#Canada is possibly worse than the US

[lotus-tower]

y’all do NOT go out next week unless you have to and wear your best masks and tape the edges down bc it’s just not worth it

[viovio]

uh yk I don't like calling my own problems "stupid shit" because I know I'm not alone in them, and they're serious. and even if I don't direct that towards other people they'll get the same sentiment that their issues are also stupid and they don't deserve help. I'm not nice to myself but doing something for the sake of other people is enough for me

[vunblr]

Foundations (#2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms (Bucky).

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 7.7.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok.

Previous Chapter

From Monday to Wednesday, Bucky didn’t take Thomas to kindergarten. He had been away on a mission with Clint, retrieving classified data from a transnational drug dealer organization in Canada before it could disappear for good. It had been a tense operation that required more patience than Bucky liked to admit, but they got the job done.

By Thursday, despite the pounding migraine drilling into his skull, he took Thomas to school. He was exhausted, but after three days away, he wasn’t about to keep the kid out of his routine any longer, and he didn’t want to burden Sam and Steve any longer.

As they approached the entrance, his gaze landed on her. She was holding several small gift bags, and just as he got closer, he saw another parent handing her a neatly wrapped package.

“…Really, thank you so much for taking such good care of Flore. We’re going to miss you,” the man said warmly.

Bucky blinked.

Oh.

Goodbye gifts.

It made sense. That was the polite thing to do, a simple gesture of appreciation. Good manners, acknowledgment of familiarity.

And yet, he had neither thought of it nor had the time to get her anything.

When he finally reached the door with Thomas, she greeted him with the same smile as always, showing no sign of expecting anything from him.

“Well aren’t you popular” he tried to joke.

“Being popular doesn’t pay the rent, but is nice.” She high-fived Thomas, ruffling his hair slightly before he ran off to join the other kids. Bucky watched him go, blinking a couple of times as he watched the child merge with the others.

When he turned back to her, she was shifting her weight slightly, grazing the strap of her bag with her fingers as if debating something.

Then, with a quick breath, she asked, “Are you alright?”

His brow furrowed slightly.

“Mr. Rog- Steve mentioned you were working when he dropped Thomas off these past few days, and-” she hesitated, scanning his face. “No offense, but you look a little… drained.”

His lips parted slightly, and something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. For a moment, he just looked at her, and she felt the creeping sense that maybe she’d overstepped.

“I’m sorry if-”

“Um, no.” He ran a gloved hand over his jaw, exhaling slowly. “It’s alright. I just have a migraine and I just…” He trailed off, as if even speaking was an effort.

Her expression softened, and before she could think twice, she was already rummaging through her jacket pockets. “Oh, that’s the worst. Here-“

She pulled out a pair of sunglasses and held them out to him.

Bucky squinted slightly at her, blinking like he wasn’t sure if she was serious.

“Do you have photophobia right now?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

His mouth opened, then closed. “…What?”

“The light,” she clarified, nudging the glasses toward him. “Is it making it worse?”

A beat. Then, reluctantly, “Yeah.”

She stepped just a little closer, enough that he caught the faintest trace of something floral on her scarf. “Take them,” she said. “I won’t be using them until later, and you can give them back when you pick up Thomas.”

Bucky glanced down at the sunglasses hesitatingly.

“They’re unisex,” she added, a small teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You won’t look weird.”

His fingers brushed against hers as he finally took them, and neither of them moved away for a second too long.

“…Thanks,” he murmured, slipping them on.

----

Bucky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the pills to kick in. A blister and a half. He needed his damn metabolism to cooperate for once. Just this once.

He shifted to his side, his landing his gaze on the sunglasses resting on the nightstand.

You look a little drained, she had said.

And he was.

Years ago, he wouldn’t have fought it. He would’ve just rotted in his apartment, letting time blur, barely moving, barely breathing until the serum forced his body to reset. He wouldn’t have eaten, wouldn’t have showered, wouldn’t have cared. Just waited it out in silence, in the dark, until the worst of it passed.

But that wasn’t an option anymore.

Not with Thomas in the house.

He didn’t want the kid worrying about things he shouldn’t have to. He’d already seen how distressed Thomas got when Bucky was too hurt, how his small hands would clutch at his sleeves, how his big blue eyes would fill with silent fear when he witnessed one of Bucky’s episodes.

So, he sucked it up.

He couldn’t rely on Steve or Sam every time. If he was here, he was the only one responsible for Thomas’s care. That was the job. That was what mattered.

Which meant that in the few hours Thomas was at kindergarten, Bucky would do the only thing he could, lie here, breathe through the pain, and hope that by the time pickup rolled around, he’d be functional.

----

By the time pickup rolled around, Bucky had already forced himself out of the apartment. The migraine had dulled into something manageable, not gone, but tolerable. He could function. That was enough.

Still, instead of walking straight up to the gate, he lingered nearby, half-hidden as he watched the other parents pick up their kids, exchanging smiles and small talk. He let the minutes slip by, waiting until only a handful of them remained before finally making his way forward.

He lifted a hand in a small wave, keeping his distance. Thomas spotted him instantly, and his little face lighted up as he ran toward him.

She, however, hesitated. Her brows pulled together slightly as she noticed Bucky wasn’t approaching fully, like he was deliberately keeping himself at the edge of things. But, instead thinking too much into it, she turned back to say goodbye to the remaining children.

Eventually, she moved toward the entrance, ready to grab her things and head out, until Thomas’s voice rang out behind her.

She barely had time to turn before the kid came bounding up to her, gripping a slightly wild but lovely bouquet of daisies.

“These are for you!” he announced, a little breathless from the run.

Blinking in surprise, she knelt down. “For me?”

Thomas nodded eagerly, holding the flowers out with both hands. “We’ll miss you!” Then, with great importance, he added, “Daddy says that if you put an aspirnin-  aspren- aspirine in the water, they’ll stay fresher for longer.”

She let out a soft, surprised laugh before her gaze caught on something tucked between the stems. A small card, slightly crumpled from Thomas’s grip.

Thank you for everything. Barnes Family

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, pulling Thomas into a warm hug. The boy giggled, squeezing her back before darting off toward his dad.

She swallowed, glancing past Thomas toward the gate.

Bucky was still standing back, his gaze unreadable behind the sunglasses she had lent him that morning. When he noticed her looking, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

She smiled, tightening her fingers gently around the bouquet. Then she watched them go, and turned to walk inside, with slower steps.

The flowers had moved her more than they should have.

Almost every parent had given her a small farewell gift: a box of chocolates, a scented candle, a handwritten note. All sweet gestures, all appreciated. But somehow, this felt different. More personal. More thoughtful.

Maybe it was because Thomas had delivered them with such excitement, his little hands gripping the stems like they were something important. Maybe it was that it’s been ages since someone gave her flowers.

Or maybe… it was because he was the one who bought them. And, she liked the idea more than she was willing to admit.

----

Friday morning, it was Steve who arrived at the kindergarten gate with Thomas.

The boy clung to his uncle’s hand, his usual energy was dimmed, and when he saw her, he only offered a small wave instead of his usual eager greeting.

She crouched slightly, offering him a gentle smile. “Good morning, Thomas.”

He mumbled a quiet “Morning” back, shifting on his feet.

Steve exhaled, giving her an apologetic look as he handed over the sunglasses she had lent Bucky the day before. “He wanted to stay home with his dad,” he explained. “Bucky’s… indisposed. If he seems a little off today, that’s probably why.”

She took the sunglasses, brushing her fingers briefly against the frame before slipping them into her pocket. “Oh, is he sick?”

Steve hesitated, a fraction of a second too long. Then, with an tight smile, he nodded. “Still dealing with that migraine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. But it wasn’t the full truth, either.

The truth was more complicated.

Since coming back from the mission with Clint, Bucky had suffered a couple of seizures, probably triggered by stress and fatigue. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Just another mark Hydra had left on his body, a collateral damage from years of forced resets in the chair.

The migraines, the memory lapses, the muscle spasms, Bucky had learned to live with those. But the seizures were the worst. They left him wrecked afterward, his body aching like he’d been through a fight he didn’t remember.

So no, he wasn’t just indisposed.

But Steve wasn’t going to tell her that.

Not when Bucky would rather chew glass than let people see him vulnerable.

----

Thomas was quieter than usual that day. He followed the routine, sat in his usual spot during storytime, and played alongside his classmates, but there was a certain way in his movements, like his mind was elsewhere.

During free play, as she helped a group of kids build a tower with wooden blocks, Thomas suddenly looked up at her, furrowing his little brows in thought.

“Um Miss…?”

She smiled. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do adults get more hurt than kids when they fall?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because they’re sooo tall?”

She chuckled at the logic. “It’s about the same for everyone,” she explained gently. “Sometimes kids bounce back quickly, and sometimes adults do, too. It just depends on how they fall.”

Thomas pursed his lips, considering that. Then, after a pause, he murmured, “Oh. That’s good. I was afraid Daddy was hurt.”

Something in her chest tightened.

She kept her voice even. “Why’s that, honey?”

Thomas didn’t seem to think much of the question, busy stacking blocks on top of each other. “’Cause sometimes Daddy falls a lot.” The words were so casual, so absentminded, that it took her a second to process them.

Her grip on the wooden block in her hand tightened slightly. “He does?”

Thomas nodded, completely unaware of the weight his words carried. “Not all the time,” he added quickly, as if to reassure her. “Just sometimes. And then he gets really tired after.”

She swallowed, keeping her expression neutral. “I see.”

Thomas hummed in response, satisfied with her answer, and went back to his building, already distracted by something else.

But she wasn’t.

She watched him for a moment longer, as her mind quietly turned over what he’d just said. Something about Thomas’s words unsettled her, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t really her business.

It would be weird to ask Steve, and even if she did, what could she say? Hey, Thomas mentioned his dad falls a lot, should I be worried? No. That wasn’t her place.

So she let it be.

But the thought kept occupying her mind. Especially because today was her last full class with the kids. The festival was over the weekend, and then that was it. Monday would come, and Jane would take over.

Maybe that was why, glancing around to make sure the other kids weren’t watching, she pulled two lollipops from her pocket. With a little wink, she placed them in his small hands. “Make sure your dady gets one, okay? And… I hope he feels better soon,” she said gently.

Thomas nodded, tucking the candies into his pocket. “Thank you, me too.”

----

Steve arrived to pick up Thomas just in time, jogging to the gate to greet the boy and ruffle his hair. Then he turned toward her. “How’d he do today?”

She smiled, though there was something… sad in it. “Pretty good, considering he was feeling a little down. I uh- hope James is recovering well.” she stuttered a little. Then, with a small smile, she added, “It’d be wonderful to have you both at the festival. Steve smiled. “But in case you can’t make it, and we don’t see each other again…” she fidgeted lightly with the strap of her bag before she continued, “I just wanted to thank you for helping us with the booths.”

Steve quirked a brow, puzzled.

That’s when she realized, he didn’t know.

Of course, why would he? It’s not like Thomas’s father would go out of his way to mention her to his friend.

“Oh, um… I’m just the substitute teacher,” she explained, suddenly feeling awkward. “The titular returns on Monday.”

Steve’s jaw ticked slightly. “Oh. Bucky didn’t- that’s a shame. After all these months, the kids must be super attached.”

She exhaled a little, nodding. “Yeah, it’s tough to leave them.”

He tilted his head. “Do you… have another school lined up?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m still looking for openings. In the meantime, I mostly fill the idle time nannying.”

Steve’s brows lifted slightly like he was filing that information away. “Makes sense.” Then, with an easy smile, he clapped Thomas on the back and said, “Well, ma’am, I’ll definitely be coming tomorrow for those pies, Bucky or no Bucky. And who knows? Maybe I’ll bring some people along.”

There was something in his tone that made her blink, like he was already planning something she wasn’t in on.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Should I be worried?”

Steve just grinned. “Nah. Just keep an eye out.”

-----

Bucky shifted on the couch when Steve and Thomas entered the apartment,  resting his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward. He offered the kid a tired smile. “Hey, bud. Go wash your hands and I’ll make you some cocoa.”

Thomas nodded obediently, padding toward the bathroom.

The second he was out of earshot, Steve dropped onto the couch next to Bucky. “So… Tommy’s teacher told me she’s leaving.” He stated casually.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and then grunted. A non-answer.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You going to the event this weekend?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “I should take Thomas, yeah.”

The blonde continued to watch him with intent, almost without blinking.

Bucky looked up, tensing his shoulders. “What?”

“Are we going to pretend it’s not the last chance to see her?”

Bucky’s expression hardened and his posture turned rigid as he looked at his friend. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Steve didn’t even blink. “You know it's not my forte.”

Bucky exhaled sharply. “Look, I appreciate this… need you have to push me forward, but I don’t need it, Stevie. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” there was an edge in his voice, a weight that made Steve’s shoulders drop just slightly.

“I know you do,” he said, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s face. “But maybe that’s why-”

“Don’t.” Bucky’s voice was firm and final. “Just… don’t.”

Steve sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch. “Man, you are stubborn.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, and his voice snapped low and controlled, careful not to carry to the bathroom where Thomas was washing his hands. “You’re overthinking something that isn’t even a thing.”

Steve’s calm expression didn’t change, which only made Bucky’s jaw clench tighter. “You know damn well my few attempts at dating were a disaster,” he continued, sharply. “And I only did it because you kept pestering me about it.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky didn’t let him get a word in.

“You don’t get it.” His voice dipped lower, rougher.

His shoulders hunched just slightly, his gaze dropping. “No sane person would look at me and think… and she’s not into me. I’d know.”

Steve’s face softened, as he took in the slumped set of Bucky’s shoulders, the way his hand stayed fisted at his side like he was holding himself together by only force of will.

“Bucky…”

But he just shook his head, standing up abruptly. “Just drop it, Steve.”

And with that, he walked off stiffly as he moved toward the hallway.

-----

Saturday arrived, and the festival was bursting with people.

The courtyard buzzed with laughter, music, and the scent of baked goods wafting through the air. Families crowded the booths, with hands full of cupcakes, crafts, and raffle tickets. The children dashed between the stalls, their little faces painted with colorful designs, excited.

And, of course, a noticeable crowd gathered around three particular men.

Steve had shown up with Sam and Clint in tow, and Sam -being Sam- had tweeted about it. That was all it took to draw in curious onlookers and eager fans who wanted to catch a glimpse of the Avengers in civilian mode. Some were bold enough to ask for selfies, which Sam graciously agreed to with his signature charm. Steve kept it low-key, smiling politely while Clint grumbled but still posed when cornered by particularly persistent fans.

The buzz from their appearance did wonders for sales. The bake sale sold out twice, and the raffle tickets were gone in record time.

She watched it all from the distance, with a pleased smile on her face. It was turning out even better than she’d hoped.

Then, she caught sight of Steve talking with the director, shaking her hand as he discreetly handed her an envelope. Even from afar, she saw the way the woman’s eyes widened before her hand flew to her mouth, clearly struggling to keep her composure. It didn’t take a genius to guess whose name was on that check. Things were going well, better than well, and that was good. The festival was a success, the kids were having a blast, and the school would benefit enormously from the donations.

She was happy. Truly.

But… she also couldn’t ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt as the day passed by. She’d hoped to see him there. Maybe standing in a corner, lurking on the periphery with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, and shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to take up less space.

But as the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t going to happen.

She wouldn’t see him again.

Oh well. It was just an innocent crush, after all.

Nothing serious. Nothing life-altering. Just a harmless infatuation from observing and interacting with him on a daily basis, the same way she did with any other parent.

With the little difference that she didn’t go to work every morning wondering if any other parent would be wearing that blue henley that suited him so well. Or if his hair would be left loose, or pulled back in that short, neat ponytail that made his sharp features even more striking.

Or if maybe she might find an excuse to have some trivial physical contact. A casual brush of fingers when giving him a paper, a brief touch on her arm to get her attention.

Stupid, she chided herself, shaking her head as she moved to straighten the crafts table. It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be like that.

----

Eventually, she found herself chatting with Steve and company before they took their leave.

They were… surprisingly normal.

Mr. Wilson -Sam- had a warm, easygoing demeanor. He complimented the cinnamon rolls with genuine enthusiasm and asked questions about the neighborhood, curious about the local community.

Clint, on the other hand, was… well. He made a big show of browsing the crafts table, holding up a knitted cat plushie with a serious expression. “So, if I get this for my dog… how long before he tears its head off?”

She stifled a laugh. “Depends on the dog, I suppose.”

He nodded solemnly, turning the plushie this way and that. “Yeah… Lucky’s got a soft spot for cat toys. Rips ‘em to shreds out of love, y’know?”

Steve rolled his eyes, muttering, “Pretty sure he eats them out of spite.”

Clint gasped in mock outrage. “How dare you accuse him of malice!”

They were good people. Easy people. And for a second, she understood how Thomas could be so fond of his father’s companions.

As they said their goodbyes, she almost asked Steve about him. The words were right there, hovering on the tip of her tongue. How’s James? Is he… alright?

But she swallowed them back.

----

After the Avengers trio left, the festival slowly quieted down. Without the crowd magnet that was Sam’s tweet, the streets grew calmer, and the noise of conversation softened as people trickled out. The streetlights flickered on, casting warm glows along the sidewalks.

She was absentmindedly rearranging a set of crocheted coasters on the table when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

Low, a little rough.

“How much for the coasters?”

Her heart gave a startled jolt as she turned around.

There he was, hands in his jacket pockets, hair pulled back neatly, the streetlight casting a soft glow over his tired features.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I- uh…” She cleared her throat, her smile slipping out before she could stop it. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Where’s Thomas?”

“He’s already playing with that girl… Fiona, or Flora,” Bucky replied, glancing toward the playground. “Apparently, she just got here. Same as us.”

She followed his gaze, watching the children chase each other, laughter echoing through the yard. “They get along well.”

“Yeah.” His eyes softened, lingering on the kids before he looked back at her. “Thank you for the sunglasses, by the way.”

Right. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “I get migraines, too, so I know how it can be sometimes.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Yeah. They helped.”

She rocked back on her heels, brushing the edge of the table behind her with her fingers. “I’m glad.” He nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment. “And-” She couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face, “thank you for the flowers.”

His lips twitched, just enough to soften his expression as he lifted his gaze toward her. “Not too old-fashioned, I hope.”

Her eyes widened. “No, I… loved them,” she declared, almost too earnestly. She felt a little silly, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “The last time I got flowers was… well, a friend brought them when I was in the hospital for appendicitis… like five years ago.” She chuckled lightly, brushing the edge of the table again, a nervous habit she didn’t even realize she had.

There it was. The opening he should have ignored.

But he didn’t.

“And… what presents do your boyfriend give you on special occasions then?”

The question came out more casual than he felt. He kept his posture relaxed, like he didn’t really care about the answer. But his eyes were locked on her, sharp and unwavering.

Her mouth parted, and her eyes widened as heat flooded her cheeks. She looked down, fidgeting with the table’s edge again. “Oh, um… I’m not… I’m not seeing anybody right now.”

Bucky’s jaw shifted, and his teeth clenched before he relaxed them. His body unconsciously leaned just a fraction closer. “Oh.”

She looked up then, and their gazes met. His were piercing, framed by dark circles that spoke of exhaustion, but seemed to intensify the blue.

So, not seeing anybody. His throat bobbed, and his shoulders stiffened. He hadn’t expected to get this far. He exhaled, slowly and measured. “Right.”

Her gaze flickered down, suddenly finding the space between their feet very interesting. A strand of hair slipped from behind her ear, falling across her cheek, and she pushed it back again.

Before either of them could say another word, Thomas came running, voice loud and cheerful as he yelled. “Miss Y/n! Look!”

They both turned, and the spell broke as the child waved a giant cookie with excitement. “Flora’s mom gave me this!”

She forced herself to laugh. “Wow, that’s huge! You better save some for your dad.”

Thomas grinned, already taking a big bite. “No way!”

Bucky huffed, as a reluctant smile pulled at his lips. “Figures.”

The kid then scampered off, cookie half gone before he even made it back to the playground.

The moment gone, Bucky shifted, and his body tensed when he realized how close he was standing. He took a step back, squaring his shoulders. “I, uh… better keep an eye on him.”

She nodded, finally letting go of the table. “Yeah… of course.”

Before he walked away, she hesitated but found her voice. “I’m glad you came.”

His posture stilled and he straightened himself before slowly turning to face her. His gaze softened, his always-present guarded look slipping just for a moment.

“…Yeah. Me too.”

----

After their conversation, Bucky found himself hovering on the edges while keeping an eye on Thomas, his gaze instinctively drifting back to her as she moved between the booths, helping kids pick out treats, chatting easily with parents, her laughter blending into the warm evening air.

He lingered longer than he meant to, always just a few steps away but never quite close enough. Every time he tried to approach her again, something got in the way.

A parent pulled her aside to thank her. A kid called out her name, needing help. Another teacher waved her over, asking her opinion on where to store the leftover banners.

Bucky’s mouth would open, half-formed words on his tongue, but then he’d shut it again, stepping back, tensing his shoulders as the opportunity slipped away. Time slipped by, and the evening grew cooler as the crowd began to thin. Booths were closing up, the parents gathered their kids, and the buzz of excitement slowly winded down.

Eventually, Thomas tugged at his sleeve, his small voice pulling Bucky from his thoughts. “Daddy… I’m bored.”

Bucky blinked, looking down at him.

The kid’s eyes were drooping, since the day’s excitement clearly caught up to him. “Can we go home now?”

Bucky exhaled, resigned. “Yeah, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Thomas nodded, and then looked back toward the crafts booth, scrunching up his face. “Wait… I wanna say goodbye to Miss Y/n.”

His throat felt dry. But he swallowed it down, nodding as he squeezed his son’s fingers back. “Alright.”

He straightened his posture, forcing his shoulders to relax, willing himself to push past the stupid, adolescent feeling twisting in his gut. This wasn’t about him. It was for Thomas. Just for Thomas.

So he took a breath and walked toward her.

She was at the crafts booth, boxing up leftover yarn and packing away the crocheted coasters. When they approached, she looked up, and her eyes widened before a warm smile softened her face. “Hey, Thomas.” Then her gaze flicked to Bucky, lingering for a second too long on him before she looked back at the boy. “And James.”

Bucky’s chest tightened again, but he gave a curt nod, unconsciously squeezing Thomas’s hand just a bit tighter.

Thomas stepped forward, and tilted back his head to look up at her. “You’re really leaving?”

Her smile faltered, and she crouched down, “Yeah, buddy. I am.”

Thomas’s face fell, and his lips curled into a sad frown. “But… who’s gonna read the stories now?”

Her eyes shimmered, but her smile stayed firm. “Miss Jane will. And she’s really good at funny voices, too.”

Thomas’s nose wrinkled. “But I like your voices better.”

A laugh broke through her lips, soft and warm. “You’re gonna be just fine, kiddo. And hey, maybe I’ll come visit sometime, okay?”

Thomas’s eyes brightened. “Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

Thomas beamed, stepping forward and wrapping his little arms around her neck. She stiffened, just for a moment, before hugging him back, closing her eyes as she held him close.

Bucky’s chest ached. He looked away, trying to ignore the sting of it all. This was just for Thomas.

When she finally pulled back, she ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourself, okay? And be good for your dad.”

Thomas nodded, his smile wide and sincere. “I will!”

She stood up, drifting her gaze back to Bucky. “Well, again, I’m glad you two could make it.”

His shoulders tensed, and he flicked his gaze to the side. “Yeah. Figured Thomas would want to… y’know.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together, a shadow crossing her face. “Of course.”

For a second, the words were right there. The things he wanted to say, the things he knew he should say.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just gave a stiff nod. “Take care.”

Her smile faltered, and her hands fidgeted with the edge of the box. “You too, James.”

Thomas tugged at his hand, his little voice breaking through the moment. “Come on, Papa. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Bucky murmured. “Let’s go.”

He turned around, guiding his son away.

He didn’t look back.

Not even when he wanted to.

-----

A couple of weeks passed, and their daily life settled into a certain rhythm. Thomas adjusted well enough to the new teacher. According to him, she was “nice” and “funny,” but then he’d always add, with a little pout, “But Miss Y/n was better.”

Bucky didn’t have much to say to that. He just ruffled his son’s hair and changed the subject, pretending like the kid’s words didn’t affect him.

He felt drained again. It was getting harder to balance parenthood, missions, and the neurological bullshit that seemed determined to make his life a living hell. The migraines were more frequent, and the muscle spasms in his shoulder were more stubborn. And there were days when the exhaustion sank so deep into his bones, that he felt like he was drowning.

His temper was shorter. His mood was broodier, and that was saying a lot.

Not in front of Thomas, of course. He forced himself to keep it together around the kid, to push down the irritability and the tension coiling under his skin. But that meant the rest of his social circle got the brunt of it.

Steve noticed. They all did.

And Steve -being Steve- decided to stage an intervention ambushing in his living room.

“You need to find a nanny,” he said one evening, firmly.

“No,” Bucky snapped, not even looking up from his coffee. “I’m not letting a stranger into my house.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Buck, you can’t keep this up. Eventually, you’re going to have to do something about it.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened, tightening his grip around his mug.

Steve’s voice softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. “We’re all here for you. But we’ve got our own responsibilities, too. Our own missions, our own lives.” He paused. “You’re not a burden. You’re not in this alone, but you’ve got to figure out a way to make things work, not only for Thomas, for you too.”

The words settled like stones in Bucky’s gut.

He knew Steve was right. He knew he was leaning on the team too much, burdening them with his fucked-up life and his chaotic mind. But hearing it out loud stung in a way that made him feel like a failure all over again.

----

That week, he had to travel with Clint to Canada for a mission. He had made arrangements with Steve for Thomas to stay at his place. It felt like another burden to drop on his best friend, but he didn’t feel he had another choice.

Things ended a day earlier than expected, and Bucky didn’t bother going back to his apartment first. He was bone-tired, dirty, and stiff from travel, but he just wanted to see his kid. Make sure he was okay.

He called Steve, but there was no answer. Not unusual, but still irritating.

Grumbling under his breath, he made his way to his place and rang the doorbell twice before he heard footsteps approaching.

The snarky remark he’d been ready to throw died in his throat the second the door swung open.

Because it wasn’t Steve standing there.

It was her.

Wearing a floral apron, hands dusted with flour, and a faint streak of it on her cheek as she blinked up at him in shock. Her mouth opened, then closed, her eyes wide.

Bucky’s brain shut down. His body locked up, as he looked at her, so familiar and yet so impossibly out of place. He barely managed a croaked, “What… what are you doing here?”

She blinked again, then straightened her pose, wiping her hands on the apron. “Oh- um… Hi, James.”

Hearing his name on her lips again made him feel things, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

She cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder. “Steve had to run an errand, and he asked me to watch Thomas for a while.” Her eyes flicked back to his, “I… didn’t know you’d be back today.”

Bucky stood there, frozen in the doorway, his tired mind struggling to catch up. His voice was rough, edged with something he didn’t understand. “Yeah. Came back early.”

She shifted her weight, playing nervously with the edge of her apron. “Right… well, Thomas is inside. We… we were making cookies.” She hesitated, then added, “He said they were your favorite.”

Bucky’s heart did something stupid, something he didn’t like, and he had to clear his throat to shake it off.

“Yeah. He’s… he’s right.”

She smiled then, soft and warm, relaxing her posture. “Well… come in, then.”

He stood there for half a second longer than he should have, as his brain still struggled to process the fact that she was here, in Steve’s house, baking cookies with his kid.

“Where’s Thomas?” His voice came out rougher than intended, low and gravelly as he moved past her, already unfastening the straps on his tactical vest.

She blinked, momentarily stunned before she managed to answer, “In… in the bathroom.”

Bucky grunted, not even looking at her as he pulled a knife from his thigh holster, the blade catching the light before he tucked it into an old cupboard by the hallway. Then came another knife, a handgun, and an extra clip, all disappearing behind the tiny wooden doors.

She knew it was rude to stare. She knew it.

But it was the first time she’d seen him like this.

The tactical suit made his broad shoulders seem impossibly solid, and the black fabric hugged his body, emphasizing the lines of his arms, as the curve of his biceps strained under the worn seams. The vest molded against his chest, doing nothing to hide the muscular expanse beneath it, or concealing just how strong he was.

His thick thighs were framed by those dark cargo pants that clung to him as he moved. Even weighed down by holsters and utility belts, he moved with a lethal grace. And his hair -God, his hair- disheveled and muddy, framing his face and somehow softening the hard cut of his jaw.

There was dirt smudged across his cheekbone, and a faint bruise along his jaw, evidence of whatever fight he’d been in. His lips were pressed in a thin line giving him an edge of danger.

Danger.

That was the word. He looked dangerous. And damn, if that wasn’t… hot.

He ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?” He turned to her, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. “Where’s Steve?”

She straightened, nervously brushing her fingers against the fabric of her apron before she crossed her arms, tightening her posture. “I don’t know, sincerely. He said he had things to do and asked me to babysit for a couple of hours.” Her chin lifted just slightly. “I told him the last time we saw each other that I’d be doing this until I found a spot in another kindergarten.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed.

“He said he asked you for my number,” she added, just a touch defensive.

He shifted his posture, narrowing his eyes. “Did he now?”

She tilted her head, pulling her brows together. “Didn’t he?”

He didn’t answer and flicked his gaze to the side, jaw working as he realized what happened. That punk.

Steve must’ve swiped her number from his phone at some point since he hadn’t deleted the contact yet.

His teeth clenched, and his body went rigid. Of course, he had planned this. He could practically hear that self-satisfied voice in his head, calling him out for being stubborn.

“Um… is everything alright?”

Her voice broke softly through his thoughts. Her arms were still crossed, and there was a crease of concern on her brow, as she pressed her lips together while she watched him.

Bucky exhaled slowly, relaxing his stance just a fraction. “…Yeah. Everything’s fine.” For a second, he didn’t know what to do. How to stand. What to say.

Silence.

Awkward, heavy silence.

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, nervously twisting the apron’s hem. “Well, I’m… I’m going to check on the cookies.”

He gave her a stiff nod.

The moment she rounded the corner and got out of sight, he let out a slow, shuddering breath. His shoulders sagged, and his head dipped forward as he pressed his fingers to his temples.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t fantasized about the possibility of seeing her again. Hell, the way his chest stuttered when she opened the door was proof of that. But the fact that Steve had the nerve to call her without letting him know bothered him.

He knew this wasn’t accidental. Not by a long shot. Steve didn’t do accidental when it came to him. The punk knew very well about the nightmares. About the shitty migraines and the episodes that left Bucky feeling like his body was betraying him. About the way he was falling behind, failing to balance it all.

He had been on his case for weeks about getting a nanny, and now… this? Her of all people?

His fingers curled into fists.

Damn it, Steve knew. He knew, and he’d gone behind his back, meddling in things he had no right to touch. He’d give the punk a piece of his mind for this.

Just as soon as he could breathe normally again.

“Daddy!”

Bucky’s head snapped up just in time to catch Thomas barreling toward him, flinging his little arms around his waist with all the force his tiny body could muster.

The impact made Bucky stumble back half a step before kneeling and wrapping his arms securely around his son.

He let himself sink into the moment, holding Thomas close, shutting his eyes for a second longer than necessary. The kid’s head was buried against his chest, warm and solid, real.

He stayed like that, resting his chin on the child’s messy hair until the boy started chattering excitedly.

“Daddy, we made cookies! Y/n let me mix the dough and everything!” Thomas pulled back just enough to look up at him, with bright eyes. “Uncle Steve was busy, but she came, and it was so much fun!”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to smile, nodding along as Thomas continued to recount his afternoon. His little voice was so cheerful, that Bucky couldn’t help but soften, brushing his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“I’m glad you had fun, buddy.” His voice was calm, even if his thoughts were anything but.

Meanwhile, she was still in the kitchen, apron in hand, tracing absentmindedly the floral pattern with her fingers as she leaned against the counter.

She didn’t know how to face him. Not after that awkward, clipped conversation. Not after the way his body had stiffened, and his eyes had narrowed as he realized she was there.

There was definitely something going on.

When Steve called, his voice had been chirpy and casual. He’d said he remembered her mentioning she was open to babysitting, and he asked if she was available for a few hours.

She’d said yes without a second thought.

They set a day and time, and she showed up expecting to watch Steve’s kid, or maybe a relative’s. She never imagined that Steve lived alone in his apartment and she’d walk in and find Thomas there.

He had been vague -really vague- when she asked who she’d be watching. He hadn’t lied, exactly. But he’d definitely led her to believe it would be his responsibility she was taking on.

When she arrived, Steve explained to her that Bucky was away, and he was in charge of the kid for some days. But then, some important things came up -again, he’d been vague about the details- and he couldn’t leave Thomas with just anyone.

“So I remembered what you told me,” he’d said with a disarming smile. “and asked Bucky for your number. He instantly agreed to it, he was so thrilled when I told him you were the one watching after the little guy.”

It had made sense at the time. He’d seemed so sure, so confident when he’d explained it all. And of course, it felt good to see Thomas again.

But then Bucky showed up at the door, tactical suit half undone, weapons dropping from his holsters, and she realized he didn’t look thrilled.

His expression had been guarded, his body was totally tense and his words clipped and cold. Not exactly the reaction of someone who had agreed to this arrangement. But then again… why would she suspect anything when Captain America himself had stood there, looking her straight in the eye with that earnest, honest gaze of his, and told her everything was fine?

And now here she was, hiding in the kitchen, debating whether she should leave or stay until Steve came back, since, technically, he was her employer for the day.

And, well… she needed the money.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

Perfect. Just perfect.

How the hell did she get herself into this?

She looked toward the hallway, hearing Thomas’s cheerful voice as he babbled to his father. She could just make out the low, rumbling sound of Bucky’s replies, his tone softer and calmer than when he spoke to her.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she started to transfer the cookies from the cooling rack to a tray, arranging them with a precision that bordered on obsessive. Anything to keep her hands busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the man who was currently standing just a few feet away.

Bucky heard her curse under her breath, quiet but unmistakable, and something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

None of this was her fault.

He exhaled through his nose, raking a hand through his grimy hair, wincing as his fingers caught on a tangle. He needed a shower. He needed sleep. He needed to not be in this position, trying to smooth over a situation Steve had thrown them both into.

But here they were.

Steeling himself, he walked toward the kitchen, feeling ridiculously out of place in his tactical gear against the warm, homey scent of cinnamon and sugar.

She was still standing by the counter, transferring the cookies onto a tray, tense. So tense. He hesitated for a second before clearing his throat.

“Hey.”

She startled slightly but didn’t turn around.

He stood in the doorway, blocking some of the fading daylight, with his broad body.

“I, um…” He scratched at the back of his neck, brushing his fingers through tangled hair, already regretting how awkward this was. “Can you pass me a glass?”

Finally, she looked at him and nodded, moving to the cupboard and reaching up on her toes, grabbing one and handing it over without a word. Her fingers brushed his, soft and warm, and his grip tightened on the glass just a little too hard.

He filled it from the tap, taking a slow sip, using the seconds to gather his thoughts.

“I forgot…” He sighed, rolling the glass between his fingers. “Steve asked me for your number when I was out of the country. My mind was… elsewhere.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, and the tension in her expression eased just a bit. Were her eyes a little glassy?

Oh, he was definitely going to strangle Captain Jerk the minute he saw him.

“Yeah… so, sorry if I was rude back there.” He exhaled heavily, setting the glass down on the counter. “I know it’s by no means an excuse, but I’m tired-”

“Don’t worry,” she cut in softly, with a gentle voice as she shook her head. “Really. It’s fine.”

His lips parted slightly, surprised at how easily she let him off the hook.

“I can’t even imagine…” She waved her hand up and down, gesturing at his disheveled state. The dirty tactical suit, the bruises blooming under his jaw, and his wild, tangled hair.

Her gaze lingered a little too long on the way the fabric stretched over his chest. Luckily, he didn’t notice since his gaze drifted toward the tray of cookies.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Want one?”

He looked up, his gaze met hers, and for just a second, she forgot how to breathe. His blue eyes were softer now, warmer.

“…Yeah.” His lips twitched, just slightly. “Yeah, I do.”

Her heart skipped, and her fingers trembled just a little as she tilted the tray toward him.

He hesitated just for a second like deciding which one to choose, then his eyes flicked again to her face. And there, sensing the warmth of his body standing so close to her, and his scent -sweat and leather, dust and something distinctively him- filling the small kitchen, she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was in so much trouble.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira

[strangecowplant]

please help me pay my kitties emergency vet bill!

ive never done this before but one of my cats just had to get an extremely sudden emergency procedure and i don't know what to do, my vet and i have reached out to a couple incredible programs here to help with the bill but one is less than half and the other hasn't replied back yet, i've already declined the blood work (CA$356) to lower the bill at the risk of possible underlying liver and kidney issues not being found but its still a monumental amount for us right now. i just feel so helpless

we had enough to pay the minimum deposit to get the procedure started in time thankfully, but we were already scraping by as it is and now we're in desperate need of funds to eat/pay rent/pay off any remainder of the bill. i am disabled without aid and have been unable to work/haven't worked since 2015 but am on track to hopefully start working pt this fall. i live with my mom who has 3-4 jobs including one seasonal job which needless to say is stressful and wearing her down. we unfortunately are stuck in the most expensive place to live in canada with the inability to save up to flee so the cycle is never ending.

this is Teddy, my typically very silly vocal happy boy who's not quite 2 yet, my comfort king, my little muffin who acts like a weighted blanket for me at night and eases my anxiety, his favourite toy is his pink unicorn poof, he loves car rides and he can shake paw!

he got a sudden urinary blockage last night with no straight answer as to why and progressively got worse as the night went on, i didnt sleep at all, i was panicking and bawling, naturally, and raced to the vet to get in as soon as the door opened. i assumed it was a uti which wouldn't have been as costly, but it turned out to be much more severe and life threatening. i never expected my usually extremely healthy boy to suddenly be at risk of that and im still trying to just process whats been happening

he needed to be sedated and given a catheter and some medication, the total bill came to CA$985.62, of which we were barely able to pay 500 of, and one program was able to donate 300 leaving a total of CA$185.62 for the bill. this, of course, leaves us scrambling for food and rent as well

i know there are a lot of fundraisers out there needing donations right now, and i really hate letting myself be so open and raw like this but even a dollar would help tremendously and i would be forever grateful for any help whatsoever, even a rb to signal boost is greatly appreciated <3

TLDR; my cat had a sudden life threatening issue and now we can't pay the full vet bill or pay for food/rent

Paypal

[socialjusticeinamerica]

This was only a matter of time given his open allegiance to Putin and his appointing Russian spy Tulsi Gabbard to the post of Director of National Intelligence. They’ve already been busted for transmitting the names of CIA operatives to the White House over unsecured lines for no apparent reason.

The Five Eyes Alliance is an intelligence gathering group consisting of the five major English speaking democracies; the U.K., Canada, the U.S., Australia, and New Zealand. The member states have agreed to share all foreign intelligence and also agreed not to spy on each other. The other four members are now having crucial discussions about excluding the U.S. since not only is the Trump administration unreliable but openly aligning itself with the group’s major geo-political adversary Vladimir Putin.

Two other nations that we share critical intelligence with, and vice versa, Israel and Saudi Arabia are also discussing no longer sharing with the U.S. Although these two may seem unreliable themselves, they have in the past kept us updated about developing terrorist plots.

Everything Trump is doing on the international stage is actually much worse than it seems and certainly much worse than it’s being presented as by the media regardless of partisan affiliation. The Trump administration is isolating itself, inexplicably, from the rest of the world. Our alliances are crumbling before our eyes. Our trade is collapsing and our soon to be former partners are planning on trading with other nations permanently. Our access to raw materials, especially those of a strategic nature, is being shut down.

We are becoming a rogue pariah state. Our trade will dry up and our economy is already beginning to tank. We will become vulnerable to terrorists without our allies and will have nobody to help us in a crisis like NATO did in Afghanistan. We are going to become a third world theocratic state ruled by fascist despots that have aging nukes at their disposal. Sound familiar, take a look at Pakistan and wonder if that’s how you would like to live. The world will be dominated by China who will takeover most of Asia by force and Russia who will strike at any nation they can. The E.U. could possibly coalesce into a superpower that would at least try to contain Russia in the West but the world will be chaotic and dystopian.

The oligarchs and Putin are causing this to happen. Russia wants a weakened U.S. to be off the global stage so they can run amok. The oligarchs want to burn American government to the ground so they can rule over the ashes and exploit the population without restraint.

WE ARE NOW IN THE ENDGAME.

[hetafice]

Can you do yandere!allies with an oblivious / insecure reader? I'd really love that -🪽

sure can! i included canada as well. enjoy below the cut!

England

At first, Arthur would assume you weren’t interested in him. In his eyes, there was no other explanation. He spent countless hours devising how to best court you, all to no avail. That can only mean one thing, right?

Finding out that you were oblivious to his feelings would be equal parts relieving and annoying for him.

It would give him a boost of confidence; he would try to reassure you to the best of his abilities, outlining why he likes you and why you should agree to let him take care of you, but he would struggle to do so gently. 

Expect a few callous words and unintentional insults. He would not intentionally hurt you (at least not at first). He is just not at all patient when it comes to you and wants to fast-forward to the part where you’re madly in love with him.

Arthur is not at all above engineering a situation where you need to be dependent on him. He craves having people look up to him and chase after his affections. He would love nothing more than to be in complete control of your emotions, knowing that he was the only one who could affect your mood or self-consciousness.

France

He is so upfront with you that it is impossible to remain unaware of his feelings.

Francis would not do anything to alleviate your insecurity, in fact, he might try to make it even worse. In his eyes this would be a perfect tool to control you, with you always chasing his validation, you would never step out of line.

He subtly and sporadically feeds into your insecurities over time until you are constantly seeking his reassurance. Francis, ever the romantic, would use this as a full license to shower you with open and public displays of affection. If he has his way, the whole world will know how deeply in love the two of you are.

You may love it or hate it, but with how badly you need his affection, you won’t ever have it in you to complain.

Russia 

Ivan is constantly looking for an excuse to place you under his care.

If you come to him about your insecurities, that’s all the better, it’ll save him the effort of manufacturing one. 

Someone or something must have poisoned your thoughts to make you so self-conscious. Ivan, being as kind and purehearted as he is, has to step in and re-educate you. It’s the right thing to do. A few months sequestered with him should do wonders for your self-confidence, no?

Or as oblivious to his feelings as you may be, his intentions will be made perfectly clear when the only person you can interact with is him. He’ll have all day to tell you about his feelings, and how the two of you are meant to be together, forever.

He isn’t above small gestures of affection to show that he cares. He’ll often think of you while the two of you are apart, bringing back the occasional well-thought-out gift. In his calmer moments, he will be sure to tell you how much he appreciates you being with him, regardless of whether or not you came by force.

Canada

Matthew finds everything about you incredibly endearing, flaws and all; and would move mountains to keep you happy. 

Any hint of self-doubt from you has him spiraling. At first, he would place all the blame on himself. Was he not attentive enough? Should he give you more compliments or gifts? Did you have feelings for someone else? After ruling all of those out, he settles on another possibility.

Being prone to overthinking, he would jump to conclusions, assuming someone had to have hurt you for you to act like this.

Having intimately understood what it feels like to be overlooked, this would set him off. Regardless of why you’re insecure, he’s going on a rampage, looking into your past and exacting revenge on anyone who has ever made you feel lesser. All of this is done without your knowledge, of course, he wouldn't want you to think he was overbearing.

Being shy himself, he could also understand you struggling to pick up on his subtle cues, but for you, he’s willing to overcome his own anxieties and confess his feelings for you.

China

Yao is an expert at reading people and understands your general character and personality traits soon after meeting you. 

Despite knowing that you may take a while to understand his intentions, or that you may deal with insecurity, he won’t try to overcompensate for that by being extra nice - his pride simply won’t allow him to.

He has the money and power to manipulate you right into his arms, but he needs you to come to him on your own, despite how badly he wants to rush the process.

No stranger to playing the long game, he’ll let you take as long as you need. He knows that he’s the only one for you. Forget a confession, he has always let his actions speak louder than words, and you are certainly no exception.

In your time of need, he will always be the first one there, helping you out for nothing in return, while always somehow knowing what you need the most.

Over time he may let a few of his more intense emotions slip out, just enough to let you notice, to help you understand how deeply he cares for you.

America

Alfred’s relatively short but storied time on this Earth has made him a deeply distrustful person.

There is not a single second where he is not at odds with someone, where he’s not fretting over a potential mistake or trying to plan against an inevitable betrayal.

Alfred is so outwardly showy that even the most oblivious person should be able to understand his feelings towards them.

To him, your refusal to accept his compliments or a lack of response to his teasing has to be some sort of mind game. You can’t think so poorly of yourself; this has to be some sort of tactic to endear yourself to him. Fine by him; he just assumes you enjoy the chase and finds it cute.

He may decide to up the ante, approaching you with increasingly grand romantic gestures. In this way, he’ll “play into your game” while also showcasing how ideal of a partner he can be. 

The longer you take to deliver a satisfactory reaction, the more intense he gets. He likes you, and he makes sure to tell you that at every opportunity, so what is it that you aren’t getting? Why haven’t you reciprocated anything? What else could he possibly do to get you to stop playing coy? 

Being as tenacious as he is, he’ll keep trying until you openly return his affections.

[quintinh43]

Fucking Canada | Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is out with an injury, Y/n is on break from school. Obviously, the only logical thing is for them to head down to Vancouver to visit Quinn.

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Meantions of Anxiety, Drinking (drink responsibly kids), Some light suggestive content. Use of the name Mariana. Let me know if I missed anything!

Wc: 4.9k

This one's for @toasttt11, stay awesome 🫶🏼

---

Luke had been been out with an injury for a week. And it was driving him insane. He had begged and begged the trainers to at least allow him on the ice with the team. He'd batted his long eyelashes and given them puppy dog eyes and the famous Hughes pout, yet somehow they resisted and firmly told him he was not to touch a pair of skates until after his two-week check up.

And that was only if his check-up came back all ok. So in his boredom, he flew down to Michigan to spend time with you, and then decided that as soon as your break started he was flying both of you down to Vancouver for the week, because fuck he missed his big brother.

He rolled his wrist around in its brace, and you smack him in the chest. "Stop doing that. You're gonna aggravate your wrist and make it worse."

"Baby, I swear its fine," he whined, "The trainers don't know what they're talking about."

You snort, and grab his arm, pinning it beneath your torso, being careful to ensure that the strained part of his wrist was not under you.

"Baby, please," he whined, tugging his arm gently. "Let me up,"

"Only if you promise to stop rolling your wrist." You glare.

"I promise" Luke mumbles shifting towards you to run his lips along your jaw. Your stomach flutters, pink dusts across your cheeks, and you let him go immediately. He leans on his elbows and kisses down your neck.

"Luke" you whisper breathlessly.

"Hmm" he hums, nipping at the sensitive skin along the column of your troat.

You bite your lip, debating telling him off. But kissing Luke is much much better than studying physiology, and you haven't had a break in a while. You slam your textbook shut, and all but kick it off the bed.

"You're such a menace," you huff, he wraps his uninjured arm around you, and drags himself fully on top of you, kissing gently down your neck.

"You know you love me," he grins.

"You're lucky I do, Hughes. Now get back to kissing me,"

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles, lips dancing along your collarbones.

There's a knock on your door and before you can tell whoever it is to fuck off, your roommate and best university friend; Mariana barges in.

"Enough sexy time, kids!" she says, ignoring the murderous glares both you and Luke throw her way, "If you still want a ride to the airport, we are leaving in ten." She walks out, leaving the door open. You sigh, nudging Luke with your shoulder, to get off of you. He pecks one last kiss to your cheek and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet so the two of you can get all your things together.

You slide your laptop into your bag, grab all your chargers, and make sure you have an extra set of headphones. Because God knows the worst thing that could possibly happen is being stuck on an airplane with no muisc. After double and triple checking that you have everything, Mariana ushers you out the door hurriedly.

The ride to the airport is nothing special. You and Mariana sit in the front while Luke is banished to the back. You stretch an arm back to hold his hand, and he leans his head on your seat to be closer to you.

"Have fun in Vancouver Babe," Mariana says giving you a tight parting hug, and kiss on the cheek.

"Better take care of my girl Hughes, or I'm coming for that other wrist" She threatens, giving Luke a hug. Luke laughs, patting Mariana's back.

"You know it, Mari," he grins, winking at you.

"Text me when you land, ok?" She says, squeezing your shoulder.

"I will. Thanks for the ride, Mar." You hive her one last squeeze goodbye and take Luke's hand as you head through the airport.

Everything goes smoothly, thank God, and soon you and Luke are boarded the plane. It's a fight over who takes the window seat. You think Luke should have it cause he has longer legs, and Luke thinks you should have it because you deserve the best seat.

After convincing Luke that as long as you're sitting beside him, you do have the best seat, he reluctantly takes the window seat. And makes sure to tell you that if you want to switch at any time, just tell him.

You nod, knowing that you absolutely won't be doing that, but what Luke doesn't know won't hurt him.  You're set to arrive just before Quinn's game tonight, which means that the two of you won't get to see him until later. After going through your mental checklist, making sure everything is organized, you stick your headphones in and rest your head on Luke's shoulder and promptly pass out.

Luke is shaking you awake gently when it's time to get off the plane. "Wake up, Baby, it's time to get going," he says softly.

You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, "Alright lets go,"

You grab all of yours and Lukes belongings from the overhead compartment, much to his dismay. "Baby, let me help,"

"Luke Warren, I swear if you touch any of this luggage with that wrist, I'll chop it off," you say sternly. You hand him his backpack, and he slings it over his shoulder with a pout.

You grab his injured hand gently, lacing your fingers together as best as you can with his brace on, and head off the plane. As you step into the Uber, both your phones buzz with a text from Quinn.

Q: I left a key for you guys with the front desk, Luke just has to show some ID.

Q: You guys are coming to the game right?

Luke: Yep, excited to see you Q

You: Were just heading to your place now, to get settled and then we're on our way. See you soon!

Q: Excited to see you guys too.

You arrive at his apartment, and Luke shows his ID to the front desk, and they hand over the key. Quinn's apartment is nice, but it's so clean. It looks like a place out of a modern decor magazine, except for the photos of his family scattered here and there.

There's a two jerseys folded neatly on the bed with a sticky note that says 'Don't be a little bitch' on top. "Nope" Luke says as he immediately lays eyes on it, "I'm not wearing that, nither are you."

You roll your eyes at him, but don't argue. It makes sense that he wouldn't wear it. Players have a thing about not wearing another franchises merchandise. He unzips his suitcase and pulls out two black hoodies with white stitching that says Hughes 43 on the back. Except if you look carefully, the devils logo is stitched on the sleeve.

You shake your head with a smile and take the hoodie from him. "Let me just change into something better, and we'll head out."

Luke nods, digging around for a pair of jeans for himself.  The two of you make quick work of changing, and then you're on your way to the game. Quinn, smartly left the tickets under your name, lest someone spill the beans that Luke Hughes is in Vancouver to watch his brother play.

Your seats are right by the glass. When Quinn notices you, he skates over, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Bitches" he mouths with a smile, as he takes in the lack of Canuck blue in your outfits.

You grin and flash him a heart with your fingers while Luke flips him off, making sure he can see the devils logo on the sleeve. Quinn shakes his head at Luke and skates off to finish warm-ups.

Thankfully, no one really takes note of the interaction. Luke has a cap pulled low, so unless someone is really looking for Luke Hughes, then he shouldn't be recognized. The atmosphere is electric. Canadian hockey really hits differently.

The game is nerve-wracking, and for most of it, you and Luke are on the edges of your seats, grabbing at eachother hands, and slapping eachothers knees in excitement whenever something particular exciting happens. And when Quinn picks up a goal, the two of you are jumping and screaming.

The game ends with a canuck win, and as you two make your way down to the locker room to greet Quinn, you're chattering excitedly about all the good plays that were made. Especially Quinn's. He picked up a goal and three assists, making him the top point scorer of the game.

As he walks out of the locker room, he can't keep the smile off his face as he lands eyes on you and Luke. As much as he doesn't mind being on his own, seeing his family is always the best. You've been around the Hughes boys since you were growing up. From Toronto to Michigan. Your family's were really close and still are to this day.

He pulls you into a hug first, "Good to see you Y/n" he says, patting you on the back.

He goes to hug Luke, and in true brotherly fashion, he can't help but make a jab at him as does so. "I swear to God, you get taller every time I see you." Rather than standing on his tip toes to throw his arms around Lukes neck, he hooks his ankle around the back of Luke's knee and Luke's knees buckle.

Quinn catches him in a hug before he can hit the floor. You and Quinn are laughing, while Luke grumbles. He snatches Quinns hat off his head, making his hair stick up in every which way and holds it as high as he can. Quinn rolls his eyes, not taking the bait, and starts to walk.

Luke huffs and throws his hat back at him. "How did y'all get here?"

"Uber," you say, throwing an arm around Luke's waist as you walk. He drapes his arm around your shoulder, fingers brushing patters against your shoulder.

"The team is going out to celebrate. Do you guys wanna join, or do you want a ride home first?"

"Well, come with," Luke smiles, "Good game, dude, you made some nasty moves."

Pink dusts Quinn's cheeks, and he changes the conversation. "How's the wrist?"

Luke rolls his eyes, and before he can roll his wrist, you glare at him. "It's completely fucking fine."

"It's not" you say

"The trainers don't know what they are talking about." He mutters.

"They do" You add poking luke in the side.

Quinn scoffs, "Yes, im sure the people whose literal job it is to treat your injures don't know what they are talking about."

Luke pouts, "I can't believe my girl and my brother are ganging up on me like this,"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so stubborn." You and Quinn say simultaneously, looking at each other with a grin.

Luke grumbles unintelligiblly and Quinn throws his bags in this trunk. Luke takes the front seat, and this time, he's the one reaching his arm back to hold your hand. You smile, lacing your fingers together. Quinn rolls the eyes at the two of you with a smile.

The drive to the bar is filled with the light chatter of the three of you catching up about life. Unsurprisingly, Quinn has nothing interesting happening in his love life. The man eats, breathes, sleeps, and lives hockey. Luke teases him about becoming an old spinster while he glances at you lovingly. No doubt envisioning the magnificence that your lives will be together.

The bar is absolutely packed. Not surprisingly. It's a Friday night and the Canucks won. Some of the team is already there, in a roped off Vip area. They wave Quin over urgently. He grabs your hand and you grab Luke's so as not to get separated in the crowd of drunk people.

Quinn greets his teammates with hugs and back slaps and inside jokes. Some of them grin at you and Luke, wiggling their eyebrows at you and dragging Luke into hugs.

"So why are Mr. And Mrs. Huggy Jr. Here?" Brock asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Luke smiles at that, tracing his finger over the back of your left ring finger. "Luke is out injured, and I'm on a break from school," you shrug, playing with Luke's hand in yours.

"I'm going to get a refill," Luke hums, kissing the tip of your ear as he detangles himself from you, "want anything?"

"I'm good for now, baby," you say, kissing him on the cheek. When you turn back to the guys, they are all leaning close to you, batting their eyelashes like a group of High-school girls waiting to hear the latest drama about your crush.

Petey is the first to speak, "So when is he proposing?"

Millsy slaps him in the back of the head, "How is she supposed to know when he's proposing dumbass?"

"That man is so fucking whipped for you," Brock smirks, and you can't help the blush that colours your cheeks.

"You guys will have some cute babiess," Garland grins, just the slightest bit tipsy.

"Alright, alright, leave her alone. That's my sister-in-law you're bullying" Quinn says, coming to your rescue. He throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You ok?" He asks quietly, the guys already forgetting the previous topic of conversation.

"Yeah, thanks Quinn," you smile, squeezing his hand back.

"Well, I'm absolutely beat, so I'm gonna go home. Do y'all wanna stay, or are you ready to head home?"

"We'll stay I think, me and Lukey are having fun, and I have yet to drag him to the dance floor. Are you ok to drive home?"

"Yeah, I haven't been drinking," Quinn says, smiling softly at your concern for him. "Sorry to leave y'all hanging."

"Don't worry about it, Quinn, we'll see you tomorrow. You played a good game, go get lots of rest," you smile, wrapping him in a quick hug.

He hugs you back and turns to address the guys. "I'm heading out if anyone wants a ride," Before the sentence fully leaves his mouth, Petey is practically throwing himself at Quinn. He stumbles into the two of you, and you both reach out to make sure he doesn't eat the floor. "I drank too much," he mumbles.

You laugh, patting his back, as Quinn stabilizes him. "I'm making you do bag skates next practice," Quinn says with entirely too much joy, as he practically half carries Petey out of the bar.

With Quinn gone, you dip out of the Vip section to find Luke, you spot him sitting at the bar, cheeks flushed, empty shot glasses littered suspiciously close to him. He's holding another glass that looks like soda, and there's a girl leaning much to close to him. He's leaning back slowly, looking very unimpressed.

Until he spots you. His megawatt lady killer smile appears as he all but pushes the other girl out of the way, and practically sprints to you, as well as someone can sprint in a crowded bar. Your hands rest on his arms, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Luke, are you ok?" You ask concerned, eyes flitting across his face, "have you been drinking?"

"Y/n!" He is way too giddy to be sober, "I know we said, we weren't drinking, but then I was sad about my wrist and someone said that the alcohol would make me feel better, so drank a little teeny tiny shot, and then another one cause somone got me another one, and then this group of girls asked me if I wanted to do shots with them, and I was gonna say no, but then they already ordered the shots and then-"

You cut off his drunk rambling, your voice laced with concern. "Luke baby, do you remember how many shots you took?" You ask, the calmness of your voice not giving way to the absolutely disastrous thoughts swimming in your head.

"Four, I think!" He grins, trying to count the glasses that were littered on the bar top in front of where he was sitting. There were five. Your eyes widen almost comically. He was barely gone for half an hour. He took five shots of straight alcohol in less than half an hour. Fuck.

Now it wasn't as if Luke hadn't drank before, undoubtedly he had. But definitely not that amount of alcohol in that span of time. Plus, it wasnt really recommended for professional athletes to drink anyways, so the amount of alcohol he'd consumed since the beginning of the season probably didn't even equate the amount that he'd drank tonight alone. Double Fuck.

And on top of all of that, Quinn had already left. "My wrist feels so much better!" Luke says happily, "I can take off my brace!" As he reaches for straps on his brace, you grab his hand.

"Absolutely not Luke." You lace your fingers with his to keep him from taking off his brace while you try to figure out what to do. Before you know what's happening, there's another full shot glass in front of you, and Luke is knocking it back. Triple Fuck.

"It burns," he pouts, shaking his head like he just ate something sour.

"Luke, how did you even get alcohol? we're underage!" The disbelief is evident in your voice.

The bartender hears your statement and decides that he'd better clear up that misconception before he gets into some kond of trouble. "No ma'am," he says, leaning over the counter. "I checked his ID, says he's twenty, that's legal"

Suddenly, you are very pissed that the bartender is telling you how old your own boyfriend is. Just as you're about to snap at him for clearly not being able to to his job correctly, if he thinks twenty is legal, you remember that you're no longer in the States.

You're in Canada. Fucking Canada. Racking your brain, you try to recall the legal age in British Columbia. You feel so stupid. It's nineteen. Ninteen year olds are legally allowed to drink in B.C. Luke is twenty. Fuck fuck fucking fuckitty fuck.

Before you sprial into a full-on panic, you take a deep breath. Luke is drunk out of his mind, and he needs to get home now, and you panicking will not help the situation. You slap your card down on the bar top and tell the bartender to close Luke's tab.

You don't trust Luke to be left to his own devices, so you sling his arm around your shoulder and half drag him to where you left your phone and purse with Brock. You gently guide Luke to sit on one of the chairs. He does so shakily and wraps one arm around your chest, pulling you flush against his body.

His knees are squeezing your hips, his fingers are tracing over your collarbones, and his face is tucked against your neck.

"Woah! is Huggy Jr. drunk?" Brock asks, grinning madly as he hands you your phone and purse.

"In the span of time that he disappeared, he took six fucking shots" you grumble, as you order an Uber to get home.

Brock almsot chokes on his drink. He stares wide eyes, "oh so he's fucking blackout," he takes his phone and snaps a photo of you and Luke. The glare that you send him is so murderous that if looks could kill he'd be six feet under.

"Sorry," he shrugs with a shit eating grin that says he's not sorry at all, "I need some proof of this for when he wakes up hating his life tomorrow."

"Alright, well, at least send it to me." You grumble, Brock laughs, and your phone buzzes with a notification from him immediately after. "And hey, please don't tell Quinn anything right now. He's probably home and in bed by now, and I don't wanna stress him out unnecessarily."

Brock nods, "Don't worry, kid, my lips are sealed." He sighs like an older brother, "if I was sober, i'd be driving you home."

"Oh Brock, don't worry about it. You guys had great games, and you deserve to celebrate. We'll be fine, I promise," you smile. Your heart melts a little, you've only met the canucks a few times but from the instant that you did they treated you like family.

"Alright, alright, just let me know when you're home safe, I'll feel much better."

"You got it, Brocky," you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Brock grins like a school boy who just got a kiss from his crush. Thankfully, drunk Luke doesn't decide to make an appearance. Otherwise, he might have absolutely decked Brock in the face.

Not that he would've succeeded, based on how drunk he is. You're almost sure he's fallen asleep. Until his lips start moving against your neck. Quadruple fuck. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud as he nips at your throat with so much care you'd think he was fully sober.

His fingers start to make patterns along your collarbones, dipping lower toward the curve of your breasts. You don't want him to stop.

"Luke," you whisper desperately, laying your head atop his gently.

His hum of response reverberates against your skin, and pleasure melts down your spine, stomach fluttering.

"Luke," you try again, voice strained as his teeth screen against the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, "not here baby, we're in public."

" 's go home" he murmers into your skin, "wanna fuck my pretty girl."

Your cheeks go red faster than you thought possible. What a time to find out Luke is a horny drunk.

"Luke," his name is a prayer on your lips. The fingers of his injured hand burn as they press into your waist.

" 'm starvin for you baby," he mumbles, the tips of his fingers brushing under the waistband of your jeans.

Heat coils in your stomach, and you bite your lip to keep a whimper from spilling from your lips. As if some Devine power is on your side, you get a notification that your Uber has arrived.

"Our ride is here." Your voice is practically a squeak.

"Want you to ride me." Luke says, and you can feel his lips turn up into a smirk against your skin. You have to cover your mouth with your hand. Luke chuckles darkly. "Pretty girl has to cover her mouth so everyone doesn't know what a dirty girl she is." he hums nosing at your neck. If you're here any longer, you might actually combust. You make sure you have everything because you can quite literally never return to this bar every again.

You help pull Luke out of his chair and drape one of his arms over your shoulder. You wrap your arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Gonna eat you up when we're alone," he mutters, his grin all teeth. He's so fucking beautiful it makes your troat go dry.

You're blushing like a school girl as you help him out of the bar. He's leaning most of his weight on you while he whispers dirty things in your ear. You're surprised that you even manage to get him out of the bar on your own, mainly because his comments are making you weak in the knees. And partially because he's a 6'2, 185-pound man.

You successfully get him into the backseat and give the driver Quinns address. Thank God he lives close. A ten minute drive at most. But unfortunately for you, it feels like hours.  Because Luke had been very perceptive as to how his advances were making you react and continues them with no mercy.

"So pretty f' me" he mumbles, hand trailing up your thigh, lips fluttering over your neck, "gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?"

"Not here, Luke," You whisper, grabbing his hand. You kiss the back of his knuckles and looks at you with such desire in his eyes it takes every ounce of self control not strip and let him fuck you in the back seat of this random car. Your eyes flick to the driver and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, and say a prayer for forgiveness as your lips trail up his hand.

You close your lips over two of his fingers, and he groans, his head falling against your shoulder. "Gotta be quiet, baby," you murmer, squeezing his knee with one hand before closing your lips back over his fingers.

"m' quiet, m' quiet," he murmers against your neck. Then he's grinding his hips against yours, and there's a whimper caught in your throat. The car comes to a stop in front of Quinns building, and you are hopping out of the car like it's on fire and dragging Luke out behind you.

He stumbles into your back, an arm wrapping around your waist, his lips reattach to your neck, and you can't help the moan that slips out. As soon as the elevator door shuts, Luke pins you to the wall with a knee between your legs, and you drag him down for a desperate kiss.

He tastes like alcohol and cinnamon and home. And you never want to let him go. Then he's hissing with fire, a yearning, pleading fire as he grinds his hips against yours. All you want to do is let him have his way, but he's so so drunk. And no matter how many years the two of you have been dating, and how many times you've slept together, you made your decision way back at the bar that you wouldn't go further than kissing and grinding.

The elevator opens on Quinns floor, and the two of you stumble out. You pat your pockets for the keys to his apartment, and fuck- they aren't there. They must have gotten left in his car on the way to the bar.

You knock on the door nervously. One hand wrapped around Luke's waist, and the other braced against his chest. His uninjured hand is tracing up and down your side and in a way that makes it hard not to squirm as he places tender kisses along your jaw.

Quinn opens the door, looking oh so tired, a toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth. Clearly, he didn't expect you back so soon. His eyes go wide at the sight in front of him, and he resists the urge to gag, lest his toothbrush fall out of his mouth.

"Whad da fack!" He exclaims, spitting into the kitchen sink and closing the apartment door behind you. "Is he drunk?"

"Yes, just let me get him into bed, and I'll explain," you say urgently.

"Only going to bed if you're coming with me," he murmers, squeezing your hip, "need m' pretty girl."

"Do you have advil?" You ask Quinn, ignoring Luke's statement, Quinn wisely chooses not to comment as he grabs advil and a glass of water.

You deposit luke on the bed, huffing from his weight. He pulls you down with a smirk. "Wait, baby, let me get your clothes," you say quickly.

Luke wiggles his eyebrows and lets you undress him. You strip him of his jeans and t-shirt leaving him in his boxers. "Be good and drink this for me," you say, sliding the advil into his mouth.

"I'm good for you, baby," he mutters after he swallows.

"So good for me," you assured as he slipped under the blanket. As soon as his head hits the pillow, his eyes are fluttering. " 'm tir'd."

You stroke his hair back from his forehead softly. "I know, baby, I know,"

"Still want you," he pouted.

"I know, baby, and you'll have me tomorrow. It's sleep time now, ok?"

"Mm'kay," he mumbles, barely audible. You stroke his hair and mutter sweet nothings to him as he falls asleep. You change into a pair of sweats and one of Luke's devils' hoodies before shutting the bedroom door with a quiet click.

Quinn is sitting on the couch, with two mugs of steaming tea. You flop onto the couch, leaning your back against the armrest and tucking your feet under his legs. He hands you a mug of tea, and you take it gratefully, holding it close to your face and letting the steam warm you.

"So what the fuck happened?" Quinn questions.

"After you left, Luke still wasn't back and I went to find him, I don't know what really happened on his end, but he said he was sad about his wrist, and someone convinced him alchool would make it better." You sigh, taking a sip of your tea.

"Anyways, by the time I got him, he had had six shots in the span of a half hour."

Quinns eyes practically bulge out of his head. He looks like he's running calculations in his head, and his jaw drops. "I know," you grimace, "I'm sorry, I should've watched him better, I knew he wasn't happy about his wrist, and I let him -"

"How did he even get drinks?" Quinn asks, "He's not 21."

"Hush, Y/n, it's not your fault. He's a big boy he knows what he's doing." Quinn says softly, drawing you into his arms.

"Quinn, you don't feel bad either, ok?" You say softly knowing Quinn is beating himself up on the inside. He sighs, purses his lips and doesn't say anything for a long minute.

"It's Canada," you mutter like that explains everything. And to Quinn, it does explain it all.

"Fucking Canada" he mutters shaking his head.

---

Hi guys!! I was very excited while writing this, so I hope y'all like it. Comment comment comment! I love comments, I wanna hear all your thoughts! They always make my day a bit brighter.

On that note, I'm going on a bit of a writing break for a week-ish cause schools getting a bit busy with midterms and final papers and whatnot. I'll still be active, tho (unless i feel like it's distracting, then I might fall off the face of the earth for a bit).

Anyways, with that, I hope y'all have a lovely, lovely evening. Love Soph ♡

[theyluvlyss]

hi! i was wondering if you could write dating hc's for duncan and courtney (separate) please?

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 !

but unfortunately, I do not currently write for courtney :(. although, I hope you like what I do have written and that it doesn't discourage you from requesting in the future :).

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

you went on this stupid, island, reality show to win $100,000, which could've most definitely changed your life for the better. but instead, you got a delinquent meat-head who had... somehow, earned your heart faster than the cash. "how" and "why" is beyond you. but at least you could come up with a list of some semi-convincing reasons as to such...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x duncan - she/her/hers pronouns

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

season one (total drama island)

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

harsh language/cursing - dangerous elements/themes mentioned - duncan being himself lmao (possibly a little ooc? I apologize if so) - established romantic relationship - casual dominance (cuz ik that can irk some people) - possessive terms (my, his, etc).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

When you applied/auditioned to be on the show, you didn't actually think they'd pick you. It was a stupid dare amongst friends back home! No way would they pick some random girl with no experience or even a resume from (home/town/city).

And then, they did😃.

Next thing you know, you're being flown out to Canada and then dropped off from a yacht on some random, deserted island. Just your luck to apply for a scammy and sketchy reality show rather than what you were promised...

And, to top it all off, your host might as well have been a sociopath, your chef, a psychopath, and you were now forced to spend your time with twenty-two other lunatic teenagers for eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. To be fully and completely clear, you did not want to be here.

How could this get any worse?

Duncan. That's how.

He irked you at first. No, you didn't hate him. He actually had his moments where you found him quite funny with a sarcastic quip he had said or entertaining with some random stunt he pulled.

But other than that...

"I'm not jumping. I miss the safe zone and get eaten alive by sharks, and then what?"

"Oh'ho, you're jumping, sweetheart. I'll be damned if you lose this challenge for us because you're not a strong swimmer."

"That's not what I said. And what're you gonna do? Make me?"

...you were firm on your dislike for him.

Not that the feelings weren't reciprocated, of course. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to eying any pretty girls he happened to come across, he didn't intend to date. He came to win $100,000, just like the rest of them. And though he had grown used to the way your attitude struck any and everyone who tried to manipulate you into doing something you didn't want to do, at least you weren't Courtney, stick shoved up your butt.

Onto the more headcanon-y portion of this list...

I feel like Duncan actually wouldn't be opposed to random hookups or anything like that. But, once he has specific eyes for someone, he treats things as if he's already bagged them (manifesting king😻✨️). And in this case, them is you. He didn't get the hots right away, but after a couple of weeks or so of spending basically all of his time around you (being on the same team and all), he wasn't too surprised upon coming to terms with those feelings.

Not that you could exactly tell, with him running around calling you "sweetheart" and "angel-face" and whatever other petnames he could come up with on the fly. You figured it was just him being...well... Duncan! Not to mention, you weren't exactly all that fond of him.

Did he know that? Yes. Did he care? Ehh. You'd warm up. He'd actually make sure of it because even if the show didn't end with him either winning the money or getting you as a girlfriend, the least he'd accomplish is wooing you.

He's not gonna sacrifice his reputation for that, so he'd have to play it cool. And during the seventh challenge, an opportunity came to light; he'd help you concor your fear! Not only would it win your team the challenge, but it'd be a huge step into winning over your heart. With peering eyes (and cameras around), he was there to be your tough-love.

"Get over it, toots, it's just (your/fear)!!"

"Do not mess this up for us, or I'll guarantee you go home tonight."

"I've been in juvie with worse than this...!"

But, without any evidence to prove it besides your word and a blushing face, he was totally sweet on you.

"C'mere, sweetheart, it ain't that bad. You just need a little warming up to the idea, that's all~."

"The worst that could happen is you'll be called a chicken. It's not like you'll get voted off. Not while I'm here."

"Babe, you are entirely too cool to be skeezed out by (your/fear). We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?"

Him sling-shotting you through such emotions and behavior was intense. But not as much as the way it kept you hooked. And every time you would start to grow fed up, want nothing to do with him, even cuss him out...

Life (Chris McLean) would manage to thrust you two back together. Until, eventually, you got together. I mean, no official labels or anything yet, but god forbid another guy on either team just breathed sultry in your direction (coughCodyprobablycough). Or if you got hurt during a challenge. Or whenever anyone (butmostlikelyHeather) had it out for you.

And in those moments, I think Duncan wouldn't be as good as hiding his infatuation with you. Not that anyone actually had the gall to tease him for it. Besides, he had managed to make his admiration for you look cool. Always muttering a slick, "She wants me." to his guy friends, or smirking at any intimate reaction you'd give him in front of your peers.

All in all, he's a cocky shit. But he made it work in a charming way that you couldn't quite place, and made you wonder why you were even attracted to it/him at all.

And, surprisingly, he could be quite the gentlemen. Rough around the edges, sure, but see if you ever have to hold a door open for yourself or climb down from something without his hand being offered to you ever again.

He even makes sure to censor himself around you! Er- well, tries. If he deems a curse word too heavy for you to hear come flying out of his mouth, it goes a little something like this:

" ...So I rush 'im, right? And then can you believe the motherfucker-...! Sorry, babe. Can you believe this idiot actually tries to shank me?! Wild stuff, man..."

As if he's not already sitting around the campfire telling the most gorey juvie/jail story ever. But nope, the extra heavy cuss words are the stuff that's impolite for your ears🙄✋🏽.

#it'sthethoughtthatcounts♡.

OH!! And casual dominance? Definitely a thing in the relationship. Mainly from him, with a simple, "C'mere, doll." or a motion of the hand/finger over towards him. But let's not lie and say this dude isn't a sucker for the moments you boss him around...

"Duncan, go grab that for me, please?"

"I'm busy-"

"Now."

. . .

No further protest, your item retrieved and dropped into your hands with swiftness, and a light red dust on his face badly hidden under a scowl.

Things would get serious/official if one of you two got voted off of the island, though. If you got voted off, he'd be sure to give you the most profound goodbye he can in the very limited amount of time he has to actually say it. Make it very clear you're his girl, "...for anyone thinkin' about trying to make a move while I'm not around." And, he promises that if he wins, he's coming for you, and you'll run off together with the money. Cliche, but how could you say no?

If he gets voted off, he sticks on a brave face and basically threatens you to win lmao😭. Think of it as very intense encouragement coming from a deep down place of love.

"Babe, you better win this whole shit, 'cuz I'm gonna be rooting for you back home. Need these losers to see that my girl is the shit."

I could probably go on forever, but I don't want to make this too long :')...

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 !!

this is my first post (as in writing/content) ever, so yay me :D ! and for the person that requested, again, I hope you enjoyed this 'cuz it was fun to write ! although I really don't like the title, but I couldn't think of anything better😭...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

none :(

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :

anon <3

𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

[brianlesshetaliawritings]

Can you do yandere canada and russia after they stop their darling from escape with a bit of violence like broken bone? Like how they treat y/n after that

Yandere Canada and Russia after breaking his darling's leg. (to stop them escaping)

would it be bad to say im excited to write this? idk. i got to thinking and decided i'll go with a broken leg if ya don't mind, sorry. also, sorry again for taking so long. and also like, sorry if this sucks ass??.. i didnt pass writing class if you can tell. but uhh.. ya, this is probably really bad so im sorry. :( another note: I JUST FUCKING REALIZED THAT THIS WAS PROBABLY A REQUEST FOR AFTERWARDS OH MY GOD IM STUPID I WAS GONNA WRITE THE WHOLE PROCESS AND SHIT😭 I NEVER READ SHIT ALL THE WAY ISTG

tw: violence, broken bones, abuse, force feeding, similar stuff

!! yandere content. if you can't handle any behavior possibly seen in a yandere please don't read this. !! (example; obsessive, stalkery, possessive, violent, or generally horrid behaviour.)

Canada

Canada honestly hated having to do this, but he really felt like he had to. That and he was just really pissed. Like a lot. Like screaming, hitting, and punching type pissed. But, again, doesn't like seeing you hurt.

After he absolutely destroyed your lower calf and beat you for a while he spent a minute staring at you, a bit in a daze, until eventually suddenly snapping out it and quickly bringing you home to properly care for the damage he has afflicted upon you.

He was way gentle afterwards, bandaging and disinfecting the wounds with much care and as thuroughly as possible. Though, it was clear he wasn't just going to let this off the hook with the way he decided to directly tie you to a hook on the wall, with very little wiggle room and no way to move more than maybe a foot.

Your progress in all the freedom you acquired was not only reset, but even worse than where you first got here. It's uncomfortable, even with the pilow he provided you. You're no longer allowed to have your hands free in general, and he has to feed you instead of letting you do it yourself. When you need to use the restroom you have two minutes in there until he starts asking what you're doing in there.

It wasn't really all that painful though outside of the ache of the previous abuse he made you endure. That and the occasional ache from the limitted positions you have at your disposal, don't worry though. Every three days he'll switch your spot so you'll at the very least have a different view to look at. In general, he isn't the worst to have, but definitely not the quickest to forget. You'll be stuck doing this for another month or two before he even considers giving you the slightest of freedoms.

Russia

Ivan is not nearly as lenient as Canada. Hell, after he beats the life out of you, probably breaking more than just your leg, he decides to lock you up in the basement—the cold, empty basement. He drags you to the stairs, shoves you down, and locks the door before ditching you for the next day or so.

Eventually, though, he returns, purely to ensure you don't die. You've been bad, but he'd never want you dead. It would be a lonely world without you by his side. His hands roughly push you around as he wraps you up in bandages and drenches your wounds, rubbing the stuff off with a washcloth afterward. He forces you to be tied up in a position where the majority of your bones will heal correctly, besides the leg. If the leg is messed up, that'll make any future attempts all the harder for you, which is what he wants.

Once he's done with that, it'll be another two days. No food, no water, no warmth, no him. Just sitting in the basement without pain medicine, starving, perhaps freezing, as he does nothing to help you with frostbite or hypothermia. Though, as expected, he returns yet again, and this time with food. The force-feeding will be rough, and you'll likely choke a couple of times, but honestly, it's better than you having been starving earlier.

This will be your life for two or so weeks, rotting in the basement, with your only human interaction being when you need to eat or maybe even for the restroom. The good news, though, is that Russia isn't a very patient man. Even if he's frustrated, he misses you a lot. So you'll be freed rather quickly compared to Canada, funny enough. Or at least, freed from the basement, that is.

Don't take this as him forgetting, though. Oh no, he remembers. You're only this lucky because he loves you, okay? You'll never know any of the freedoms you might've had in the past, and you're pretty much stuck with being tied or trapped for the rest of your miserable life. The only thing that'll really change is just the quality of how he'll treat you, the comfort in which you'll be provided, and your setting. So have fun, dear reader, and good luck. You'll need it.

[fillejondrette]

can we stop acting like being born in the US is the worst possible fate that can befall a person? i understand it's partly a reaction to conservatives constantly repeating that america's the only good/free country on earth, but the US is in fact an imperialist power and just being born as a US citizen gives you a better quality of life than in many places in the world. the fact that people don't even see that is evidence of the US's power and influence.

obviously the issues mentioned in this comment are legitimate and need to be addressed, and we shouldn't accept the status quo just because it could be worse. but please try to remember that places other than western europe, canada, and the united states exist, and being born in the US is not a uniquely terrible fate.

[keepthedelta]

what would you consider Rosberg's best race? (wanna hear people wax poetic about their special interest)

it's going to be a list because i am weird about nico

singapore 2016. an absolutely dominate weekend for him, fastest in every single session, outqualified lewis by 7 tenths (and danny ric by 6) setting what was (at the time) a track record. spent the entire race managing brake and engine issues, got screwed over by merc strategy when they were trying to get lewis back onto the podium after he got overtaken by kimi, had to make his tyres last an extra 20 laps with danny ric chasing him down 2-4 seconds a lap faster than him. won the race and then posted a slutty shirtless photo of him being cooled down by a fan in what could be considered the ancestor of the ice bath videos that teams post now.

canada 2014. a real contender for my favourite ever nico race even though he didn't win. both merc cars had mgu-h failure about 20-30 laps in thereby losing half of their power. nico switched brake bias to the front brakes so that less strain would be put on the rear brakes because on the lack of power and potential overheating. about five laps later lewis dnfs with rear brake failure. nico should have been overtaken by just about everybody, but instead he spends the next 30 laps using all of his power and speed in one specific sector (the one with the drs detection point) so that checo (now in second) is too far behind to get drs, and then, even though nico's car is barely alive for the rest of the lap, he can never overtake him. it literally took checo's car breaking down and allowing danny ric (now driving the best car in the field) for nico to lose the win. the mechanical masterclass of modern f1 (and yes it might not have worked at another track or i f someone other than checo had been in second, but i firmly believe that the lowest nico could have ever come given the circumstances was third) and it is not appreciated enough.

china 2012. i rewatched this recently and literally no one believed that nico was going to win until about five laps before the end. he was driving one of the world's shittiest mercs (i promise every single merc pre-2013 was worse than any car since then), got pole by half a second, got a perfect start, flawless tyre management, cruised to victory while everyone else was fighting for their lives behind him (the battle for second was absolutely insane, and nico was just minding his own business about 15 seconds ahead of them all).

singapore 2008. crashgate has entered the building. back then cars refuelled during the race and so another factor in the strategies was fuel load. nico and a number of others were running low initial fuel loads, so they would have to stop relatively early. except, just before they were going to stop, nelson piquet jr binned it into the wall (on purpose) and the stewards closed the pitlane for safety reasons. however, nico and the others on similar strategies needed to refuel so they had to enter the pitlane anyway which earned them a stop and go penalty which had to be served within three laps. nico did those laps as fast as he possibly could, meaning that after he served his penalty he only lost a handful of places (i think 3). robert kubica who also took a stop and go penalty on the exact same lap for the exact same reason (and was in a better car) lost far more places and i don't think he even finished in the points. nico spent the rest of the race rising up the field and finished second only to fernando (who got there by cheating) with lewis in a distant third (tbf i don't think he needed to try that hard by the end as he got a massive points gain over felipe massa his championship competition due to the ferrari pitlane incident).

malaysia 2016. casuals will tell you that this is the race where lewis lost the championship because of his dnf (and if you're a lh hater i recommend watching it because the level of conspiracy that emerges from lewis and sky sports is genuinely quite funny) but i think that's very misleading. in the very first turn seb crashed into nico, spinning him around and leaving him in dead last by the end of the first lap. nico fought through the field, pulled off a rallycross overtake on kimi, got a penalty for it, and was already sitting in fourth when lewis's engine blew up. he then pulled a ten second gap over kimi so that he kept his podium place, got danny ric to make max do a shoey, nearly threw up when he did one himself, told a room full of reporters that he didn't want danny ric to win another race (that year) and filmed one of the funniest ever post-race vlogs where he fidgeted with the neckline of his t-shirt while describing how seb had apologised to him for the crash and that was nice but it didn't get him any points back. truly iconic.

there is definitely a running theme in these choices i think. mostly that i think nico was at his best when he was fighting against the potential capabilities of the car/circuit/circumstances rather than other drivers 🤷🏿‍♀️

[anotherjheastan]

This Will Be Our Year - A Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley Fanfic

CW: suggestive, good girl, period (menstrual cycle) mention

Chapter 6 | Chapter List

Chapter 7: Pop Ups and Possibilities 

Thursday, September 5, 2024

Rhea’s phone vibrated with a text. She was lying down on the couch wearing an oversized blanket-like hoodie. Bella was snuggled against her stomach and Barry laid at her feet. It was the second day of her period and she wasn’t feeling great. She had A Nightmare on Elm Street playing, but she wasn’t really paying attention. 

She grabbed her phone. The text was from Jey. She smiled. 

Jey: Permission to bring you a gift? 

She frowned. She wasn’t planning on seeing him today. Although the pain medication had kicked in, easing her cramps, her emotions were still running high. She could turn him down, but she was curious about this gift.

Rhea: idk. Not feeling great today and I look even worse. 

Jey: I’m sorry you’re not feeling good, but I doubt you look worse than you feel. I can give you some space. 

Rhea: but now I’m thinking about this gift. What is it? 

Jey: Nothing big. It can wait for another time. 

Rhea bit her lip. She sighed. Fuck it.

Rhea: if the gift isn’t already Insomnia Cookies, would you mind also picking me up some? I’ll pay you back. 

Jey: I got you. What you want? 

Rhea sent her order and a thank you. And added, also don’t judge my outfit. 

She had been eating clean, sticking to her meal prep. But sugar was calling her name. She needed a break. She would skip the doughnuts at Tim Horton’s this weekend. The only good thing about Canada. 

Forty minutes passed and then her doorbell rang. Barry and Bella followed her to the door.

“Best behavior, mates,” she said. 

She opened the door and gasped. Jey had a bouquet of white roses in one hand and Insomnia Cookies in the other. She waved him inside and closed the door behind him. She shooed the dogs away as they scurried towards Jey with excitement. He sent the stuff down on the counter and chastised her for not using her crutches. She had been limping, leaning her weight on her good foot.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Jey said. He leaned down to let the dogs sniff his hands and then pet them. “I didn’t think you’d be so cozy or else I would’ve dressed down.” 

Rhea rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. He had on a burgundy polo, dark blue jeans, and burgundy and white Nikes.

“So you were really just coming to give me flowers?” Rhea asked. She washed her hands at the kitchen sink and opened her box of cookies. She started with a chocolate chip cookie. She broke it in half, the chocolate chips still gooey. 

“Well, I was gonna ask you out on a nice dinner date, but you’re not feeling well,” he said, standing up.

Rhea bit into her cookie and stopped mid-chew. She smiled. She chewed some more.

“Aww you were gonna ask me out?”

Jey smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, but I can let you rest.”

“We can go out tomorrow. But I can’t really do nice without heels,” Rhea said. “I’ve got a couple of weeks until then.” 

“Ahh, I didn’t think about that,” he said.

“I’ll do my best ‘nice without heels’ tomorrow,” she said, taking another bite of the cookie. “Mmm.”

“Sounds good. Glad you’re enjoying the cookies.” 

“Thank you so much. A lifesaver, really,” Rhea said. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. 

She put her cookie down and went to take a step toward him. She stepped on her bad foot. 

“FUCK!” 

She slipped to the floor, landing on her butt. Jey rushed over to her.

“I told you about them crutches.” 

“Hush,” she hissed.

He scooped her up with ease and she stared at him, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I’m strong. I know,” he teased. She rolled her eyes. He walked over to the couch, the dogs scurrying behind him. He set her down. 

“You need ice or anything?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’ll keep using my crutches.”

“Good girl,” he said. 

Rhea froze for a second and immediately took her eyes off him. He chuckled. 

“Not a phrase to use in normal conversation, got it,” he said. 

Rhea cleared her throat. “Thanks again for the flowers and cookies. You’re welcome to have a cookie.” 

“No thank you. I have a feeling you really want to eat them all.”

“You’re so right,” Rhea said with a laugh.

She held out her arms for a hug and he hugged her. Her face drifted into the crook of his neck and she thought about letting him stay. He pulled back a little and their eyes met. Then their lips. She felt his fingers in her hair and her heart pounded. He very gently pulled her head back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. 

“Tomorrow,” she said, although she was thinking about letting him stay. Watching horror movies curled up next to him was suddenly more appealing than watching them alone. 

He let go of her hair and stood up. He handed her the crutches. She put them under her arms and walked him to the door. 

“Let me know when you get home,” she said. 

“I will,” Jey said. 

They looked at each other one more time, soft smiles on their faces.

“Bye Miss Ripley,” he said. 

“Later, Uso,” she replied. 

She closed the door after he got into his car. She went into the kitchen and grabbed the whole box of cookies. She headed back over to the couch. Nightmare on Elm Street was ending. She changed the movie to The Terrifer and settled into the couch.

***

Rhea finished her sparkling blackberry lemonade and was considering ordering another one. Dinner had been going well. They were at a place that wasn’t too casual and wasn’t too dressy. Rhea had on white, flowy v-neck blouse with skinny olive green jeans and some brown strappy sandals. She was amazed she hadn’t spilled anything on it yet, but she had gotten carbonara to be safe. 

Jey had managed to eat through half his red wine braised ribs and hadn’t gotten a drop of sauce on his light blue shirt. He sipped his water and locked eyes with her. They smiled at each other. 

“So do you have any plans for the future?” he asked.

“How far in the future are we talking?” Rhea asked. She looked for the waiter. “Sorry, I’d love another lemonade.”

“You’re good,” he replied. “I mean like the next five years. Have you thought about what you want professionally? Personally?” 

Rhea tilted her head, pushing her lips to the side. “I’ve been thinking about becoming Women’s Champion in a few years. It would kind of be like starting over on Smackdown. At least that’s the kind of storyline I’m envisioning. But we’ll see. Raw is my show and I love running it. Personally…umm I don’t know. If I'm with the right person, I can see marriage and kids. Well maybe one kid. It might take longer than five years though. I thought Dom and I were on that path, but he had other plans.”

She rolled her eyes, thinking about Dom. She looked back at Jey and smiled. “What about you?”

“If I’m still feeling good, I think I can wrestle for another ten years,” Jey said. 

“That’s it?” Rhea teased.

“Don’t act like you didn’t notice this gray in my beard,” Jey said with a chuckle.

“Who doesn’t love salt and pepper?” Rhea asked, winking. 

Jey shook his head, smiling. “But yeah, if I find the right one, I’d love to settle down and have kids. If it’s not too late for me.” 

“It’s not too late for you,” Rhea said. 

Jey smiled. “After I get this IC title, I’d love to go over to the World Heavyweight Championship. And if I follow you to Smackdown, I’ll have my eye on the US and the Undisputed titles.”

“Follow me to Smackdown?” Rhea asked. 

The waiter approached and she asked for another sparkling lemonade. 

“Yeah,” Jey said, while the waiter refilled his water glass, “you know they like to keep couples together.” 

Rhea smiled while nerves fluttered in her stomach. “We’ll be a couple by then?” 

“I definitely see that in our future.” 

Our future. The waiter dropped off her sparkling lemonade. She sipped it. Her head felt fuzzy, like she was having wine. She didn’t think she’d be talking about a future with anyone after Dom left. It was exciting…and nerve wracking. 

“I’m not moving too fast, am I?” Jey asked, his fingers tapping his fork before he picked it up. He ate some mashed potatoes. 

Rhea smiled. “You’re not asking me to be your girlfriend now, right?” 

“No,” Jey said, shaking his head. 

“Then no. I like being with you. I just haven’t thought about a relationship. Every time I turn around, something’s reminding me of my old one.” 

And it felt weird to call it old. Like it had ended more than a month ago. Even if that month had felt like an eternity ago. 

“If you ever feel like I’m moving too fast, you let me know. I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy with you,” she said, reaching for his hand across the table. 

He took it and they stared into each other’s eyes for a bit. Rhea envisioned a future with Jey. And she had to admit, it didn’t look bad.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[froggibus]

Colder Weather - Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor

Genre: fluff headcanons

Summary: how the boys act when it’s cold + snowing outside

CW: cold weather, snow, asmo forcing you to go outside (ew), lots of cuddling, pretty mid writing on my part

okok so no Lucifer or Satan for this one cause I just had no ideas :((( like I had a few but not nearly enough for complete hcs so sorry guys

also holy fuck it’s been a while since I wrote obey me hcs lmao so im a little rusty…sorry guys

also I promise I’ll shut up but it’s gonna be almost -50 celsius here this weekend (yay, Canada!) so I will be stuck inside if you guys have any obey me (or other fandoms) ideas!!

Mammon:

Mammon and to snow DO NOT mix

biggest baby in the entire Devildom when it gets cold

he has this super tacky fur coat that he insists is real rabbit fur (it’s faux—the big softy couldn’t bear real fur)

refuses to leave the house, even if he has to work

worse than that: he refuses to let you leave the house, even if you have things to do

“hey, human. where d’ya think you’re going? it’s cold out there. you’ll get sick, or worse, dead!”

invites you to his room cause he has this ‘super awesome heater’ (read: himself)

you end up lounging on the couch with him and watching movies with excruciatingly long car chases

you start shivering despite the sweater you’re wearing, and Mammon not so begrudgingly beckons you over to come sit under the blanket with him

honestly he forgets how to breathe because you’re so close and you smell nice and you’re relying on him for warmth

at some point it gets colder and you start shivering again

goes to grab another blanket but you stop him, looking up at him with those pleading eyes

“don’t go, mams. i’ll freeze without you.”

pretends to be humble about it but inside he is screaming

not sure how it happens but you end up in his lap??

he has both arms around you, cocooning you between him and the blanket

you both fall asleep on the couch, snow storm long forgotten

Leviathan:

locks himself in his room to spend the whole day watching anime

also sorry but this man’s room is a whole terrarium

he’s got his heater, his fan, his air purifier, his humidifier

his place is always the perfect temperature and the perfect place to take refuge in a blizzard

he pretends like he’s annoyed when you come into his room, dressed in warm clothes and fuzzy socks, a blanket draped over your shoulders

but really he doesn’t mind—he actually has to hide his rosy cheeks with you because he’s so flustered at the idea that you chose him

orders an insane amount of comfort food to eat during your anime marathon

like heaps and heaps of food that the two of you couldn’t possibly finish

offers you to share his blanket with him, wrapping it around the two of you to keep warm while you munch on food

somehow it turns into you leaning your head on his shoulder, eyelids getting heavy in the warmth of his room

Levi can’t even be annoyed that you’re missing episodes of the anime—you look so cute like this

Asmo:

HATES the cold, LOVES the snow 

it’s a weird dynamic…

dresses you up in the cutest snowsuit ever, and forces you to sit outside in the cold for over an hour taking pictures 

“asmo we’re gonna catch a cold”

“demons don’t get sick from the cold, don’t be silly”

you’re not a demon????

when he’s finally done with the pictures don’t expect any attention from him after

he still has to edit, caption and post them to Devilgram 

you sit under his comforter in the corner of his bed, shivering miserably and shooting glares at him from the corner of your eyes 

Finally he puts down his DDD and looks at you, his eyes sparkling when he sees just how cute and cold you look 

uses the cold as an excuse to get as close to you as possible, cuddling you tightly 

he’s so tempted to take a selfie of the two of you in bed together but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment 

probably insists on your laying between his legs with your head on his chest for ‘maximum warmth’ 

really he just want to feel you

you end up falling asleep in his room, and who is he to wake you? 

Beel:

honestly indifferent to the cold

he’s just built differently 

he’s not the biggest fan of it, but he’s not as much of a baby as some of his older brothers 

still, he doesn’t quite like the idea of you going out in the cold (at least, not without proper protection)

offers to get anything you need, but if you insist on going out, he’ll come with you 

and of course he bundles you up first 

has you dressed in one of his sweaters with one of his old winter jackets over top

you look tiny in his big clothes 

when you get home after he’ll make you stand in front of the heater to warm up while he disappears into the kitchen 

of course he’s going into the kitchen 

but you’re pleasantly surprised when he comes back with two steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup

you guys eat and watch a movie in the living room, Beel asking you every five minutes if you’re cold 

you take another one of his sweaters just to get him to stop bothering you about it  

insists on feeding you every hour and piling snacks on the coffee table 

“don’t give me that look. you need food to stay warm, y/n.”

Belphie:

hates blizzards because they interrupt his sleep 

he can usually sleep through anything—from sunny days to volcanic eruptions

but the cold??? no way

his bed gets cold and even his thickest, softest blankets don’t help 

but…maybe a certain warm human could help his sleep 

ends up crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night, hardly making a sound 

you only wake when you feel the bitter cold on your body slowly fading away, a new warmth pressed against you 

“go back to sleep—don’t move! im comfy....”

you’re not even phased by Belphie sneaking into bed with you at this point 

and the warmth is honestly really nice 

you cuddle back into him, shoving your back as tight against his chest as it will go 

he throws an arm over your waist, holding your hip flush against his 

definitely stays with you the whole night—and the next few after that 

with the excuse he’s just ‘keeping warm’, of course 

checks on you every time he wakes up in the night, groggily reaching out to make sure you’re still warm and okay

-

Obey Me! Masterlist

[nathanknowsitall]

Defective - Chapter 2: The Favor

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1: The Confrontation

Summary: You are an omega living in Sudbury, Ontario, Canada. You happen to make the unfortunate acquaintance of one annoying alpha triple-A whale shit hockey player named Shoresy.

Notes: Hey, so I saw that there was some interest in another part so here you go! As per usual, let me know what you think! Thanks! <3

When you got home, your whole body felt like it was made of lead.

You put your bag down and laid on the floor like a dog.

You would laugh at yourself, but you were too upset.

You’d never had this problem.

Everyone knew how society treated omegas.

They were pretty rare, about one in a million.

Because of their rarity, they were often treated differently than others.

You had once read in some book or another that some cultures loved omegas and considered them above the other classes.

They were treated almost like idols and being their mate was seen as a gift from god.

Unfortunately, you weren’t born in one of those cultures.

You were born in North America, a place that had a unique hatred of them.

Omegas were fetishized, hated, and discriminated against.

So, when you presented, you started on every type of blocker as soon as you possibly could.

You knew what it was like for other omegas.

You weren’t dumb.

You read the articles.

You saw the news.

You knew you were lucky in some respects.

The people that knew you were an omega kept it to themselves and helped you cover it up.

The people that didn’t would never know.

You were defective.

No scent, no attraction, nothing.

It was a simple lie.

It was easier to be defective than it was to be omega, but it didn’t take away the way your heart ached sometimes.

Telling that guy off didn’t change how you felt.

It made you feel worse if anything because you weren’t dumb.

He smelled delicious too.

-

After you spent way too long getting yourself up off the floor, playing on your phone, watching TV, and then ordering and eating something off of DoorDash, you called the local clinic.

“Hi, I’m calling about possibly getting some new blockers? The ones I’ve been using seem not to be working anymore.”

You could hear the person on the other end of the line typing.

“Okay, and what symptoms are you experiencing? Or how do you know they aren’t working?”.

You sighed, not liking what you were about to say, “An alpha was able to smell me today.”

“Please hold”, the operator said brusquely.

You were confused, but waited patiently before a different person started talking to you.

“Hello?”, they said.

“Hi?”, you responded weakly.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Simmons and a staff member told me about what was going on with you and I wanted to let you know that you should definitely come in tomorrow, preferably as soon as we open to avoid any incidents, but that you should also bring the alpha in question. Is that okay?”.

You mulled it over in your mind.

“I don’t really know the alpha, he was just a stranger.”

“I will examine you, but if we want to be sure, it’s better if you bring him in.”

You knew that you could probably figure out where he was.

It’s not like you never saw him.

You sighed, “Sure, we’ll come in tomorrow.”

You gave the doctor your information before finally hanging up.

You stood up, grabbed your purse, and walked out the door.

You had to find him.

-

Shoresy was frustrated to say the least.

He knew it was wrong to stare.

It was even worse to smell.

He had felt like a fucking weirdo doing it.

It was wrong and he knew that he had to make it up to her.

But, until then, he did the only thing that provided any stress relief (and frankly provided most of his stress as well): Hockey.

He suited up, went out onto the ice, and went to work.

Shooting pucks deep, working on his speed, stretching, the usual drills.

Until that smell hit his nose again.

It made him pause.

Was he truly going crazy? Imagining a smell that wasn’t there?

He closed his eyes in frustration.

He hated the thought, but maybe he actually needed to get checked out or something.

“Hey”, your voice flooded into his ears like a cold tide, waking him up as you announced yourself.

His eyes opened as you descended down into the rows of seats.

Wow, he must be really going insane then, but what a wonderful way to end.

“I know you’re probably mad and confused and all sorts of things, I am too, but I need to ask you a favor.”

He looked at you with his ice blue eyes and your stomach did a flip.

The look was analytical, cold, and unpleasant.

You knew that he didn’t know you that well, but he probably didn’t like you that much after what you pulled at Peppi Panini.

Usually, what a random alpha thinks about you wouldn’t matter too much, but it made your heart twist uncomfortably as you descended lower and lower into the rink.

“What kind of favor?”, Shoresy said.

His tone was serious, but he punctuated the statement with a smirk.

He couldn’t be too mad at you then.

You rolled your eyes at him.

“A medical favor?”, you said, unsure of what to call it.

Shoresy scoffed, “What the fuck is a ‘medical favor’”?”.

You laughed at his mocking tone.

Shoresy’s heart did a flip.

First time he made her laugh, but hopefully not the last.

“I need you to come with me in the morning to the clinic.”

Shoresy looked at you like you were crazy.

You knew you were to be asking him, but it wasn’t a great feeling to get that look from someone else.

“Why the fuck would you need me to go with you to a doctor’s appointment, huh?”, he said, mocking as ever. “Need an adult to go with you? Mommy couldn’t make it?”.

You rolled your eyes, “No, I need to get new blockers because your dumbass can smell me for some reason and the doctor told me to bring you.”

Shoresy looked at you curiously, seeming to process the information before his eyes widened and he grinned, “So you are an omega?”.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, yes, fine, you win, idiot. I am an omega.”

His smile grew until the crow's feet around his eyes appeared.

He was so fucking smug, it was awful. He didn’t even have to say anything to you and you knew it.

What was worse is that it only made him more attractive to you, but you had to be stern.

Your tone became deadly serious, “But you better not fucking tell anyone. Ever. And I fucking mean it. I actually like it in Sudbury and if anyone finds out and some shit happens to me and I have to move to some stupid fucking place, I will rip you open a new asshole, man.”

Shoresy knew what you were saying to him was serious and he would never ever dream of telling anyone, but it was extremely hard for him to focus when you were just standing there looking like a goddamn angel sitting in his barn.

“Come down here”, Shoresy said to you.

You rolled your eyes, “Why?”.

“If I’m going to make you a promise, I need a handshake.”

Your whole body seemed to become nervous and Shoresy clocked it.

“It’s way easier for you to come up here than for me to come down there.”

“Can you just trust me?”, Shoresy said, as he made eye contact with you.

You hated how he didn’t really even have to convince you.

As you walked down to meet him on the ice, every hair on Shoresy’s body stood up.

He hated to admit that he was excited by the thought of any contact with you.

He skated over to the side of the ice to meet you.

You both looked over each other.

You laughed at his uniform, “Holy fuck you look dumb.”

Shoresy rolled his eyes, “You’d swear you’ve never seen a hockey uniform before.”

“I don’t do sports, so no, not really.”

Shoresy jaw dropped, “That almost makes me not want to shake your hand anymore.”

“Almost?”, you teased as you looked up at him.

Shoresy squirmed under your attention.

Give your balls a tug!, he thought to himself.

He took your hand into his, before shaking it, “You smell too fucking good to not want you closer.”

You had to bite your lip as hard as possible to prevent yourself from smiling.

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[reasonsforhope]

How can I stay positive regarding the wildfires?

It can be really hard in the face of so much destruction. I don't know how much anyone can specifically stay positive in the face of disasters like this -

but I can give you some thoughts about how to let hope live alongside everything else you're feeling about this, and how to avoid spiraling and remember that this is not proof that we're doomed.

Possibly relevant note lol is that I've lived my whole life in California, so suffice to say figuring out how to move forward among the consequences and destruction of massive wildfires is something I'm definitely not new to.

I remember walking to my classroom in elementary school, about 20 years ago now, and it was literally snowing ash around me. This too shall pass.

Take a few deep breaths. I know it's cliche but it's also important

Zoom out in terms of perspective: Wildfires can make the sky look apocalyptic (like I said, I have lots of experience with this!), but they are regional, and they always end. These wildfires are awful but this specific wave of fires is happening in just one country in a huge, huge world. There's far more land that isn't burning

Canada is about to get substantial international aid in fighting the wildfires - there are already 200 additional firefighters headed over from the US and France, and Canada (Quebec specifically) is also already in talks with Costa Rica, Portugal, and Chile about additional firefighters/resources. Help is on the way and these numbers really will make a big difference, and as the disaster continues (unfortunately it is uh...pretty early in fire season), more help will be sent. People are doing what they can to help, because in the face of disaster, that's what we're wired to do

There are actually MUCH better fire management plans than just about anyone is using, esp in North America but that we COULD implement and increasingly WILL going forward. A lot of the wildfire situation these days is because of the West's incredibly wrongheaded derision toward traditional Indigenous land and ecosystem management practices, including cultural prescribed burns that keep massive wildfires from happening. California in particular is already partnering with several First Nations to revive prescribed burns, to significant success. As fires continue to be terrible, more and more places will get on board with this. We can and will implement practices that will truly change our situation

Cultural burns work because, ironically, the reason for the wildfires is that "is that we've been so good at putting out every fire possible that it has led to overly dense forests and a buildup of burnable material like branches and dry vegetation" that makes wildfires much worse in a number of ways. At lower intensity, however, as with cultural burns, forest fires can actually have huge environmental benefits

Finally, every time a natural disaster happens like this, as awful and destructive as they are, it serves as a wake-up call for thousands of people and adds both ever-mounting urgency and ever-mounting evidence to the importance of fighting climate change, which really does translate into action. For a lot of people, "saving the environment" feels super distant - but you know what feels super immediate? Saving their homes from burning down (or getting flooded or otherwise destroyed, etc. etc.) In 2021, the UN ran the world's largest climate survey, across 1.2 million people and 50 nations, and almost TWO-THIRDS SAID THAT CLIMATE CHANGE IS A GLOBAL EMERGENCY THAT WE NEED TO WORK HARDER TO ADDRESS. Imagine that 10 years ago! That other third of people aside, this really is real and massive progress

Also, every time there's a big disaster like this, climate change deniers look more and more baldly ridiculous. Think about it: How often did you hear US Republicans bullshitting about climate change denial 10 years ago? And how often do you hear them doing it now? In fact, there's increasing evidence that Republicans really are shifting on climate change (mind you they're managing to do it in an obnoxiously somehow pro-fossil-fuel way, but it's still a major sea change). Some of them are literally calling for a clean energy transition, and Kevin McCarthy himself (guy in charge of the US House right now) created a task force for to a conservative climate change agenda that acknowledges climate change is real. There's now a conservative climate conference that does active lobbying and a House Conservative Climate Caucus, which somehow has SIXTY MEMBERS. Again, something that would've been unimaginable just six or seven years ago.

Every acre that the fires burn this year is an acre that's pretty guaranteed to not burn next year, for what that's worth. (And I do think it's worth mentioning, esp with such a high number of acres)

The battles are going to be hard, but I truly believe that even the ones we lose often bring us closer to winning the war.

Fires burn, but life always grows back.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 46

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 600

Masterlist

———————————————————————

I turned my back on her that day.  

She tried calling me afterward, but I didn’t answer. She sent me a message saying she needed to talk.  

I replied that I didn’t want to speak with her anymore.  

I had gone further than I ever thought possible—out of love and, worse, out of revenge.  

Alexia pieced me back together that evening, as shattered as I was. She insisted I take a two-month break, and she was right.  

I listened. One of our friends had moved to Costa Rica and was thrilled to host me for a month. I planned to extend my trip to the U.S. for three weeks afterward, a much-needed breath of fresh air.  

---

The day of the elections arrived, a sunny Sunday. I’d helped with the final preparations while staying in the background.  

That morning, I went to my local polling station to vote around 11 a.m.  

Lucy was there. My heart clenched, and I avoided her gaze.  

One of my former running mates approached me.  

“So, it’s the big day!”  

“Apparently!” I replied with a broad smile.  

“I swear, Bronze hasn’t left this polling station all morning!”  

I could feel Lucy’s eyes on me, watching my every move.  

I grabbed the ballots and cast my vote for our slate.  

When I approached the ballot box, Lucy was standing just behind it.  

I looked at her wearily, and she refused to break eye contact.  

“I think I can guess how you voted,” she teased with a faint smile.  

I forced a polite smile in return.  

“Vote cast!” announced the clerk.  

I turned and walked away without a final glance at Lucy. I wanted to seem strong, but it was so hard.  

---

That evening brought the long-anticipated results. We gathered in the town hall’s lobby.  

Lucy won the election with 51% of the vote—a razor-thin margin.  

Julie, who had replaced me, was elected as a councilor. Relief washed over me for stepping away from the fray.  

Our team was disappointed but proud of how close we had come.  

I thanked everyone and shared a drink, but I left early, eager to escape.  

As I walked toward my car, I heard her voice behind me.  

“Ona…”  

I turned, startled.  

She stood there, stunning in a black dress. Having just won her third election, she radiated confidence, though a trace of sadness shadowed her expression.  

I caught my breath.  

“Congratulations! I hadn’t had a chance to say so.”  

In truth, I’d avoided her all evening.  

“Thanks… It’s a great victory. Ona, I’m really disappointed things ended up like this between us…”  

Why bring it up again after such a painful election?  

“It’s just the way things are, Lucy. I can’t explain it rationally. Leaving is going to be good for me.”  

She seemed worried now.  

“You’re going to her, aren’t you?”  

I looked surprised, unsure what she meant. She continued, slightly annoyed:  

“You’re going to her—in Canada!”  

So, she thought I was going to Alessia.  

“That’s none of your business, Lucy. But yes, I’m crossing the ocean.”  

I kept my answer deliberately vague. She didn’t need to know my plans.  

“When exactly are you leaving?” she asked in a whisper.  

“I’m taking the morning train to Paris on the 8th, in a week.”  

She seemed to wrestle with her words, looking lost. Then she lifted her head.  

“Well, I wish you all the best, Ona. I just wanted to…”  

Her sentence trailed off.  

She pulled herself together.  

“… I need to get back inside. I wish you all the happiness in the world!”  

And with that, she walked away hurriedly.