the help of your company. Your kid found new trees to climb and learned to set up small traps that you'd learn how to spot and avoid. Life had found some kind of normalcy again.

-One day, you had a new visitor a strange looking man with an equally strange face(?) on his shirt and a hat your kid would later laugh about when describing him. Neither of you spoke to one another, he'd gone stock still and slack jawed staring at you and your kid from afar, obviously confused about why you were there. You didn't bother filling him in, only turning on your heel and heading back home. You're sure he would've tried to chase after you, ask who you were and why you were there if it weren't for the shadow that'd followed you here, standing just a few feet away from you in a clear threat. 'Stay away.'

[klwrites]

Little Talks -- Ellie Williams x reader part 1

Prologue Summary: you run away from the seraphites for your safety. Now you adjust to life in Jackson as Ellie helps you find your individuality. You struggle with the adverse change from growing up on the island to living in Jackson.  Reader struggles hella with social cues. Kinda slow burn?

Jackson was overwhelming to say the least. I wasn't aware that people had so much individuality. Tommy finished giving me a tour of the most important places in Jackson. Up until this moment I didn't realize how many decisions I was going to have to make. I eat whatever, whenever? I felt especially alienated since it didn't look like anyone else here shared my struggles. Tommy has responsibilities he has to fulfil, but what was I to do with myself? 

Read comics, make friends, be a kid. Once you've got some meat on those bones we can help you get stronger, then you can help out around here. 

Be a kid. 

What does that even mean? With all of my choices, the most I could bring myself to do was change my clothes and shower. I looked into the mirror– my reflection wasn't something I got to see often. Showers were also a strange concept. So was everything here, from the houses to the people I couldn't figure it out. I observed the scar that crossed my cheek. Scars. A word I didn't like. I thought back to the stares I faced while touring Jackson which were probably directed at my gnarled face. My head turned to the door after hearing a soft knock, so gentle I assumed it was Maria. She made me feel the safest, she reminded me of my own mother. I opened the door and was met with her soft eyes.

“We're having dinner soon, we’d love for you to join us at the table. Joel will be there with a friend of his that's your age. You remember Joel right?” 

I remembered his axe inches from my nose as I cowered against a tree, and how humanity came back to his eyes as he saw the fear in mine. I nodded, following Maria down to the dining area. Joel entered with a young brunette, they smiled at me as I sat from the dining table. I suddenly became very aware of what was on my cheek as I noticed the girl's eyes instantly wonder to it. I think she noticed my shoulders tense as her demeanor changed to cheery. 

She stuck her hand out to mine, “I’m Ellie, what's your name?”

I returned my hand to hers. “Y/N” 

“Welcome to Jackson, Y/N”, she smiled before grabbing something from her bag. 

“A welcome present, don't mind that I had to rip out a few pages but it's still completely usable.”

She passed me a notebook. It was plain, beaten, and dirty. But it made me feel like a kid now that I had something that another kid gave me. I smiled at her kind gift. 

“Thank you. I will cherish this.” Right as the words exited my mouth I knew I came on too strong. 

Ellie's mouth held back a laugh, but she concealed it with a smile. Luckily a bowl of warm soup interrupted my embarrassment. Over dinner I couldn't help but admire this girl's spirit, she had nothing holding her back. Her hair was even short, I had never seen a girl with hair that short unless it was a much younger child. 

Life in Jackson took a lot of getting used to, but at least someone was willing to talk to me. 

I had been deep in my writing when a hand placed on top of my paper interrupted my focus, causing me to glance up. My journal was filled with drawings, mostly of my loved ones that I haven't gotten to see since I left as a way to remember them. It's also filled up with detailed descriptions of the people I met, the new experiences, and the things I missed. As I looked up, a smile spread across my face, meeting the eyes of my one of a kind, Ellie. "Hi," I greeted Ellie with a smile, and she returned it with one of her own.

For the first year or so most of the kids in Jackson were mortified of me, but Ellie always made a point to talk to me. Maybe she was obligated to talk to me by Joel, but regardless I appreciated every part of her. Ellie was a key part in me opening up to the other people my age, sure, I was still off putting, but I could converse with those who tried me. 

“Tonight Dina’s having a bonfire to celebrate her birthday. She wanted me to let you know you're invited.” 

My heart beat doubled, I didn't think Dina liked me very much. 

I had gotten dressed for the fire, wearing extra layers since this fall had been unforgivingly cold after dark. A new part of my daily routine was my mirror. I hovered a finger over the scar that crossed my cheek, and took in how I looked without it. A friendly girl from Jackson was the person I had made up to compare who I was to who I could be. When I moved my finger away I frowned as the scared, angry, shy serephite refuge stared back at me. 

On my walk to Dina’s every insecurity walked with me. Luckily it was a party, and the idea of hiding in a corner was my only comfort. Did Dina invite me to make fun of me? Why would she want me there? I arrived purposely late, hoping I’d miss an awkward introduction. 

Dina’s backyard was the reverse of my expectations. 

I told you she was coming! Ellie finished saying as I made it closer to the group. The small group of like five people. Not a party. 

“Sorry I’m late, did I miss everyone?” 

“Miss who? I only wanted to invite my close circle. Come sit” Dinas voice was warm like the fire, but what did she mean?

Her close circle? Why was I here then? I sat between Dina and Ellie. 

“Happy birthday. Here.” I attempted to cover up my misunderstanding with the gift I prepared. 

After I found out about the bonfire I rushed to find a suitable present, since Tommy said it would be rude to show up empty handed. Embroidery was a hobby I had taken up in Jackson, so I finished a flower I had started days ago. 

“I could sew it into your backpack or anything you’d like.” My shaky fingers presented my gift to her. 

The rest of the night was actually fun. Dina loved my gift, at least she acted like it, and I didn’t feel like a total outcast. Jesse brought out his surprise present, a bottle of white liquor. 

It'll keep us warmer than the fire! He explained. 

The other two faces I didn't know well left early, but they were there way before I was. My favorite part of the night was when Ellie brought out her guitar. Her strumming was mesmerizing. Her occasional glances gave me butterflies, and everytime she spoke I fell deeper into her. The stand of hair that covered her face upset me, I sat on my hands to keep myself from tucking the strand behind her ear. I wanted everything to do with her, but I’m not sure why. 

“Let me walk you home?” Her voice, oh, her voice. It was late, I had a few drinks as did she, Ellie probably just wanted to ensure I got home safely. Tommy probably put her up to it. Regardless, I accepted it easily. 

“You seem like you enjoyed yourself tonight.” Ellie spoke as the journey home began. 

“I didn’t realize I was in Dina’s close circle. I’m glad though. It was really nice hanging with you guys.” 

“You should hangout with us more often,” Ellie smirked, “I don’t know why you don't, Dina and Jesse think you're cool. Plus I really had fun with you.” 

I bit back a smile, trying to play it cool like Dina and Jesse apparently think I am. 

“The feeling is mutual.” Was all I could bring myself to say. I didn't want to come off too strong, but now I had a new fear of not being strong enough. 

We approached my home, and as Ellie bid goodbye, I decided to be stronger than words by pulling her into a close hug. My own gesture of appreciation made my heart race as she returned the hug. I could tell I took her by surprise. 

“Night Ellie, get home safe”

Part 2

[somethingg5]

Chapter 2: Gross

“Az! Y-You're pregnant?” Paige yelled with heavy emotion. Azzi stepped into the doorway of the bedroom. Paige turned around to face Azzi and started crying. Azzi ran into Paige's arms and they stayed there for a while. Azzi whispers to Paige about how she's so excited. “Az baby it's real! You're going to be a mom. No, we are going to be moms.” Paige says, her face buried into Azzi’s neck placing kisses along it. This was everything they ever wanted. “How are you feeling?” Paige questioned looking deep into Azzi’s eyes. “I am excited but honestly I'm scared.” Paige smiled. “Don't be scared, we are in this together.” That night Paige and Azzi slept peacefully, something that didn't happen often. And when Paige woke up that morning she found her hard gently laying protectively over Azzis stomach. Even though it was so early on and there was no change in her stomach Paige found herself protecting Azzi even more. Azzi slept soundly next to Paige. 

“Hey there little one, I know you can't hear me because well you can't, I just want to say I love you and please treat your mommy well these next few months.” Paige whispered to Azzi’s stomach. Azzi, who was fast asleep, woke up to Paige speaking. Azzi looked down at Paige and smiled at her. Paige had no idea that Azzi was awake. Paige was kissing all over Azzis stomach at this point which made Azzi start giggling. “Paige. Paige! What are you doing?” Azzi said laughing. “I- just- love- you.” Paige said through kisses. “Paige, you know that it's like 6 am?” “Yeah well you need to rest baby and i'll make you some breakfast.” Paige gets up and makes her way to the kitchen where she makes Azzi some eggs, bacon, and pancakes. 

Azzi was listening to Paige making breakfast in the kitchen. She smiled to herself wondering how she got so lucky to live this life. 

2 months pregnant

Azzi was now 2 months pregnant and things had been easy, for now. Her and Paige had been soaking up the early stages of pregnancy together. Today she was 2 months, her clothing was slightly tighter and her stomach was slightly firmer. Other than that you couldn't tell from the outside that she was pregnant so they decided to keep the news to themselves. “Do you think anyone suspects that we are pregnant?” Azzi asked Paige while they were catching up on emails. “I mean we haven't really been around people much and you haven't popped yet so I don't think so… Why?” Azzi looked at her stomach. She felt like she was changing; she could barely recognize herself in the mirror even though she physically wasn't much “larger”. Paige saw a look in Azzis eyes and knew that she was thinking about something important. “Hey, what are you thinking about Az?” Paige said as she grabbed her hand she brushed her thumb over her hand. “I just feel like a lot. Physically and mentally. I just- what if I get so ugly and so gross that you fall out of love with me.?” Paige looked at Azzi like she has 5 heads. Why would Azzi think that Paige would fall out of love with her? “Az, baby, I fell in love with you because of your personality, your kindness, laughter, smile, care for others, your voice… Az I just got lucky that you are literally the hottest person to walk this earth. You are growing our baby, your body will change, you will get sick. I will be with you through it all. I love you.” Azzi stared at Paige. Tears formed in her eyes and she broke down. Paige got up and held her. “Why are you so sweet to me?” “Because you are the love of my life Azzi you know that, now let's get you to bed.”

[iyz2scared]

Behold, my first fanfic ever!

Also be warned because I can't be bothered to proof-read this shit @fishymom-art @anonymouscreatorxd

REBLOGS OVER LIKES PLEASE, I WANT PEOPLE TO SEE THIS

Why do they care?

It was an active day in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, cookies chatting nonchalantly with eachother while doing final preparations for the approaching snowstorm as watchers patrol the streets, checking to make sure everything is bunkered down properly and helping when needed, up within the castle walls, Cloud Haetae cookie watches Mystic Flour with a deadpan face as she does one last check of the garden trying their best to ignore the whispers in the back of their mind, asking why this matters. "I think that's everything" Mystic Flour mutters before walking towards her child "is there anything specific you want to check over Cloud Haetae cookie?" "No..." the smaller cookie answers with a flat voice, they weren't always like this, not even a year ago they were joyful and energetic, like a puppy wanting to discover everything the world has to offer, but that part's hard to reach now, her old souljam shrouding the light she once saw in her child's eye in a fog of apathy "... well let's get inside then, no point in staying out here in the cold" she sighs, gently nudging Cloud Haetae cookie along, after some walking through the halls for a bit, the two entered the room where Fettuccine cookie and Onion cookie where staying in, they had been over for a visit when snowstorm warning was issued and Mystic wasn't about to risk losing any children to the snow "hii" Fettuccine greets as Onion cookie looks up from her fidget to nod hello before Mystic speaks up "hello you two, I wanted to check if everything was alright over here" "yeah we're ok!" "We're good" Cloud Haetae cookie slips into the room as the girls give their confirmations "if that's the case then I'll leave you be, if any of you need anything just ask one of the watchers to get me ok?" "ok, byebye"

Cloud Haetae cookie wasn't keeping track of the time as they listen to Fettuccine infodump about her recent interest and the wind howling in the distance, normally the wind didn't bother them but this time something about it was off putting to them and not know why only unsettled them more, why did it sound so sad? "Cloud Haetae cookie, are you ok?" The canid looks up at Onion cookie, her pupil-less eyes showing a sense of worry "Y-yeah, I..." as much as they wanted to lie, Cloud Haetae cookie knew that Onion cookie was scarily good at picking up on emotions, so much so that she was the only one who could still read Cloud Haetae cookie's emotions, which they were grateful for at times, other times however... "I- the wind's just loud, that's all" "... Fettuccine could you tell us more about the roses you've been growing?" "Yeah, they have really pretty petals and, oh did you know that desert roses actually store water in their stems?" "I thought all flowers did that?" "Nope, some only siphon, some plants-" "thank you" Cloud Haetae cookie whispers as Fettuccine rambles on, Onion cookie giving them a thumbs up in response.

Later, the wind is starting to get to Cloud Haetae cookie again, Fettuccine had fallen asleep so they couldn't rely on her rambling to tune it out anymore, all they can do is listen to the dreadful howl "you sure you don't need miss Flour?" Onion asks them, her voice seeming to come from everywhere in the room "she's probably asleep by now" "we both know she wouldn't care if you woke her up" "..." Cloud Haetae cookie glances over at the rabbit plush sitting next to Fettuccine, the mummy peacefully sleeping in a heap "I don't know why it's bothering me so much, it's not like I haven't experienced a snowstorm before..." "playing dead isn't going to change that though" Cloud Haetae cookie lets out a long sigh as they sit up "since when did you get so wise" "since I learned that I have all the time in Earthbread" "fair" after that quick exchange, Cloud Haetae cookie slipped off into the halls wandering without really thinking about where their going, surely they'll end up at their mom's room eventually "Prince Cloud Haetae!" Fuck "what are you doing out here, it's late and storming" "... I'm not a puppy" "that isn't- I didn't mean it like that, my apologies, it's just that last time you wandered alond night-" Has it really been that long since he's wandered the castle alone? "I know, I'm not going there, I wasn't wandering then either" "right.... do you need my help for anything?" "I just want to go find mom" "oh, I take you there if you want" "no" "are-... ok, if you don't mind me prying-" Cloud Haetae cookie starts tuning the watcher out, since when did the cookies here get so nosey, why do they care so much, why do they care about anything? They've already lost Sriracha Cheddar cookie to destruction, what makes them think they wouldn't fall to apathy, why do they continue to keep such a danger close, why do they care so much? "Young prince?" "... go away" "hmm, pardon?" Cloud Haetae cookie turns to face the cookie following them "Leave me alone" "... alright sorry, I understand" the watcher gives Cloud Haetae cookie a quick pat on the shoulder before turning around, they can't keep caring like this, they need to stop, they need to let go, they need to learn that they can't care for something uncaring, they need to be embraced by apathy, so without thinking, Cloud Haetae cookie grabs the hand of the caring cookie and holds it in their own as a dreadful, comforting white replaces their dough.

Cloud Haetae cookie wants so badly to scream, to wail, to show any outward remorse, but nothing comes out, not even a tremble, the only thing they can do is stare wide eyed at their flour covered paws and at the dusty outfit on the ground, they didn't want this, it's not their fault that they cared for someone so dangerous, but it felt inevitable, maybe they were destined to take their mother's place. "C-Cloud?" They turn to the voice behind them, to look at the horror on their friend's faces "Fettucci-" "WHAT DID YOU DO?!?" "Onion..." Cloud Haetae cookie flinches internally as Onion cookie shrieks at them, barely even registering Fettuccine speaking up" "THEY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO DESERVE THIS WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?! You're- You're a killer, you're awful!!" "Onion, please stop!" Fettuccine wraps her arms around Onion cookie as a puff of white fog envelops Cloud Haetae cookie, clearing to reveal them in their guardian form, there's to much going on, there's flour on their paws, their friends are yelling and screaming at eachother, they can hear Dark Cacao in the distance, the wind is still howling in their ears, the air's too cold, it needs to stop... no, no they can't hurt their friends, their brother, they can't "Cloud Haetae cookie... I- hey WAIT!" They don't even realize their running until they're at the nearby window, but they don't stop themselves from leaping out, they don't stop when they land in the quickly accumulating snow, they don't stop when they hear Dark Choco calling after them, and they don't stop when they reach the wall, they just keep running into the howling wind and snow, but why do they care?

[leonalovesalot]

You’re all argumentative

ArtDonaldson x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

wc: 3.2k

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

Art was not having a pleasant evening.

He sat all alone at the dining table with a meal that he cooked all on his own just for you. So that you could come home and relax and let him take care of you. He wanted to share this delicious feast with you that he poured his blood (he nicked himself with a knife while cutting some onions), sweat (every burner on the stove was on and he had to crack open a window due to all the heat emitted), and tears (they were beginning to brim his eyes as the clock kept ticking and there was no sign of you) into this dinner.

He didn't know if he was more furious, or upset. It was almost nine o'clock and you promised to be home at around seven. Did a promise mean nothing to you? You were his fiancée for God's sake! When you say 'I do' at the wedding, will you also not mean that?

He shakes his head, he didn't really think that about you. He was just disappointed in how his night turned out. Maybe you had a good reason. He sighs and picks up his phone from off the table and taps the screen to check if he missed any texts from you.

Nothing.

Art, on the other hand, had left you six missed calls. Six. None of which got any responses.

He groans and runs this hands over his face in frustration and continues staring at the clock on the wall.

The food was growing cold and would be inedible soon. But a part of him wanted it to be- he wanted you to bite into it and not enjoy it as much as you would've if you'd have just been here on time. He wanted you to notice that it was cold and conclude that he'd made it a long time ago and that you fucked up by being late. He wanted you to apologize; to feel guilty.

Art chews the inside of his lip and tastes blood, which he thought was technically satiating his hunger. He shakes his head at the strange thought and taps his foot impatiently.

The clock struck nine and the door finally burst open. You came in with a disheveled appearance, holding your purse in one hand and jacket in the other.

"I'm here! I'm here!" You call out while catching your breath.

Art stood up and walked to the entrance of your home and leaned against the stairwell with his arms crossed. He says nothing and just stares.

You hang your jacket on the coat hook and bend down to unzip your knee-high boots. You wore a skin-tight black dress that went down to your mid thighs. Art said goodbye to you before you left and thought you looked so incredibly sexy but now he thought you were overdressed. Why did you need to dress so provocatively for a casual hangout with an old friend?

"That ran way longer than I thought," Your soft voice pulls him out of his increasingly concerning thoughts. "I was just going to show him around downtown because that's where his office is going to be. But we ended up back at his apartment and I helped him unpack a little," You rambled about your busy evening and put your boots on the shoe rack.

Art said anything, but you hadn't noticed yet. If you had, you'd see that his jaw was clenched and his face was turning red with anger.

"Oh, I hope you didn't wait up to eat with me. Sammy and I ended up ordering in." You finally stand back up to face him. You had a small smile on your face which faded when you saw Art's expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" You ask concerned with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

Art sighs and shakes his head, "nothing." He turns away from you and trudges back to the dining table to eat by himself.

You stand there confused. What just happened? Why was he upset?

You were nervous about Art's behaviour because he was usually good at telling you what was wrong. But this was new.

You slowly follow him and come upon the beautiful dinner he had laid out for you. Your lips part as you take in the candles he set up in the centre of the table. Surrounding them were plates he placed carefully with grilled salmon, sides of salad, and bread. He had already poured you a glass of wine too. The guilt begins to eat away at you and it became clear why he was acting this way.

Art just sat down silently about to eat but then stopped. He had lost his appetite. He was hungry, yet, he couldn't bear to look at the food right now. Because when he did, it just reminded him of how much work he put in while you were at some Sammy's apartment eating shitty takeout. He stands up and begins to walk to your bedroom but you call out to stop him.

"Art," You say softly, he stops in his steps but doesn't turn to look at you. "I'm so sorry, if I had known I would've come home earlier." It was a weak apology. On any other day, Art would've immediately accepted and kissed you all over but today wasn't that day.

"I called you six times," He says monotonously and turns around to face you. You were a little surprised that your apology wasn't enough, but you knew you really had fucked up this time. This wasn't just a simple accident where you shrunk one of his gym shorts in the wash, or forgot to buy something at the store he specifically told you he needed. No, today you wasted his time. You made him feel unimportant. You put someone else above him.

"My phone was in my purse. And you know that I keep it on silent-" You were trying to explain yourself but it came out like you were putting the fault on him.

"Then why own a phone if you're never gonna use it? Throw it in the trash," He cuts you off and shrugs.

You cringe. You hated when people got all sarcastic during an argument. But you deserved it.

You take a deep breath, "Art, I'm sorry okay? I can still eat with you? Please?" Your eyes pleaded.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, "that's not what this is about. It's not about the fucking food."

You looked down at your feet, contemplating what to do next. His anger didn't seem to subside even a little - if anything, you think you made it worse.

You slowly look back up and gather courage to meet his gaze, "I'm sorry, I should have checked my phone. I shouldn't keep it on silent but I like to be present, Art." God, you sucked at this. Another apology that ends with you attempting to justify your behaviour. You hated being the 'bad guy'.

Art was unimpressed, not buying a word.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "where even were you, Y/N?

"With Sammy," You say quietly, not knowing why he asked you this. You thought he knew.

He didn't say anything knowing you despised the silence. So you continued, "I told you, he moved out here because he was hired at this big firm a-and uhm he wanted me to acquaint him with the city."

Art quirks his eyebrow, "didn't you show him around last weekend too?" He questioned.

You didn't understand why it mattered but you told him anyway, "yeah, but we ended up just chatting the whole time that day. And today I gave him a proper tour so," you didn't know why you were so timid all of a sudden.

Art nods slowly while staring down at a bloody hangnail on his index finger, like it was more interesting than anything you had to say. You just shift awkwardly feeling like a kid about to be punished.

"And who is this 'Sam' again?" Art looks up at you briefly, then back down at his finger. He refused to call him by that puerile nickname you used.

You swallow, "he and I went to high school together."

His head snaps back up making you flinch, "high school - right." He runs his hand through his hair, "And what? Were you two a thing or something? Back then." You were going to laugh it off, but nothing about the look on Art's face made it seem like he was joking.

"I- what? No. No, not even a little. We talked like maybe five times throughout the entirety of high school," you force a chuckle to ease the tension.

This should've made Art feel better, but it didn't. The hours between seven and nine were filled with nothing but overthinking. His mind conjured up irrational scenarios of you and Sam together—out in the city, laughing, enjoying each other's company. And it made him sick to his stomach.

"So, why do you have so much to say to each other now?" Art noticed he was being cold, but couldn't do anything to stop it.

Your eyes darted around the room as you drowned further in confusion. How are you supposed to answer that?

"Well, we're both older," you pause and think harder, "and we have careers and- and lives and so naturally there's a lot to discuss and-"

"Are you fucking him?"

Silence.

Your lips parted in horror. You were shocked at his words, how could he ask you that? How dare he think you were capable of something so heinous as infidelity? He was your fiancé for God's sake! The heavy diamond ring wrapped around your finger wasn't just for decoration. You wanted him to have you forever. That wasn't something you could ever take lightly.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that," you reply slowly, still recovering from that low blow.

Art couldn't keep his tongue under control anymore. Every impulsive thought was going to be voiced tonight and he'd just have to deal with the consequences as they came.

"Well I did. You want me to repeat myself?" He was clearly trying to rile you up. You knew he was but you still wanted to be the bigger person and rise above this immature squabble. You didn't want to fight. You wanted nothing more than to kiss and make up. But, God, every syllable coming out of his mouth was making it impossible to not scream at him.

You let out a heavy sigh, "look, I get that you're upset right now but that doesn't give you the right to speak to me that way." You tried to maintain the tranquility in your voice, but you were betrayed when it wavered slightly at the end.

Art knew you were right. You were always right and he was truly disgusted with himself for asking you a question like that. It was demeaning. But part of him wanted you to hurt; to have your night ruined, just as his evening was.

"Well, that depends." Art crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating his biceps.

Your eyebrow quirks up at his words, "on what?"

"The truth," his intense gaze never strayed from yours, which made your blood run cold. "If you weren't fucking him, then yeah, I shouldn't speak to you this way. But, if you were," he pauses, "then I can speak to you however I want."

You were already at your wit's end and those harsh words were your last straw.

You scoff, "you're being serious about this?"

"It's a simple question, Y/N."

You run your hand through your hair, out of frustration. You shake your head and look up at him. You didn't want to satisfy him with an answer. You thought about walking away and just leaving but that would only exacerbate things. So you swallow your pride and respond through clenched teeth, "no, Art. I wasn't fucking him." You emphasize each word to really drive the point home.

The corner of his lip curled up into a smirk. He got what he wanted but it seemed that all his anger from earlier had poured into you. He was sleeping on the couch tonight, no questions asked.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Art lets out a chuckle which makes your blood boil. He really shouldn't have said that. He should have just taken the win and put the whole thing behind him.

You stare at him for a moment, and your overflowing irritation begins to make you smile. It unsettled Art more than he'd like to admit. Fuck- maybe he'd gone too far.

"Yeah," you nod, "it was easy." You say slowly. "Shame about dinner, though. All your effort," you look at the dining table, "wasted."

Art swallows, "yeah," he clears his throat, "but it's okay." He was hoping this passive-aggressiveness would disintegrate and the night would just end. He wanted to hold you.

You turn and slowly walk towards your plate of food that was set up for you. Art watches you carefully, not sure what you were doing. You weren't acting like yourself.

You look down at the now-cold, unappealing plate and pick it up off the table. Art stands still, the room was so quiet he could hear his heart beating.

You stare down at the plate for a few seconds, then spit harshly onto it and toss it back down on the table, a few bits of salad flying off.

Now it was Art's turn to stare at you in horror. He was deeply offended, but had no intention to fight back. He was back to being his usual, unassertive self.

"Don't ever make me feel like a whore again." Your eyes were glossy and wide. You were unfaltering. Domineering.

You don't wait for Art's response and leave the dining room.

Art lets out an exhale he didn't know he was holding in.

Holy shit.

Art stood still in the dining room feeling his stomach churn. He needed to make things right but he was so nervous. He didn't know if he could handle your rejection. He definitely pushed you too far and he couldn't believe that he was now the one in the position to apologize.

He takes a deep breath and walks down the hall towards your shared master-bedroom with his tail between his legs.

He comes upon a closed door. It's okay, he was expecting it.

Inside, you were changing out of your dress and taking off your jewelry. Your body was still hot with rage.

Art reached up and knocked, apprehensive. He closed his eyes, awaiting your response. Or lack thereof—because he got nothing.

"Baby? Can I come in?" Art's voice came out trembling. It made you smirk.

You were standing by the closet, putting your dress on a hanger, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. You didn't bother to respond. The door was unlocked anyway.

Art wraps his hand around the doorknob and decides to quietly turn it to see if it was unlocked. To his surprise, it was. You wouldn't leave it unlocked if you didn't want him to come in, he thinks.

He opens the door a crack and then gathers the courage to push it open all the way. His breath hitches when he sees your basically nude backside.

He silently walks over to the foot of the bed and sits down on the edge. He fidgets with his hands in his laps and debates whether or not to talk to you. He could wait for you to say something, but he knew that wasn't too likely. He waited as you picked out pyjamas for the night.

"I shouldn't have asked you that- that question," he forces out a few pathetic words and stumbles as he does so.

You don't respond and bend down to pick up the shorts you just dropped (on purpose). Art's eyes widen and he quickly diverts his attention to the bedsheet he sat on. To make matters worse, Art could feel himself getting hard. He was so fucked up.

"I trust you, wholeheartedly. You- you know that."

Silence.

You reach behind and unhook your bra. Art, hearing the click, turns to look back and his cock twitches at the sight before him.

One thing at a time, he thought. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to force his erection away.

You slide your bra off and let it hit the floor. Then, you slip on a thin (see-through) tank top and put on your shorts. It was an unusually warm night.

You finally turn around and walk past him, to your side of the bed. Art's eyes followed your every movement but you didn't once glance at him. That stung.

"Y/N," he attempts to grab your attention again, "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

You put your phone on charge and pull the covers back, ready to lay down and fall asleep. You were fine with going to bed angry. Art wasn’t. He needed to have his arms around you—or the other way around—for him to drift off. You were his melatonin. He knew he was looking toward a long, sleepless night if he didn’t make it up to you now.

Art turns back and crawls toward the head of the bed, wanting to be nearer. He lies down next to you, resting his elbow on your pillow beside your head, using his hand to prop up his own head. Hesitantly, he reaches out and places his hand on your waist above the blanket.

"Please don't ignore me," he murmurs.

You were faced away from him, eyes closed. But he knew you were awake.

"I love you, I'm sorry," he says genuinely and leans down to kiss your temple.

Eyes still closed, you say, "and what're you sorry for?"

Art was just relieved you were talking to him so he quickly says, "for- for insinuating that you were being unfaithful."

The corner of your lip curls slightly, "see? that wasn't so hard."

Art swallows the taste of his own medicine.

But at least you seemed to forgive him.

You open your eyes and turn, now on your back. Your gaze meets his and you almost feel guilty for what you put him through.

Almost.

You bring your hand up to his cheek and pull him down into a soft kiss. He immediately obliges and returns the kiss. You were about to pull away but he brings a hand to the back of your head and keeps you pressed against him. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth and you let him. You latch onto his bottom lip and lightly bite it, making him moan. His hands begin to wander, fingers tracing your jaw, down to your neck, and then finally your tits. He feels them in his palms and squeezes them making you arch against him.

The two of you finally pulled away breathless and smile softly at one another.

A few seconds go by as you catch your breaths and a playful glimmer enters Art's baby blue eyes.

"I'm kinda hungry for something else now," he says lustfully.

You smile softly and push the covers off of you.

All was forgiven.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

Happy one-year anniversary to Challengers!! This movie awakened something in me that won't be put to rest for the rest of the century.

Also, I was initially going to post a Patrick fic for the anniversary, but that one is going to take a little longer so it'll most likely be finished within the next day or two!

I really loved this fic lol it started as a silent treatment thing from Art where only Art is upset with the reader but my playlist began playing woo by rihanna and like breakin' dishes and that somehow turned the tables but I think it came together quite well :))

[p0rk-guts]

Yapping about The Stolas Animation™️ everyone's been in a tizzy about because this is MY blog and I get to treat it like my personal diary.

Not going into the surrounding drama of the video because i hate drama and it's always a fucking headache. I'm gonna talk about the content of the animation, the song, and my interpretation of them together!!! (Contains discussions of suicide. Obviously)

First off. THE ANIMATION IS AMAZING. But you already knew that. The portrayal of Stolas we see for the first two thirds of it is clearly something dissimilar to his portrayal throughout the entire series thus far—much more callous and cold than playful and cheeky like we knew him to be—so to me it seemed like a portrayal of how Blitz sees Stolas and how he thinks Stolas truly felt of feels about him. Especially since each of those scenes was interjected with clips of Blitzo staggering through that white empty mind scape with the golden feathers like we saw when he was tripping and imagining him in truth seekers.

I also love how the lyrics so perfectly line up to what's happening—"who's gonna rescue you when you're lost at sea? Who's gonna love you if it isn't me?" These lyrics precede clips where Moxxie and Millie— who HAVE rescued him and who WILL love him even if Stolas won't— showing us how Blitz is so deep in his self hatred that he can't even see that despite thinking he isn't loved or worthy of loving that he IS.

The clips of Stolas are more than just Blitz's mind fucking with him though, for us we see just how ironic it is that Stolas could be saying any of this in the FIRST place. "Who's gonna rescue you when you're lost at sea": Stolas NEVER rescued Blitz in any way! (Headcanon here but) Stolas' obsessive yearning for him just made Blitz mirror those feelings of affection in late season 2 (because there were NO signs of Blitz reciprocating or feeling anything other than disdain and ANNOYANCE for Stolas initially)! He wanted that equally returned love and not to once again miss expectations and miss what he saw as his fleeting chance for love!

Anyways anyways ranted and got off topic. If anything Blitz was always the one rescuing Stolas. I also think it's interesting that that lyric fell on a clip of Stolas mocking at one of the goetia parties despite the fact that he was always miserable at them. You could even say that Blitz trying to steal the book -> their night together -> Stolas divorcing Stella was some roundabout instance of Blitz "rescuing" Stolas from his loveless marriage. But that's more of a crazy take I think Stolas would have floating around in his head

And my FAVORITE line of the animatic (and probably the whole song)— "And who's gonna love you if it isn't me?". Obviously. Like we said. He has love surrounding him already! Even in Loona too I guess! Pairing this lyric with Stella wrapped around his arm looking withdrawn while he stands front and center not even acknowledging her?? From the fictitious Blitz perspective we're shown, I saw this as Blitz seeing himself as an unnecessary stain in Stolas' perfect pristine life. Technically, he's married, or was (does Blitz even know they're divorced??? Lol I don't remember), and his entire presence just detracts from this fictitious image of high class excellence and composure he had.

Meanwhile, Stolas did try to maintain their marriage the best he could, but he never loved Stella at every point in the story we've seen so far he doesn't consider her at all. Tbf, she's pretty abusive and insane, but he really did jump through hoops to excuse his cheating and later on didn't even consider how her presence in Octavia's life could affect her (these are all tied to greater issues with the show ignoring Stella's existence but I digress).

Stella is just a prop in this image. She was just a tool for Paimon to get Stolas to produce an heir and keep the goetia conveyor belt moving, and likely even a tool to her own (largely) absent family so she could be used to grow familial wealth and status. Beyond her "liking to torment him", she's never shown to have ANY other feelings about. Anything really. Other than what, liking parties? Her reserved portrayal alludes to her having more feelings and thoughts about everything happening around her but whether it's to keep up appearances or to deny her own emotions, she stifles it all. 100% get how everyone's been saying her .2 seconds of screentime here characterize her more than the entire show does.

Then we switch gears to the real Stolas, getting dressed in something very similar to Paimon's clothes (which someone else pointed out I did NAWT notice that on my own). I have two (ish) theories on what this was about but I'm not sold on them so feel free to tell me what you think this was all about.

Maybe Stolas was putting the clothes on for some unrelated event—some goetian responsibility he forgot he was supposed to attend to— or maybe it was something like him reminiscing on all he's lost after the divorce and the trial (if this takes place post trial. Not sure). One of these maybe, or he got dressed up specifically for his suicide. I could see his romantic and fanciful nature driving him to do something like that.

(didn't have much to say on the portraits around him all turning into Blitz. It's a pretty straightforward showing of his mental decline and destructive obsession. Overall fantastic detail I missed on the first watch)

Then, when he kills himself, he chose to do it in the middle of the street, directly across from and FACING I.M.P.'s place of residence. Which is. Insane to me. Placing it there felt so purposeful with the light glinting off of the horns on the building. Was it meant to be a "look what you made me do" type deal? Some sort of final "fuck you" for all Blitz had done ("""making""" Stolas love him and then not reciprocating)? A last desperate attempt to be seen and acknowledged?

Well who knows fr but that's all my analysis for the animation. Dwinni ate down idc. This was a peak fandom event honestly. But yeah uh what do YOU 🫵🏾 think

[aanxiousangel]

happy endings ༄ Portgas D Ace

synopsis ༄ you saved ace that day but nearly lost yourself in the process content ༄ mentions of death, the war at marineford (pre-timeskip), mentions of kid!reader bullied, uh…semi-described smut(?),… wc ༄ 2.5k author's note ༄ this actually is another request on ao3! i love ace so much and i ended up sobbing because this sweet boy deserved to live. actually, crying over whitebeard rn too LMAO im very sensitive rn SORRY!

No one knew why you were a part of the crew. Not why Whitebeard kept you around. No one knew you were the captain’s blood daughter. His one and only. His dream come true. Well…mostly. It wasn’t all that complete once your mother had passed giving birth to you. He’d never say it, but that broke him inside. Just a little.

After he’d collected so many ‘brothers,’ you had lost track of who was who at some point. Mostly, you stuck around the fleet commanders, recognizing them with ease. Marco, Jozu, Thatch… The list goes on. Honestly, they were all pretty sensitive about your slight forgetfulness so you had resorted to calling everyone ‘bro.’

Years and years had passed when you’d met Ace. At first, you really didn’t like him. He kept trying to fight your father, attempting to kick his ass and get the jump on him.

It never worked of course.

And finally one evening, he quit. You were at Marco’s side, hand on your katana’s handle. He carried a bowl of fresh soup, still warm and steaming. And all alone, you saw it. Well, you saw him.

Ace sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, head low as he wallowed. You tensed and stayed just a few feet back as Marco walked over, setting the bowl beside him. For the first time, you heard this man’s voice low and serious.

“Tell me… Why does everyone on this ship call him Pops?”

“You don’t get it? Because he calls us ‘sons.’”

You watched Ace’s brows knit ever so slightly, staring at Marco.

“None of us have any family left. Hell, the whole world hates us.” Marco continues, still smiling, “So, it’s nice, right? I mean, I know it’s just a word… But it still feels nice.”

Ace doesn’t speak. He drops his head, clenching his teeth as he fights off tears. Marco walks over, kneeling before him. You sigh, stepping closer to the two.

“What’s the deal? Are you really gonna keep on doing this even after he spared your life? You can’t keep this up.”

Your voice is quiet and gentle, making Ace’s shoulders tense, “Hate to break it to ya, but you’re not strong enough to kill him.”

“You can either get off this ship and start over,” Marco sighs, “or you can stay here and wear the mark of Whitebeard on your back.”

From that night on, Ace changed. He was a bubbly, fiery spirit. You ended up learning more about him and becoming closer. He had this kid brother he was so insanely proud of. Luffy. He was strong and ruthless, all with a smile on his face.

Eventually, Ace was granted the title of Commander over the second division. The party and feast prepared for the night he accepted was magnificent, courtesy of Thatch and his division. Into the night, while everyone danced and drank, you got a moment alone with Ace.

“Congrats, Fire Fist,” you bump his hip with yours.

“Thanks, princess,” he chuckles, leaning back against the rail while your elbows rest on it.

“Think you can handle it?” You glance up at him, watching the way his head tilts to look at you.

“I can handle anything.” He smiles, his arms folded against his chest.

Your eyes roll, smiling as you let your eyes drift back to the sea, “Always so cocky.”

“Nah,” Ace chuckles quietly, still staring at you all googly-eyed. “Maybe I just wanna impress ya.”

“And if I told you that you do?” You prop your chin on your palm, looking over at him.

“I’d…” Ace’s cheeks grow warm, a pink hue dusting his skin. “I’d ask you out. Duh.”

“Hm, cute.”

You laugh under your breath. He was the most attractive man you’d ever seen on these seas, but that didn’t say much.

Most people you’d witnessed were old pirates and gross. You know, scurvy and whatnot. Guess they’d gotten tired of taking pride in more than their strength and egos.

The townies you met were just stuck to their islands. Families married with kids who always wanted to play with you, begging you to tell them all about your adventures. The people around your age were just scared because you were a part of the most infamous crew. Adults of the town were just as wary, not even wanting the town’s kids to look at a criminal.

And you? You wanted your own son or daughter one day. You wanted your own family just like your pops wanted all those years ago. Well, now you did anyway. You used to hate the families of the islands, their children a bunch of bullies when you’d come to town. They’d run with their tails tucked when your dad’s crew would come along, scaring them away.

“Don’t worry, kid! We’ll play whatever games ya want back on the ship!”

“Yeah, Y/N! We’re way cooler than those little brats!”

You didn’t let them know how much it actually hurt though. You were…all alone. No kids to hang out with, no mom to hold you and tell you it was okay, no sense of childhood endeavors. Just…a kid having to keep it a secret that her dad was truly her blood. Eventually, you gave up and trained with everyone else.

You trained until you couldn’t take it. Sometimes wiping you out for days at a time.

When Ace came along, you finally had someone your age. Someone who made you feel like you could breathe. Like you could be free.

That only made it so much worse when Ace left in search of Marshall D Teach. And you took it even harder when he was captured by the government and set to be executed at Marineford. But everyone banded together and your father had come through. You finally met Luffy and swore that you’d kill anyone who dared get in your way to help Ace. Luffy definitely took a liking to you for that.

Even more so when Ace was rescued rather than killed. You fought yourself into a coma before you could see his freedom though. For weeks, Ace was a wreck. Beaten and bruised, he stayed at your side, desperate for you to wake up.

After sixty-seven days, your hand twitched around his fingers, clenching. He nearly passed out from the excitement, burying his face in your stomach as he sobbed. Something in you realized it was time to finally give in to his antics. To stop teasing and dragging him along.

“I love you, Ace.”

Those were the first words you croaked, throat dry and sore.

“What?”

“I love you.”

A loud thud hit the floor, making the door burst open. Marco was right there, panic wide in his eyes. He looked at you, mouth hanging open, and then at Ace laying on the floor.

“What the fuck happened?” Marco pointed to the male groaning on the ground.

“He fainted,” you wince as you speak, reaching for the glass pitcher on the nightstand.

“You’re awake…” Marco breathes out, walking over to you.

Marco called in a nurse, getting her to check on your vitals. Meanwhile, he helped Ace back into a chair, making sure his bandages weren’t off of his healing wounds. You watched Ace, watching him rub his head. His hat… His necklace… They were gone… You didn’t like that. His signature looks stolen by the war raging on. It wasn’t even close to over.

“Is…is Luffy okay?” You ask quietly, brows pinched in worry.

“He’s okay. Little brat is more resilient than anything,” Ace smiles softly, looking over at you.

Marco grinned, “Runs in the family, huh?”

You relax, finally getting cleared by the nurse. She gave Ace a quick once over before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her. You dip your toes to the floor, finding your footing. Ace got up quickly as you stood, clearing the path with two steps. His arms find their way around you, holding you close.

“My girl,” he breathes against your hair. “My pretty girl. Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again. Ya hear me?”

“I hear you,” you laugh against his chest, wrapping your arms around him weakly.

Eventually, the night falls, leaving you and Ace encased in the dark room. He cradles you almost all night, playing with the ends of your hair. You trace little patterns against his chest softly, listening to his breathing even out.

“I love you,” Ace says quietly and you hear his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

“I love you more,” you smile, moving to look at him.

The moonlight casts a soft glow across his bruised face, softening his features under the gentle light. He seems so peaceful even if only for a night. You find yourself hoping for this to last forever.

“I’m sorry…about your dad,” he brushes a strand from your face, frowning softly.

“He didn’t die in vain,” you whisper, swallowing thickly.

“He was your real dad though,” Ace murmurs, finally having learned about the bloodline.

“All those years… He taught me family is more than just blood,” your hand reaches up, brushing through his hair. “He loved us all more than anything.”

“I love you more than anything.”

His voice, quiet and timid, trembles ever so slightly. He meant it with all of his heart. Ace had nearly lost you, terrified half to death on that battlefield. Too much had already been lost in his life. You? He wasn’t letting go without all hell breaking loose.

“I want to live.”

Those words send a bone-chilling ache throughout your entire being, eyes widening.

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“...I’ll hold you to that, you know. I won’t ever let you die.”

“Promise?”

His grin makes you roll your eyes, swatting at him softly. Ace can’t stop the laugh that slips past his lips and grabs your wrist to press a swift kiss to your palm. The kisses don’t stop, continuing along your arm until he reaches all the way to your jaw. He hesitates, breathing heavily against your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Ace breathes out, screwing his eyes shut.

“Mhm?” You murmur, head tilted back.

“Can I kiss you?” His teeth scrape softly against your skin, desperate and fighting the urge to capture your lips without permission.

“I could never say no to you, could I?” You murmur, reaching under his chin to tilt his head.

Your lips meet, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He straddles you, cupping your face like he couldn’t get enough. The kiss turned from something innocent and sweet to carnal and desperate. You claw at his shoulders, noises escaping you as your thighs tighten.

“Ace, please,” you mumble against his lips.

Ace grins against you, pulling away for a moment, “I’ll never get tired of your voice, you know that?”

“Don’t start being all cute,” you murmur, looking up at him.

“I can’t help it,” he pecks your lips through a laugh. “It’s just natural.”

“You’re so lame,” you grin, pulling him back to you.

Deeper into the night, he took his time with you, slow and patient. Ace pressed against you after his movements slowed, growing uneven from his rhythm. You were in tears, sweat coating the both of you when you felt something drip onto your cheek.

He hovered over you, panting. You weren’t expecting to see tears in his eyes.

“Ace? What’s wrong?” You rasp, reaching to cup his face.

“I didn’t think…” He sniffles, looking down at you, “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be with you. I was so scared…”

“You don’t think I’d go out so easily, huh?” You smile, wiping his tears.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

What would he do without you? His pretty girl. His other half. Thinking about it was the last thing he needed at this moment. He couldn’t let your first time go to waste now, could he?

Ace pressed a kiss to your dampened skin, rolling his hips against yours. Your breath hitched at the contact. Goddamn, he loved this side of you. One that belonged to him and him alone. How could he ever let you go?

Once he graced that weak spot that blew stars behind your eyes, he repeated it over and over and over. With half-lidded eyes, he watched your reactions to keep his movements in rhythm, careful and methodical.

But at this rate, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your walls were squeezing the life out of him.

“A-Ace, I-”

“I know,” he grunts, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

Your legs found their way around his hips, locking at your ankles. Your teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder, somehow keeping you tethered to the earth. His hips stutter again with a grunt before he…

“F-fuck!” Ace buries his face into the crook of your neck, hands grasping at your plush hips.

It wasn’t immediately obvious to you, but he buried himself so deep within you that you didn’t stand a chance to avoid this new future. You blinked, panting as he collapsed on top of you.

“Did you…”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs tiredly against your skin, taking the time to catch his breath. “Promise I’ll make it up to ya.”

And you, poor thing, were so exhausted that you didn’t give a damn about any repercussions that might come of this. You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his temple before passing out.

Several years later

“Uncle Luffy!”

“Rouge!”

“Rouge! Don’t run off like that!”

Your sweet little girl giggled as her uncle snatched her up, spinning her. You shake your head, smiling at their antics. Ace stuck by your side, arm always wrapped around you as the two of you walk over to the Strawhat crew.

“She gets that from you, you know,” you nudge Ace’s side.

He grins, ruffling your hair, “Yeah, yeah, so she’s a little rebellious. You sayin’ you weren’t a troublemaker back in the day?”

“Not what I’m saying,” you roll your eyes but still can’t help the smile ghosting your lips. “I’m saying that neither of you listen.”

“Just wait,” he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “she’ll give that damn government a run for their money.”

Rouge gets all the attention from her ‘aunts and uncles,’ telling them all about your last little trip to Sphinx. You take your time, greeting everyone almost in tears. It felt far too long since the last time you saw everyone. Since you saw your family.

“Can’t believe you’re already three! You’re growing up so fast, Rouge!” Nami squished her cheek just as Sanji was bringing out a cake, decorated with pink hibiscus flowers.

“Happy birthday, Rouge!”

Ace held you from behind, chin resting atop your head. He thought back to all those years ago, to the battlefield where he nearly lost you and himself in the process. His sweet girls, safe and sound once again… He wouldn’t trade this for the world. Not now, not ever.

author's note ༄ sorry, gotta yap more rq! uh idk why i added in that tidbit about it being 'secret' you were the blood daughter of whitebeard and am now realizing that was probably dumb LMAO

dividers used: sister-lucifer. cafekitsune. anitalenia.

op masterlist

[el-bibi]

Off limits (last part)│Mick Schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x ocon!reader

word count: 716

A/N: hi everyone! this is the last part on this story, I know it's pretty short, I promise I'll get better with writing. I hope you've liked reading it as much as I liked writing it and thank you against for all the likes!

part one │part two

taglist: @1-of-my-many-obsessions

It had been the little things. The way she tucked her hair behind one ear when she was thinking. The way her laughter cut through a quiet room like light through fog. She wasn’t a fling. He knew that. That was what made it worse.

Angela had grown tired, tired of being treated like a kid. She was twenty four, for God's sake. She had grown up watching boys tiptoe around her because of who her brother was. Nobody looked directly at her. Not for long. Nobody, except Mick.

He saw her. Really saw her.

She caught him watching her while she read on the couch, the firelight dancing across her face. She didn’t look away. Didn’t blush. There was a quiet conversation there, unspoken but understood. The ache of a question they were both afraid to ask out loud.

And Esteban? He had started to notice. Too late.

One night, after the others had gone to sleep, Angela and Mick walked into the kitchen, both their bodies still shaking from the walk outside they had taken. They had gotten closer in the last few days, they had accepted their feelings and decided to give it a try.

"Stop!" She giggled, trying to make some tea as Mick stood behind her, nuzzling his head into her neck. He turned her around and shushed her with a kiss, his cold hands sliding under her sweater and making her shiver. They were having fun, until… Footsteps.

They froze.

Esteban stood in the hallway, jaw clenched, eyes wide. He was in pajama pants and an old hoodie, but there was nothing sleepy about him.

"You're coming in late again," he said, voice tight. "Another walk in the snow?"

Neither of them said anything.

His gaze moved between them, sharp and quick, like glass breaking. "You're like a brother to me, man, how long has this been going on?"

Mick opened his mouth, but it was Angela who answered.

"I'm not a kid, Esteban," she said, stepping forward. "I know what I want."

Esteban laughed, the sound was harsh, bitter. "This isn't about you not being a kid. This is about him. About trust."

"It wasn't planned. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Mick said, pulling away from Angela.

"Except it did happen."

Angela crossed her arms. "You’re acting like I don’t have a say in this."

"I’m acting like my best friend is sneaking around with my sister!" Esteban's voice cracked, rough with betrayal. "You could’ve told me. Both of you."

"We were trying to protect you," Mick said quietly.

Angela’s voice stayed steady. "We were trying to figure it out. Without your shadow hanging over everything."

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The fire popped in the background. The snow kept falling.

Finally, Esteban exhaled. "I need some air," he muttered, grabbing his coat and stepping out into the cold.

Angela sank into a chair. Mick sat beside her, his hand brushing against hers.

"Maybe we ruined everything," he said.

"Maybe. Or maybe this was just the truth coming out."

They didn’t touch. Not really. But their hands stayed close, knuckles barely grazing, like a promise.

Breakfast was awkward the following morning to say the least. When Esteban got downstairs with Flavy, the other couple was goofing around, giggling and stealing kisses. However, it all died down when they saw Esteban.

"I can't pretend I'm okay with this. Not yet." He looked at Mick. "But if this is real, really real, you better not screw it up."

Mick nodded. "I won't."

Angela just looked at her brother. "You don't have to like it. You just have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

Esteban gave her a tired smile, something between defeat and acceptance. "You always did grow up faster than I was ready for."

She reached for him, and for a moment, they stood in the kitchen, siblings again. 

"If he makes you happy, I guess I can't take him away from you." He said, hugging her and nodding gratefully at Mick. 

He would have never expected for his best friend and his little sister to get together, but there they were. And there wasn't really much he could do about it, as long as they were both happy.

The end.

[dragonqwq]

I am thinking about drachrod. I can't really stop... So I choose to make it everyone's problem.

In a world where a lot of different beings live in harmony, Ratchet lives alone. He sometimes feels lonely. His house feels to big sometimes. Still, he loves his house. It's far from the town, just enough that he doesn't meet with too many people and is close enough he can easily get to the clinic for his work. He has to work in clinic 2 days a week and rest of the time he grows and collects medical herbs and mushrooms, he makes medicine, collects food from the forest, reads, drinks,sleeps and wanders the forest. If he is lucky enough or unlucky enough, some patients come to visit him to ask for medicine, and he gets to make small talk. Winter that year was anything but ordinary. Since there was huge storms coming he take the session off. He always had lot of animals that get hurt and ask help from him and sessional herbs he needed to gather. As his luck while gathering said herbs a particular bad storm take over. He was rushing for a shelter when he saw the little wolf cub. Little thing was freezing, beaten and bleeding. He didn't hesitated to take it with him. He nursed and helped little cub to recover. The cub never left him he didn't understand why wolf cub was still staying but he did enjoyed the company.

As time passed, fall came. Most days were calm.

But for that day, things were a bit different. One of his adventurer friend come to his door with an egg they found in their mission. Egg was heavily damaged and cold it looked dead for sure, but apparently, his friend felt guilty. Apparently, all the other eggs in the nest were absolutely crushed, and there was a rotting monster corpse that they assumed as mother. But this little thing still had a spark in it. So they brought it to Ratchet. As if he can perform miracles. But he still tried, and while no one, including Ratchet, expected it to hatch. A small, very fragile little dragon gets hatched from the egg. It had beautiful red, orange and yellow colors.

Three of them lived together by the issue that the little guys ratchet kept were growed up. Cute little wolf cub that loves to snuggle Ratchet turned into a big guardian wolf spirit. Energetic and chaotic little dragon tuned into a giant fire dragon. But the actual surprise was the fact that they leaned to transform into humanoid form similar to ratchet's. The first thing they did was tell their names to Ratchet. They were Drift and Rodimus.

They both secretly wanted to court Ratchet. So, with Ratchet's blessings, they left to become people worthy of courting Ratchet (unbeknown to him). Only to return back 15 years later and unable to find him.

They join forces and starts to investigate.

.

.

.

I am gonna be honest there is more but I just wanna see if anyone interested in this plot idea. So I will leave it half way down....