#I might be going out with friends on that weekend

[blainesebastian]

moments

word count: 10,720 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: There are moments you know you shouldn’t compare your ex to Nick, there’s no place where the two converge. Or maybe, you suppose, that’s exactly the point. notes: idk man this movie has become my whole personality, i got nothing else to say. (other than the gifs are from this awesome gifpack!) notes 2: reader has an abusive ex. while there are no explicit scenes of abuse, there are discussions of past abuse and trauma

You met Nick at a party like this. 

You had just broken up with your boyfriend and instead of wallowing, your friends dragged you to the nearest party they could find. You’re not easily someone who believes in fate or the universe having a plan, but you think that something happened that night to bring Nick into your life. 

You can still feel the thrum of the music in your veins, bumping into him as he was carrying drinks to someone, right on the makeshift dance floor in someone’s house. You remember opening your mouth to apologize–

“You should really come with a warning label if you’re going to swing your arms like that.” He says, British accent thick, eyes sharp. 

He’s beautiful, you think. He’s also an asshole. 

Your hands fall to your hips, eyebrows drawing together as you take a look at him. Really take a look. You moved here because your parents had work, ironically with Nick’s father. You’ve heard of the infamous Nick but haven’t met him in person. 

Lucky you, that seems to be tonight. 

Your eyes draw in the line of his jaw, the way his eyes flit over to yours, assessing you as you take in him. Your gaze runs from the light blonde, highlighted curls in his hair, to the strong shoulders, to the tapered waist. 

And then you spit out, “So should you, if you’re going to open your mouth.” 

He’s taken back, you can tell, a flicker of amusement in his eyes now at having the banter to play with. The corners of his mouth twitch in an almost smile, “Then I guess we better steer clear of one another,” He replies, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.  You can smell laundry detergent, expensive cologne, “Two warning labels usually infer a pending explosion.” 

Keeping your distance didn’t exactly work, though. Your friends are in the same circles, and two curving lines have no choice but to eventually converge. It seems like everywhere you turn around, Nick is there. Other parties, weekends at lush spots, fighting rings, underground driving events, the list goes on and on. 

You seem stuck in this man’s orbit, this layer of so-called ‘danger’ slipping warmly into your veins and heating you up from the inside out. With every interaction, there’s still the barbed exchanges, the rolling of eyes, the quirk of lips. But you’re not sure how much of that is show—you both know how to have a good time with your set of friends, sometimes even with eachother. You’re not sure you’d call Nick a friend but…you suppose it’s better than what you were when you first met. 

As you move through the crowd of people gathered in the large, mansion-esque living room of the latest party you’re at, you do your best to find Jenna. She’s not the friend you came with, but you wanted to catch up, maybe even dance? You’re not exactly in the mood to be here tonight, so maybe that’ll open you up a bit more to having a good time. 

Turning down a hallway, you pause as you almost run into someone. A guy taller than you, eyes glassy, giving you a onceover before a grin, “Lost?” 

You sigh audibly, shaking your head, “Nope,” Voice full-American, which seems to bring a twinkle of amusement to the guy’s face, “Just headed that way.” You point towards the kitchen. 

“I can show you around,” He offers, trying to sling an arm around your shoulders, “Sounds like you might need a tour guide.” 

And boy, are you getting tired of that boring line. You get it, you’re not from London, but just because you’re American does not mean you need someone to show you around. You’ve been here for half of a year, you’re not about to call yourself a native, but you’re definitely settling in. 

“No,” You push his arm away. 

“Stop being so ungrateful,” He scoffs, taking two heavy steps forward. The movement is awkward, like his body is catching up with his brain. You’re not anticipating it, so you find yourself stumbling back, knocking into a table as he grabs your arm. 

“Get off me,” You snap, trying to yank yourself free, but this guy won’t let up. 

He’s wearing a ring on his one finger and it’s twisted in the wrong direction so that the stone actually slides against your arm when you try to create some space. It’s a quick cut, nothing you’d write home about but t’s the fact that he won’t back up, he won’t let go–

“Hey!” 

Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice, Nick, coming down the set of stairs near where you’re standing. He rounds the corner, reaching in one fluid movement to yank the guy off. Tall guy stumbles back, tripping over the carpet, Nick’s body suddenly standing in front of yours. 

“Are you deaf?” Nick snaps, cocking his head as if he’s really trying to understand. His body lines up at an angle, as if he’s ready for a fight and that’s the last thing you want. Your hand gently moves to the back of his shirt, a soft tug, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. 

He glances over his shoulder at you before turning his attention back to Tall guy, movements relaxing—he bends to your request. No fighting. 

Until Tall guy opens his mouth.

“Didn’t know she was going to be such a bitch about—” 

There’s barely a moment in which the sentence is finished before Nick’s fist is flying through the air. It lands on this guy’s nose and he crumbles like a house of cards. A small gasp leaves your lips, your eyes wide as blood spurts from between the guy’s fingers and Nick rolls his shoulders, turning to check you over. 

“Look at me,” He says, hand touching your arm. Your eyes snap to his and he scowls at the cut there, red and angry thanks to that guy’s ring. “C’mon, let's clean you up.” 

Nick’s hand slips down to gently clasp your own, tugging you towards the kitchen. It’s not very busy, or maybe people are clearing out at the look on Nick’s face, either way you’re glad it’s not as stifling as some of the other rooms. He scoots you backwards until your legs find a stool and you prop yourself up on it, Nick moving to grab a washcloth from one of the drawers. You watch him carefully, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. 

“You didn’t need to hit him.” 

He pauses and then turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised. A scoff tumbles forth, “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.” 

Now it’s your turn to look surprised, “For what? Punching someone?” 

His eyebrows draw together, amusement flickering in his eyes like a heated fire, “You have the strangest way of showing people your gratitude.” He moves towards you like a force. He’s not that much taller than you, but Nick’s the kind of person to take up space. The kind of person you step aside for. Handsome and unpredictable, just like the first day you met him. 

Blame it on the action from tonight, the leftover adrenaline shaking your body, prior experience with hands on you in ways that have not been kind, something—but when Nick reaches out and takes your arm—you flinch. 

He notices instantly, letting go and taking one step back to give you space. His eyes dance over you for a moment and you know he’s taking in the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself, your shoulders drawn in, the slight shaking to your hands. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, voice a shade gentler than it was before. 

You swallow over an unspoken emotion in your throat before straightening your shoulders, eyes narrowing as you take a look at him. “I’m just saying I could have handled it.” 

He doesn’t argue with you this time, must sense you need to own that somehow, and just nods, “Can I see your arm?” 

You’re holding your arm to your chest like an injured bird does its wing, even though you’ve had worse. You’ve been through worse. Scars that you can’t see but are still there. You run your tongue over your teeth before relaxing your spine, slowly extending your arm towards him. 

Nick takes that as permission to walk back towards you and at the angle of the stool, you’re almost eye level, his body slightly between your knees as he turns your arm over in his hands. He takes the washcloth that he’s dampened and drags it across your skin. 

You close your eyes, biting down on the inside of your cheek, hating to admit what you’re about to say as your pulse slows,  “I didn’t…actually…have that handled.” You hate to think of what could have happened if Tall guy hadn’t backed off, if you couldn’t have stopped him, if no one would have thought twice to check if you were okay.

Nick doesn’t say anything though, just continues to clean the cut, his eyes trained on your skin. His thumb brushes the inside of your arm, a silent comfort, encouraging you to speak again, 

“My ex was a real jerk, put his hands on me.” You do not elaborate, but it seems like you don’t need to. Nick’s movements still a moment, his jaw working. “Not something you get used to or over quickly.” 

“Your ex is lucky he’s still in America.” He mumbles after a few breaths, his thumb still tracing back and forth over the inside of your elbow, his eyes finally meeting yours. You’re not sure why you’re surprised at what you see there. A gentleness, an anger, a protective warmth that you…maybe knew Nick was capable of but hadn’t seen firsthand. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, your hand settling on his, “Not your problem.” 

“Shouldn't be yours either.” He says, squeezing your fingers. 

There’s this moment where you can’t tear your eyes from his, that heat that’s associated with Nick winding itself around you like ivy, digging between your ribs. It’s like something magnetic, you can’t quite look away, and yet you remind yourself of what was shared between the two of you when you first met. Two warning signs, indeed, could mean some sort of explosion. 

And yet, this person right here? The one standing in front of you? You think that might be worth the risk. Someone that’s maybe just as kind and thoughtful as they are opinionated, and impulsive. Velvet over broken glass. This version is not the Nick you thought you knew…and you’re not sure what to do with that. 

“Uhm,” You clear your throat, breaking the moment, “Have you seen Jenna? I was gonna see if she wanted to dance but now I kinda want to head home. Just want to say bye.” 

He shakes his head, helping you off the stool by slipping his hand into your own. “No, but I can drive you.” 

You soothe your hand over your jeans, “You don’t have to go out of your way.” 

Nick smiles a little, the expression open, “Don’t worry about it—this party is quickly losing its appeal anyways.” 

You don’t fight him on it twice. 

—

In spite of so called ‘warning labels’—there are sometimes shared looks, quiet smiles, and a warmth that blooms as you get to know one another. Maybe that’s friction. Maybe it’s something else. 

“Swear no one hears me when I say I don’t like onions,” You crinkle your nose in the booth of a diner, pressed to the one corner, Nick across from you as Jenna and Lion share the other seats. The table is completely covered with food to share, Jenna laughing as Lion tries to steal her fries. 

There are raw onions on the burger you ordered, despite asking for it without. Before you can lift the bun to take them off, Nick reaches across the table and swaps your plates. He says nothing, doesn’t even lift his eyes to look at you—but his burger is now in front of you. Onion free. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you can’t help the small thrill of butterflies in your chest as you add ketchup to your fries. 

—

Your parents don’t know about your ex. 

You just…never wanted to tell them what happened. Especially since it didn’t matter, you were moving to London, leaving him behind and all the problems that came with it. Maybe if they knew your mom would talk to you about what healthy relationships look like, maybe they would suggest therapy. Maybe you’d even go. Sometimes it’s hard to admit that the person who went through what happened was actually you. As if you’re a spector in your own life. 

Every so often, you deny you have emotional scars. The physical ones have long faded to healed skin. Except, scars run deep, and sometimes you’re not even aware they’re still there until they flutter to the surface. They rear their ugly heads in the most unexpected of times. 

Or maybe it shouldn’t be surprising at all. 

A glass shatters. 

Your entire body goes rigid even though Jenna is laughing and leaning into Lion over it. The sounds start to warp around you and you’re staring at the glass at the floor, as if the shards will leap into the air and perform some sort of circus act. You’re over Nick’s house with your friends, having drinks and hanging out by the pool, you’re all getting a refill and someone overreaches for a glass in a cabinet. 

“Butter fingers,” Lion teases his girlfriend, grabbing her hand to spin her close and kiss her shoulder. 

“Was an ugly glass anyways,” Giles replies, crinkling his nose. 

Your hand lingers on your chest a moment, your heart hammering under the pressure of your fingers. You try to tell yourself that it’s an accident, that you’re not in danger, that you’re not what happened to you. You talk through all that helpful language you googled that’s supposed to help center yourself when you feel like you’re on the edge of a panic attack. You remind yourself that you’ve been doing well, you’ve been coping, that past memories belong in a box in the back of your mind and that a sound isn’t strong enough to unleash them. 

But nothing helps. 

Your vision narrows and then goes glassy, fuzzy black fades in from the edges, it feels like there’s a hand around your throat, squeezing. You excuse yourself quietly for the bathroom and your friends don’t notice, which is fine, you’re not sure you’d be able to stop even if they did. 

You make a b-line for the bathroom, turning a corner too fast and bumping into—

“Whoa,” Nick’s hands come down on your shoulders. When he gets a good look at your face, his eyes widen slightly. “Hey—” His voice is soft, dipping his chin to try and catch your gaze, “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I—” You choke out, air constricted in your throat, “I can’t—”

Nick seems to understand, gently backing you up towards the bathroom. The door doesn’t shut completely, angling towards closed, which you’re grateful for—the room doesn’t feel any smaller than it already does. Tears gather in your eyes, frustration and concern building up in your chest like a bonfire. You don’t claw at your skin, but you’ve been there, where it feels like the only way that you can possibly feel better is to peel it off your neck. Like there’s a literal barrier between you and breathing. 

You don’t even realize you’ve sat down on the closed toilet seat until Nick’s kneeling in front of you. His voice sounds like it’s underwater and he takes your hand to rest it on his chest. You can feel the beat of his heart under your fingertips, the steady intake of air as he speaks again.

He keeps repeating the same phrase as tears spill down your cheeks, “Copy me.” 

“Wh-what?” You stutter out, his words suddenly coming in sharp, clear. 

His other hand, the one not holding your hand on his chest, cups your cheek, brushing tears away with his thumb. He curls your hair around your ear, fingers resting against your neck. 

“Breathe with me,” Nick’s voice is patient, squeezing your fingers, his thumb working back and forth along your knuckles, giving you something to concentrate on. “In—” He draws breath into his lungs, then, “Out—” He whispers, letting it go. 

You copy, barely, chest aching. It comes out as a gasp. 

“Good,” He nods, “Again.” He waits. “Again.” He soothes, “Again.” 

Until it becomes easier, until it doesn’t feel like your entire chest is caving in. The hyperventilating slows, your eyes slide shut, your pulse calms in your throat. You don’t open your eyes until the dull roar disappears in your ears, Nick’s thumb still moving calming circles against your knuckles, your neck. 

Your gaze eventually meets his brown ones, concerned as they trace your face. His hand moves again, the one on your neck, cupping your cheek and removing another tear track. 

“There you are,” He says softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I got you.” 

You swallow over what feels like glass in your throat, your fingers still holding onto his t-shirt against his chest like a lifeline. You don’t often get panic attacks like that, but when they come? They drive through you with the force of a freight train. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

You blink, trying to figure out if you do, in fact, need something. A glass of water might be nice, but you don’t want him to move, the weight of him against your legs grounding in a way you can’t explain. 

You decide on shaking your head, your hand eventually falling from his chest to rest in your lap. His hand follows yours, brushing his thumb along your knee. 

“They always come on fast like that?” 

You shake your head, “Sometimes I think they’re completely gone, they just—pop up out of nowhere.” You sniffle, curling your hair around your ear. You have no idea why your cheeks flush in embarrassment, but they do, to let someone see where you’re struggling the most. Where you feel the most vulnerable. 

But when your eyes meet Nick’s, there’s no judgement there. Just a soft gaze, open, waiting. 

“A glass fell in the kitchen, broke and—my ex used to throw things when he got pissed off. The sound, it just—” You’re not sure you have to explain, hoping it’s enough.

Nick’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a dangerous sort of calm that you wouldn’t wish on anyone. He traces his thumb around your knee. 

“Sounds like a real tool.” 

The comment is so out of pocket that a laugh bubbles up in your chest and you nod, “He was. Sometimes I feel like relationships are just always meant to end messy, one way or another.” Or maybe you’ve convinced yourself, somehow, that you don’t deserve something good. You put yourself out there with your ex, and look at what happened. 

Nick shakes his head, holding your gaze when he says, “Not all of them.” 

There’s a small thrill that works its way into your chest, something weighted in the way he says it. You chew on your lower lip, Nick’s eyes slipping to your mouth, and you’re suddenly reminded of time you’ve spent together. While you have the same friends, you’re not sure if you’d consider that to define your relationship. And yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, making sure you’re alright. 

“Thought it was best we steer clear of one another,” You repeat his suggestion from the first time you met but your voice is teasing. “Pending explosions and all.” 

Nick stands and your head tips back to look at him. He seems to give it careful thought, his pursing lips making a soft laugh leave your lips. “Think I can handle a little danger—can’t you?” 

You find yourself nodding and take his hand when it’s offered, tugging you up off the toilet to head back out to your friends. 

—

Nick spends the night checking in with you—it’s not so much words he uses, but its eyes dancing over your form, it’s a tentative hand on your lower back, it’s making you laugh—long and hard, it’s picking you up over his shoulder and jumping into the pool with you, it’s your lips brushing when you float to the surface when he’s grinning. 

It’s like he’s suddenly everywhere, not just here at his place, but over the next few weeks that you end up spending time with one another. A hand brush here and there, a shared grin, hushed laughter and an ease and comfortability that was not there before. 

A so-called ‘warning label’ begins to fizzle down to its base form—what it actually is.

Attraction. And that’s not something that feels so hazardous anymore. 

—

You love dancing. You’re not altogether good at it, but that doesn’t matter. After enough to drink, the alcohol buzzing like warm bees in your system, with your friends around you, the lure of letting off steam and feeling comfortable in your veins just overwhelms you. 

The club that you end up at is a typical haunt on a Saturday night, your smile bright as you wrap your arms around your best friend from behind. Jenna laughs nearby, turning to smack a kiss to Lion’s cheek. Nick brings back a tray of shots for everyone and you take yours eagerly, tipping it back. 

When you set the glass down, Nick has his eyes on you, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. He's dressed in a black t-shirt, and you can’t help but sneak a peek at his biceps, how well he fills out the fabric. His long sleeve shirt is gone somewhere, maybe where everyone was once sitting before. He looks comfortable, like you could curl up against him, like his arms could lift you up—

“Enjoying the view?” He asks over the music, leaning closer. 

You shiver, refusing to show how much a simple question has an impact on you. Because yes, you were. 

You shrug, “It’s not bad. I’m still deciding.” 

He steps closer, into your space, his hand sliding down your arm and when he speaks this time; his lips brush your ear. “Anything I can do to influence that decision?” 

This time you can’t hide your body’s reaction, you know that Nick feels it, his fingers brushing over goosebumps that appear on your forearm. You hate the smug look on his face as he pulls away, so you decide the only distraction that’ll work at this point is tugging him onto the dance floor. You turn your arm in his hand, sliding up until your palms meet. 

“You can dance with me.” 

Nick smiles, following you onto the floor,  your friends following. It’s a small circle of moving bodies, and despite the nerves that are skittering along your nerves like spiders, you let yourself slip into the music. It’s some sort of bouncy electronic bop that you know well and you find yourself singing along to the chorus as you dance along to it. You can’t help but laugh as Nick grabs your hand and spins you, angling his body closer to yours. There’s a swaying motion, his hands ending up on your hips. 

He squeezes; a question in his eyes, if it’s alright to put his hands on you like this. Because it’s slightly more intimate than small, insignificant touches you’ve shared before. You’re overwhelmed by the gesture, that despite how close you’ve gotten, he still wants to make sure it’s okay. That permission means everything to you. 

You respond with a grin, your arms wrapping around his neck, keeping him close. And you’re inseparable for the rest of the night. 

—

Nick has a driver pick you all up so no one has to worry about driving. There’s a few minutes outside the club, waiting on the pavement. When you wrap your arms around yourself, a slight breeze causing a chill down your spine, he slides off the long-sleeve shirt he came in and drapes it over your shoulders. The warmth of his body lingers and you draw the fabric over your hands, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

When an SUV arrives, you end up sharing a row with him. The sway of driving rocks you gently, your eyes slipping closed as your head rests back against the seat, and when you wake up at your place, you’re tucked under Nick’s arm along his side. 

—

Nick hands you a book in passing, something that he had tucked away in his car as you’re about to get into Jenna’s to leave the underground driving circle. It’s so unexpected and somehow odd in a place like this that you kinda blink. Your fingers brush as the book transfers from one palm to another. 

“Thought you might like this,” He says. 

It’s well-read, obviously by him. And it’s something so simple, saying ‘I thought of you’, ‘I think about you’, ‘you’d like this’—something your ex never did. 

He never thought about you. Not like that. Not gently. Not with concern and affection. Not in a way that mattered, that made you feel good. 

You look down at the title, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips—The Things They Carried. Somehow it’s fitting. 

“You think about me?” You ask, voice teasing, holding the book to your chest. 

Nick grins, “Hard not to.” 

And before he can back away, you wrap your fingers in his shirt and pull him close, tipping your head up to kiss him. 

It’s everything you ever thought it might be. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before he cups both sides of your face, angling the movement down, tongue teasing the seam of your lips. His body presses against yours but it fits perfectly, lines up with your own, as if something was missing beforehand that you were unaware of. 

“Thank you,” You whisper after a moment, against his mouth. “For the book.” 

Nick licks his lips, his thumb brushing over your lower one. “Definitely have more recommendations if this is the general reaction.” 

And well, you’ve always been a reader. 

—

“Oh come on,” You chew on your lower lip, “Pancakes all the way.” 

Nick scoffs something far too attractive, crinkling his nose as he heats up the waffle iron. “Knew there had to be something wrong with you, after all this time, just didn’t know it was gonna be this.” 

You toss a blueberry at him and he, annoyingly, catches it, popping it into his mouth with a grin. He points a spatula at you. 

“How have you lived a life thinking pancakes are superior to waffles? This an American thing?” 

“This is an ‘I’m right’ thing.” You toss back, looking at all the different combinations of sweets that can go on or in these pancakes (or waffles). “The ridges in waffles make it difficult to spread butter evenly.” 

Nick licks his lips, his finger tracing the handle of the spatula as he turns pancakes over in the pan. He adds batter to the waffle iron. “Not if you try hard enough.” 

You shake your head, amusement skittering along your spine as you can’t help but look down at his hands. He’s wearing two rings today, something comfortable and simple. But the only thing it does is highlight the shape of them, gorgeous, like they were made to play an instrument. 

“I think you’re just trying to infer that you’re good with your hands.” 

“What was that about my hands?” He raises his eyebrows, voice impossibly warm like dripping honey. 

He sets two finished pancakes on a plate and flips the flame off under the pan. He leans against the counter as he looks at you, something molten slipping from your stomach to between your legs as you hold his gaze. 

“You heard what I said.” 

Nick wanders over, encroaching on your space in the best way. He tilts his head down a little, brushing his lips over yours as he lifts you onto the counter in one even swoop. 

You can’t help but grin, your hands settling on his shoulders as he slips between your legs. 

“Sounds like you’re going to need a hands-on demonstration.” 

“I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.” But your laugh comes out as a whimper as Nick’s fingers press against the center of you, an easy target given how you’ve splayed your legs to accommodate his body, the fabric of your leggings leaving nothing to imagination. 

“Oh,” Nick whispers against your lips, amusement dancing across his handsome features as he begins to move his thumb, “Maybe you don’t need a demonstration at all.” 

And this asshole actually dares to move his hand, as if he’s giving up the suggestion. You clamp your knees together as best you can, his body in the way, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as his hand becomes trapped between your thighs. 

“Don’t you dare.” You mumble against his mouth.

“Is that a threat?” He nips at your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth at the same time his hand encourages your thighs to open to give him room. He pushes into the waistband of your leggings, a smirk decorating his mouth as you scooch closer to the edge of the counter. A shiver skitters down your spine at the feel of the cold metal of his rings brushing against heated skin. 

You hate giving him the satisfaction of any noises leaving your mouth but at a certain point, it becomes undeniable. And he knows that. You swear that having him like this is something you’re never going to get used to, despite that things are still new between you two. His thumb drags over your clit, one finger slipping into you, your back bowing a little when he adds another. 

“That’s it,” He leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he picks up the pace. It doesn’t take much, he’s so precise with his fingers, leaning into every tell your body has, reading you like an open book every time you make a sound. 

When his tongue travels over your pulse point and his thumb pays close attention to your clit, tight even circles, you don’t stand a chance. Pleasure snaps like a band, your body clamping down on his fingers. You lean up to drape yourself over him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, tucking your face in his neck. 

The arm that’s free slides along your back, brushing up and under your shirt, running his fingers along your spine and you press a kiss to his shoulder, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug on his curls, just a little, just to arch his head back a bit. 

He smiles up at you, eyes dark, lower lip wet from biting it, a visible strain in his sweatpants. You open your mouth to reply, to offer reciprocation, but then smoke in your periphery catches your attention. 

“Shit,” He mumbles, pulling away from you to turn the waffle iron off. You wince a little but a small laugh bubbles up in your chest, leftover butterflies in your stomach, cheeks warm, body feeling far too empty. 

“Can’t believe the waffles burned.” You comment lightly, running a hand through your hair. 

Nick glances at you, a small smile on his face, mischief lighting up his brown eyes. He tugs you forward, but this time, he’s got the fabric of your leggings between his fingers, yanking them off. 

“S’alright,” He replies, spreading your legs again, intending to sink his head between them, “Think I’m more of a pancakes guy anyways.” 

—

Nick is nothing like your ex, there is no place where the two converge. Period. 

—

You hate that Nick fights in the ring. Sometimes there’s gloves, other times there’s bare fists. You hate the blood and the bruises and the fact that fucking Lion bets on him like he’s a winning horse. Most of the time you can’t even watch. Like tonight. You wait in the car, everyone headed back to Nick’s afterwards to debrief, to let off steam. 

You can tell he’s pissed the moment he gets into the driver’s seat. 

There’s lines pulling his face, his shoulders tight and the muscle in his jaw feathering. There’s a bruise starting along his jawline, cuts on his cheek. You squeeze your eyes shut and your fingers dig into the plush leather. 

You don’t ask how it went because you already know. 

When you make it into his kitchen, leaning against the counter, you watch as he paces a moment, stewing, his hands shaking as he looks over at Lion. 

“It wasn’t called at the right fucking time.” 

“It was,” Lion says evenly, “The refs—”

“The fucking refs are fucked,” He snaps, his voice echoing in the space. You swear you can hear the glass in the cabinets tremble, “He threw a punch after the bell rung. What’s the point of doing any of this if it’s not going to be fair?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all,” You mumble, arms crossed over your chest. It’s quiet, but you can tell the moment that he hears you. His entire body goes still before he turns and rolls his shoulders, like he’s still in the ring. Like he’s itching for a fight. 

“That’s cheap coming from you, isn’t it? You won’t even step through the doors to support me.” 

Your mouth falls open at the same time Jenna hisses Nick, your response only serving to amp him up even further. 

“I’m not going to go in there and you know it.” You know why, is what you actually want to say, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. You’re calling him out on his bullshit well enough. 

Besides, you’re not the one he’s really mad at, he’s just taking his frustrations out on you. But before you can tell him how fucked up that is, Lion pipes up with a —

“You’re gonna have to fight him again, a re-match.” 

Nick explodes, the kind that he warned you about the first night you met, his arm snapping out and striking items on the kitchen counter. It’s not glass, but the reaction you have is the same. A plastic fruit bowl spins and hits the cabinets, oranges rolling out of it, a set of papers flutter to the floor like birds, and something cracks loudly against a chair, someone’s iPhone maybe. 

It doesn’t matter what it is because you go rigid, eyes wide as you stare at the items on the floor. He runs both of his hands through his hair, his gaze finding your face when you let out a short breath out of your mouth, attempting to unhook your shoulders from your ears. Nick looks at the floor and then back to you, muttering shit under his breath. 

He takes a step towards you, “Y/N,” and you mimic one back, keeping space between you. A defense mechanism but it doesn’t stop that look from sliding onto his face, regret replacing anger, concern replacing frustration. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick says, voice pinched, “I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

You shake your head, putting your hand up so he stops talking. You need space, you need to go outside and take a breath. You slip out of the kitchen towards the pool and Nick must try to follow you because you hear Jenna stop him in his tracks— just leave her alone for a little while, man.  

He’ll come find you though. He always does.

—

You debate leaving but end up sitting by the pool instead. Your legs are drawn up against your chest, fingers dragging through the water, chin resting on one of your knees. You hear and feel him more than see him come out onto the pool deck. 

“Can I join you?” He asks, hovering. 

You know that if you told him no he’d respect that, he’d listen.. But you can’t, even though a small part of you wishes you could. You nod softly, not looking at him, waiting for him to slide down beside you. He’s facing you, one leg in the pool, one curled up underneath him. He smells like clean soap, fresh clothes—he must have showered and changed to give you some time. You ache to run your fingers through his damp curls, to touch him somehow. But you don’t. 

It’s quiet for a while, just the sound of your shared breathing and your fingers gliding through the water. 

Nick clears his throat, “I have a temper, I’ve always had it.” Since his mom, are the unspoken words. “Despite how hard I try to bury it…it seems to always find its way to the surface.” His voice is soft, gentle, as if he’s afraid he might spook you, that you might run. “It’s why I’m good at racing or fighting.”  

You know this, you know he has an anger inside of him that sprouts like weeds, recognizes it in him like you did your ex…even though they are not the same, will never be the same. Nick has talked to you about his mom countless times, you’ve met her and Maddie and know that they’re working on their relationship. They’re in a good place, despite the emotions that Nick still feels sometimes. Maybe they’ll always be there. 

He tentatively reaches for your hand, and when you allow him to touch you, he tugs your laced fingers to rest in his lap. He traces circles around your knuckles, “Look at me.” 

You breathe out through your nose, turning your gaze away from the pool and meeting his eyes. You’re struck by him, always have been, you think. Ever since you ran into him at that party. There must be a soft pout to your lips because he brushes his other thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. But I know I don’t want to see that look on your face ever again.” He shakes his head, ripping his gaze from yours, as if he’s embarrassed. You know what he’s talking about. Fear. What must have been on your face—it’s not something that can be helped, no matter how much you’ve been working on it.

“Not because of me.” 

You swallow over a lump in your throat over that, over the fact that Nick, at the core of his being, wants to protect you. Despite his rough demeanor, despite the fact that he sometimes leads too much with his fists or can have a nasty set of words for someone, he’s good deep down. Something your ex never was. 

You squeeze his hand back, reaching out to touch his cheek. You angle his face up, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

You don’t say that it’s okay, because it’s not, but you do want him to know, “I trust you.” You say after a moment. It is not something you give easily, something that’s definitely earned. And Nick has. He holds your gaze after that, a soft nod, turning his chin into your palm. His nose and lips brush the love line on your hand and he presses a kiss there. 

“C’mere.” He whispers, encouraging you closer, to sit on his lap. You fold into him easily, as if you’ve always fit there. 

–

There’s a long sigh out of your mouth as you move from your spot on the couch to get the front door when there’s a series of knocks. You kinda hope it’ll go away, but your parents aren’t home to check. There’s a twinge in your nose and a headache building behind your eyes, the worst head cold you’ve had for a while. Exhausted, slightly nauseous, throat sore, and kinda ready to throw hands at whoever is making you answer the front door when you could be passed out on a bunch of pillows and blankets. 

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing your throat, “Sheesh.” 

Without looking at the small video monitor for security set up next to the door, you yank it open, getting ready to give whoever is selling something a piece of your mind. But then you stop, blinking, because it’s—

“What are you doing here?” Your voice croaks, Nick wincing at the sound. 

He’s in a pair of sweats, a white t-shirt, and oversized jacket, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his curls as he takes a look at you. Your cheeks are flushed thanks to being sick, but you feel like your fever has kicked up a notch under the careful inspection. You have no idea what you look like, but you can guess it’s a mess. 

“Jenna said you weren’t feeling well,” He steps forward and when he does you notice he’s got a paper bag in his hand. “Though I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me that yourself.” 

You rub the back of your neck—you really just…didn’t want to be a burden. “I didn’t want you to get sick.” Is what you say instead, which isn’t exactly a lie. 

“Well,” Nick hums, brushing his fingers through your hair, “Lucky for you, I have an impeccable immune system.” 

You crinkle your nose, fit to argue with him, but the moment you open your mouth, you turn and sneeze. A small smirk sounds from Nick when you groan. “Bless you.” 

You straighten your shoulders, rubbing some of your fingers against your temple as you turn to look at Nick. You want to tell him that it’s not necessary, that he doesn’t need to do anything extra for you, regardless that he’s here already. But at the same time, you also know he’s stubborn—he’s not going anywhere. And what’s the harm of allowing someone to take care of you? 

Your ex never would have showed up like this. The moment you’d let him know you were sick, he’d make a joke to keep a distance. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously, you never even thought to let your current boyfriend know you were struggling. 

“You better have a miracle cure in that bag,” You tease, the lightness in your voice covered by congestion. “I’d settle for tissues.” 

Nick reaches into the bag and pulls out a whole box. A whole box of tissues that have lotion in them. He gives you a small, knowing smile. 

“Did I mention you’re my favorite person?” You ask, snagging the box. You open it up, taking some tissues out. 

Nick breezes past you with a kiss to your temple, “I know—but reminders are always appreciated.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. 

Not only does this man make you soup, and make sure you have cold-relief meds, but in that paper bag of wonders he has one of those heatable stuffed animals, the ones that you can put in the microwave and smell like lavender (if you could breathe through your nose). You settle into the couch, the half-eaten soup on the coffee table as a movie plays in the background. You’ve kind of lost the plot, your eyes falling closed as you’re surrounded by some pillows and blankets, the warmed-up stuffed fox pressed to your abdomen. Nick’s seated in the corner of the couch, arm stretched out along the back—you’ve been trying to keep your distance but…god, he really looks comfortable.

He smiles a little in soft amusement, as if he can read your mind, his eyes sliding over to yours. His lips quirk, tilting his head a bit in his direction, 

“C’mon.” 

You shake your head, “I really don’t—” 

“Get over here,” He interrupts, leaning over to wrap his arm around your waist and tug until you're pressed against his side. You don’t fight it, a shiver wracking down your spine as you settle against him. “Cold?” 

You nod, fitting against his side, underneath his arm, tucking your face into his shoulder. You wish you could breathe him in, that comforting scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something that’s just purely him. He helps you adjust the blanket, his hand settling on your thigh with a gentle squeeze. His other hand threads his fingers through your hair in a way that’s meant to put you to sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.” You mumble, eyes fluttering closed. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry about me.” 

But you do. And he does. 

But it’s nice being able to take care of him too. 

—

Sometimes you sleep over. It’s one of those things that happen naturally—hanging out with friends, messing around in the pool, playing darts near the garage, coming back from a party, curled up watching a movie. Tonight is no different, except you’re a little drunk. You sit down on the edge of the bed, the room spinning slightly, Nick passing you a t-shirt of his to tug on. You love how it lays on you, the fabric unbelievably soft. 

He lingers in front of you, a smirk on his lips, tipping your chin up and leaning down just enough to brush a kiss over your temple, “You need help?” 

You let out a long, dramatic sigh that flutters your lips. It turns into a slight pout, “I need a kiss.”

Nick hums, his eyes appraising you, “Yeah? Where at?” 

And you hate how that makes you squirm. You squeeze your legs together, an action not missed by him, before pointing to your cheek. He licks his lips, crouching to press one right where you’ve requested. His fingers curl under your shirt, lifting it off in one fluid motion. He crouches before you, hands on your knees, waiting. 

You smile a little, skin warm, pointing to your shoulder blade. He follows through and you can’t stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair, his hands moving to splay along your waist, squeezing. That heat between your legs dips, tugs, hums. 

“Where else?” 

“I’ve definitely got some ideas but could you tell the room to stop spinning for a second?” 

Nick smiles, fingers moving to the button on your jeans. “Can I take these off?” 

Always with the permission. Always with making sure you’re okay. It’s something that’s so deeply important to you, something you’ve never told him. And yet he knows. 

“Need you to help me out,” He undoes the button and you stand on wobbly legs, hand holding onto his shoulder for support. He slides them off and tosses towards a chair in the corner. You sit back down, running your hands over your face, which probably smears your makeup ridiculously. 

You touch to the right of your belly button, “Here please.” 

Nick smiles, shaking his head a little. “Only because you were so polite.” 

You bite down on your tongue when he does it, when he kisses you there, swallowing the cheeky response that you know he’d do it anyways. 

He slips lower, kissing the side of your knee without you asking. Just because he wants to. He then leans back on his heels, giving you a onceover before taking the shirt he handed you, helping to slide it over your arms. Pressing a few kisses to your cheeks, mostly just to make you laugh, he pulls away. 

There’s definitely an audible whine you’ll deny making later. 

“I’m getting a washcloth for your face,” He laughs softly too, taking your hand to squeeze, “Get your makeup off.” 

You shake your head—wow, how’d you get so lucky? 

“Think it’s the other way around.” He assures you as he heads to his bathroom and you blink—apparently you said that outloud. 

As you wash the makeup off your face, Nick changes out of his clothes, a simple t-shirt and briefs. He tugs down the comforter and helps you under the covers, tugging them back up to your chin. It’s one of those moments that feels so intimate that your chest hurts a little. You lie on your side, not facing him, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“You okay?” He whispers, arm sliding around your waist. Your fingers lace together in an easy motion. 

“Perfect.” You reply, already dozing. By the time he turns the light out, you’re fast asleep. 

—

It’s one of those parties in which you can’t keep your hands off eachother. 

Nick’s obviously a tactile person, he talks but he says more with his actions, with his touch. A possessive hand on your waist, a protective arm around your back, a brush of a kiss to your temple, a cheeky nip of your lower lip. You can read him like a secret language, a message whispered in the dark. And you love that you can so easily reply in kind. A hand sneaking up and under his jacket to rest on his toned back, slipping your fingers into his back pocket to grab his ass, hooking your ankle around his under a table, a kiss to his cheek when you’re excited, his hair when he falls asleep on your chest. 

Tonight is no different. 

You separate for one instance so you can head to the bathroom and when you come out, you bump into someone who is waiting. 

“Shit sorry,” You apologize with a smile before raising your eyebrows. The guy you practically checked shoulders with is holding a book. A book at a party. And like, no judgement, obviously, but…it’s really the last thing you expected. 

“No worries,” He’s tall and kinda lanky, but soft looking, attractive in his own way. He smiles down at you, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he catches you looking at his book. “Summer classes,” He admits, “Organic chem.” 

“Gross,” You offer with a soft laugh and he grins. 

“Yeah, not exactly party material. I’m trying to relax but uh, not the best at it.” 

“Well I’d put down the chemistry book, for starters.” You smile and you can tell he’s about to open his mouth and ask for something, maybe to offer to get you a drink, maybe something else. You’ll never know because you see Nick just past where this guy is standing. 

His gaze is set on you, never looking away once, but you can tell he must have noticed this guy towering over you because an arm slides around your waist, hand squeezing your hip. A clear message to anyone who might be confused. 

“Was wondering where you went.” And you raise your eyebrows at that, as if he doesn’t know you went to the bathroom. 

“Well you found me.” When Nick turns to look at you, there’s a heat to his eyes that almost takes your breath away. You can’t help but gaze back, like the darkness that you find is capable of pulling you under, under. 

Tall guy lets out an awkward laugh, snapping his textbook closed. “Well just gonna—” He motions to the bathroom but Nick takes a step towards it with you in tow, pressing you towards the doorframe and then steps in front, effectively blocking your body with his own. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna need to find another bathroom,” He tells him, leaning his palms against the doorframe. A soft laugh bubbles up in your chest as you lean against the sink, running a hand along the side of your face. 

Textbook guy blinks, makes an uh noise with his lips—and when he just stands there looking confused, Nick snaps out, “Fuck off.” 

And slams the door in his face. 

Your hand covers your mouth as Nick turns, taking measured steps towards you as you lean back against the sink. Feels sturdy enough—it’s one of those built-in counter ones, plenty of space for toiletries. 

“Textbook guy was nice, you know?” You inform him, a smirk mapping your lips as Nick leans in, encroaching on your space. He encourages you to lean back a little as he cages your body with his own, arms on either side of you. 

He whispers into your ear, “I don’t care.” 

When he pulls back a bit, your noses brush and you lift your hand to play with a curl on his forehead. Amusement sits on your tongue, heat between your legs, “Didn’t know you could get jealous.” 

Nick’s gaze lands on your lips. You expect him to deny it, but instead he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, dragging it out, nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. Then he kisses you completely, slotting his own body along your own, tongue sliding into your mouth. The moment you moan is when he sinks his hands into your hair, keeping you close. Your own glide down his sides, digging into the fabric of his jeans, tugging—

A sharp noise, a groan from the back of his throat, sets little electric zips along your skin. 

You can feel the hardness of him against your hip and breathing patterns change, just a little uneven, pulling back so that your lips fall to his neck. Your hand wanders, one destination, undoing his jeans so that you can slip inside. 

“So,” You whisper, tilting your head back, getting a good look at him. Your fingers wrap around him, beginning to palm his cock. His pupils are blown as he licks his lips—you can feel the twitch of his hips, driving him a bit forward. Your thumb works at the bead of moisture at his tip, back and forth, down along him. 

You smile, “Yes to being jealous?”

His hand slips around the back of your neck, squeezing a little, gathering a bit of your hair in the process. It’s barely a tug, barely any pain, and yet heat shocks down your spine, settling in your core. 

“Of anyone who makes you laugh like that.” 

And for some reason that reaches into the center of your chest and squeezes. You can’t find the words to reply. So you don’t. 

Luckily both of you are both attune at speaking without saying anything at all. 

Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his lips before kissing him again. 

It doesn’t take long after that. Nick helps gets his jeans down, peeling your skirt up, practically ripping your underwear to get them out of his fucking way. He presses you back against the sink, it’s not the most comfortable—the edge is biting into your muscles, but at this point it just adds to the pleasure that’s already building in your lower belly. He lifts your leg a little, holding you, sliding forward until his cock brushes against your entrance. 

“Nick,” You moan and that one word has him pushing inside. 

Your head tips forward, forehead ending up on his shoulder, rolling your hips until he’s completely inside of you. It’s not as drawn out as you want, but you know it’s only a matter of time until someone comes knocking on this bathroom. You hike your leg up a little more, encouraging him deeper as he moves, as much as you can at this angle. It’s too fast, a little too hard, and the movements are a little too desperate. 

But fuck if that stops you from cumming hard. 

The moment Nick’s mouth finds your neck and sucks while his one hand not holding you slips between, fingers circling your clit, you lose it. 

Your body clenches around him and you bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him as ripples of pleasure slam into you. Your fingers dig into his back and there’s two more thrusts forward until Nick loses himself as well, a soft tremble following as both of you breathe one another in, wait for pulses to slow, for breathing to settle. 

He pulls back slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, curling your hair around your ear. A soft smile tugs the corner of your mouth and you slowly turn a bit to face yourself in the mirror. 

Jesus. You’re really not fooling anyone—you look utterly wrecked. Your hair is mussed, face flushed, and you attempt to fix a bit of yourself as Nick cleans himself up and grabs a washcloth on the shower cabinet near the mirror. He dampens it in the sink before crouching, cleaning up your inner thighs. You let out a slow breath as he drags the fabric along your cunt, gentle and yet tortuous. 

Nick licks his lips, looking at you in the mirror, settling his chin on your shoulder. You find his gaze in the reflection, his one hand coming up and resting on the side of your neck. His thumb brushes a blooming hickey near your pulse point. His eyes never leave yours, 

“In case there’s any further confusion for anyone.” 

When you run into the textbook guy again later that night, Nick’s arm draped lazily over your shoulders as he talks to Lion, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind this time around when you ask him with a teasing lilt how organic chem is going. 

He zeros in on your neck right away, and Nick fucking smirks. 

—

Maybe the warning labels, the explosion, the danger you both once spoke of isn't exactly what you assumed. It's not that you'd end up being bad for one another, or somehow get in the other's way. It's not the underground fighting ring or the racing or past trauma with your ex. It's something deeper, emotionally grounded, something that's capable of taking you out right at your knees. You knew love had teeth, you just didn't realize you could be devoured by it. 

The way you care about Nick bites into you and doesn't let go. 

You're quiet as you clean up the tiny cuts on Nick's knuckles, using a bit too much antiseptic but not relishing in the way he winces. You can't meet his gaze, even though you know he's trying to capture yours. Seated side by side on the edge of his bed, you let out a long breath before setting the bloody cotton ball aside and grabbing another. 

Stupid re-match that Lion set up. Nick won, but that's not really the point. 

You waited outside in the car, eventually getting out to pace, leaning back against the driver's door until they all came out. A split lip, a blackening mark underneath his eye on his cheekbone, bruised ribs and cut-up knuckles. 

You hate this. You hate it so fucking much. You're practically buzzing with this anger but know better than to speak. Nick seems to know better too, because he's utterly still beside you. Curling your hair around your ear, you set another used cotton ball aside—you can’t use bandages on these small cuts. They’re not that bad, he doesn’t need any, and yet…leaving them open like this makes your chest ache. You can’t patch them up, but…maybe an ice pack wouldn’t hurt. For his ribs at least. 

When you move to stand, Nick’s fingers gently wrap around your wrist, a silent plea not to move. You close your eyes, can feel yourself trembling—

It’s not so much the blood. It’s seeing him hurt. It fucking guts you. Even though he’s okay, you know he’s okay. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

“I really wish you’d stop doing this,” You eventually say, your words sounding too loud in the silence. Too choked. That anger from before unfortunately fizzles out into the real emotion it was hiding: concern. “All—all it takes is one wrong hit and—” You sniffle, cutting yourself off. 

Nick lets out a long sigh through his nose before a gentle nod follows. He inches himself closer to you on the bed, until your knees bump together, his hand wrapping along the back of your neck. Despite wanting to pull away, wanting to create distance, he encourages you to lean into him. You relent as if it’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. 

He tips his chin down, his face burying itself in your hair, and he keeps you close until you stop shaking. 

–

That’s the last fight Nick’s in, he tells Lion not to involve him in any others. 

–

Admittedly, cars have never really been your thing. You admire them, you appreciate the work that some people put into them, or how much someone is willing to pay to enhance them, but they’ve never been something to spend your own money on. You upkeep the Jeep that your parents bought you on your eighteenth birthday, and that’s always been enough. 

Nick though? He loves his cars. Has a full garage of them. A collector, an enthusiast, and you love that about him. One of the many things. Love that you can learn something new about something he’s clearly passionate about. 

He’s got a love-hate relationship with your Jeep though. 

“She’s ol’reliable.” 

Nick just crinkles his nose. 

“Don’t look down on Donna like that.”

“Please do not call your jeep that.” 

You giggle, “Donna is timeless.” 

“Donna sounds like an old bitty who’s been working too long at the corner diner. She smells like grease and has menus sticking to her hands.” 

Now you laugh something bold and bright and it twitches the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Hater.” 

He pulls you into a kiss, pressing your back against the door of your Jeep. He certainly trusts it enough for that. 

Though, this is what you get for calling your Jeep ‘dependable’ and ‘reliable’, speaking too soon when she conks out on the side of the road. You attempt to restart her a few times but finally groan and give up, slipping out of the driver’s seat. You’ve put a lot of money into her but…Nick’s freaky car-sense about her is right—not ol’reliable in the least. 

Pursing your lips, you press on Nick’s name, listening to the line trill. He picks up on the third ring, “What’s wrong?” 

You purse your lips, “I can’t just call you because I miss you?” 

Nick hums, “Donna died, didn’t she.” It is not a question. 

You scoff out a sound, “You gotta make it sound so final like that?” 

He sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks, fabric rustling in your ear as well. You picture him in bed, maybe reading, getting up to get his shoes. “Where are you?” 

You drop a pin and it doesn’t take him too long to get to your location. You hear the rumble of an engine before you see him, a sleek red car pulling up beside poor Donna. A tow truck is not far behind and you smile sweetly at your boyfriend as the door pops up and Nick steps out. 

“Hate to break it to you but I think it’s time for Donna to visit the car lot in the sky.” 

Your lips form a pout and Nick smirks out a soft laugh, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He presses a brief kiss to your lips, turning to watch as the tow truck parks behind Donna and begins to wheel her into place. 

He stretches his arm over your shoulders, drawing you close to brush another kiss to your temple, “C’mon,” He motions towards his car, “I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of.”

“You’re probably hoping they’ll take her to a scrap lot and squish her with one of those car crushers.” 

“I would never.” 

He places his hands on your shoulders, encouraging you forward until you get inside the passenger door. He closes it behind you, slipping into the driver’s seat. A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you lean back into the seat, the smell of expensive leather and his cologne comforting, despite leaving Donna behind. You rest your head back against the headrest, a small smile on your face as your eyes drink in his profile. 

“Where can we go?” You’re not in the mood to go home. 

Nick turns his head to look at you, a gentle smile, his one hand on the wheel while the other rests on your knee. “Anywhere.” 

You can’t help but smile back—you love the sound of that. 

[notbecauseofvictories]

Just saw your post about graphic novels that intrigued you and it intrigued me too. Would you mind sharing which graphic novels have you read that you'd recommend or that affected you in interesting ways? Thank you!

When it comes to graphic novels, I tend to prefer the slightly idiosyncratic, and definitely adult. While I did like The Night Eaters, and Something Is Killing the Children (my first experience really dipping my toe in...) I learned very quickly that (a) I can't do anything with even a whiff of YA, and (b) series are not my forte. But that's okay, because this space also has a lot of artists writing and illustrating for adults, really putting the "novel" in "graphic novel."

I've talked before about Junji Ito and Alison Bechdel, so I won't repeat myself---though I do still love Bechdel's work with the unspoken, prickly edges of things; I think very fondly of that weekend I spent reading badly-translated jpegs of Ito's work, the sense of destabilization and disorientation it left me with.

A list of some other works that stand out, in no particular order:

The Third Person, by Emma Grove, which delves into the experience of someone with multiple identities, each with its own relationship to gender. Especially if you're about to read Catriona Ward's The Last House on Needless Street for book club, I think this should be a required pairing.

If you're looking for something that captures the mundane struggle of making a life (similar to Will McPhail’s In.) there are lots of options! I'd recommend Roaming, by Jillian and Mariko Tamaki, or maybe It's Lonely at the Centre of the Earth, by Zoe Thorogood. I think Roaming might be stronger as a narrative, but It's Lonely is an imaginal and imaginative chronicle of that struggle to make a life, make art---though it didn't work for me as a narrative, the visuals stand out to me as beautiful, surreal in exactly the way I like.

I liked The Underwater Welder, by Jeff Lemire, for very similar reasons---the bits about a son trying to grapple with the legacy his alcoholic, semi-neglectful father didn't land, but when the narrator dives deep into the bay and encounters an abandoned ghost town where his own used to be? That was haunting.

If you enjoy Bechdel and Grove's work, then Julia Wertz's Impossible People is similarly a delight, and grapples thoughtfully with the narrator's alcoholism; it just didn't quite land for me in the way I wanted it to.

(Is this where I admit that I did like Blink, by Christopher Sebela et al? It's very old school scifi and almost cinematic in its approach, makes very few apologies for it, but the art is so, so divine.)

One of the most idiosyncratic was Paying for It by Chester Brown; an illustrated manifesto about the values of paying for sex, and the lives of the sex workers the narrator encounters. Honestly the most interesting part of this one was the fact that Brown has clearly thought about this subject a lot, and talked to everyone in his life about it. Some of the afterwords aren't from him---they're from his friends, who watched this from the outside, and share their perspective on how Brown has chosen or defends his approach to sex.

The even better news is that there are lots of DIY artists in this space as well! I have my own favorites close to home, plus I bought multiple copies of the Kentucky Route Zero fanzine, and I was lucky enough to snag some of the work offered as part of the Shortbox Comics Fair.

In particular I loved Stevie B.'s Dr. Limos Plays God (I'm a sucker for a clone identity crisis!), Otava Heikkila's Home by the Rotting Sea (which has some very fun Octavia Butler echoes), Narsid's Last Crane (lovely, and quite sad), and also Ver's Sacred Bodies, which has the dubious distinction of making me think "this better not awaken anything in me" for the first time since Crimes of the Future.

All this to say...graphic novels are neat, I enjoy them, but it's a bit like watching a movie with subtitles. I mostly understand what's going on, but I think I'm missing some of the finer shades and nuances that would take my experience to the next level.

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Things I Want To Do To Her (One Shot)

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (a mention of Steve Rogers x Reader)

Theme: A/B/O

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to meet you. It's not that he doesn't want you. He's seen the photos. He's heard the stories from your mutual friends. You're the most beautiful omega he's ever seen, and you sound kind, fun, intelligent and possibly a bit of a handful. You'd be a good match for him AND Steve according to Natasha. He has no problem with sharing, he's not a prude. But that's the problem. Bucky has always been a little kinky, but over the years and as his alpha grew desperate for a mate, it had taken a new form. And that would be too much for you right?

Warnings: A/B/O, mentions of kinks

The wind swept around you as you stepped out of the car, a few metres away from the bar you were meeting your best friend and her new pack at. You pulled your leather jacket around yourself to keep out the early spring chill, glancing at yourself in the window of a nearby store as you did. You still weren't sure of the outfit that the girls had helped you pick out over the group chat.

Thigh high boots with a red silk strappy dress, accompanied with your leather jacket didn't sound great when the girls had pieced together your outfit.

"The dress has a sexy slit to show off the boots."

"They're Louboutin they go with anything."

"It's sexy and edgy all at the same time."

"Do your hair in that messy bun style but not a mum bun. The one that looks like you've just been fucked through the weekend."

"And red lips."

"And nails."

You'd become their life size Barbie.

Darcy, your best friend, and the reason you'd found yourself in this situation, had text you on the side.

"Do you think this is what it's like to have sisters?"

"This is your pack." You'd replied. "Better get used to it."

"They're going to be yours too."

Were they though? You'd been swerving meeting the alphas of the pack for months. Sure the other's were great. A mix of beta, omega and alphas but Steve and Bucky were THE alphas of the pack. Although Natasha had pushed the most, the whole pack had insisted you were a good match for each other.

But it didn't seem right somehow. Steve and Bucky were war heroes. Bucky had been a prisoner of war and lived his life as an amputee. They both had to deal with PTSD on a regular basis. Surely they wanted a nice quiet omega. One that would do as she was told. Not one that struggled to keep her mouth inline, swung at alphas that grabbed her ass, who's body was scattered with scars and wrote smut for a living.

So you avoided them. Arriving after they'd left, having other friends with plans or emergencies, or having another suppressant migraine. When Pepper told you she was making you an appointment with the best suppressant doctor there was, you faulted and agreed to call in and say hello the next time they were at Quill's bar. You already knew it clashed with another friend's birthday, so you could still swerve it. Or so you thought.

Your newly mated friend looked at you with her big cyan eyes, still a little high on heat and emotion and told you that she wanted you to be happy too.

"Fine, but only one of them. Meeting them both might send me into a heat and then we'll both have that high on sex look on our faces."

"That works." Natasha had said, sliding into the blanket pile you and Darcy had created on the couch. "Steve's on a VA weekend."

"Just make sure you tell him if it's Bucky. I know he wasn't sure about this either."

Natasha wasn't sure who'd let slip about Bucky's stubbornness and whoever it was, she was sure they didn't know the full reason. That was only for Bucky and Steve, and her prying of course.

A wolf whistle snapped your attention back to the matter in hand.

"Hey hotness, where are you going? Can I join you?"

You looked around and realised it was aimed at you. Maybe this outfit is okay after all. You adjusted your crossbody bag and tightened the grip on the gift bag in your hand. Bucky's birthday presents sat wrapped inside of it. His birthday had been a week before and you really had been busy when Sam had text you about a games night for the "birthday grump". You just weren't about to admit that being busy involved The Real Housewives and takeout.

You straightened your posture and walked towards the bar. An alpha held open the door for you as you entered and you felt their eyes glancing over you.

"This outfit definitely IS okay." You thought to yourself. You sniffed, picking up the scents of your friends as Quill called your name and pointed towards the far corner, where Darcy and the others were gathered around a pool table. You heard him tell the alpha that had held the door open for you to take his eyes off you as you walked away. An overwhelming scent of an alpha swept up your nose and you felt you knees wobble. Darcy rushed over towards you and pulled you into a tight hug. The way she giggled at your arrival and the smell of cocktails on her breath told you she was tipsy. Natasha and Laura followed her, each hugging you and assure you that you looked great.

It was then you heard it a deep rumble of a growl from an alpha. The group made up of nearly all their friendship group snapped to look in the direction of the growl. A voice followed causing some of them to look away.

"I thought I told you all not to do this." Came a gruff voice. Bucky appeared in your line of vision, as he stepped around Thor and Loki. The three of them situated around a tall table, that was covered in glasses and a pitcher of beer. "Natalia, was this you?"

Nat looked away and cast her eyes down, as Darcy curled into her side. You'd never seen Natasha look nervous but the alpha's growl had clearly put her in her place. Laura squeezed your hand and you side-eyed her to see her mouth "sorry" at you as Clint pulled her away.

It was then you realised.

They hadn't told him you were coming.

"I told you I didn't want to meet her! Did you all know?"

There was a mix of "no, of course not", "I told you idiots this was a bad idea", "this was going to happen soon or later".

He growled again and took a step towards you. His eyes raked up and down you, and you watched as he licked his lips.

"And you?" He said through gritted teeth. "Did you know? Did you go along with this?"

He crossed his arms across his chest and glared at you. Was this fucker trying to intimidated you? You'd met enough asshole alpha's through your life and weren't going to let another one push you around and dominate you, not outside of the bedroom anyway. You stood up straight and glared back.

"Don't you dare growl at me Alpha!" You said back firmly. Bucky raised his eyebrows. If you were intimated you were hiding it pretty well. "They told me you knew I was coming, that you were okay with it. I didn't want to meet you either!"

Bucky let out a sound somewhere between a huff and a growl. Annoyed you took a step towards him and for a moment he wonders if you're going to swing at him. There's a fierce look in your eyes and his thoughts immediately go to the image of fucking that look off your face. He feels his dick harden as you stare him down. His canines grow longer at the thought of covering you in marks and he licks them as he looks you over again. Would Quill bar him if he bent you over the pool table?

Your eyes met and you raised an eyebrow at him as you wrinkled your nose? Could you smell how aroused he was? He was wearing a blocker but if you could smell him, read his body like this, he was fucked. In everyway possible. God he wanted you to fuck him. Ride him like a good girl.

"Fuck" He growled, turning and storming through the bar.

You turned to Natasha.

"You told me you told him!" You snapped. You turned towards Darcy, who looked down sheepishly. "Really? You know I didn't want to do this!"

Your voice broke at the last moment. How dare he act like he didn't want you! You didn't want him either! Only you did. You really did. And you were a little bit gutted he didn't want you.

"Come on babygirl." Sam said appearing at your side. "Let's get you a drink."

He threw an arm around you as Maria slid up on the other side and looped her arm in yours and pulled you towards the bar.

"Someone should check on Barnes." Thor pointed out. There were calls of "nope", "like hell", "Pepper don't we have dinner reservations", "should we call Cap, I'm calling Cap" "Scott don't be a tattle tale", around the group. You saw a flick of red hair as Natasha followed Bucky's route. Darcy hugged you from behind as she drunkenly rested her head on your shoulder, an apology muffled into your jacket.

When Natasha finds Bucky, he's in the smoking area outside, dragging on a cigarette.

"Really Yasha? You said you'd quit."

"Yeah, well being the alpha to this pack, with all of you, forced me to start again. And you can't say shit with that thing." He replied gesturing at Nat's vape as she pulled it from her pocket.

"It's CBD. It's not the same."

"Whatever."

"You should try it. It might help you relax enough to get your head out your ass."

"I have to feel like I'm in control."

"Oh believe me, we know."

"You know what I mean."

"It's not like that, it helps me relax, there are other ways to relax too you know." She said raising an eyebrow at him.

"Stop."

"Was it really that bad? Meeting her."

"Yes."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Do you think I wanted to meet her like this? In Quill's damn bar of all places?"

"Well you've been putting it off long enough."

"You have no idea what you've done."

"So tell me."

Bucky didn't reply as he put out the finished cigarette in his hand and immediately lit another. He dragged on it as he turned away from Nat and the bar, and stared down the street. Natasha gave him a few minutes before stepping in front of him. She looked up at him, remorse in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Yasha, but we want you to be happy. Steve too. And I think you could be happy with Y/N."

She cast her eyes down as he glanced down at her, a sign of respect. He shook his head in disappointment. His reply came through gritted teeth.

"But that's the thing Natalia. You don't know shit. You don't know what I want. What I want to do to her. How I want her in any and everyway possible. How I wanted to rake my teeth all over her body and make her cum right there and then in front of you all. How I want to fuck her everywhere. How I want to bend her to my submission. Lay her out in my den, fuck her over the kitchen counter, in the tub, the shower. Tie her up and fill her until she's bred. Keeping her barefoot and pregnant and full of my knot, until she's given us at least half a dozen pups and don't get me fucking started on what I want to do to her whilst Steve watches."

"I standby what I said James, I think you'll be a good match."

He scowled down at her. Why wasn't she surprised?

"You and Steve aren't as quiet as you think you are, especially after you've drank Thor's home made wine. Darcy and Y/N aren't exactly quiet drunks either. Throw in some tequila and the conversation would even make Tony blush. You should talk to her."

"And say what? Oh hi, Y/N, it's nice to meet you. I want to bend you like a pretzel. I know omega's don't do the whole submitting thing these days but would you mind? I know I'm a crippled alpha with one arm, a bunch of trauma and extra pounds but I'd really like to fuck you into the backseat of my car."

Natasha smirked as she glanced over his shoulder. A smell washed over Bucky. You. How much had you heard? You were quick to let him know as he followed Natasha's gaze and your eyes met. You shrugged.

"I mean, I wouldn't lead with the whole pretzel thing. Maybe skip back to the part about making me cum in front of everyone. The whole den, kitchen thing was great."

You took a step towards him and Bucky was hit with the smell of your arousal, and he realised you'd had to cross your legs to block the smell of the slick forming between them as you'd listened to his rant. Bucky felt something be shoved into his arms as his mind blurred and his canines forced themselves out again.

"Happy belated birthday asshole." You turned and left, Natasha followed behind, snapping her jaws playful at him as she went.

Bucky felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out he glanced down at a message from Steve.

"How bad was it?"

Fuck. He needed to put this right. He took a few deep breathes and headed back into the bar. You're not there. A couple of the girls are missing though so he's guesses that you're in the bathroom together. He returns to his spot next to Thor and Loki, just as Gamora slams down another pitcher of beer. She calls him an asshole, turns and leaves.

"So that went well." Loki quipped.

"Just don't alright."

"Oooo gifts." Tony said pulling at the bag. "What did she get you in the end?"

"I haven't looked yet. Wait, what do you mean in the end?"

"We've had some back and forth on what to get you?"

"And she asked you?"

Tony gasped in mock horror.

"I'll have you know I am in fact a very good gift buyer."

The four of them hear Pepper scoff from her place next to Maria at another table.

"Fine, she asked for a couple of my contacts."

"What?"

"It means there expensive Barnes!" Maria called over.

"You didn't think she just wanted your cash did you?" Sam asked as he joined them.

"If she went with what we spoke about they were very thoughtful too." Tony said.

Bucky rummaged through the bag.

"There's three things in here."

"Ooooo what'd you get?" Scott asked as he slid over.

The group stayed silent as Bucky unwrapped the first gift. A pristine, first edition copy of The Hobbit. His favourite book.

"Holy shit." He said as he rose from the stool. He looked around for you again but failed to spot you. Realising it wasn't a good idea to pass the book to his tipsy friends or place it on the beer filled table, he carefully placed it back in the gift bag. He pulled out another gift. Pulling off the paper he found a box, with Rolex printed across it. After his very large payout from the government, he'd developed an expensive taste in watches, and the one now in his hand was one he'd looked for. One identical to his late grandfathers. Limited edition and expensive.

"Babygirl must be making bank with those smutty books!" Sam quipped.

The last gift is in a long and narrow box. It's leather and expensive, and he's sure he's seen it before. Online somewhere maybe? He opens it and finds a pair of leather cuffs. They're small and certainly wouldn't fit him or Steve. They're for you. He snapped the case shut.

"Are they what I think they are?" Scott asked.

"Shut up!" He growled, pushing them back into the bag. The sound of the girls returning pulls all of their attention away from Bucky and those around the table buzz to see the next interaction. Only it doesn't come. You're not there.

"Where is she?" He growled.

"She left." Carol tells him. "You didn't really expect her to stay after the way you acted did you?"

"Mind you god damn business Danvers." He snapped, grabbing his jacket and the gift bag as he pushed passed anyone in his way.

"I'll text you her address." Natasha called after him.

"So which of us do you think will be godparents?" Maria asked, a debate breaking out immediately.

Natasha pulled Darcy into her arms and whispered into her ear.

"This time next year omega we'll be godparents."

[lukesvangelista]

𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒)ʳᵍ²⁹

in which ryan goes to ohio state. you go to michigan. the rivalry interferes with your relationship when it comes to a big game at wrigley field.

warnings; ohio state/michigan rivalry, breakups

Ryan had heard some insane things in his life. Chirps from the student sections, wild mid-game taunts, and the occasional absurd take from his teammates about which fast food joint reigned supreme. But this? This was definitely up there.

“You want to what?” he asked, pausing mid-stretch as he prepared for the upcoming game this weekend.

Comfortably seated on his bed wearing his Ohio State hoodie, you met his gaze with unwavering determination, "Break up for the weekend.”

He chuckled, thinking it was a joke. “Yeah, okay.”

You, however, weren't laughing, “I’m serious.”

His smile faded, “You’re serious?"

"Dead."

Ryan blinked, trying to process your words. He wasn't sure he was hearing you correctly, so he spoke again, “You want to break up for the weekend...because of the game?”

“You got it,” you affirmed, your tone resolute, “You play for Ohio State. I go to Michigan. We’re playing each other in the Frozen Confines! We can’t be together this weekend, Ryan.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “That’s ridiculous as hell.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is pretending I don’t want your team to get absolutely crushed,” you leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief, “I go to Michigan, Ryan. My loyalty is with the Wolverines.”

“And I’m a Buckeye,” he countered, brow furrowing, “You think I want your team to win?”

“Exactly! So how can we possibly be together this weekend?” you challenged him, throwing your hands up, “We’re enemies.”

Ryan scoffed, rolling his eyes, “We’re dating. We've been dating for three years."

“Not this weekend.”

He groaned, “Y/N.”

You gave him a pointed look, “Ryan.”

“This is dumb.”

“This is necessary,” you insisted, "We’re on opposite sides of the greatest rivalry in college sports. It’s only right.”

Ryan stared at you as if your eyes had popped out of your head, utterly dumbfounded, “We can just... I don't know...ignore the fact that it’s happening?”

“Oh, so you’re not playing in the game?” you quipped.

“That’s not what I meant.”

"How would your coach feel if I told him what you said? And your teammates?"

"Y/N... you better not say anything."

“Relax, you idiot, I won't. But you’re gonna tell me that if I show up at Wrigley wearing my Michigan gear and screaming my lungs out, you’re just gonna let it slide?” you pressed, "That you won’t be mad when I lose my voice taunting your team?”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue but the words never came. You had a point.

“You’re gonna tell me you won’t chirp my team?” you continued.

“…No,” he admitted.

“Exactly! That’s why we have to break up for the weekend. Clean break. We go in as enemies, come out as...” you hesitated, “Okay, maybe not friends, but like… amicable rivals.”

He shook his head, exhaling sharply, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smirked at him, "And yet you know I'm right."

Ryan glared at you, his arms crossed over his chest, “You’re actually breaking up with me?"

“For the weekend,” you reiterated, hopping off his bed and making your way to the door, “Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. Unless Michigan wins. Then I might just stay single.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so," you turned to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing at your lips, “See you on the other side, Buckeye.”

Ryan exhaled as the door shut behind you, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling within him. This was going to be a long weekend.

Game day came quicker than he Ryan expected. Stepping onto the ice at Wrigley Field, he was enveloped by the electric atmosphere. The historic stadium, transformed into the most incredible outdoor rink that he had ever seen, buzzed with anticipation. Fans from both sides filled the stands, their shouts and taunts creating a cacophony of laughs and playful insults.

As he skated during warm-ups, his eyes scanned the sea of people dressed for one of two sides. He knew that you were out there, draped in blue and maize, your voice undoubtedly among the loudest.

The game commenced with aggression. Both Ohio State and Michigan showcased why they were two of the best teams in the country, each shift more intense than the last. Ryan was clawing at the puck with every chance he got, doing everything he could to capitalize for the Buckeyes. He would be lying if he said that you weren't in the back of his mind when doing so. Midway through the second period, however, T.J. Hughes capitalized on a defensive lapse, allowing Michigan to take a 2-0 lead. The Wolverine fans in the crowd erupted, and Ryan could almost hear your cheers through the air. Why the fuck did you have to go to Michigan?

But Ohio State wasn't finished yet. Ryan made sure of it. He and his teammates rallied. Within the final five minutes of the second period, Sam Deckhut and Noah Powell both sent the puck past Cameron Korpi, scoring to goals to tie the game. The momentum swung back and forth, each team refusing to give in.

And then as the third period began, Will Horcoff scored. 3-2, Michigan.

Three minutes later, Riley Thompson scored. 3-3, all.

With the clock ticking down in the third period, the score tied at 3-3, tension hung thick in the cold air. Every pass, every shot carried the weight of the rivalry. Everyone, both on and off the ice, could feel it.

And then?

A breakthrough for the Buckeyes.

With just 38 seconds remaining, Riley Thompson found himself in the right place at the right time. A pass from Davis Burnside landed perfectly on his stick, and without hesitation, he deflected it right into the net. The Ohio State bench, as well as the fans, erupted in excitement, and Ryan could feel his heart pumping with both joy and relief.

Not only had they just won the game, but he had his girlfriend back. And his victory made it so that you couldn't say anything bad about the Buckeyes.

After the game, the locker room was alive with celebration. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional spray of gatorade from Patrick Guzzo's water bottle filled the air. Ryan was having so much fun, but he just couldn't shake the thought of you.

After they all showered and got changed, Ryan made his way out of the stadium. The crisp Chicago air was a stark contrast to the warmth inside. As he approached the meeting spot the two of you had agreed upon before the game, he saw you. You were leaning against a pillar, your arms crossed, a Michigan beanie pulled low over your ears.

You looked up as he approached, a smirk playing on your lips, “Well, well, if it isn’t the conquering hero.”

Ryan chuckled, his arms crossing over his chest, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m a woman of my word,” you replied, “Breakup’s over. Figured I’d come congratulate you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh? No hard feelings?”

You shrugged, pushing off the pillar and stepping closer to him, “I mean, I’m devastated, don't get me wrong," your flare for the dramatics was undercut by the grin tugging at your lips, “But I’ll survive.”

He laughed, the tension of the weekend melting away, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the rivalry that had momentarily come between you guys now a shared memory. “So,” you spoke up, looping your arm through Ryan’s, “how about we grab some food before I inevitably have to listen to all my friends cry about this loss?”

Ryan grinned, tugging you closer as you guys walked through the crowd outside Wrigley Field, “Not gonna lie, hearing Michigan fans complain is gonna be the highlight of my weekend.”

You groaned, “God, I hate you.”

Ryan let out a quiet laugh, “No, you don’t.”

You exhaled dramatically, “No, I don’t.”

The two of you weaved through the mix of overjoyed Ohio State fans and dejected Michigan ones, and you let out an occasional groan whenever you passed a particularly loud and obnoxious Ohio State fan, “See, this is why we broke up for the weekend,” you muttered, “I could not have handled this if we were still together.”

Ryan smirked, “And yet here you are, walking around with a Buckeye.”

“Shut up!" you nudged him, but there was no real force behind it.

The two of you ducked into a nearby diner, the warm air immediately cutting through the Chicago cold. Ryan guided you toward a booth, letting you slide in first before settling across from her. The place was filled with a mix of hockey fans, still buzzing from the game. A few Ohio State fans spotted Ryan and congratulated him, while a group of Michigan fans near the counter were making it known that they did not care for him.

You slumped against the booth, removing the beanie that had now messed up your hair, “This is actually hell.”

Ryan just grinned, picking up a menu, “Guess you gotta deal with us being the 'champions of the west' now. But hey, at least you didn’t bet anything on the game."

You stiffened slightly. He caught it immediately.

"Y/N, what did you do?"

You winced, “Okay, so I may have...hypothetically...made a bet.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed, “With who?”

You waved a hand, trying to get his attention off of you in any way possible, “Just some of my friends from school. No big deal.”

“How much?” he asked suspiciously.

You sighed, “Not money.”

Ryan waited. Reluctantly, you continued, "I might have to wear an Ohio State jersey on campus for a day.”

Ryan nearly choked on his laughter, “Oh, this is so much better than money.”

You rolled your eyes, “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this.”

“You deserve this,” he teased, “You were chirping me during the game.”

“I was supporting my team.”

“You called me a traffic cone!"

You raised your hands in disbelief, “You were screening your own goalie! You're not even a defenseman!”

Ryan groaned, “Oh my god.”

Your guys' food arrived, and despite the chirping, there was an undeniable ease between the two of you. The rivalry might have defined the weekend, but it hadn’t changed what was underneath —what had always been there.

As you reached for a fry, Ryan tilted his head, “So, when do you have to wear the jersey?”

You sighed, “Monday.”

Ryan smirked, “Guess I’ll have to lend you one, huh?”

You rolled her eyes, “You’re too happy about this.”

“You mean my girlfriend, walking around Michigan’s campus in my jersey, after my team beat hers?” Ryan leaned forward, eyes shimmering with mischief and excitement, “Yeah, I’m pretty damn happy.”

You crossed your arms, "Who said I'm wearing your jersey? Maybe I'll wear Jake's, show him some love."

"No fucking way. You're back to being my girlfriend. We won. You're wearing my jersey."

You groaned, “I take it back. The breakup is still on.”

Ryan just laughed, reaching across the table to steal one of your fries, “Too late, love. You’re stuck with me.”

You tried to glare, but the fond smile on your lips betrayed you. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I guess I am.”

a/n; this was requested by the lovely @fantillisgirl. hope i did it justice!

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Evenfall

Imagine you wake up in Twilight as a random side character. (Part 4)

Nullification!reader Human reader! SideCharacter Bella! Isekai au! Edward Cullen X reader. Eventually Jacob Black x reader. (2 endings.) (All characters will be written less creepy and one dimensional than the ones in the books.)

Previous

Dinner with Charlie was comfortable. Charlie had gotten take out and brought it home for the both of them. Seeing that neither Charlie nor Bella were able to cook, Y/N had offered to cook for them some time. Just so they all could have a home cooked meal once in a while.

‘So, I hear you and that Edward boy were going to meet up sometime this weekend.’ Charlie began, poking at his dish with his fork. He looked up with raised eyebrows.

‘Oh, yeah Dr Cullen wanted to check up on me and Rosalie wants to hang out!’ Y/N explained, wanting to reassure Charlie's fatherly instincts.

‘Don't worry, there'll be parental supervision the entire time. Plus, I think it's quite obvious Edward has no attraction to me.’ She shrugged, standing to place her dish in the sink.

Charlie looked unconvinced, he could see what Y/N could not. Years of human and cop experience had granted him a keen eye. (At least on human relationships.) However, he did not think it was his place to interfere. Therefore he let up on that issue and moved onto the next.

‘Okay, and when will you be seeing them then?’ 

‘Uh, actually Edward’s picking me up tomorrow morning at 9!’ Y/N replied cheerfully, picking up Charlie's plate as well, walking back to the sink.

‘Already? I mean it's good that you have friends.’ Charlie’s tone was disapproving. 

‘Yep!’ Then as an afterthought, ‘Don't shoot him alright. We aren't dating and he was the one who saved me.’

‘Yes but he’s still a boy. I’m the one takin’ care of you.’ He grunted out, hovering as Y/N washed the dishes. He leaned on the counter,

‘You might not be my flesh and blood, but you’re as good as.’

‘Thanks Charlie,’ Y/N smiled affectionately. ‘It’s good to have a father figure around. I really do hold you in high regard.’ She nodded, finishing up the last plate. 

‘Bella’s always been more reliant on her mother so I guess… I feel like I’m trying to…’ He sighed, unable to fully express his emotions.

‘I understand, and I value your advice and care. Especially since I'm living under your roof. Even if I don't call you “dad” I kind of do think of you as one.’ She winced, her character’s emotions had seeped through into her own thoughts.

Although, Y/N as a person really did think Charlie Swan was a good father in the books so she didn’t have quite an issue saying this. 

‘Bella’s lucky to have you as a father Charlie. She just might be more independent for her age.’ Y/N dried her hands on a blue dish towel, hanging from the cabinet below the sink.

‘It just means you both raised her right.’  She gave Charlie a knowing smile, hoping that the conversation had put his mind at ease.

‘Thanks kiddo, I really… I really appreciate it.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Y’know you speak like a parent. Maybe you’ll go to college for psychology or something.’ He gave a breathy laugh.

‘Maybe!’ Y/N shrugged with a smile. ‘What if I said I didn’t want to go to college?’ She joked, crossing the room.

‘Then I’d say, uh.’ He frowned a bit, thinking of something. ‘You’re grounded for… uhh.’ His eyes lit up, ‘Till college!’

‘For till college?!’ Y/N burst into laughter, clutching her sides as she shook with mirth.

‘That's right! For till college.’ Charlie finally gave a smile, feeling at ease.

‘Alright father, I’ll make sure to go to college.’ She smiled, rounding the corner of the hallway. ‘G’night Charlie.’ 

‘Goodnight kid.’ Charlie nodded, giving her a soft grin. As Y/N departed to the stairs, Charlie let out a breath of relief. 

‘That’s my girl.’ He said with a paternal tone.

Charlie had been nervous when Y/N’s parents had asked him to take care of her for her final years of highschool. Sure he knew her as a kid and a preteen but teenagers were unpredictable and prone to mood swings. He hadn’t been sure she would really listen to him as a caregiver.

However, to his surprise and relief, Y/N seemed to be like the daughter he rarely had. Yes, Bella was his daughter and he loved her but, like Y/N said, Bella was often independent. She didn’t call or ask him for anything. It was nice to be depended on once in a while. And maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t be that bad for Y/N to make friends with Edward Cullen.

God knows she needed at least one friend at school.

~

The second night passed better than the first. Y/N did not toss and turn. 

She awoke to the sunlight streaming through her windows, warming her face. Y/N groaned, rolling over and relishing in the rare sunlight before rolling literally out of bed with a soft whump.

‘Oof, ow.’ Y/N mumbled, laying on the carpeted floor, hearing quick steps tracking to her door.

‘Y/N/N?’ Charlie's voice sounded through the door. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yeah.’ She mumbled, face smushed into the ground. Y/N was too tired to get up.

‘I heard a thump and-’ Charlie opened the door, spotting Y/N on the floor. ‘How did you end up on the floor?’  His hands were on his hips, the corner of his eyes creased as he smiled.

‘I rolled. I just wanted to lay down on my face but gravity decided that I would be laying down here.’

The girl sighed, standing up. ‘Wha time is it?’ Y/N rubbed her eyes with her arm, stumbling to her bathroom.

‘It’s seven thirty. What time did you say Edward was picking you up?’ He called, beginning to walk back down stairs.

‘Nine. He said he wanted to ask you permission beforehand.’ Y/N shouted, her head sticking out of the bathroom.

‘I don’t really have a choice do I?’ Charlie called back from the stairs.

‘You said I need friends!’ Y/N reminded him.

‘He’s a boy!’

‘Who isn't into me! I need to shower, we can continue this later!’ Y/N stepped into the shower, beginning her morning routine.

‘You didn’t say you weren’t into him!’

‘Showering!’ 

Finishing up her shower and morning routine she picked out her clothing for the day, opting for somethjnf casual and fit for outdoors.

Trudging down the stairs, she shrugged on a jacket. Charlie had poured himself and Y/N a bowl of cereal and set the milk aside in a cup for Y/N. The two ate breakfast with a comfortable silence, finishing up the dishes with Charlie asking. 

‘You don’t need me to give you the talk right?’ He asked, looking hesitant.

‘Charlie, the entire family is going to be there. Also, I just met the guy!’ Y/N chuckled, wiping down the dining table.

'Are nervous to see Bella?’ The pair went into the living room, Y/N sitting on an ottoman and Charlie sitting on the couch. Y/N pulled up her boots, lacing them together. 

‘Hm, I think I would have been if you weren’t around. I think even if she doesn’t talk to me, surely she’ll talk to you.’ He looked hopeful, checking his watch. The doorbang rang before he could continue. Y/N stood, checking her pockets for her essential items as Charlie stalked towards the door. 

‘Good morning Chief Swan.’ Edward smiled politely, offering his hand to shake. Charlie shook it with a firm grip, as if trying to intimidate the boy. 

‘Hello Edward. Nine o'clock on the dot. You’re here to pick up Y/N I presume?’ He grunted, looking at his hand. ‘Wow you’re cold.’

‘Yeah, Edward kinda runs cold. I think because they last moved here from Alaska. He’s probably still used to the weather there.’ Y/N reasoned smoothly. It wasn’t technically a lie seeing that Edward did move from Alaska last and was cold! 

‘Okay, I'm ready!’ 

‘I'll have her back by eight sir.’ Edward grinned, opening the passenger side door for Y/N.

‘Seven thirty. It's a Sunday night.’ Charlie’s tone was stern.

‘Seven thirty it is then.’ Edward nodded, seemingly amused. Y/N would have to ask about that later.

‘See you! If you have Carlisle's landline, will you call me when you and Bella get home? Y/N called from the car window, sticking her head out like a puppy.

‘Will do kiddo. Have fun!’ He nodded, watching the Volvo car pull out before sliding into his own police cruiser.

As Charlie pulled out of the road and back into town, Edward slid into the driver's seat, wearing a black leather jacket, sunglasses and a white tee. He looked like he had just come out of every highschool girl's wet dream.

‘It’s sunny today. You’re not going to burst into a cloud of dust are you?’ Y/N joked, reaching to her side to put on her seat belt.

‘That’s just a myth. We can go out in the sun. We just… look noticeably different.’ He answered, leaning over to catch Y/N’s hands and pull her seatbelt across her body. 

‘Y’know I can put on my own seatbelt right?’ She mused, leaning back in her seat as Edward reversed the car with an arm behind her headrest. He looked smug, flashing her his signature dazzling grin.

‘Yes I am well aware, but given your track record with cars I'd prefer to do the honor's myself’ He shrugged with a smile. The car engine groaned in protest as Edward pressed on the gas.

'I wasn’t sure if Charlie would be letting you go with me today. He still doesn’t seem to like me.’ Edward hummed, raising an eyebrow, training his eyes on Y/N.

‘Eyes on the road, and Charlie just doesn’t like you because you're a boy. It’s not personal.’ She shrugged, looking at Edward’s side profile. ‘I think.’ Y/N added as an afterthought.

‘Well I guess he’s right to be suspicious of a boy taking a girl to meet his family after just a few days of knowing her.’ Edward said softly, his tone hinting.

‘Hey, who knows. Back in the days, didn’t people get married for less reasons than a boy saving a girl?’ Y/N teased, missing the hint completely to which Edward gave a breathless laugh.

‘You’re so strange. You can be so perceptive and yet so oblivious.’ He shook his head, smiling to himself.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Typical.’ She joked, punching him gently with her fist.

'Hey do you think your family will like me?’ She gave him a tense look to which Edward burst into laughter.

‘Y/N, you’re about to go see a family of vampires and you’re scared they won't like you?’ His entire body was shaking with his tinkling laugh. The trees were whisking past with the speed of which he was driving. 

‘Okay but what if they don’t like me.’ Y/N pouted, ‘I’m meeting them so of course I want them to like me. I want them to approve of me.’ 

‘And why do you want them to approve of you?’ Edward asked, with a glint in his eye. With the way he was looking at her as he pulled into the stunning property, it seemed like his question had a different meaning.

‘Well, it’d be nice to have some people to sit with at school. Seeing as on friday you kind of-’

‘I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again. I don’t have any excuses for the way I treated you. But I will explain why I reacted so poorly.’ His eyes were soft, pleading with her.

‘Alright, alright. I’m not one to hold grudges okay? I’m not even upset anymore.’ Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt, hair whipping back as Edward blurred out of the car. Before she could blink, Edward had opened the passenger door. Y/N accepted the hand that Edward offered, gripping onto the familiar hands that had once saved her.

‘Always the gentleman aren’t you?’ She grinned, stepping out of the car. She reveled in the sight of the house. ‘Wow, it really is beautiful. Open and light. ’ Y/N admired, gazing in awe. 

‘It’s the one place we can really be ourselves. Away from prying eyes.’ He looked relieved that she was so positive. They walked into the house, passing through the wide glass doors. Y/N was hit with the smell of pasta sauce cooking, it smelt like bolognese. The smell wafted from the large hallway, lit up by small days of natural sunlight that danced just above head height.

‘Huh, do you guys usually cook?’ Y/N blinked, confused. ‘I didn’t think you guys ate.’

‘We don’t but… Well Esme and the girls thought you might like to have breakfast.’ He looked slightly embarrassed. 

‘Aw, that's so sweet! I’m always up for some pasta.’ Y/N laughed as she walked into the kitchen, spotting Rosalie, Esme and Alice.

‘Y/N!’ Alice called out, eager and excited. ‘Oh wow, Edward was right. You do smell really good!’ She grinned, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a rock solid hug.

‘Hey, it’s good to see you again!’ Rosalie gave Y/N a bright grin that could have brought the entire school boy population to its knees. Y/N smiled as Rosalie gave her a side hug.

‘We’ve made some pasta, if you’d like to eat.’ Esme gave a motherly smile, hands clasped together somewhat nervously. They gestured towards the kitchen island, leading her to a steaming plate of perfectly presented pasta. 

‘Esme, pasta isn’t exactly breakfast food.’ Edward shook his head, looking slightly irritated.

‘It’s ok Edward, I love pasta. Just don’t think any less of me when I finish the whole plate.’ Y/N chuckled, walking forward to the kitchen island. The three women eagerly watched as Y/N picked up a fork and took a bite of the food.

Not only did the food bring warmth itself, but the way that the Cullen girls were treating her filled her a glow. 

‘Oh my goodness this is amazing! Do you guys cook often?’ She asked, after swallowing a forkful of food. It was the perfect blend of meat, sauce and spice. The girls let out a collective sigh of relief. (not that they needed to breathe in general)

‘We’re glad you like it. Welcome to our home, Y/N.’ Another voice came from behind them. Y/N turned, spotting Dr Cullen and two other boys.

This would be,

‘I’m Emmett.’ The tall, muscular, one with dark curly hair, dimpled cheeks waved.

‘Jasper.’ The honey-blonde haired, lean one said, keeping his distance slightly.

‘Nice to meet you both! Good to see you again Dr Cullen.’ Y/N nodded politely, her jacket flowing slightly as she turned to greet them. ‘You have a wonderful house. Thank you for inviting me here today!’ She smiled, hands itching towards the unfinished pasta.

‘Let her finish eating.’ Edward said, deadpanning, stepping between Y/N and the rest of his family.

Y/N, looking slightly embarrassed rubbed the back of her neck. 

‘Sorry!’ She laughed breathily, looking at the plate of pasta. ‘It was just so good!’

The rest of the family let out a collective laugh, their voices mixing into a tinkling orchestra. They once again greeted her and trickled out of the room. 

Y/N finished the rest of the food, placing the dish into the sink and began to wash it.

‘Here let me do that.’ Edward said lowly, manoeuvring her away by her waist. ‘So, what were the questions you wanted to ask?’ He asked, washing the dishes impossibly fast.

‘Alice said I smelt good?’ Y/N began slowly, testing the waters.

‘I was hoping you'd forget that.’ Edward groaned, looking up, his head tilting to the ceiling as if he were trying to pray. Sighing, he turned and leaned, putting his hands on the sink behind him. ‘Putting it simply, you're the most alluring human I’ve smelt since I’ve been.. Well, this.’ His eyes bored into Y/N, looking pained, gesturing to his entire being. This was new, would Bella smell better than her?  How could she be the one who was-

‘But you looked like you were in pain.’ She whispered, looking every bit as shocked as she sounded.

‘It was hard to restrain myself. You smell delectable, your blood calls to me.’ He said, eyes locked onto hers. ‘It kills me to be near you and yet it kills me also to be away.’ 

‘I-’ Y/N slowly backed away, not in fear of Edward but rather in fear of what she would do if he kept looking at her like that. It wasn't fair. Edward’s face was tense with desire, jaw clenched and eyes aflame with want.

‘Are you afraid?’ Edward growled out, stepping forward.

‘Um, actually the opposite but since your family is here I don’t think we should have this conversation here.’ She tried diffusing the tension.

'Also, friends don't eat eachother!’  Edward liked her scent? It should be Bella. Not Y/N. She thought, mind racing. Maybe as soon as he met Bella he would feel differently. Y/N looked up at the boy who was now towering over her. His eyelashes were so long, thick and full, they fluttered as he blinked at her. 

‘You really aren’t afraid of me. Or of my family are you?’ Edward sounded astounded, lifting Y/N’s chin with a finger. 

‘Um, I mean, do you want to kill me?’ She tilted her head, tone accusing.

‘No, I could never. I would never hurt you purposefully.’ He shook his head, dropping his hand to reach for Y/N’s hand. ‘Come, let me show you my room’ He changed the subject, leading the way.

The hallways were filled with paintings and artwork, all ranging from modern to a century that Y/N was sure that not even Motzart were alive in. They reached a brown oak door, which Edward swung open, revealing a modernised room. It had shelves lining the walls, facing an open window with a skylight filtering in from above. The shelves were lined with CD’s and books, and the room itself lacked a bed. Instead it had a sleek black chaise that seemed well kept.

‘Huh, no coffins.’ Y/N gave a soft teasing smile, stepping into the room after Edward. ‘That’s a lot of music.’ She noted, running her fingers along all the CD’s. in the books it had stated he was musical but Y/N couldn’t appreciate the full extent of his collection until she saw it with her own eyes. ‘You probably play an instrument don’t you?’

‘The piano.’ Edward said easily, eyes trained on Y/N exploring his room.

‘I see. I would love to hear sometime.’ Y/N turned, arms behind her back smiling. Now, tell more about this vampire business. That's why you invited me here, isn't it?’

‘What do you want to know?’ Edward sat down, pulling Y/N down gently into his side. ‘Ask me anything. I can answer it here without us being overheard by other humans.’ He wrapped his arm behind Y/N’s head.

‘Okay well, you can read minds. Can anyone else in your family read minds?’ She asked, wanting to make it seem like she had no idea.

‘No not exactly. Alice can see visions that are connected to the future. She can see the possibilities of actions basically. Her visions aren’t solid because people can change their minds but they are quite accurate.’ Edward hummed, hands twitching, wanting to interlace his fingers with Y/N’s hair.

‘And does anyone else?’ Y/N, oblivious to Edward’s desire.

‘Yes, Jasper is able to manipulate emotions through physical means. He can slow down or raise heartbeats.’ He hummed, giving in slightly, tucking Y/N’s hair behind her ear. 

‘That's amazing!’ Y/N beamed, excited that Edward was finally answering her questions. ‘Do you think those work on me?’ She looked at him with anticipation. 

‘Well, Alice has seen a vision of us. I think your shield has to do with your proximity.’ Edward hummed, leaning his head onto his hand. ‘Anything else?’ 

‘What do you look like when you’re in the sunlight?’ She grinned, looking up with wide eyes.

Edward laughed, standing and holding out his hand.

‘Come on, I’ll show you in the full sun.’ Y/N grabbed his hand, letting him lead her into the open balcony. ‘Get on.’  He knelt down slightly, offering silently to piggy back her.

‘Oh.’ Y/N blinked, slowly getting on his back, slightly embarrassed.

‘Don’t worry. I’d never let you fall.’ He said, Y/N could hear his smile. ‘Hold on tight Y/N/N.’ And with that, they whisked away, the trees whizzing past them, the wind whipping through their hair. The fog of the forest was slowly dissipating as they got higher above the tree line, the sunlight slowly filtering through the trees. Y/N closed her eyes, Edward was slowing to a stop.

‘You can open your eyes now.’ He halted, the wind had stopped howling at the sheer speed that they were travelling in. Y/N slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was met with the green lush clearing that she had once seen in the movie. The sunlight streaming through, lighting up the field. It was small, round and filled with the loveliest flowers, violet, yellow and a pastel white. Y/N thought she could hear the gentle bubbling of a stream nearby.

‘Wow, this is amazing. How did you find this place?’ Y/N walked into the sunlight, closing her eyes and raising her face to meet the warmth of the rare sunlight. She lay down in the grass, stretching like a cat.

‘It is.’ Edward murmured, stepping into the meadow with her, grass rustling as he lay.

Y/N opened her eyes, looking at Edwards hands that were raising towards her face. His skin, white, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in the grass, his white shirt open over his sculpted, incandescent chest, his scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lids were fluttering, tracing Y/N’s face. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.

‘You’re dazzling.’ Y/N mumbled, shell shocked from the sheer radiance of Edward.

‘I’m dangerous.’ He murmured, his eyes sad and lingering.

‘With a face like that? Hell yeah you are. You’re taking my damn breath away.’ Y/N chuckled, rolling over to poke his cheek. ‘It’s a little unfair how beautiful you guys are. I mean where am I supposed to find a boy who will like me when you’re out here looking prettier than I ever could?’ Y/N fake pouted, before grinning at him mischievously.

‘Don’t say that.’ Edward whispered. ‘The word pretty, doesn’t even begin to describe you Y/N.’ He traced his fingers over Y/N’s lips.

'You're just flattering me so I won't ask Charlie to shoot you.' Y/N battered his hands away, laughing at him.

Edwards eyes were glinting again with the emotion that Y/N still could not place.

'What?' Y/N asked, rolling onto her stomach, head resting on her arms.

'Nothing. It's just nice to finally feel the sun again.' Edward smiled, closing his eyes and laying on his back, breathing deeply.

[artvscvntymullet]

THE BEGINNING OF US - WILL LENNEY

a small confession leads to a new beginning...

no content warnings!

word count: 1000 words

The salty breeze whipped through your hair as you and your friends arrived at the small seaside cottage for the weekend getaway. The air was warm but carried the perfect touch of coolness, making it ideal for a few days of relaxation. The cottage was cozy, with a rustic charm—bare wooden floors, large windows letting in the afternoon light, and a porch overlooking the beach. This was exactly what you needed: a break from the usual grind of work, a chance to let loose with your closest friends, and perhaps, just perhaps, a chance to figure out what was going on between you and Will.

Will had been your friend for a while now. You’d always gotten along, laughed together, and shared inside jokes. But in the past few months, something had shifted. Every time you looked at him, your heart seemed to skip a beat, and he was different too. He’d hang around a little longer after everyone else had left, his eyes lingering on yours a bit too long, his smile a little more intimate than before. You’d caught yourself overthinking the smallest interactions, wondering if he was as aware of the change between you as you were.

The first night of the trip, everyone decided to walk down to the beach to watch the sunset. The sand was cool underfoot, and you could hear the waves crashing in the distance. Laughter echoed as everyone spread out along the shore, snapping pictures and trying to catch the perfect angle of the setting sun. But you couldn’t help but notice how Will lingered near you, not with the group, but just close enough for you to feel the familiar warmth of his presence.

“Hey,” he said, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up to find him standing beside you, his face bathed in the soft golden light from the setting sun. There was that smile again—the one that made your heart flutter. “Mind if I join you?”

You smiled nervously, trying to act casual. “Of course. I was just… thinking.”

He stepped closer, his shoes sinking slightly into the sand. “About what?”

You hesitated. What was it that you were thinking about? Your feelings had been a jumbled mess for so long now. The easiest answer would’ve been to say, “Nothing,” but something about the way he looked at you made you want to be honest. “About us,” you said quietly.

Will’s expression shifted just slightly, like he was absorbing your words carefully. “What about us?” His voice was low, his usual teasing tone replaced with something softer, something that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. “I don’t know. Things feel… different lately. Between us, I mean.”

There was a moment of silence between you two, the sound of waves crashing filling the space. Will’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. The warmth of his body felt so familiar, yet there was a new tension between you now. Your stomach fluttered.

“I’ve been feeling that too,” he said, his words making your breath hitch. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but... it’s hard to know how to say it.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing. His eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place, but it made your chest ache in the best way. There was no turning back now. The words you had been holding in for so long were bubbling up to the surface, and it felt like you might finally get the chance to say everything you needed to.

But before you could speak, Will reached up, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a wave of warmth flooding through you. His touch lingered for just a second too long before he pulled his hand back, as if unsure whether to keep going.

You felt your breath catch. The moment felt suspended in time. Everything around you—the sound of your friends laughing in the distance, the crashing waves, the cool evening breeze—seemed to fade into the background.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” Will said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes locked with yours, intense and vulnerable. “But I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, and for a split second, you wondered if you were dreaming. You felt the same way. Of course you did. How could you not? Every laugh, every moment spent with him had made your feelings grow deeper, more real, and now, here it was, hanging in the air between you.

“I feel the same,” you whispered back, your voice shaky but full of honesty.

Without another word, Will leaned in, his face inches from yours. You closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest, and in that moment, the whole world seemed to slow down. His lips touched yours—tentative at first, like he was waiting for you to pull away, to stop him. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to stop him.

The kiss deepened, soft and sweet, like the kind of kiss you’d only ever imagined in your daydreams. His hands found your waist, pulling you a little closer, and you let yourself melt into the moment. The world outside of this kiss, outside of the two of you, didn’t matter anymore. It was just him and you, together, in this perfect moment that felt like it had been waiting to happen for far too long.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you pulled back, your foreheads resting together, breathless. Will smiled, his eyes still locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart skip another beat.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” he admitted softly.

You smiled, your fingers gently tracing the collar of his shirt. “Me too. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Will chuckled, pulling you into a tight hug. “I think we’ve both been overthinking this.”

You laughed, resting your head on his shoulder. “Maybe. But I think we’ve figured it out now, love.”

The sound of your friends’ voices brought you back to reality, but it didn’t matter. You were with Will, and that was all that mattered in that moment. The beginning of something new, something beautiful, had just begun.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

... Make Lemonade

Pairing: Eventual Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Tony has trusted you to look after his daughter while he and his ex-wife are busy. The evening doesn’t go quite according to plan when Morgan ends up falling for Bucky.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: makeup (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: in this, Morgan is in middle school.

x

Natasha is a lot of things, and being careful is one of them. She calculates every little decision until she knows it’s the right one. It’s kind of annoying when you want to get drunk and do something stupid, and she’s here going over every possible thing that can go wrong.

So, it’s safe to say neither of you expected this.

Natasha came over the second she had her suspicions, and she hasn’t been able to take her eyes off the pregnancy box in her hands. You don’t know how serious she is about Steve but it must be a lot if she’s not actively trying to run away.

“Maybe you’re not pregnant.”

“I’m a few days late.”

“You’re on birth control.”

“It’s not always effective.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do? Want me to beat his ass?” That brings a smile to her face. “It might not be so bad. You’d make a really good mother.”

“I am not ready to have a kid. What’s Steve going to think when he finds out? We just started going out and now I might be pregnant?”

You don’t hesitate to offer your next suggestion. It doesn’t matter what views you have on the subject, you’re here for her in whatever way she wants.

“Do you want an abortion? There’s a clinic up the street.”

“I don’t even know if I am or not. This box says to wait six days after your missed period to take it.”

“Okay, all we have to do is get through the weekend and then we’ll know. We can do this. It’s just the weekend. Plus, you’ve been late before, so I wouldn’t panic right now.”

Someone knocks on your door and Steve opens the door. Natasha goes rigid next to you, and you shove the pregnancy box between your right thigh and Natasha’s left one.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Just what you were like as a baby,” you say carefully.

“I was a pretty tame baby. Though, my mother always told me she wanted to kill me because of the labor I put her through. I wasn’t exactly small,” he chuckles.

Nastasha groans and falls back into the bed with her hands on her face.

“Get out!”

Steve does so with a confused look.

“I just need a distraction. Being alone by myself or with Steve isn’t going to be good for me. What are you doing today?” she asks and sits back up.

“Well, Tony is allowing Morgan to come over so I can watch her while he goes to a bunch of meetings. His ex-wife can’t watch her so she’s bringing her over here.”

It’s been a couple of months since you and Tony met, and you two have been going… steady. You’re not sure what the right word for it. Tony takes care of you like Natasha said he would, but there’s no spark. You really like him, it’s just that he likes to spend his weekends sipping whiskey and going to the casino while you’d rather go on nature walks or binge watch your favorite tv show. You want to be with your friends and roommates, but this is no place for Tony. He’s too rich and sophisticated to understand what it’s like to live the way you do.

Still, you want to give the relationship a try because you do like him a lot. Plus, Bucky made it clear that he wanted you to pursue this, so instead of fighting it, you’re running with it. It’s not even weird that he’s a lot older than you.

“Are you ready for that?” Natasha asks.

“I’m already her teacher. How hard can it be to watch her?” You leave Natasha alone in your room and join the boys in the kitchen. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal and you hesitate to speak. Why? He's the one who pushed you into this relationship. You were ready to leave. “Hey, what are you guys doing today?”

“Just a bar shift,” Bucky says. “A short one. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Two work meetings,” Steve says. “It should take all day.”

“Not much,” Sam says.

“Okay, look, Tony is allowing Morgan to come over here for the day. His ex-wife is bringing her over right now, so I need you three to be on your best behavior. No cussing. No hookups. No walking around half-naked. No talking about sex. Dinner is going to be at five promptly so don’t be late.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll be good boys,” Bucky smirks.

Those words shouldn’t have such an effect on you, but here you are. Before you have thoughts of Bucky being a good boy, your phone rings.

“Oh, Pepper is here. Please be good.” You practically race downstairs and meet Pepper outside who is getting Morgan ready for the day. “Pepper! Hi!”

“Oh, hi, Y/N! Thank you so much for agreeing to watch her. If you need me to be, I can be here in ten minutes.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” you smile. “Thank you for letting me watch her.”

“Honestly? I usually have a babysitter but she’s out of town. My husband has meetings all day. You’re her favorite teacher, and my husband’s favorite teacher,” Pepper mutters the last part.

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously. “Listen, I hope this isn’t rude or anything, but you keep saying ‘husband’ and I want to make sure that you and Tony aren’t still together.”

Pepper tips her head back and laughs loudly but fakely. It’s like she found offense yet amusement in what you just said.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Tony and I are very much divorced.”

“Okay, good, because I don’t want to miss anything important.”

Pepper leaves Morgan in your care and drives off, and you take the young girl back to your apartment. Why are you so nervous? Is it because of Natasha and her baby drama? Is it because of the very real possibility that the boys could be home and influence Morgan in a bad way? Or is it because you don’t want Bucky to see you with Morgan knowing you’re trying to make it work with Tony?

Sam is already gone by the time you get back, but Natasha, Steve, and Bucky are still here. He’s literally on his way out the door when you walk inside.

“Remember, dinner is at five!”

“I’ll be there!”

“Okay, Morgan, I don’t know about you, but how do you feel about makeovers? It’s never too young to learn about makeup.”

“Sounds fun,” she grins. “My mom and I do that all the time. Every weekend at a spa.”

“Okay, well, this place isn’t as fancy as a spa but I do have a lot of products.”

Bucky walks out of his room and Morgan looks like she has stars in her eyes. You get it. He’s very attractive.

“Okay, I’m bringing a date to dinner tonight. Her name is Ashley.”

“No, you’re not,” you say. “You’re not going to bring women around Morgan.”

Bucky looks at her and smiles politely. “Hi. You must be Morgan.”

“Hi,” she says shyly.

“Look, Ashley is a good girl. She’s smart and mature. She studies art and she’s very intuitive.”

You ignore the shiver running down your spine when he says ‘good girl’. You know he didn't mean anything by it, but it makes you think about him calling you his good girl. Get a grip, Y/N! You’re with Tony! Bucky grabs his keys and he bids adieu as he leaves for his short shift at the bar.

“Okay, Morgan, let me get some of my makeup. Be right back.”

Most of your makeup is in the bathroom in a dedicated corner the boys made for you. They got sick and tired of your shit cluttering up the sinks. When you return with your hands full, Morgan isn’t there.

“Morgan?”

You set the makeup on the coffee table and go look for her. She’s in your bedroom just looking at the different trinkets you have in there. Yours and Sam’s room is the biggest with Steve’s being the smallest. Steve’s room is supposed to be used for a large office, but they converted it into a bedroom.

“Can I get out of homework since you’re dating my dad?”

“No.” You walk further into the room and sit on the edge of the bed. “Look, I know it must be weird for your teacher to date your dad, but just know you can ask me anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, anything,” you smile.

“Are you in love with my dad?” You purse your lips but you don’t answer that. “Do you and my dad ever dry-lump?”

“What?” you ask, partially shocked.

“Is sexting cool?”

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Have you done a 99?”

“I think that’s a tax form…”

“Have you ever given anyone plow jobs?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“How do you make love to a person animal-style?”

“All great questions, I’m sure. Why don’t we go do makeovers now? Save the questions for your mother.” You bring Morgan back into the living room where you set out your makeup supplies. “Listen, I don’t think you should be rushing into these things.” She is looking at you with wide curious eyes. “As your friend, Y/N, not Ms. Y/L/N, just find someone who makes you laugh.”

“Like Bucky?”

“Yeah, I mean… wait, what?”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God, I love Bucky so, so, so much. He’s so hot.”

You can’t believe your ears right now. “Excuse me?”

“I just want to rub my face on his face,” she groans and falls onto the couch.

Steve’s bedroom door opens and Natasha walks out while talking on the phone.

“No, Steve, I’m not saying I don’t want to go on a date with you. I’m just saying that I think we should wait. Don’t you think this is moving a little fast?” She pauses. “I did not say I didn’t like you! Are you not listening to a goddamn word I’m saying?”

“Nat, not now, okay?” you hiss.

“Steve, will you just listen to yourself? I never said I didn’t like you or that we shouldn’t see each other. I just said maybe we should slow down. We’ve been moving pretty fast, and I don’t know… I just…” She pauses. “Steve, I swear to God.”

“Nat, what’s going on?” you ask.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

Natasha hangs up the phone and stalks back into his room and slams the door. You’re about to go to her when Morgan sits back up.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I love Bucky so, so, so much. I’m gonna die!”

“Morgan, Bucky is way too old for you. I live with him. He doesn’t always pick up after himself, and he has a metal arm!” Morgan jumps up from the couch and runs toward Bucky’s room. “Morgan! Don’t go in there!” She slams the door behind her and locks it. “Morgan, please come out.”

Steve’s bedroom door opens and Natasha walks over to you with red eyes.

“Steve asked me on a date. A really expensive, romantic one.”

Natasha never cries over men so Steve must be pretty special if she’s going through all this trouble for him. She’s rambling on about how she doesn’t know if she can do this and how she’s moving too fast while Morgan is rambling on about she loves Bucky and wants to do all sorts of things to him like a 99.

“Morgan, please!” you say and hit the door lightly.

“Listen up, you little brat,” Natasha shouts. “You need to be quiet right now because I need my friend to focus on me right now!”

“Natasha!” you gasp. “I am trying really hard to move on and see other men, so you know how much this means to me. Don’t ruin it, please.”

Natasha takes a step back and her eyes widen in fear. She must have it bad for Steve because you’ve never seen her behave like this. She’s usually so calm and collected but right now, she’s freaking out.

“I’m gonna be a terrible mother,” she whispers.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to be a great mother.”

“I’m gonna make this right, okay. I’m gonna fix this.” She clears her throat. “Morgan? Listen, you really shouldn’t be having sex right now at your age,” your eyes widen and you try to shut her up, “but when you do, make sure you always use protection because even though you know better and he says it’s all gonna be fine, you’re just gonna end up pregnant, anyway!”

“What?” You and Natasha look behind her to see Steve standing there with wide eyes. “Nat, are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t taken the test yet, but I am late. Excuse me.”

Natasha leaves without another word. Dinner is almost ready, which means Sam and Bucky should be coming back soon. Morgan, having been done with exploring his room, comes out with a happy smile on her face. You take her to the kitchen to get dinner ready while Steve leaves the apartment.

“Sorry you had to hear all that,” you say to Morgan.

“It’s okay. I liked it. My feelings haven’t changed, though. Don’t you think Bucky is hot?”

“Bucky?” Your voice trembles but you try to keep it steady. “Yeah in a… you know… he’s alright I guess.”

“How is he like in the morning? Is he sleepy? Does he like stuff? I want to love what he loves.” She pauses and grabs water for the table. “Do you think we’ll ever do it animal-style?”

“God,” you whisper. “Dinner is almost ready!”

Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bucky’s date all arrive right before the table is set. The air is already thick with tension, with the way Natasha is barely eating and Morgan is sending glares at Chloe from across the table.

“So, how was work, Bucky?” you ask.

Before he can answer, Morgan speaks up. “Are you and Bucky making love?”

“What?” he asks, shocked.

“Who wants some juice? That’s my question,” you speak loudly.

“Yeah, we’d love juice. Thanks, Y/N,” Bucky nods.

Despite your question, you don’t get up to get some juice. You’re afraid Morgan will jump the table and attack Chloe if you take your eyes off her. Chloe tries looking away but Morgan won’t let her off that easily.

“Hey! I’m watching you.”

“I made a pie earlier. Who wants dessert?” you ask.

You’re about to get up when Chloe gets up first.

“Don’t worry, I’ll ge tit. I don’t mind,” she smiles.

“Oh, thank you. That’s so thoughtful.” You look at Morgan. “Morgan? Want to help her get the dessert?”

“I hate her,” she grumbles.

“Oh, come on, you don’t know her well enough to hate her.”

“Yes, I do. I know her. She used to ride on my school bus.”

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Oh, right, I remember you!” Chloe grins and returns to the table with the pie. “You were that crazy little kindergartner with the imaginary friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Morgan chuckles. “You’re the skank witht he skank face.”

“Morgan,” you hiss. “I understand you’re trying to look cool in front of you know who…”

You give bucky a side eye which basically means shit to Morgan. Her eyes widen in horror and she jumps up from the table.

“What?! You told him?”

“No, I didn't.”

“You just did! Oh, my God, Y/N!”

Morgan runs off to your room and slams the door behind her dramatically. Bucky wants to know what’s happening but he has to take care of his own issues first. He turns to Chloe with an uneasy smile.

“When was the last time you were on a school bus?”

“Last year.”

“How old are you?” Steve asks.

“Eighteen.”

You know Bucky is regretting his decision to bring an eighteen-year-old home, but you can’t help but tease him a bit.

“You know what? I think I subbed for one of your classes once.”

“You’re right!” She grins. “Hi, Ms. Y/N!”

“Stop,” Bucky whispers.

Dinner is over. You’re not even sure it began. This whole thing was a mistake. Morgan refuses to come out of your room, Natasha is an emotional mess, Sam tried to stay out of it as best as he can, and Bucky and Steve are in the kitchen alone. Pepper texts you that she’s downstairs to pick up her daughter and you’re overwhelmed. You storm into the kitchen angrily and glare at the two men.

“This whole thing is a disaster! Pepper just texted me that she’s downstairs.” You look at Bucky. “Morgan is locked in my room because she fell in love with you for some unknown reason! I’m mad at you because you couldn’t keep it wrapped up and now Natasha is freaking out.” They start talking over each other but you’re not done. “Shut up! Both of you! Here’s what we’re going to do. Steve, you’re going to go down there and stall Pepper. Bucky, you’re coming with me to get Morgan out of my room. Now.”

You and Bucky walk to your room and sit on the ground because you know this is going to take a while.

“Morgan, you need to come out of there. Look, I know you think you’re in love with me, but I can assure you that you’re not. You’re going to find someone better, I promise.”

“No, I won’t! I never will!”

Bucky looks at you and he shrugs, not knowing what to do now.

“Tell her something about life. Please? I can’t lose Tony.”

Bucky briefly looks at your lips before looking away. He can’t mess this up for you because he’s too chicken to tell you how he feels.

“Morgan, listen.” He looks into your eyes. “I haven’t loved someone the way you love me in a very long time. You should hold onto these feelings because they’re good feelings, but they’re misplaced. You should want to be with someone who makes your whole day better. Someone who you can tell everything to because they don’t make you feel judged. I’m not that person for you.”

Suddenly, you can’t breathe. He’s saying this to her but you feel like he’s talking to you. You’re sitting so close to him and all you want to do is melt in his arms. Bad girl, Y/N. You’re with Tony! Yeah, you know.

“Morgan, come out, please.”

The door opens and you hold yourself back from falling to the ground. Just then the front door opens and Steve rushes into the apartment.

“Pepper! Welcome to our home,” you say and get up.

Pepper looks stressed enough as it is. It must have been a bad day for her at work.

“Thank you for watching after Morgan.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I had fun,” she smiles at you.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in school.”

As soon as Pepper and Morgan leave, you sag your shoulders in defeat. This has been such a disaster. Steve and Natasha walk into his room to talk while you go into yours.

“So, you got your period?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

“Look, I know it might seem like we’re rushing but I really like you, Nat. Like, a lot. I don’t want to lose you so if you think things are going fast, we’ll slow down.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” he smiles.

Natasha leans in and kisses him slowly. Judging by the silence coming from their room, you know they’ve made up. You’re fiddling with your phone, wondering if you should call Tony and tell him what happened tonight. Will he break up with you? Will he think you’re not mother material? A knock sounds at your door and you look up at Bucky.

“I’m sorry for ruining this entire thing.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m pretty sure I screwed it up. Maybe I’m not ready to be a mom. At this rate, I’ll have kids when I’m eighty.”

Bucky leans against the door frame and crosses his arms, making his muscles look bigger. God, you’re fucking screwed. How can you ever hold down a relationship with Tony if you’re so hung up on Bucky?

“If anyone is ready to be a parent, it’s you.” You smile at him. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night,” you whisper.

If you can just try and make it work with Tony, then you’ll forget all about your little crush on Bucky.

x

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[windyremedy]

Unexpected Endings | Chapter One 💥

“I have a feeling you got everything you wanted and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me.”

— Sydney Rose We Hug Now

Summary: No one expected for you and Bakugou to end up together. Not when Nitta Shika, a classmate he'd grown to respect throughout their time in U.A. was around. They were known to bicker as she confidently retorts his explosive insults while you sat at the back barely visible in his line of vision. Yet somehow, someway it was you and him and that was something you grew to accept with time. However recent events comes to question that very fact and now your back to square one.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, NSFW Implications, Time Skip, Original Characters, Love Triangle-ish, Cursing

Word Count: 1.6k words

Authors Note: FIRST SERIES FIC ‼️ MIGHT SHIT 🚽

It didn't always feel right especially in the beginning.

Even when you finally agreed to get together with Katsuki after stumbling into each other’s lives years later past graduation. You had lingering doubts that struck deep. Deeper than you'd like to admit because never has Katsuki failed you in showing his love and care.

Be it through his actions like having at least one arm glued around you at all times or making you food that you mentioned you've been craving. Heck even through words you know he finds difficult to utter, he does it easily with you. Sure probably not as much as some other people might but it doesn't take away that they were meaningful nonetheless, maybe even more so.

So why?

Why is it that you're back in the time where it was him and her. Back when you didn't even think it was plausible to catch his attention. Back when everyone believed they'd end up together.

Well it all started on everyone's favorite weekend, Saturday.

It was a morning you've grown used to, the usual morning beverage, the familiar chirping tweets of the birds just outside the slightly open window with the cool breeze pushing in. It wasn’t grand by any means but it was all home.

Re-entering your bedroom to then shuffling the messy sheets you searched for your phone on the bed and underneath the pillows. Grabbing the device you quickly went to check any messages you might've gotten. Seeing your favorite person right dab at the top, at 8:37 AM.

MESSAGES

— 💥 Suki: You better be awake.

— 💥 Suki: Or else l'm coming on your ass.

— 💥 Suki: Coming for your ass**

You let out a small laugh.

— 💥 Suki: Actually both can be true but there's no time and l'm seriously almost there.

Oh shit.

Quickly you freshened yourself up in the bathroom and made your way through your closet putting on whatever cute dress you could find.

You learned from last time that he really meant it when he was almost there.

In a second or two he'd ring the doorbell and-

Ding.

You didn't bother opening the door for him knowing he had a key to your place so you continued dressing yourself. However you were unable to reach the zipper behind your dress as you tried with all your might. Twisting your body in an angle the door suddenly opened.

There stood with slightly widened eyes was Katsuki. He looked effortlessly cool even with just a black shirt and dark jeans.

"You're not making this easy for me y’know." he said, leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed.

"Well that's the point of getting hard." you answered without thinking.

"You aren't funny and I never found ya funny." he spoke with an amused smirk.

You huffed annoyed.

"Be quiet and help me."

As soon as you said that he got up and walked towards you, keeping you in place with a firm but gentle hold as he assisted.

"..-on't have to go.”

"What?" you asked, not completely hearing what he said, turning around and seeing his slight pout and furrowed brows.

“I said we don't need to go." he spoke a little louder, wrapping his muscled arms around your shoulders.

Practically suffocating your face but it’s a death you don’t mind dying by.

"Suki you haven't seen your friends in probably ages." you said or tried to as the words got muffled from his rather passionate embrace.

"Yeah but I don't wanna see their dumb faces. They're all too damn loud and nosy.” he retorts, placing his forehead against yours.

"We already said we'd go." you replied returning his hug by reaching your arms around his back.

He sighed and relented.

"Fine."

As both of you headed outside he started walking a little bit ahead of you, reaching the black sleek car he opened the door for you to enter first. Moving to your seat you buckle your seatbelt as he gets in himself.

The drive was filled with a few idle exchanges but was mostly spent in a comfortable silence. The way the two of you can just sit together this way was something you're grateful for. There wasn't an excessive need to talk about everything and anything at once and both of you understood and appreciated each other anyway no matter if it's through words or none at all.

Now that you're thinking about it, maybe none of this would’ve happened if that didn’t happen.

"Remember when you almost killed me?" you brought up breaking the serene atmosphere.

He deadpanned and looked at you in the rear view mirror.

"Okay, I told you to stop wording it like that.”

You threw your back in a relaxed manner and giggled. To cut him some slack you are dramatizing it a little bit.

"Well I'm happy it happened." you concurred with a smile.

He raised a brow and looked at you weird.

"What? You almost getting hurt?"

“Not that part but we started acknowledging each other more after no?"

He nodded in thought as you looked ahead, reminiscing the moment that might’ve started it all.

FLASHBACK

"-(/n)!!"

"DUMBASS LOOK OUT!!!"

You heard multiple shouts at once though you were unsure if it was directed at you. That was of course until you saw an explosion head your way.

FUCK!

Raising a forcefield you managed to blocked in time.

Although the quick shock made you tumble down either way.

"Oof.”

Laying on the grass you could only see the cloudy sky. You might've been up there actually if you didn't save yourself in time or down but let's not go there.

As you sat up a few of your classmates came running to your aid. Momo in particular fretted over your body, checking for any injuries. While Hagakure and Uraraka shot a multitude of questions and concerns.

"Are you okay!?"

"Is your back fine?"

"How many fingers am I holding??!"

"Hagakure you're invisible."

As more and more figures surrounded you the more dizzying everything became. Truly you appreciated their worries for your safety but things were getting too swirly for you to understand anything.

“Wha-“

"MOVE YOU USELESS FUCKS." The blonde would scream shoving across his other classmates.

Being so close to him was weird in a butterflies being prisoners bursting out your stomach in jail kinda way. From what you can remember the most near you ever gotten to him was when you two were lining up to get on the bus one school trip ago during your second year.

"A-ah! Bakugou?"

"Here." he spoke irritably calm reaching an arm out.

That surprised you because you thought he was gonna finish the job and off you from the world for whatever reason. Not that he would kill per say nor that he wouldn't kill, just his personality you noticed of getting things done.

"Oh! Thanks." you grabbed his hand and pushed yourself up.

…

Honestly never in your entire life since you started attending U.A have ever thought you'd end up in this mess of a situation. Awkwardly standing with hands held to a guy you might've admired a little more than an average person, surrounded probably by your entire class right now.

With the last person to reach you being Nitta Shika with her arms crossed and eyes glaring straight at you or rather your intertwined hands. You quickly let go of Bakugou, not wanting to make her misunderstand anything between you two.

For a quick second you noticed a hurt look flash through Bakugou’s eyes, maybe you offended him?

"What happened." An emotionless voice asked.

Ah. Mr. Aizawa.

"I left for one minute, someone better fess up. Now.”

Instilling fear in everybody in the vicinity of the situation.

There it was explained that Shika had been messing around and annoyed Bakugou to the point of actually blasting her a new one. However obviously she dodged but what Bakugou didn't know was that you were behind her.

Nitta was held in detention for the day as well as Bakugou because both are partly to blame. With Nitta who should’ve been focusing on training and with Bakugou who shouldn’t have gone through with such a dangerous move like that even when knowing the other person would dodge.

In addition to the fact that he didn't check his surroundings which could've seriously hurt people around him and that is not something you wanna do during quirk practice or out in the real world.

After that whole fiasco, you’re just glad he knew you existed. But what you didn’t know was that he already did.

END OF FLASHBACK

"I told you I didn't know your dilly dally ass was there." he said as he swerved the car left.

You faked an offended gasp.

“Don't be mean to me."

He let out a boisterous laugh as if that was the most hilarious thing he has ever heard.

"Sure, sure.”

Flustered you leaned out the window asking if you're there yet.

"Almost.”

"And by almost you mean in one, two—“

"We're here."

Stepping out the vehicle you begin to feel your palms sweat and heart beat a bit faster than usual.

It isn’t that you weren’t friends with the dubbed ‘Bakusquad’ but you just weren’t in the friend group like that so naturally you didn’t grow so so close to them.

However with Kirishima being the most accepting and friendly, he’s actually the only one you’d consider a close friend due to seeing him and actually hanging out with him when with Katsuki. At times going out on hikes, for lunch, or to the gym.

After that would be Sero, Kaminari, then Mina. Sero because he was chill, Kaminari because he was funny, and Mina because…..well you didn’t get to spend much time with her. She was always with Nitta, being a dynamic duo in the squad. Kinda like with Katsuki and Kirishima as well as Kaminari and Sero. Hopefully you don’t seventh wheel.

But you really shouldn’t be too worried there was gonna be some other people both in and out of Class 1-A attending so really what could go wrong?

Apparently everything.

[howdeepthegrave]

Agathario AU where Wanda, Alice, and Lilia learn on a rather drunken Girls' Night that Agatha has not gotten laid in nearly a decade (the last time was four years before she had Nicky.) The crew make it their personal mission to get her into bed with someone within the next six months.

"Or what?" Agatha asks when they tell her. "I'll explode or something?"

"Well, getting laid might take down some of your bitchness a notch or two," Alice says.

"I'm not bitchy. I'm a perfectionist."

"Agatha, you once threatened to flatten a traffic cop for looking at you as you crossed the street."

"ACAB, Alice."

"Hey, I was..."

"You were a cop once, yes, I know. But you left the force, thus reducing your bastardy by at least 0.8%. Anyway, when was the last time any of you got laid?"

"Jen and I went a little wild last weekend," Alice says.

"Vision and I are in counseling, okay?" Wanda grouses.

"Michfest 1982," Lilia says, "but of course Lorna and I were really only friends with benefits by then."

Alice audibly gags.

"You slept with my mom?"

"Alice, dear, your mother and I were in a committed relationship for a decade."

"So, after this evening of exciting revelations," Agatha declares, "I think we can all agree that there are others in this world who need to get laid far more than I do."

A week later Agatha, having acknowledged that she kind of is lonely, having not even gone on a date since Nicky was two, agrees to let Alice set her up on a blind date with someone Alice knew in college. The night arrives, a sitter is procured for Nicky, and Alice's old friend arrives to take Agatha out to dinner.

"Hey, I'm Rio Vidal. You Agatha?"

"I am," Agatha manages.

The person at her door is gorgeous, and she's actually a little afraid she might explode if they even seem inclined to kiss her, let alone take her to bed.

The date goes well: an excellent meal, a lot of good conversation. Rio is a restauranteur, which Agatha finds fascinating.

"Nothing so fancy as this place, though," Rio says. "Just a couple of pizza places. Non-chain."

"Oh, well, Nicky and I do love pizza."

"Nicky. That your little boy? Alice said you have a kid."

"Mm-hmm. My pride and joy."

Rio smiles at that, and Agatha feels her heart almost melt at the sight.

At the end of the night, Rio takes Agatha home and walks her to the door.

"This was good, I think. Can I see you again some time, Agatha?"

"Uh, well, sure. I had a really great time."

She's sort of wondering if maybe Rio will kiss her or something, but all she gets is what she thinks will be simply a handshake...

Until Rio lifts Agatha's hand to her lips and kisses the back of it softly.

"I'll call you, Agatha. Te veo."

They end up going out to a folk music concert in the park the very next weekend. It's fun, and when Agatha is shivering at one point near the end of the evening, Rio offers up her jacket.

"Can't have a beautiful woman like you freezing."

That night, Rio does kiss Agatha good night, and it's a good one. Long and soft and warm and... Well, Agatha has some dreams that night which go way beyond kissing.

Three months in, they're properly dating, as far as Agatha is concerned, and she's very happy about it. Rio is kind, considerate, funny, and very sweet. She almost always brings Agatha flowers, and she goes out of her way on all of their dates to make certain Agatha is comfortable and having the best possible time.

Then, one day, Rio stops answering Agatha's texts and calls. At first she figures things are busy in the restaurant game. She would go ask Alice if anything's up, but Alice's band is touring the west coast for three months and communication on that end has been spotty as well. After a month and a half, Agatha figures maybe Rio got tired of her and decided to ghost her, and she moves on.

Another month after that, it's just a quiet Friday night at home for Agatha and Nicky when there's a knock at the door. When she answers, who should Agatha see but Rio.

"I... I'm sorry I haven't been in touch," she says. "There's been a lot of family stuff. I had to be down in Puerto Rico a while and take care of things, and at first I was too busy to really get back to your texts and stuff, and then I figured you would be pissed I had gone silent and..."

Rio trails off, and Agatha notices that she looks worn down and tired.

"I... I thought you might just be busy or something. Would you like to come in? I was about to make dinner."

"I don't wanna disturb you."

"It's fine. C'mon, you look like you need to sit down for a while."

So Rio comes in, and Agatha introduces her to Nicky.

"This is my friend Rio. Rio, this is Nicky."

And Nicky instantly does that thing a lot of little kids do.

"Hi! Would you like to see my toys?"

Rio looks sort of nervous, but Agatha goes with them and stands in the doorway of Nicky's room while he shows Rio all of his stuff, and right away Rio seems really relaxed. She's acting genuinely interested in everything Nicky says, and she doesn't talk down to him like many adults do with small children. After a while, Nicky goes over to Agatha again.

"Mama, can Rio watch TV with me while you make dinner?"

"If she wants to, sweetheart."

"I like television," Rio shrugs.

So Agatha makes dinner, and when she goes to tell Nicky to wash his hands, she sees that Rio has fallen asleep sitting in the big armchair.

"Rio. Rio, are you hungry?"

"What? I... Oh. Oh, I'm... I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay. Would you like to have dinner, or do you need to rest a little longer?"

"I'm sorry, I'll go, I..."

"Hush. Here, why don't you stretch out on the sofa?"

Agatha goes and gets a spare pillow and a blanket and gets Rio settled on the sofa. Later on, just after Nicky goes to bed, Agatha is washing the dishes when Rio wanders into the kitchen, the blanket around her shoulders.

"Hungry?" Agatha asks.

"Starving."

Agatha warms up some of the leftovers and Rio sits and eats while Agatha finishes cleaning up.

"You feel better after your nap?"

"Yes," Rio says, "thank you. And again, I'm really sorry..."

"Don't be. You clearly needed it."

After Rio eats, she insists on washing the plate and utensils she used herself, and she starts to say she needs to leave, but Agatha is still worried.

"Stay the night. Just so I know you're not out driving tired in the night."

So Rio spends the night on the couch, and she has breakfast with Agatha and Nicky in the morning, then heads out. She calls Agatha that night and thanks her for being so kind, then asks if maybe they can go on another date in a few weeks.

"I'd like that, but don't rush yourself."

"It's no rush. I know I'll feel better if I can get back to spending time with you."

Their next date is actually taking Nicky to a carnival. Well, Agatha takes Nicky to the carnival, and they run in to Rio, who was about to leave after going there with friends who already left. Instead Rio stays and spends the afternoon with them. Three days later Agatha and Rio have another official date, and when they get back to Agatha's, Rio ends up spending the night in a more romantic way. It is glorious and soft and amazing.

They go on dating for three years before Agatha's friends start bugging her about "reeling in the big fish." Agatha ignores them, because the relationship is what it is, and it's wonderful. She would love for things to progress to perhaps marriage, he's not sure how Rio would feel about that. They've sort of avoided the topic, just because it felt rushy to both of them.

Finally one night, they're doing the dishes together after dinner at Agatha's, and Rio just casually reaches over and places something on the little ring holder that sits on the inner ledge of the kitchen window. Agatha looks and sees this gorgeous ring, a diamond surrounded by little amethysts.

"What's that?" she asks.

"It's yours," Rio says, "if you want it."

"Are you... Proposing?"

"Not if you don't want me to. Do you want me to, Agatha?"

And Agatha realizes she does want it. She's so deep in love with Rio, and Rio is so good to her, so sweet with Nicky. And Rio proposes to her right there at the kitchen sink. When they get married six months later, Alice takes all the credit.

[rosicheeks]

😒

[shanklin]

Stanford never became friends with Fiddleford.

Instead he got himself a different small friend group who cares a lot about him. At least about the Ford he pretended to be in college.

A kind, soft spoken formerly bullied genius who researches very dull stuff in Oregon and definitely not anything weird. Their Ford would never break any rules or ignore safety measures [unlike that other student they heard about during their college years.]

And then Ford stops answering their calls and loses his grant. 

It’s time for an intervention and they start pestering Ford with letters and calls until he finally agrees to meet them at a science convention, but he’ll take his brother with him.

They’re relieved! Ford is with Shermie! They like Shermie! It's a good thing that Ford still has one brother who isn't a good for nothing selfish criminal who destroyed his entire future!

If they ever get their hands on Ford’s evil twin they’ll make sure he’ll regret ever messing with their friend. Ford is too nice for revenge. They aren’t.

Meanwhile at the not-yet Mystery Shack, the Stans freshly survived their own angsty canon divergent tale of two stans AU and locked Bill out of Ford's mind like a week ago.

Stan: I don’t know how long Ford will keep me around but this will be good for him. He needs some friends to take care of him after I inevitably get kicked out again!

Ford: I only agreed to this because Stan insisted and I still haven’t found a way to thank him and apologize. I hope all my “friends” die in a fire.

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident Part VIII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You finally meet your good friend <3

Part I II -> Next part

"You know each other?!"

You stare at Atsumu with wide eyes, who just stares at the short blonde next to you and raises his eyebrows as if he just had an epiphany.

"Where have I—wait. Karasuno. Karasuno's manager! You're a friend of Shoyo-kun!" Atsumu's eyes shine when he talks about Karasuno, and you furrow your brows when you remember that it's the name of Yachi's old school. "Shoyo-kun? Like—Hinata Shoyo?" You ask, recalling a bright orange-haired man you've met a few times already when Yachi had invited you to drink with her and her friends. They had always been a lively bunch, definitely growing on you the more often you saw them.

"Hmm, we work together," Atsumu nods, and you blankly stare at him while you try to digest that piece of information. You know that Hinata is a professional volleyball player. Very professional. Olympics level professional. He offered you cards to his games quite a few times, and you had politely declined, not wanting to cause him trouble, but he had sent you tickets anyway for a game in a few weeks.

That probably means that Atsumu is a professional player too—or he might be some kind of manager, according to the vague statement that they are working together. His physique and his posture tell you that he potentially could be an athlete- you would believe that in a second.

"Working together like... playing volleyball too?" You ask for clarification, tilting your head curiously while you watch his reaction. His lips curl into a smug smile, and the confidence he's radiating now makes your legs turn into jelly.

"Yeah. I'm a professional, just like Shoyo-kun. He loves my sets, by the way. Always aces them with no problem."

His eyes capture yours and you hang on his every word, definitely surprised by the development. You're married to a probably very famous professional Olympia volleyball player. You're not even sure what to think about this; the new details just made the whole situation more absurd and unrealistic. The only good thing is that Yachi apparently knows him. You could maybe get more information out of Yachi about him later.

"I—wait. The marriage—you married ATSUMU MIYA?" Your attention shifts to Yachi, who turns almost worryingly red, and you quickly step closer to her and reach for her arm, trying to calm her down. "Yes, but it's okay. He's a good guy, okay?" You smile encouragingly, and Yachi takes a few hasty loud breaths before she nods.

Atsumu watches you both and awkwardly clears his throat, a faint blush covering his cheeks at your words, and rubs the back of his head. "I'll leave ya two alone then. I'll call ya, y/n."

The last thing you see is his smile before he turns around and walks away with his hands in his pockets now. His broad back is evident, especially when he's wearing the white dress shirt, and you can't help but admire the man for a second before Yachi enters your sight once again.

"Y/n! - what happened?!"

xxx

"I can't believe you're married to Atsumu Miya!" she exclaims, still sounding shocked as she repeats the same sentence for the third time after you managed to tell her the fully story during the car ride. Both of you sit on her comfortable plush couch, adorned with a few of her stylish designer blankets. You're glad to be in a familiar place finally, but you can't help but to think about Atsumu. Will he call or leave a message soon? You wouldn't mind him calling today already- just to make sure you have his number. Nothing else. Just to clear that whole marriage thing. And nothing else.

You nod with a mild smile an attempt to calm her slight panic. Atsumu has assured you that everything will be taken care of, and you find yourself actually trusting him. "It'll be okay. You mentioned he's a good guy, right? I mean, he's friends with Hinata."

Yachi deeply inhales and takes a sip of her tea and nods. "He's close to Hinata. They get along really well. But let me tell you, Atsumu Miya in high school is something else. His serves were powerful and terrifying- not as much as today, but still enough to keep us all on the edge. Even Nishinoya had a hard time receiving them. Atsumu-san and Osamu-san managed to copy Hinata's and Kageyama's special attack effortlessly. It was insane. Maybe we can find a recording of it."

She grabs the remote to turn on the TV, and you lean forward eagerly at the thought of seeing more of Atsumu. "I wonder what Atsumu looked like in high school," you muse, taking a sip of your tea, its slight bitterness complementing the rich flavor. "He basically still looks the same. His hair got a bit brighter, and I think he grew a bit. And gained mass," Yachi responds, finding what she's looking for with an excited squeal. "Here!"

You both watch how a much younger Atsumu raises his arm and much to your surprise the whole crowd falls silent. "What- that's not normal, is it?" You turn to Yachi who seems slightly pale, probably because she remembers the moment vividly. "That's normal for Atsumu Miya. He was so good and popular that he got that special treatment. It helps him to focus. Oh, and watch his steps! You can tell what kind of serve he's going to make by the number of his steps."

You diligently nod and watch him serve again, taking six steps this time. The camera angle is a tad bit closer this time, and you don't fail to see his yellow-ish hair that definitely looks different compared to his looks today. He was very fit, even back then, but he is definitely more buff today.

You watch some more of Atsumu's powerful serves, his form screaming utmost perfection, and memories of the very same strong, muscular arms wrapped around you make heat rush to your cheeks. Yachi continues to share insights about his playing style, and you quickly try to focus on her words.

"...their combined attacks are difficult to anticipate. But look at how Kei blocks it!" You nod enthusiastically while you observe Tsukishima's impressive block. The video then shifts to another game, showcasing Atsumu in a black uniform adorned with yellow claw prints on his sleeves.

"Oh, that's from the MSBY game! You should have seen him; there's this amazing set—" Yachi's words trail off as the camera cuts to an unusual angle, revealing Atsumu's impressive thighs in full glory as he sets the ball with a ridiculously seductive smile. Your jaw drops at the unexpected sight- you know for sure you would have fainted if you saw that scene in live. How dare he look so good while setting the ball?? "Look, Hinata easily managed to hit that! And there's Bokuto-san!" You recognize the orange-haired spiker, sharing a smile and high-five with Bokuto. "I can't believe that they all actually know each other."

"Yeah," Yachi smiles and nods. "Hinata always talks about Atsumu-san. And Bokuto-san is close with Osamu-san, I think. I've seen him post a few pictures with Akaashi-san at Onigiri-Miya."

"Is that the name of his restaurant? Atsumu said he would take me there someday." Yachi gives you a side-eye, and reaches for her phone. "You've gotten pretty close, haven't you? You seemed really flustered when-" You quickly interrupt her, "No! I—I don't even know him. I don't even have his number. He was just being nice, we're not really close."

Yachi nods with a small grin, and hands you her phone. "Here. That's his Instagram. He's also often at Onigiri Miya. It seems like he's very proud of his brother's success. I though you might want to have a look at his life."

"Thank you." Yachi is truly a great friend, and you feel once again fond of being close to her. As you scroll through Atsumu's Instagram, you find a mix of game snapshots, some pictures with Osamu, in which he always has a plate full of food in front of him, and you can't help but zoom into the plates, impressed by the neatly arranged dishes. As you keep on scrolling, you almost gasp loudly when you find a very surprising collaboration with Calvin Klein, featuring a shirtless Atsumu from a very close perspective. At first, you keep on scrolling, too flustered at the sudden revealing picture, but curiosity makes you go back after a few moments, and you look at the picture again.

He looks good. His muscles are well-defined and he grins seductively for the camera while he poses, clad in only a ripped pair of jeans. It's almost unfair how ridiculously attractive he looks, but you still think that he looks even better when he's just woken up, just like he did this morning. You exhale loudly and curiously click on the comments.

"I would pay real money to have him like this in my bed." "Christmas came early this year- and so did I." "Bless the Miya genes. I'd gladly help to spread them." "Thank you Calvin Klein. I'll make sure to get a pair of these pants." "*FAINTS* HE'S SO HOT, I CAN'T-"

You're startled when you notice how the comments get even more unhinged and shameless as you keep on scrolling. "He... has a lot of fans," you remark, scrolling back to the top and handing Yachi her phone back, to which she nods heavily. "He had his own fan club in high school, and ever since the Japanese team won the Olympics, the whole team has been very popular. Especially Atsumu-san and Sakusa-san."

You hesitate before asking the next question, uncertain of what the answer might bring. "Is there a reason why he's single? He seems like a decent guy, looks good, and he's probably rich. Isn't he the perfect catch?"

Yachi furrows her brows, thinking. "I don't know, actually. It's probably the same as with Hinata and Kageyama. They focus a lot on their careers; they simply don't have time for dating. I also found out that most volleyball boys can be a bit... intense. It's probably hard to find a partner that understands their passion. They prioritize training over anything else. I've never seen Hinata skip a day of training, no matter what happens. Their partners must accept that they put a lot of their energy and time into their jobs."

"Ah," you simply nod, slightly surprised by the revelation. You would have assumed that they have a very lively dating life, but it seems like they just live for work. Sounds a bit lonely.

"I also think that some fans are a bit obsessed with their private lives. There was an incident before with Atsumu-san and one of their fans- but things have calmed down lately, so you should be fine." Yachi reassures you, reaching for a cookie on the couch table.

"I think that—" she is interrupted by the sudden sound of a ringing phone, and both of you exchange confused glances before realizing it's your phone. Yachi's eyes light up, and she squeals, "Maybe it's him—I mean, I could have gotten his number through Hinata, but maybe he's got some news—"

You fumble with the phone, the unknown number undoubtedly belonging to Atsumu. Taking a deep breath, you nod at her and hold the phone to your ear, answering the call with a simple,

"Hello?"

[chemical-processes]

My birthday is in five days!

[artvscvntymullet]

GROWING, TOGETHER - ARTHUR TV

a sudden revelation turns both your and your boyfriend's lives upside down...

CW - nausea, cramps, unplanned pregnancy

word count: 2650 words

The steady hum of the early morning sunlight slipping through the curtains was the first thing you felt, but your stomach was the first to remind you of the unease settling there. It had been like this for the past few days—waves of nausea that came and went, along with dizziness and fatigue. The discomfort started right after you had returned from the weekend trip to the mountains, and you just couldn’t shake it.

You tried to brush it off, thinking it was just something you’d eaten, or maybe the change in altitude. But when it lingered, when it crept into your days, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Your boyfriend, Arthur, was out on an errand, something you had pushed him to do so you could have a bit of space to yourself. He’d been doting on you non-stop, constantly asking if you were okay, if you wanted anything. While you loved him for it, his concern was starting to make you feel worse. You didn’t want to worry him, especially when you weren’t even sure what was going on. You’d chalked it up to stress, maybe the change in routine, or even just being run down, but deep down, a whisper of an idea had begun to settle in your mind, a thought you couldn’t push away.

You tried to ignore it—tried to focus on the usual distractions, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.

When the doorbell rang, it startled you, and you almost fell off the couch, clutching your stomach. You groaned softly and stood up, trying to shake off the dizziness, and shuffled to the door.

It was Chris, your best friend. He had a habit of showing up unannounced, but this time, his smile faltered when he saw your pale face.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, peering inside as you opened the door.

You shrugged, giving him a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just feeling a little off. I think I might be coming down with something.”

Chris stepped inside, looking around at your cluttered living room. He raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s just a bug?”

You paused, your heart thudding. You’d been trying to avoid thinking about it, but Chris was nothing if not observant.

“I don’t know,” you replied softly, your voice catching a little. “I just… I’ve been feeling off. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Chris gave you a concerned look, his eyes darting from you to the couch and back again. He then reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small box. He had an idea for quite some time, quickly reaching out to his sister to confirm his suspicions.

You froze.

“Take it,” he said gently, handing you the pregnancy test. “Arthur’s out, and you’re probably nervous to tell him. But I know you. You’re not one to avoid the truth. So, just take it.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the test. Could it really be? You’d had a few late periods, but this was different. This was more than just the typical dread that came with a missed cycle. You could feel something deep inside you, a quiet voice saying that this was it.

“What if I’m wrong?” you whispered, the thought of telling Arthur making your stomach turn. “What if it’s just something else, and I’m getting my hopes up?”

Chris stepped closer, his voice steady and warm. “Hey, listen. There’s no harm in finding out, right? If it’s negative, then it’s just a relief. But if it’s positive… well, then you deal with that when it comes. You’re not alone in this, okay? And you’ve got Arthur.”

“But what if he’s not ready?” You shook your head, unable to stop the tears that welled up in your eyes. “What if I ruin everything?”

Chris sat down beside you, pulling you into a hug. “You won’t ruin anything. Arthur loves you, and whatever this is, you’ll face it together. You always have. Just take the test.”

You looked up at him, silently nodding, and then retreated to the bathroom with the test in your hand.

The minutes seemed to drag on forever. Your heart hammered in your chest, the anticipation nearly unbearable as you waited for the result. You could feel every second, the tension thick in the small space, until at last, you saw it—the faint second line. You gasped, staring at the test, completely in shock.

Pregnant.

It hit you like a freight train, and suddenly, your knees felt weak. Your hands shook as you held the test. The room felt like it was spinning, and you couldn’t breathe for a moment. You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself.

Your mind immediately flew to Arthur—what would he say? Would he be thrilled? Or would he be scared?

It felt as though the walls were closing in on you. You hadn’t even thought about how to tell him, and now, here you were, holding this life-altering information.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. “Hey, you alright in there?” Chris’s voice sounded from the other side.

You slowly opened the door and showed him the test.

His eyes widened as he saw the second line. He blinked a few times, processing the reality of it. “Well, that’s that,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, your throat tight. “Oh God, Chris, what do I do? How do I tell him?”

Chris pulled you into a tight hug. “You take a deep breath and you tell him the truth. Arthur is going to be fine. He loves you. He’ll be there.”

You nodded, but the weight of it all settled over you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

When Arthur came home, the door creaked open, and the sound of his footsteps filled the house. You felt frozen, sitting in the living room, the test still in your hand.

“Hey, love,” he greeted, voice light and casual. “How’re you feeling? You okay?”

You forced a smile, trying to calm the churning in your stomach. You wanted to just tell him, to spill the words and let it all out. But no, instead, you stood up, holding the test in front of him.

“Arthur… I’m pregnant.”

There it was. The words hung in the air like an undeniable truth, heavy and unrelenting.

Arthur froze in place, his face going pale. His eyes locked on the test, and he stepped back a little, unsure what to say. For a long moment, everything went quiet. His expression was unreadable.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Arthur finally whispered, his voice low, almost shaky. “I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us.”

The fear and uncertainty in his voice were sharp, like a knife cutting through the tender air between you both. You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m scared too, Arthur,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I know that whatever happens, we’re in this together, okay?”

Arthur closed his eyes for a second, taking a step toward you. He pulled you close, his hand resting gently on your back. “We’ll figure this out. I love you, and I want to be here for you. But I need some time to process all this.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and just let him hold you. Your nerves slowly started to calm, but the uncertainty still lingered in your chest.

The next few weeks were a blur—doctor visits, nerves, and a lot of deep conversations with Arthur. He was worried, yes, but he was also committed to making it work. And as the days passed, you felt the weight of your pregnancy settle in more and more, and each day, Arthur showed up in ways you never imagined—holding you when you were sick, rubbing your back during sleepless nights, and even going out in the middle of the night to get your weird food cravings.

But then came the moment when it was time to tell your parents. Arthur was with you when you sat down to tell them, and the room was thick with tension.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, your voice quiet but firm. Your heart was racing. You had no idea what to expect from them.

Your parents exchanged a long look, and your mum’s eyes widened in surprise. She looked at your father, who seemed as shocked as she was.

“We didn’t expect this,” your dad said, his voice calm but stern. “How far along are you?”

“Just over two months,” you answered, swallowing hard.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” your mum asked, her voice laced with concern. “This isn’t something you can just take back.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you whispered. “But I’m going to try, and I’m not alone in this. Arthur and I are going to do this together.”

Your mum sighed and placed her hand over yours. “We’ll support you,” she said, her voice softening. “But I hope you’ve thought this through.”

The next few months were a whirlwind. As your pregnancy progressed, Arthur became even more attentive, holding your hand every time you felt nauseous, rubbing your back when your body ached from the changes. You couldn’t deny how much you loved him. He was there for every appointment, every milestone, and every scare. You shared fears, laughs, and moments of silence as you adjusted to the idea of becoming parents together.

And then came the day you’d both been anxiously awaiting: the birth of your baby.

The contractions had started late in the evening, and soon you were in the hospital, breathing through each wave of pain. Arthur was right beside you the entire time, holding your hand, whispering words of encouragement, even as exhaustion took over.

Hours later, the doctor’s voice filled the room. “It’s time.”

You pushed with everything you had, your body exhausted but determined. And then, with one final push, you heard the cry. The sweetest sound you’d ever heard.

Arthur was by your side, tears streaming down his face as they placed your baby in your arms. A tiny, perfect little girl, with dark eyes and a full head of hair. She was beautiful.

Arthur kissed your forehead, his voice trembling. “She’s perfect. We did it, love.”

Your world has been turned upside down, but with the best people by your side.

[daisywords]

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