#and that’s where i’m cutting myself off because i refuse to let myself ramble on any longer unless it’s a reblog or separate post

[bizlybebo]

hey so i am also batshit insane and not at all normal about Doug Bizlychannel Jerwee and his relationship with summer and i also have a non jrwi friend who is obsessed with Doug and deeply upset at the lack of doug content in the fandom so i am humbly requesting any and all doug ramblings u have in ur brain

HEEELLLLOOOOOOOO HIIHHIIHJ oh i hate that guy soooo muchh<33333

doug is absolutely bisexual and likely Some Form of non-cis but in s1 he had an evil villain job so he didn’t really care. he still doesn’t know .but like. summer is a pride flag sticker sapphic n she has the trans pin on her backpack n everything and so she kind of caught the Vibes on doug and Knows but hasn’t said anything.

hold on the rest of these got kinda Long let me make a cut

doug has a little brother right. he absolutelyyyy used to be one of those older brothers who was soo protective of his sibling and attached at the hip to him until a certain point where he started working for overlord n pushed his brother faaar away to keep his secret, being inferno, under wraps. so his little brother became kind of willing to let Anything slide as long as he could stick to his side like little brothers do,, and he probably Knew something was off and never mentioned it. it was definitely one of those situations hwere he probably thought doug was a hero/vigilante and not a villain.

ALSO i think this is actually said/kinda implied in canon but that summer probably kicked his ass to bring him down during the timeskip (or whenever they started working together). he was probably getting into shit he shouldn’t have and despite her not having powers at the time she still managed to absolutely cook him (cause like. there’s a different between who is technically physically stronger and who would Win A Fight. yknow). liiike i think it happened to be that kind of thing where they were in the middle of an absolute brawl n summer was just refusing to give up and they were exchanging banter/jabs due to already knowing each other somewhat from rockfall high. and right before they went back to exchanging deadly blows the prime rifters just fucking Showed Up. and summer was immediately curious and decided not to let doug get away on the grounds that “they’d finish the fight later” but then everything happened. yk.

ALSO i don’t think bizly actually said it but doug absolutely sacrificed himself for summer against that crazy scientist dude right. like we all saw it that way right. she was dying and he was in agony and likely thought he was dying to and so he decided that for once he was gonna be a good person even if it killed him and let summer take the fuckjn. synthetic skin and superpowers. but he survived anyways and it’s kind of like. that whole thing about “i expected to sacrifice myself for you, for it to all blow up in my face and for me to go with it, for me to be gone. but i survived and now you have to watch me pick up the shards of my life”. but summer “just because it’s rotten work doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it” dileo is like No Actually we are picking these fragments up Together but i am going to Kick Your Ass into being a good person All The Time. goddd does this make any sense i miss tjem so bad…..

also just how summer thinks she’s the only one who Knows about doug being Probably Bisexual But He Has A Job,, i think summer thinks she’s subtle abt her body dysmorphia from the whole superpowers thing. and i think doug realizes what’s going on so he makes fun of her for like. everything else But her appearance (other than joking about her always dying her hair). and he does the subtle things you always do when you’re trying to get it through somebody’s head that they’re beautiful and shouldnt be insecure (in a /p way).

also summer absolutely has dyed doug’s hair a couple times. he’s probably currently rocking w a few red streaks, but sometimes he’ll let summer do blue ones if he’s feeling quirky.

ALSO i’m on my suntrip bullshit i think summer was also trying to fucking track cantrip down during s2 and get her to Stop being a villain (enemies to lovers toxic yuri) but cantrip was wayyyyy more slippery than doug was. however after the incident w the scientist when doug was likely dying, summer had No fucking clue who to go to and. idk if i personally hc this but i think it would be Cool if she found cantrip and was like “hey. no fighting i promise. i seriously need your help can you do this for me. i’ll never bother you again if you can just help me with this”. and summer + prime rifters struck a tentative deal with cantrip + xavier and maybe alan to help doug Survive. does this make any sense sorru i love the pd npcs sooo much. i never stop thinking abt them

[herooffire101]

Okay, so this was for a writing event on a Pokemon forum (it's a small Pokemon forum) and the inspiration was a video I found years ago. Basically, it's based in the forum's fan region, and you had to write a journal entry based on doing something...I used my human names for Bombalurina, Tugger, and Munkustrap for it. I based the Pokemon they use on my Magic Cats post, so there we have it. Also, I used different fonts for each character, so it may not translate well. Anyway, enjoy!

May 15th

I don’t know how to start this, but somehow Travis decided to explore this cave near the Navirou River and drag all of us along. Me and Marcus have to keep track of him, all while dragging my sister and Marcus’s girlfriend Demeter all over the place. The cave was damp, and damper as we got deeper in, making me miserable, and Tarlavra was miserable too. Demeter was miserable too, with Voltaire refusing to come out of his ball. Both Travis and Marcus, on the other hand, were fine, happy in Travis’s case. I love him, but sometimes he doesn’t think ahead. Travis wanted to see where this cave would go, and he was hoping that maybe we could find the source of the river, seeing how it wasn’t documented yet. Why did our parents allow us to explore this region this summer again? To give us (Mainly me and Travis) an opportunity to gain enough credit to skip a grade. Just because Travis is the Ground type expert between us doesn’t mean that he should go into a cave willy nilly! Crap, I’m going off topic again. My Typhlosion wouldn’t let us go deeper in the cave without her protecting me (I love her so much) and providing us light (after the one time Trav decided to run into a cave dragging me along and ending up in complete darkness when we were ten and Tarlavra was a Cyndaquil).With her flames lighting up the cavern, Travis decided to talk about how the walls were made up a combination of what looked like a combination of sedimentary and metamorphic rocks, which was unusual for caves around here (how does he know that? I’m the one who took the forging and survival courses offered, because one of us has to make sure that my idiot boyfriend survives long enough to marry graduate with me), and this was such a find. Demeter, bless her, basically clung onto Marcus as we shared a look of exasperation at my boyfriend and Marcus’s younger brother.

I question every time I have to write this because I know that my weakness is writing while Travis is the better writer than me, but it was placed onto me because, and I quote, “You are the most straightforward between the four of you, and you can make sure that his thoughts on this expedition are clarified.” Jokes on you, I go onto tangents! Marc and Dem are the ones who should have asked! Of course, they each gave us roles according to our strengths. I’m the strategist, and occasional tailor for our little quartet, while Demeter is our photographer (which is amazing because this adventure goes into her photography credentials) and one of our solid voices of reason. Marcus is our general leader (who need Demeter to listen to him when I admit me and Travis get on his nerves, which is a lot of the time), and Travis is our resident Ground, Rock, and Steel enthusiast as well being my handsome rockstar boyfriend who helps me cook our meals while on this expedition. He loves messing with other people’s expectations for him, but the rest of us see him how he really is.

Shit, I did it again! Anyway, we went deeper into the cavern, and Travis finally cut off his rambling and shushed us. He asked me (because honestly my ears definitely are more sensitive than his) if his ears weren’t playing tricks on him and he heard rushing water. I’m glad he did ask me because I could hear it, so I followed my ears, with Travis making sure I didn’t run into anything because I’ve done this before and may have given myself a sprained wrist and plenty of cuts and bruises due to not looking where I was going. It took us a little while longer to get to the source but when we got to the source, all of us were surprised. It wasn’t just the source of the Navirou river, but a hot spring, surrounded by many crystallite structures littering the walls and ceiling. And, somehow, there was some kind of light glow coming from the crystals. Once we got to a good place to set up our little camp far enough away from the spring on a nearby rock shelf (with Travis’s approval even though both me and him are fifteen), we did some check like how we were taught. Marcus set up his water testing module while me and Demeter scouted so really good photo shots, some including our set up. While miserable in the cave system, Voltaire the Jolteon was out and pawing at the water, which I sneakily took a video of (both me and Dem found it so cute). Tarlavra sat herself the farest away from the water, and it looked to me that she was fighting herself from take a nap. Marc did his water testing, and declared it safe to drink and swim. He has his Vaporeon, River, scout underwater for any local Pokémon colonies (This is a reminder to me and anyone reading this account, a goal in this expedition was to identify what Pokémon lived here and if it completely necessary for the League to make certain areas in Meroi Protected Preservation Areas) while the rest of us make sure that the area was secure for us.

Hey, I stole this report journal from Beatrice, and I can clearly say that these crystalline structures already ring out to me that they should be a limited access area due to the natural beauty and the harmonic resonance-

Travis do NOT take the journal out of my hands or I will tape them together while you sleep.

But Bea…

If either of you continue fighting about this, I will tell Mum and Jenny.

(There are some unreadable scribbles)

Now, since I can continue this entry, I accidentally started singing what I thought was under my breath, when in reality the soundwaves amplified the acoustics and made Travis, then Marcus and Demeter join into my song. It was then we discovered that somehow, the crystals reflected the sound waves off of the hot spring. Once we hit the last chord (which sounded so beautiful like we were on the stage singing, only without using microphones to amplify our voices), Marc made the decision to recommend the restriction of this environment because once the song ended, a bunch of Pokémon popped their heads out from under the water. There was some more deep water Pokémon, like Relicanth, which I didn’t think would at least feel the soundwaves of our voices from under the water. Demeter did get the best shots of this, so they were included with our report, along side a video Travis did of me singing and the Pokémon living in the water watching like an audience of children, fascinated with my mini performance. As a music nerd, this cave just fascinates me because I want to bring my bassoon down here and record it, just for the reverb. As this expedition is a four-person effort, I will pass this journal expert to Marcus.

As the Team Leader, I highly recommend that this hot spring, which we have designated as the potential source of the Navirou River, as a restricted access, possibly for trainers who are cleared by the region professor, Professor Hemlock, and or fulfilled the Pokémon League requirements as a member of the Hall of Fame and cleared by the League Champion.

Marcus, that’s really dry. You have to have the respect of the Prof and Head Trainer of the League, simple as that.

Beatrice, distract my brother, please.

With Pleasure.

Signed,

Beatrice R. Ford

Demeter A. Ford

Travis J. Jellicle

Marcus M. Jellicle

Yea if it's harder to read, then I completely understand. Also Tumblr did not like what I was trying to do.

[sigridhawke]

I am truly honoured you have reread Leather and Linen and the side stories 🙏🙏

The doodles are my sincerest thanks for talking about this with me! I love talking about this story and it’s a great reason to share more of them haha I’m glad you’re enjoying them!

I haven’t shared the art on here but I did do a specific piece for my personal copy of the story with Heba and Wadjet, a screenshot from my own playthrough of the scales in the back heh.

Touching a bit on Yugi’s mental state after the apple’s destruction, I feel like family is something he would have never chosen to go back to. He didn’t want his mother to see him in the state that he was in and it was hard for both of them to see each other, but he did try. I feel given the choice, he would have just let himself disappear, and that’s kinda how he feels with any other connections he made outside of the group, he wasn’t ready and he didn't want to put any of them through that if he was.

Down the rabbit hole of more rambling about this fic lol:

If I remember correctly and it has been a while since I looked at my notes, but in my mind Yugi was only around another 5 years once the Apple was destroyed. Which is pretty good given how badly messed his brain was, but at the same time it’s not a long time at all. Ryou does outlive him, goes to his funeral, mourns him, and carries on. He still suffers just not as badly, he can mostly go back to some semblance of the life he had before.

And I think about that a lot too, with their ancestors it was Heba who outlived Bakura, and in the modern day Ryou outlived Yugi. I see their lives so intertwined, the threads crossing over on different beats.

Atem’s Ba did travel a lot. He spent a lot of time in Aaru with Mahad and everyone else, but he did have a routine to come back just in case. It only stops once he brings Yugi into Aaru, next to the front of the tomb caving in, there was no reason for him to go back. The pain for Atem’s Ba too when you remember Mahad’s body was left behind in the tomb without a proper burial (and Atem telling Mahad he would have built a grand tomb for him in Definition of Love) and when Heba’s chamber collapsed and his body fell from his sarcophagus, unable to put him back. I think a lot about Yugi fixing the wrappings and placing Heba back. Honestly I think a lot about Yugi meeting ‘Heba’ in the tomb so much.

I’m so happy the approach with the gods came across as it did <3 I’ve always been fascinated with Egypt and the gods, this was a very self catering story for me to just shamelessly delve into it and a world where belief in the gods is just the norm, while also trying to balance it with a are the gods real are they not, what can they influence that still makes the world feel believable, and that was something i enjoyed a lot particularly writing Atem’s character, because for most of the story I myself did not really know if he was a god, but I wanted the idea that he was to be there.

Then he took the story and decided yes he was and who am I to refuse haha. The story just started coming together so naturally it made sense for them to be real and how many of the characters fit with their own representations of the gods. Bastet was my favourite to have one of the gods actually there and present, but in a way she could have just been another cat. 

I think a lot too about Bastet waking Heba up on Atem’s final day, and her waiting expectantly for Heba to step into Ra’s light and uphold the mantle of Egypt’s pharaoh and what that implied, and holding the millennium puzzle/pendant with the belief for Set that it held the Apple. There was so much pressure on him to do things right (even tho he immediately accidentally cut his own finger off kjdbkjg) I don’t think he could have done it without Mahad and just that inner court who quite literally took that secret to their graves, many leaving no descendents. It was a logistical nightmare with Heba being Atem according to how history was remembered but I’m so proud of this story.

Also my beloved other medjay, Heba having to lie to Baniti killed me cause he became such a father figure to Heba GAWD.

I'm still totally normal about "Leather and Linen," so I thought I'd ask if you have any headcanons about Yugi as a kid. What was he like growing up? Did he make friends in school? If not, was it for the same reason as in canon (especially since Yami wasn't there), or because he knew something was waiting for him? Was he doodling birds and ankhs in the margins of his class notebooks and assuming it was just because of his grandpa's adventures? Did he know what he wanted to be when he grew up?

We can be totally normal about Leather and Linen together 🤝🤝

I have many headcanons about younger Yugi! A lot of which I never had a place in the main story or the extra ones I have written, but I have thought about Yugi a lot.

(Also I accidentally spiraled with this so please enjoy my small rant about Yugi lol)

Because I wanted Jou, Honda, and Anzu to be older than Yugi in this setting and to help establish the fact they had been working within ‘The Tower’ for a longer period of time they were absent from any of his schooling life. 

Instead Yugi began much like canon Yugi began  as the quiet shy nerd playing games with himself, doodling video game characters in the margins of his book. Ryou joined the class as an exchange student, and the duo hit it off. Bonding over their similar vibes and that’s how they spent most of their high school years. 

When university came around the duo did part ways in a sense. Still keeping in contact just not as often as they pursued their own goals, and then Ryou drops off the radar and Yugi can’t get in contact with him, no one seems to know where he is. His search for Ryou kinda falls down his list of priorities when Grandpa passes away and he ended up dropping out of university to deal with the everything going on emotionally. 

He goes job hunting instead, not really sure if he wants to try and tackle university again just yet and when a dream job at a gaming company comes his way he can’t not go for it. But like Ryou the job offering was a front for The Tower to get their hands on their desired individual to shove them in the Animus and practically break their brains to get information about the Apple of Eden. 

Because he was in a different city at the time, his Mother didn’t know he had gone missing (and since his phone was taken too there was fake texts sent too to keep his location hidden)

A little more on the technical soul stuff below the cut:

Up until being thrown in the Animus (and finding Ryou again in the communal hall of The Tower) Yugi had no obvious indications he held the still wandering soul of Heba. Which made it easier for him initially to separate himself from Heba.

Excluding Yugi, all of the descendents are only descendents. The Animus taps into their genetic memory and plays them like an old video tape over and over until the film breaks down.

Yugi however, is a little different. While it is correct to call Yugi Heba’s descendent, Yugi is also Heba. When Heba finally went to the afterlife to be with Atem (and Mahad) he felt like he could not truly be at peace because he did not destroy the Apple of Eden. After much begging Atem did finally let him go, using his power as Osiris to reincarnate Heba who spends the next 3000 years wandering/waiting until he is reborn as Yugi. 

Yugi holds Heba’s soul yes, but the life in which Yugi is brought up in with his Grandpa and Mother shape the person he became. 

The Animus ‘reawakens’ his memories so to speak and a part of him knows he’s suffering more than he should be with reliving Heba’s memories. His biggest struggle is being torn between feeling like Heba is him, while wanting to hold onto and believe he is still Yugi. Why Heba’s ‘ghost’ brings him comfort is because he can visualize that ‘nagging at the back of his head’ and see Heba as an entity separate from himself. 

It takes him a very long time to come to terms with his sense of self even after the Apple is destroyed. He’s still struggling but making progress with that in the afterlife just as Atem and Mahad are coming to terms with their Heba not being the same Heba they remembered. But that doesn’t stop them all from trying and working towards their deserved peace and happiness within their polycule in the afterlife <3

[potatotrash0]

okay unoriginal but ahhhh genshin danganronpa au......

i kinda see makoto as the anemo archon dkjfkshd he’d be much different personality wise from venti but their views line up from what i can tell. letting the people rule themselves and keeping watch from afar, encouraging them to find purpose in their freedom.....that sounds like makoto to me. i’d like to think he keeps the archon thing under wraps so he can just wander around mondstadt normally like zhongli does.

speaking of which, i think byakuya might work as the geo archon. contracts and stiff aura and all. though he’d be more lonesome than zhongli and probably have a better grasp on his money haha. for a businessman, he’s awfully content to sit back and just pitch in occasionally but zhongli is also meant to be a support, so i figure it could work. also i just. love the idea of makoto and byakuya bonding over the whole immortal god thing like they do over their shared trauma in canon.........

i think nagito might work as the anemo adeptus? the hp draining fighting style and karma thing matches up a bit with ko’s horrible self depreciation and esteem as well as his luck cycle if you squint. xiao’s design is also pretty firmly rooted in chinese culture and ko’s name implies an older lineage or something. also venti-xiao makoto-nagito parallels go brrrrrrrrrr (forgive my reaching here i’m spitballing)

as for the traveler.......i have no idea dkfjskhfkd. there’s so many characters that it’s hard to pick just one. i’m biased towards traveler hajime abyss prince izuru because i just want hajime and makoto shenanigans and later on, hajime trying to get nagito to chill out during the lantern rite. also izuru would totally have the skill to be able to just climb up the ranks like that especially if he were bored and found that kinda thing to be interesting. (and the aesthetic of that idea bangs hard i will not lie)

oooo but also i just thought of traveler mukuro abyss princess junko........mukuro would definitely be desperate to try and find her sister again, but i could see her being willing to help out everyone else along the way. junko would also totally become the abyss princess just because she could and have the time of her life doing it.

in the case of mukuro-junko, i think the unknown god could be izuru. if it’s hajime-izuru then junko would probably fit. also if we go with the “paimon is the unknown god” theory, can you imagine mukuro traveling with a little hajime? dkfjkehf their friendship......so pog.......though i’m not sure who paimon would be if it were hajime-izuru twins. maybe chiaki? though her and izuru being the same person trips me out a bit aha.........

oh but in the note i have in bear about this au, i actually have kyoko as the traveler! no abyss leader is listed, though i’m thinking maybe shuichi because 1.) detective solidarity and 2.) honestly evil shu is one of my favorite things ever......or maybe he could be paimon because of the mc/helper vibes? that also could lead back to the bad guy shu thing. ack i like all of these possibilities......ohhh and it could also work with kaede traveler!! gah i could see her being so heartbroken finding out that shuichi, someone she trusted and used to travel with, could betray her like that......

uh moving on, so. i know we don’t have much info on the other archons and i just listed her as a traveler but. but but but!!!! consider: electro archon kyoko. just. the purple aesthetic matches so hard......also something i notice, people with electro visions tend to have a strong sense of devotion to something? razor to his lupical, lisa to her magic and research of the elements, keqing to her work and the qixing. beidou, her ship and crew, and fischl, her fantasies. kyoko’s pretty dedicated to being a detective, and i figure it could work.

also i just like anemo and electro because it brings up the imagery of a storm, but also like. electricity isn’t the most gentle thing ever. kyoko isn’t super soft all the time, but she does have a soft spot for makoto, and i like the image of him sweeping in on a gust of wind and her laughing quietly, her eyes sparking a bit as he stumbles and lands next to her with a big goofy grin. just. man i love them.......also i like the image of geo and electro not being the most compatible or reactive elements together and kyoko and byakuya kinda begrudgingly getting along because of makoto dkfjskjdjshdk

[daniellesimagines]

Drunk in Love (Ashton Irwin)

word count: 584 requested by: uhhh myself lmao happy annual birthday imagine!!!! sorry it’s a lil late this year!!!!!! pronouns: she/her warnings: drunk ash, mentions of cheating  fandom: 5 seconds of summer  au type: regular summary: this isn’t the first time ashton has come home drunk after hanging out with his friends, but it is the first time he’s refused to get into bed with you to avoid upsetting his wife inspired by: @softanon (x) authors notes: im not dead, just unmotivated other parts: none

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

You huffed as you finally got your boyfriend to the living room couch, taking a moment to catch your breath as he plopped down on the cushions. Ashton rarely let himself get too carried away while out drinking with the boys, but when he did, he was practically dead weight as he hung all over you when you picked him up from the club.

“Alright, Ash,” you sighed, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Mmm, no thank you,” he hummed, his eyes closed in content as he snuggled one of the couch pillows.

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I just can’t,” he insisted.

“Why not?”

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “You’re really nice and thank you for taking care of me, but I have a wife.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you could feel your stomach drop – Ashton had a wife this whole time? You’d known him for what seemed like forever, and you never expected Ashton to be the kind of person to cheat in a relationship.

“Y-Your wife?” you forced yourself to ask.

But you weren’t at all prepared for Ashton’s answer.

“Her name’s Y/N,” he smiled, and your heart skipped again – he was talking about you? “She’s nice and caring and she loves our fish like they’re our actual babies and she smells like vanilla which is extra good because that’s my favorite smell so it means she’s my favorite smell,” he rambled, barely even stopping to take a breath, “And I love her and you’re really nice but I love her and I don’t want her to leave me because I love her so much.” You found yourself smiling softly – you never knew Ashton thought of you this way – and just accepted that he wouldn’t be coming anywhere near you until he sobered up.

“Okay, Ash,” you humored him, “Can I get you anything before you-” You cut yourself off when you heard him start snoring. “-fall asleep,” you chuckled to yourself, making your way to your bedroom so you get some sleep as well.

~

The next morning, you walked down the hallway and into the living room, finding Ashton just now waking up. He blinked a few times to get used to the sunlight shining through the blinds, looking over when you giggled softly.

“Rough night?” you teased.

“Why was I sleeping on the couch?” he groaned, rubbing where his neck met his shoulder. You snickered softly with a shrug. 

“I tried to get you to come to bed, but you refused,” you sighed dramatically, “Something about how your wife wouldn’t appreciate you getting into bed with another woman.”

“Wife?” he furrowed his eyebrows, “What? No, baby, I’m not-”

“Her name is Y/N,” you began, trying not to smile when his eyes widened, “You told me all about how she’s a real sweetheart and the best wife and how you’re so happy you married her.”

“I did?” 

“Also said something about how you love that she smells like vanilla.”

“God, that’s so embarrassing,” he whined. 

“Hey, I thought it was cute,” you giggled, “Whoever she is, she’s a lucky lady.” 

Ashton rolled his eyes, his gaze following you as you walked over and planted yourself on his lap. His arms wound around your waist to keep you from sliding while your own rested on his shoulders so you could play with his hair. 

“Nice to know that even drunk, you’d never cheat on me,” you said, squealing when he started poking your sides.

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

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[ptergwen]

If you do smut can you do like stark!reader x peter parker (spiderman) are dating 3-4 month and y/n and peter had their very fluff first time then next morning y/n has hickies all over her neck and her thights stomach... and tony/ her dad sees it and is confronting them with it😂 i love your stories 🤤

just saying hi

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: veryyyy suggestive, swearing, some pretty embarrassing moments

a/n: thank you babe! i didn’t write the actual smut but y’all can guess what happened 😭 also this is super long i couldn’t help myself

-

it was everything. it was everything you ever wanted your first time to be and more.

you’d brought up to peter during a make out session one night that you were ready to go farther than you two already have. there was one base you didn’t hit yet. the fourth, the final. you were thinking about it for a while before that, and peter would be lying if he said he didn’t.

your love has always been physical, whether it’s you kissing peter’s cuts after a mission or him tracing hearts on you with his fingers. there’s also the more sexual side of things. that part, you both enjoy just as much, maybe even a little more because you know exactly how to make each other feel good after all the trial and error.

what better way to combine the two than, well, making love?

last night was your sign from the universe, your go ahead to do it. you had the compound to yourselves because your dad had taken all the “big kids” out for the night. you’re both well into college, but he refuses to see you as adults. that meant no peter and no you. you two were a little offended until you realized you could make use of your alone time.

you started off searching for a movie. that turned into you wrestling peter for the remote because you didn’t feel like watching back to the furure yet again. wrestling turned into you on top of him, which turned into you kissing him, which turned into peter throwing the remote somewhere and carrying you up to your room with his lips still on yours.

neither of you had to say it. you were on the same page, same wavelength, two brains in one as peter layed you down and trailed his kisses lower and lower.

peter was so gentle with you, except for when you told him not to be. those were the times he didn’t hold back. he was attentive and sweet and showed you quite a few times how much he loves you. you showed him just the same. yeah, it was really everything.

“morning, baby. you awake yet?” peter hums against the shell of your ear, arms wound comfortably around you. “kinda,” you mumble back with a goofy smile. he presses his lips to your ear and nuzzles his face in the side of your neck. “kinda... how’d you sleep?” you can hear the grin in his voice. his nose nudges your bare skin where a fresh hickey lies and makes you scrunch your own up.

“good, really good. always love sleeping with you.” you’re both aware of the alternate meaning that has now. “funny,” peter lets out a breathy laugh against you and brushes his thumb over your stomach where your shirt got ridden up. you sigh, enjoying his soft touch and reaching behind you to play with his curls. they’re a lot messier than usual from you tugging on them all last night.

peter removes his face from your neck and carefully turns you onto your other side. you’re facing him now, eyes trained on his concerned expression. “hey, just wanna check. how are you feeling? still sore?” a tiny smile stretches your face. he really does care about you and how you feel after everything. you know for a fact most other guys wouldn’t.

“i mean, yeah. you were... it was a lot, but i’ll be fine in a few days i think.” the mention of peter being a lot makes color rush to his face. you laugh quietly at that, cupping one of his cheeks that’s turning pink. “oh. i, um, i didn’t know that. sorry.” he smiles shyly as you smooth your thumb over his warm skin. “don’t be. it wasn’t as bad after i... adjusted a little,” you reassure him, making him lean into your palm.

“i really am sorry, y/n/n. can i make it up to you?” peter checks with you, eyes going up from yours to down your body. he hooks a finger in the waistband of your pajama shorts. “make you feel better?” the way he finishes his question with a bite of his lip is definitely tempting. so is your stomach yelling at you to put some food in it. you’ll have to wait.

“later. right now, you can make me breakfast,” you beam at him and take his hand. peter pushes his palm against yours, letting you lace your fingers together as he puffs some air out of his cheeks. “yeah, that’s gonna go well.” “i’m supervising. it will.” you capture his lips in a kiss, one he instantly reciprocates, free hand resting on your hip. just as it’s heating up, you break it.

“i’m hungry for actual food,” you giggle and roll out of his embrace. “ok, ok, ok. let’s go see what we have,” peter gives in with a chuckle, grabbing the same hand he was just holding and following you down to the kitchen.

he ends up popping some frozen waffles into the toaster, you sitting up on the counter with your phone out while he struggles through the different settings. “should i put it on bake? no, that doesn’t sound right,” he talks to himself with eyes squinted in concentration. “your dad made this thing so... detailed.” it’s an old stark industries toaster, one with options you probably don’t even need.

“yeah because he loves his toast, so maybe don’t break it. he’ll kill you or something,” you half playfully half seriously suggest. peter is one clumsy guy. he tsks at you and crouches down to read the words on the dial. there’s conveniently a setting for waffles, so he hits that one. he’s not sure how he hadn’t noticed it before.

since he’s down there, he takes one of your ankles in both hands and starts to kiss up your leg. it tickles when he gets to your knee, drawing a giggle out of you, but your phone still blocks his face. you’re doing it on purpose. “baby,” peter tries to get your attention in a soft voice. he presses a couple more kisses to your knee. you have to hold your breath so you don’t laugh again.

“baby girllll,” peter drags out, lips moving up your thigh. he nudges your phone with his nose much like a puppy would. “aye, i’m talkin’ to you here,” he says in a fake new york accent. you finally put it down next to you. “i’m listening.” you’re giving him a satisfied smile as he goes back to kissing you.

“just saying hi,” he looks up at you and moves your shorts aside while he kisses further and further to where you want. you scoot closer to him on the counter.

that’s when he stops. not only stops, gasps in horror. “what?” you ask quickly, his eyes fixed on your inner thighs. “i kind of, uh, marked you up. like, a lot.” he runs a finger gently over the bruised skin. you’re suddenly very aware of it now. it doesn’t exactly hurt, just feels bumpy and weird. you peer down at yourself to see the damage, eyes going wide.

“shit... they’re on my neck, too,” you remember, murmuring to him. you’ll have to cover these up before everyone gets home. worry flashes across peter’s face. “oh my god, i didn’t even realize. it- it was dark and you told me-“ “pete, it’s okay. it’s pretty hot,” you stop his rambling, reaching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. he frowns up at you.

“really? are you sure i didn’t go too far? because you can tell me.” you’ve always appreciated how much peter genuienly values your thoughts on things, in the bedroom and in other parts of your relationship. it does lead to a lot of second guessing, though. you squeeze his shoulder and let out a breath. “i’m sure, okay? it’s really not that serious. i’ll just change so no one can see.”

peter winds an arm around one of your legs, body relaxing ever so slightly under your touch. “okay.” he gives your thigh one final kiss, then rests his chin on it. “what about your neck?” “uh...” you hadn’t considered that yet. “makeup? a scarf?” you’ve seen enough tv to know neither of those work, but they’re your only options.

“yup. mr. stark is really gonna kill me now,” peter says under his breath, tensing up all over again. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “what? we’re literally grown adults, we can do whatever we want-“

tony claps loudly as he steps into the kitchen, announcing his return home. peter jumps up from between your legs faster than fast. he moves so he’s next to you, and you hop down from the counter.

“hello, daughter of mine. spider of man,” your dad greets you two, you pulling down your shorts with a plastered on smile. “or would it be man of spider?” he plucks an apple from the bowl on the table as he ponders his question. steve and wanda file into the room next. “second one,” peter replies, grinning a little too much to be normal. tony takes note of that.

wanda comes over to the fridge for a snack, which is close to where you and peter are. “how was last night?” you ask her to take the attention off you two. wanda settles on a yogurt and turns to you. “it was good. we shared a few hotel rooms, had our own party.” she glances over at peter, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “seems like you two had a fun night of your own.”

peter’s mouth drops open. “how did you-“ he forgot she could read his mind and now knows everything that happened. you slap a hand over your forehead. “you couldn’t think about anything else? for, like, a minute?” you whisper yell at him. he uses his eyes to plead with you. “i’m sorry! i was looking at the hickeys-“ he realizes what he’s saying. “crap.”

shooting you a wink, wanda shuts the fridge and goes to join the rest of the team in the living room. lucky for you and peter, steve started lecturing tony about washing his fruit before he eats it. he didn’t hear any of that. there’s still the problem of your visible hickeys that you have zero seconds to hide.

“how the fuck am i supposed to cover these? they’re right in the center, peter!” you panic, your heart starting to race as peter fumbles for a dish towel. that’s the best he could come up with? “no!” you toss it back at him. he throws it on the counter with a pained look. tony and steve make their way over to you.

“oh, hush. a couple of deadly pesticides won’t shake me, stevey boy,” tony insists and takes another big bite of his apple. steve huffs in disapproval and crosses his arms. “you’re a big baby, tony. if you’re not gonna do the right thing, at least buy organic-“ with the world’s longest sigh, tony chucks his apple into the open garbage can.

“there. no more apple discourse.” steve shakes his head at your dad’s behavior. “that was a waste. you could’ve finished it.” “not with your nagging into my literal ear.” steve raises his hands in surrender before making his way out of the kitchen. tony side steps past him and over to you. “enough of that now. let’s have a welcome home hug from my girl.”

you share a look with peter, a look of pure fear that’s in both of your eyes. he’ll definitely notice the hickeys if he gets that close to you. he holds out his arms expectantly while peter scratches the back of his own neck. “sure, dad. welcome home.” an awkward smile on your lips, you bury your face in your dad’s chest and wrap your arms around him in one motion. this way, he didn’t have time to see you from too close up.

peter exhales in relief at the narrowly avoided disaster. that’s until tony makes a request. “missed me that much, kiddo, huh? come out of there.” “but, i’m so comfortable. i wanna stay like this,” you insist, a niceness to your voice tony immediately sees through. he drops his arms from around you, eyeing peter suspiciously, who averts his gaze to the floor.

“nuh uh, you did something. both of you,” your dad states, taking a step to stand between you and peter. peter gulps down a breath before speaking. “mr. stark, it was-“ tony holds up a hand. “don’t worry, kid. i’ll figure it out.”

he gives peter a proper stare, searching him for clues of some sort. it’s a good thing he isn’t wanda because the details of your night would have been exposed. he couldn’t find anything, so now it’s your turn. he’s a little disappointed you’re the one hiding something.

“oh, y/n. not you,” tony sighs as he gives you a looking over. he starts with your face, your eyes following down as his do. it’s when he gets just past your chin that he sees them. the little hickeys littering your skin, some already deep shades of purple. he rips off his glasses in disbelief.

“absolutely not.” he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with the same hand his glasses are in. “i’m not seeing this. i’m not seeing this if i don’t look.” you scoff at his reaction. “dad, you know we’re together. you can’t expect us to not...” “don’t say it,” tony begs, getting the urge to hurl his half eaten apple. he turns and faces peter.

“parker, you really did all of that?” peter only blinks, nervously meeting the eyes of his mentor. “to my daughter?” tony adds on to scare him even more. “i- i-“ a burst of frustration comes out of peter. “you left two teenagers alone the whole night. what’d you think was gonna happen?” he’s shocked at his own words, his face showing it. tony raises his eyebrows. both your hands cover your mouth.

not wanting to deal with peter, tony addresses you instead. “i don’t care how you do it, cover those up. don’t let me see them ever again. understood?” you nod a good amount of times and reach for peter’s hand. he’s about to give it, then tony glares down at what’s happening. peter pulls back immediatelty. “understood. we’ll, um, do better next time,” you agree, tony winching at the idea of a next time.

“you, parker... treat a lady with a little more respect, eh?” tony clicks his tongue at him. he’s referring to all the hickeys. peter’s lips form a line, a sarcastic one that says oh well. “i tried, mr. stark, but y/n wanted me to-“ “christ, that’s enough.” tony furiously shakes his head and starts to walk away from you two. “never again!”

you’re thanking god when he sets off for the living room, you hiding your face in peter’s chest, his face in your hair. “that was terrible. that was the worst thing ever,” you say into him. “i’m sorry, baby. we gotta be more careful.”

it’s not over yet because then, the toaster dings. you’d completely forgotten about the waffles. you and peter both separate with your millionth shared look of terror. tony comes rushing back into the room, very familiar with that noise.

“first you destroy my daughter, now my toaster? pete... you’re in for it, kid.”

[black-mistress-of-evil]

Hey! Can I request a Bucky x Reader where Bucky gets hurt during a mission and the reader is there to take care of him? Maybe he’s caught of guard by this because he hasn’t had someone take care of him in a long time? Feel free to do whatever you want with this!! Thank you so much and I can’t wait to read it 💕

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Thanks so much for the request @thighs-of-betrayal-blog this was so fun to write! Sorry it took so long! I swear every time I get the motivation to write my life gets crazy. But here it is, hopefully it’s a little bit what you hoped for and if it isn’t I hope you enjoy it anyways haha 💜

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF; angst if you squint; very very brief canon level violence; a minute of mutually pining idiots

Word count: approx 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (he uses the endearment “doll” but other than that reader is gender neutral)

Why Do You Care?

“Bucky stop being so stubborn and let me see!”

You were standing in the living room of the safe house Bucky had dragged you into, hands on your hips glaring down at the super soldier on the couch. He was avoiding your gaze, staring a hole in the wall to your left, and had his arms folded across his chest. He looked to you more like a pouting child than a 100+ year old ex-assassin/current Avenger and if you weren’t so frustrated with him you’d probably giggle at the sight.

The mission had been a success. Sort of. You and Bucky had been sent in to steal sensitive files from an abandoned Hydra base. Which you managed to do. But it ended up being less than abandoned and without any backup the fight out was a rough one. Just as the two of you were finally getting out, covered in blood and bruises, Bucky had grabbed your arm and shoved you into a crouch, bending himself over you protectively as a shot rang out. He grunted out in pain and you leaned around his frame to send a bullet straight into the skull of the Hydra agent who’d been stupid enough not to stay down. You’d tried, then, to make sure Bucky was okay but he wasted no time in hauling you back up and out into the night. His hand slipped down your arm to clasp yours and he didn’t let go until you were safely within the walls of the safe house. The more the two of you had run the more obvious it became that he was hurt but he ignored you asking about it.

Now that he’d made sure the safe house was secure and reported back to Steve what had happened and where you were, he couldn’t avoid you anymore. But he could ignore you and he was trying his damnedest to do so.

“M’fine.” He grumbled at you for probably the third time in as many minutes, shifting to turn his injured side away from you as if that would make you go away.

“Bucky I know you’re not fine so why won’t you just let me see so I can help?” The cuteness of his pout was wearing off as your patience was wearing thin. “Do you not trust me or something??”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to yours then, his heart rate rising as he saw the concern there. He did trust you. More than he trusted himself most days. Hell he was in love with you. But you were way too good for him, too full of light, and you’d never be interested in someone like him. He’d only ruin you anyways. But when he looked into your eyes he couldn’t stand the flash of hurt he saw when you asked that question.

“Course I do doll...I trust ya...” his voice was hoarse and he tried taking a deep breath to clear his throat but it sent pain shooting through him and he groaned, pressing his hand to the still bleeding wound in his side.

“Buck....” your tone was softer now as you took a step closer. You thought for a second that he was going to let you check on his injury but the moment your hands reached for him he shot up, ignoring the pain, and pushed past you into the bathroom while mumbling about not needing help.

You roll your eyes and sigh as the bathroom door slams shut behind him. Ever since you’d met the quiet soldier when he joined the Avengers he’d swung back and forth between pushing you away and pulling you in closer. He always volunteered to be partnered with you and you worked well together but he’d refuse to spar with you. He liked helping you cook for team dinners but always declined your invitations to go out for lunch. During movie nights he only ever sat beside you or, if someone beat him there, he’d sit on the floor and lean against your legs even if there was an empty seat by someone else, but he wouldn’t join you when you were binge watching your favourite show alone. You couldn’t figure him out but the more you tried to the more you fell for him. It had been agony for you to want him knowing he could never see you as more than a teammate and friend. Regardless of how many times his behaviour had made it clear he wasn’t interested in you that way, you couldn’t help it. You loved him. And if that remained unrequited the rest of your life then so be it, you were that gone for him.

And so, despite his insistence that he didn’t need your help, you found yourself trailing after him towards the bathroom. You pressed your ear to the door and could hear him shuffling around, pulling out a first aid kit, and then gasping in obvious pain.

“Bucky? Open the door and let me in? Please? I want to help...I want to take care of you, you just have to let me....” you pause, waiting for a response, and notice that all the sounds on the other side of the door have ceased.

“Buck? Please, I care about you...let me...” your voice is lower, almost a whisper now, and you wait another few painfully silent seconds before hearing a long sigh from the other side of the door. When it cracks open, your eyes meet his piercingly blue ones and you nearly crumble at the uncertainty you see there.

“Can I come in, Buck?” You ask gently and he hesitates for only a second before nodding and opening the door wider. You step inside and motion for him to sit on the edge of the counter for you and he quickly obeys.

“You’re gonna have to take your shirt off for me to see, Buck.” You say gently, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He grunts in acknowledgement and begins pulling his black tee up, hissing as he raises his arms causing a tug to his injury. Without a second thought, you reach forward and help maneuver his shirt the rest of the way off, dropping it to the side as he brings his arms back down. As other times in the past when you’ve seen him shirtless, you can’t help but let your eyes travel across his firm chest and toned abdomen, drinking him in until you raise your eyes to his and realize he’s watching you. You quickly avert your gaze, your ears burning at having been caught ogling him, so you miss the way his lips curl into a smirk. Focusing your attention onto his side you gasp at the large gash there still slowly leaking blood.

“Not that bad, doll.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Just because its not life-threatening does not mean that it’s ‘not that bad’. Dammit Buck why wouldn’t you let me help you take care of this as soon as we got here?!” You huff as you grab some antibacterial cloths and begin cleaning the wound, ignoring his hiss as you do so.

“M’sorry, doll...it’s just...haven’t really had anyone take care of me in...well since before the war to be honest. Got used to taking care of myself...used to not having anyone care.” Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper and you have to strain to listen to him. He’s never been so vulnerable with you and you want to make the most of however long he’s going to let this moment last. When its clear he’s waiting for you to say something you reach one hand up to softly cup his cheek and turn him to face you.

“I care. I care so much, Buck. You just have to let me.” You try to put all your emotions into your gaze, desperate for him to see that he doesn’t have to be alone and that he is loved and cared about. He sighs and leans into your hand more, raising his own to rest on your hip.

“Why?”

He spoke so quietly you’re not sure you heard him and raise an eyebrow to ask him to repeat himself, too afraid of breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the two of you to speak.

“Why do you care so much, doll? Why me? I’m not...I’m not worth it.”

This is it. The chance to tell him how you feel. If he rejects you that’s fine, you decide. Even if he doesn’t return your feelings at least he will know that he is loved and that’s enough for you right now. Your heart feels like it may burst as you weigh your response carefully.

“You, Bucky, are so worthy of all the care in the world. You went through hell and back a million times over and came out the other side a kind, thoughtful, sweet, considerate, gentle, loving man. The world tried to break all of that out of you but you are too strong and too GOOD. The world owes you and if I could wrap up all the love that exists in it and give it to you I would. But I’ve only got mine so that’s what I’ll give you.”

Dropping your hand from his face to his shoulder, you hold your breath as Bucky’s eyes stare into yours as though searching for something. He tightens his grip on your waist, before finally breaking the heavy silence, his voice at least an octave lower.

“You’ll....give me...your love...?” Bucky is the strongest man you know and yet you have never heard him sound so timid and unsure in all the time you’ve known him. He looks so hopeful and scared and you can’t help the confession bursting from your lips.

“Yes Bucky! I will. I already have. It’s yours. I-I love you.” You take a deep breath before continuing, rambling now. “And I don’t expect to you to return my feelings and I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship because that would just kill me nothing has to change between us I just needed you to know that—mmph—“

You’re cut off by Bucky’s lips connecting with yours, his hands cupping your face, thumbs rubbing gently across your cheekbones. The kiss is gentle, careful, almost tentative at first. But then your arms snake around his neck and one of his hands makes its way into your hair and it becomes passionate and desperate. Bucky pulls you between his thighs so you are flush against him and the feeling of his taut muscles against you makes you moan. Your hands lift to tangle in his hair and tug gently as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance which you immediately grant. He growls into the kiss as he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, his hands roaming all across your body, pulling you impossibly closer as you arch into him needing to feel him. He stands suddenly, pushing you back a couple of steps until you are pinned between his body and the wall. You gasp for air and he moves his lips along your jaw, down your neck, and then back up to press another searing kiss against your lips before resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his own breath. Your chests rise and fall together and he rubs his nose against yours before placing another tender, gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry....couldn’t help myself...” Bucky manages to tell you between gasps for air.

“Never apologize for THAT...” you giggle and the vibrations of his chuckle against your chest make you feel lightheaded as he leans back to look you in the eye, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I love you.” He sounds sure. Confident. Like nothing in the world could be more true than that statement. You can’t help the ridiculously giddy grin that splits your face as you tug his face back to yours for another kiss, which he smiles into.

Once you come down from your highs a little bit you manage to coax him back to his spot on the counter and you continue cleaning his injury and stitching him up though it takes much longer now as Bucky keeps distracting you. He plants kisses to your nose, your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your forearm, basically any part of you that comes close enough to his lips. When you finally finish, you let your hands run along his muscles as you rub your nose against his and kiss him deeply, gently biting his bottom lip eliciting a sound from him that turns your insides completely upside down.

Before you can say or do anything else, the front door opens with a crash and Bucky grabs you and shoves you behind him protectively as he peeks out into the front room to assess the threat.

“Dammit punk! What’re you breaking down the door for?! I thought you were a hostile! Why didn’t you just call and say you were here??!” You sigh in relief at Bucky’s nickname for Steve and move to peer over his shoulder at the Captain as the two super soldiers glare at each other.

“I’ve been calling for several minutes! You didn’t answer! I thought you were in danger, jerk!”

“Sorry, Steve! We were...distracted. Bucky needed stitches.” You quickly apologize and give an excuse in case Bucky isn’t comfortable saying anything yet since you hadn’t exactly taken the time to talk yet. But he just turns to face you and smirks as he tugs you to him for one more kiss before reaching around you to grab his shirt and pull it on.

“Ya. We were pretty damn distracted. Didn’t really appreciate the interruption, punk!” Bucky chuckles and can’t help the grin that has been plastered on his face since you told him you love him. Your cheeks flush as he puts an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to Steve who is looking between you and Bucky with a happy, almost proud, look on his face.

“It’s about damn time, you two! Now, who made the first move? I need to know if I owe Sam $50 or not.”

[yoooespinosa]

please do a part 2 for the draco fic where he rejects her i cant be left like that also would love for them to end up together

a/n: I feel like its rushed, idk. I didn't even like how the first part came out, so I had no motivation for this one. Im sorry, I tried lmao.

here’s part 1

"Y/l/n!" A voice just a few ways down the corridor called, the person you've been trying to avoid.

You increased your pace, dodging the people around you and their swinging bags they carried. You knew he called you out in the middle of a crowded corridor because it would be harder for you to get away, which only multiplied your irritation.

"Y/l/n!" He called louder, sounding closer, only making you walk away faster.

"Y/n." He latched onto your wrist, once you escaped the crowd of students, you groaned in frustration.

"What, Malfoy?" Turning to him and yanking your arm free.

He looked taken aback that you actually acknowledged him, unlike the incidents before. He sputtered, you almost laughed in his face-- because, Draco Malfoy, sputtering? You've never seen that before.

"If you're just going to gawk at me like a weirdo," Already turning away. "then I think I'll take my leave."

"No!" He said a little too loudly. Lower this time "No, look, can we talk."

You pursed your lips, masking your face with the indifference that he normally carried himself with. "We don't have anything to talk about."

Once again, you turned away, managing to get four steps in this time.

“Look, can i just-“ He cuts himself off when your steps don’t falter. “Y/n, please.”

You immediately pause mid-step. He sounded, desperate. You let out a silent sigh, slowly turning to face him, his eyes were burning into yours once you met them.

You stare at him until he casts his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow, surely he doesn’t expect you to accept that pitiful apology. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He snaps at you, meeting your gaze once again.

You raise you eyebrow at him, unamused.

“I’m sorry.” Once again, more sincere this time.

Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to forgive him, not right now at least. You didn’t care if it took a lot in him to pack up the courage and apologize, you refuse to let Draco Malfoy walk all over you again. He’ll have to earn your forgiveness.

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, his cheeks flush and once again looks away from you.

“I bet you are.” A mumbled response as you walk away from him, just like you walked away from him on the night of his rejection, yet this time you didn’t carry the burden of a broken heart.

Lotus flowers. He somehow got you a bouquet of lotus flowers, your favorite. You’re not sure how he even managed to do that, with such flowers, but he did.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when you looked up and met his grey eyes, shining with hopefulness, a few ways down the slytherin table in the great hall.

You hadn’t talked to him in a few days and he hadn’t seeked you out, a part of you was a little disappointed, but now that feeling disintegrated.

You actually haven’t talked to the three other slytherins sitting around him either. They apologized too and you reluctantly accepted, but still chose to surround yourself with other people, people who wouldn’t laugh at you behind your back.

“He’s really trying, isn’t he?” Tracey Davis chuckled softly from her place next you, gazing at the beautiful flowers you held in your hand.

“I guess.” You mumble, pursing your lips in thought.

“Well, are you going to forgive him or carry it out a little longer?” Milicent asks, with a smirk adorning her face, you already knew which choice she’d prefer.

You smirk back at her before swiftly casting an incendio to the beautiful flowers, you only regretted it a little, but it was all worth it once you saw the look on his face.

His mask crumbled. Good, i’ll incendio his flowers like he did my heart, you thought bitterly.

The next advance he made was when you were next to your favorite window, in the abandoned corridor. The sun was close to setting, making a beautiful orange tint cast across the corridor.

You heard footsteps, each once coming closer to you and you immediately knew it was him. You had felt him staring at you all day, each one getting harder to ignore. Especially the ones that were burning through your skull when you were around Harry.

But you never gave him the satisfaction of meeting his eye. You completely ignored him, as if he wasn’t there, as if you he was easily dismissible.

“Y/n.” He calls your name once he reached you, voice obviously trying to seem casual.

A noncommittal hum was your response, not bothering to look up from the book you had on your lap, still casually leaning against the wall, basking in the orange rays that hit you.

“Y/n.” His voice was softer this time, softer than you’ve ever heard before, making your head snap to his automatically.

In his arms were a bunch of your favorite sweets, you weren’t sure how he knew which you preferred. You raise your eyebrow in question.

“I know how you like to snack.” He mumbles, laying down the foods next to you, he rambles on. “I know you usually like to watch the sun go down by the black lake, but since it’s colder out i knew you’d be here. You were always the type that liked to snack a lot— i already said that, sorry...i brought your favorites.” He looked at you sheepishly.

You never seen him look so... shy. You were stumped, didn’t even know what to say. You just stared at the food next to you for a minute.

“Thanks,” You say slowly, still trying to process. “How did you know these were my favorites?”

He shrugged, half-heartedly. “I paid attention.”

You scoffed, that same bitter feeling washing over you for a second. “Honestly Malfoy, these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time.” You reused his words.

Regretting it immediately, when he flinched. Looking pained by it. You wanted to enjoy his pain, but nothing about it satisfied you, not anymore it seemed, not when he’s so clearly trying.

He gave you a washed-out smile, “I hope you enjoy them.” Then walked away, you listened till you could no longer hear his footsteps.

You were walking side by side with Harry, desperately trying to listen to the story he was telling you. His hands were whisking in the air, adding dramatics, and every so often he’d have to push his glasses up. You would usually find this amusing, but you were distracted.

Draco had been doing nice things for you all week. You were trying hard to hold this grudge you built, but with you each soft smile and saddened eyes he sent your way, your resolved crumbled.

The butterflies hesitantly coming out their cage.

And he did seem sorry, truly he did, you were so close to forgiving him. You don’t know what was holding you back anymore.

You met his eyes from across the corridor, his eyes softening once meeting yours, then hardening a second later when seeing who was next to you. Yet, he kept his path to you.

“May i talk to you?” He asked softly, not acknowledging Harry, who stopped his animated story.

You looked at the green eyed boy next to you, he took the hint and turned down the opposite corridor. “Yeah, sure.”

That familiar streak of hope flashes through his eyes as he led you down to the gardens to the bench that you loved to occupy.

“I wanted to say i’m sorry, again.” He said once you both were seated, your knees knocked against his when he turned his body towards you.

You nodded, signaling him to go on.

“It was wrong for me to treat you like that, to say those things.” He took a deep breath. “I was stupid, i took advantage of the best thing that ever happened to me. You were always so good to me, treating me with kindness that i didn’t deserve. Will never deserve.”

“Dra-“ He cut you off gently.

“No, just let me get this out first.” He placed his hand over yours timidly, when you didn’t pull away, he interlocked his fingers with yours. “You did things for me that no one else has ever done. I was flattered at first, when i first realized you liked me, i didn’t think you could ever like me. You’ve always been so beautiful, i never thought i would have a chance. But then i find out you liked me. I got the prettiest girl in Hogwarts to like me.” He shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh.

He continued on, “It got to my head obviously, i thought maybe if i shown my interest, you’d realize that i wasn’t as great as you thought me to be. It was so dumb of me, to act like i didn’t like you, i actually got myself to believe i didn’t.”

He moved closer to you, “I understand if you don’t forgive me, i don’t deserve it honestly. Fuck, i wouldn’t even forgive me. But, i would regret it if i didn’t at least try.”

He brought your interlocked hands closer to him, kissing the back of your hand, “So this is me, putting my heart out there, either for you to break or hold in your hands. Please forgive me and give me another chance, that i don’t deserve?”

You didn’t even know your eyes were tearing up until one slid down your cheek, before you could wipe it away, his thumb came up and did it for you.

You didn’t answer, you just placed your lips on his. Caressing his lips with your own, feverishly. Pouring out every emotion into him. He kissed you back with just the same passion. Bringing his hands to your face, caressing his thumbs on your flushing cheeks, tilting your head back as he controlled your lips. Bringing the kiss to a softer pace. Your hands played with the hair on his nape, until he pulled back.

“So, was that a yes?” He breathed a laugh, you could still see the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes, of course, you idiot.”

“Yeah?” He was smiling ear to ear.

“Yeah,” You kissed him breathless once more, then pulling back. “but first you have to get me another one of those bouquets.”

“Anything.” He states softly, placing his lips back on yours, as if he’s done it for years.

[straighttohellbuddy]

definitely joking, unless... {Quackity}

Anon asked: Hiii !! can i have a quackity x reader where the boy is shy and clumsy around them bc of his crush pls ? :)

Summary: Quackity-centric. Whether or not he's in love with you is none of your concern... and definitely just a joke. Unless you have feelings for him too... which he doubts. Mostly. At first at least.

A/N: 3297 words. hmmm not sure how i feel about this one. i like it, obviously, we've got mutual pining and that's always fun, but i wasn't quite sure how to write shy q, so this is a stab at it while still trying to remain true to his character, but also is a bit ooc?? if that makes sense. what is pacing? idk. feedback always appreciated!!

Citrus Scale: 🧡 ORANGE 🧡

There's something precious about you that overwhelms him, that means he can't look you in the eye, can't look at you directly. When had you become his sun; light too blinding to look at directly, but a warmth he doesn't want to leave? He's never been particularly shy before and he refuses to start now, refuses to let people see him change because of you, but when you speak, he grows quiet, grows enamoured and can't watch but he'll listen. Your voice on the VC is his favourite sound in the world; when you're rambling and excited and someone cuts you off, he instinctively snaps at them, probably more defensive than he'd intended, but-

"No, it's okay Q, I was rambling, I should focus more on the game," but you sound a little self conscious and he feels a little tongue-tied. You urge someone else to start speaking, and he tries not to appear put out to his audience, but it takes some time before he stops feeling like the odd one out.

But then he sees you’ve DMed him a thanks with a little heart emoji, and you’re chattering away like nothing happened, but his expression is reflexively scrunching up, if only to not give away how pleased he was. He sends back no worries, and can’t seem to stop smiling.

“I’m enjoying myself, chat,” he rolls his eyes when his chat starts pointing out how smiley he is, “am I not allowed to enjoy myself?” And he joins back in the VC, joining back in the conversation with e a newfound brightness.

But, much to his chagrin, people do notice. They notice how he pays you more curtesy than he does most others, the way he mostly holds himself back from talking over you, the way he can’t stop grinning like a fool when you talk to him.

He plays into it, because what else is there to do? Deny it, and end up looking like a fool? Absolutely not. He’s on a crash course to embarrassment one way or the other, and the only way to mostly save his ego, and save face is to steer into the skid. He pitches it to you as a joke, mostly because he doesn’t want to be making any comments if it makes you uncomfortable, and he can’t quite get a read on whether or not you believe he’s joking, but you agree with something fond in the way you chuckle before you respond.

So it begins, the running joke of his crush on you, which he coincidentally only really plays up when you're not around; he says it's because the two of you are friends and he doesn't want to actually make things weird. It's definitely not because the idea of actually flirting and being forward with you makes his pulse spike...

And sometimes chat gets nosy, asks why he's playing into the joke so much when you're not even around, to which he scoffs -

"Who said it was a joke? Have you seen Y/N? They've got half the internet simping for them, I'm just only one willing to be honest- "

[Bold of you to assume I'm not watching, chat.] Your dono is read out for the entire stream to hear, and Quackity's mouth snaps closed as he looks at the message, and your name attached. A flush begins to creep up his cheeks. It's late, he knows you're in a similar time zone, all he can see in his head is the image of you, curled up in your desk chair in front of your monitor, or tucked up in bed watching his stream on your phone, sleepy and probably grinning. He can feel the how warm his face is getting, but he refuses to look at the little window on his stream to see himself. You can't be blind to the effect you have on him, everyone else seems to see it.

"See, chat, it's fine, they're fine with it," he hears himself say, staring intently at the flash game he's currently playing terribly. He regrets the single moment he glances at chat, as literally every message is spamming 'BLUSH'. He dies in his game, which is accompanied by a loud, grating noise, and he closes his eyes, groaning.

"You distracted me, Y/N," he plays it off like he's talking to you now he knows you're listening, tone vaguely huffy, playing up his irritation to hide his embarrassment. Which works until you call him over discord. When he picks up, he can't help but smile, "this isn't going to make me less distracted."

"I'm tryna distract myself; I can't sleep," you yawned down the line.

"Not sure why you thought calling me would help that," he laughs, and your laughter is rather muffled, like you're hiding it behind your hand or have your smile pressed against a pillow. Even in his imagination you're being cute; he knows he should probably ask you out and put himself out of his misery, but every time he considers it for real, he chickens out.

"Yeah, but I like listening to you talk," you muse, tone gentle, so fond it almost hurts.

"Baby -" he calls you baby on a whim with his heart in his throat, terrified that he's overstepping his bounds, that playing along with this joke is simply like trying to use cellophane to hide the neon truth, "you didn't need to call if you're already watching."

"I can hang up," you offer, in a way like you know he doesn't want you to, and he's all but tripping over his words to take back his previous statement, insisting that you can stay on the line. Pleased, you give a warm hum.

"Call me baby again, that was nice," voice sleepy and quiet, he hears you yawn against as he feels the traitorous blush rising once more on his cheeks.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he tries to play cool, though you seem unconvinced, snorting a laugh. Thankfully, however, you don't push it. You provide quiet chatter in the background, voice growing heavier, sleepier, until your responses are mumbles, before you stop responding altogether.

Knowing he's the person you called when you couldn't sleep makes him feel kinda giddy and nauseous, right up until he realises that he's fucking lovesick; the moment he makes that particular realisation, he has to take five minutes to just lay face down on his floor. He's not going to be a cliche, he's not.

He keeps wracking his brain, trying to figure out why he's so damn enamoured, rewatching highlight videos on YouTube, grinning to himself as he's editing when he hears you tell a joke in the video that had made him burst into laughter the first time he'd heard it. For a moment, he pauses what he's doing to click to the tab the video is playing on, in time to see the pleased smile you wore that he hadn't been able to see in the moment. He sees your chat gently teasing you for the interaction, though you don't feel the need to respond to them. It appeared your fans shipped the two of you as much as his did.

Which may be the reason why he turns down the invite to play Quiplash with yourself and a few others from the SMP. He's self aware enough to know he's an easy target, and he hated the pandering answers everyone wrote in about each other, he's pretty sure it would genuinely irritate him if they started being about him.

"Because what is there to joke about?" He was already defensive on his alt stream, chattering away as he tried to decide on what to play. His viewers were relatively low, but that was to be expected; he could see on his second monitor, where he has Twitch open, that you and a few of the others were already live on your main channels, viewers growing substantially. He was playing to distract himself, because if he didn't do something, he'd end up watching the stream and get annoyed, either at the others for their answers, or himself for not joining.

"All the popular answers are pandering; they're joking about Dream and George, or if I was there they'd end up roasting me and Y/N. How many times do I have to say it's not a joke?" He's ranting now, knowing he could practically confess his love for you and his followers would still think it's a bit. He's still not sure if he wants you to take him seriously yet... soon, definitely soon. Probably. When he figured out if you had any sort of actual feelings for him too.

Eventually chat stops asking him to join you all playing Quiplash, and the topic drifts around. What he's been up to, games and shows he's been enjoying, any plans he has for his character in the SMP. In the few hours that he's streaming, he only gets one message, from Wilbur.

[not joining us Big Q? We miss u 💖💖💖] It reads, to which Quackity gives a quiet huff of laughter, but responds with [no❤]. Apart from the vague warm-fuzzy feelings he gets at the idea of being missed, it's the only message he gets, which is rather strange. He'd kind of hoped for something from you - which he'd never admit out loud. That being said, gaming distracts him enough that he doesn't find himself worrying about the Quiplash stream, or about what kind of bullshit he assumes the others are talking about.

At least not until he opens Twitter.

"- can you get Q here?" On the first clip he sees when he opens the app, Quackity hears Sapnap half jokingly pleading, and George quick to cut in over him -

"Yeah, he listens to you, Y/N," there was something sweet despite the teasing edge in George's tone, and you give a faintly exasperated sigh.

"As much as I want him here, he's made it clear he'd rather not be," you tell them with surprising sincerity, before adding, with a laugh, "and I can't blame him, I don't trust any of you as far as I can throw you." And though you're wearing a smile, it turns tight as you glance to the side, presumably to your chat, you carefully muted yourself in the group's VC while your viewers were begging you to message him; "if you want to watch him, go watch his alt stream," your voice was firmer now, "but don't try and pressure him, be respectful guys." Then, a little quieter, "of course it'll be a good stream, it's Q."

The video was posted with the caption [Quackity & Y/N's mutual pining is more respectful than most relationships on TV nowadays wtf] and he's watching through his fingers as the clip plays on a loop.

Mutual pining. He reads the words again and again and again until they stop making sense. Of course it'll be a good stream, it's Q.

If he didn't have neighbours to worry about, he's pretty sure he'd just start yelling incoherently.

[what in the fuck you're so sweet? you literally could have just messaged and id be there] maybe he's looking for an explanation, a clarification, when he DMs the video to you with that comment. For a very long moment, he watches the three bubbles hover as you work on your response.

[i'm not going to bully you into doing something you don't want to do and you'd already told Dream you weren't keen] and then [i love you and your company v much but i dont ever wanna overstep yanno??]

[Don't Fucking Say Shit Like That If You Don't Mean It] his instinctive, knee-jerk response is sent before he can even reread it, and he only sees how aggressive it comes across after he's reread it a few times.

[wtf] you send finally, after several long minutes of waiting. Then, again, after another moment; [q wtf].

And he half-types apologies and responses, but the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him it's not enough, tells him he can't write down what he means without it being read wrong. So he calls.

You look tired when you pick up, still dressed from your stream, still in front of your setup.

"What?" Your tone is flat, is defensive, as you wait for him to explain himself, explain what exactly he doesn't believe about what you've said. You raise an eyebrow at him when you can't even see him, his phone laying on his desk, camera looking up at the ceiling as he feels nauseous again, regretting this entire, stupid turn of events.

"I'm sorry, I panicked," Quackity blurted out, still unable to bring himself to show his face. Then, softer, "I'm sorry."

"I know what you say about me, Q," your voice still had that hard edge, but the moment you'd heard the vulnerability in his voice, your posture had dropped, from your arms folded across your chest, to picking at your nails. Quackity could hear his heart beat in his damn ears; this could very easily be the nightmare scenario, "I never expected you to be the sappiest motherfucker I'd ever meet, but you are, and then you turn around and say it's not a joke time and again;" you huff, though your gaze flicks to your monitor for a moment, and there's something bordering on fond in your eyes, "what was I meant to do but take you at your word? Unless it was all actually a joke, in which case, I'm sorry your prank -"

"It's not a - why would it be a prank?" He asked, finally tipping his phone up so you could catch the look of utter confusion on his face.

"Then why panic when I tell you I love you and your company?"

"Because..." lips pressed to a thin line, he scrunches his face up, unhappily this time, "I feel like I'm being pranked or something."

That's when he sees it, the last remnants of your irritation fading into adoration; his cheeks are turning pink under your gaze.

You tell him you love him. No hesitation. No tricks. Just the truth. His grin grows wider.

"It still feels like a trick," he mutters.

"It's not; I love you."

"You sure nothing bad's about to happen?"

"I can't control natural disasters but I'm not trying to dupe you or anything," you assured, unable to stop your own grin, "Q, I fucking love you."

"I've gotta pinch myself -" he mutters, still flushed, heartbeat erratic as he reaches over to his arm to pinch it hard, wincing -

"Alex," your voice goes firm, "I'll say it until you believe it, but this isn't a dream." And he settles in his seat, steeling his nerves as he meets your gaze in the camera.

"I know it's not a dream," he says, heart in his throat, "obviously I fucking love you too, I have for ages." And your answering smile is blinding. "I wish I could have said something sooner; I wish I could have done this in person -" now the dam is broken, his feelings out, he's rambling, smile slowly spreading across his face as he finds himself gazing at the way you're grinning, delighting in the moment, "I mean, it's too late now, but I wanna... I wanna see you. In person."

"What about next week?"

And he's stuck between responses, between that's too long and holy shit that's so soon! But you admit that you've had a tab open, wanting to book yourself a flight to visit him for far longer than you'd like to admit, but that you'd never known how to bring it up.

And you keep flirting online, next week feeling like too long, and not soon enough in equal measure, just as he'd suspected, until he's waiting in the airport, anxious and feeling like he was back at square one. Nerves alight, he watches the board light up with arrived as your plane gets in, standing, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

He's not going to be a cliche, he's not, however when you finally catch sight of him, and you drop your bags to break out into a sprint towards him, grinning bright and blinding and overjoyed, he feels like he can't breathe. This can't be real; you, in his fucking arms with your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"Holy shit," he mumbles, holding you tighter, like he's worried you'd disappear if he lets go. You laugh gently. "You're real and you're here; holy shit." He can't help but beam as he holds you as tightly as he's able, swearing under his breath with glee.

When you pull back, just for a moment, you're gaze is enamoured, taking his face in your hands and pulling him into a kiss to shut up his disbelieving delight in the form of various, colourful curse words.

It's like the fact that he gets to kiss you hadn't occurred to him before that moment, still caught up in simply holding you, but after a moment he's kissing back with enthusiasm. In the back of his mind, he's pretty sure you should move out of the airport at some point, or at the very least pick up your bags, but he really doesn't want this moment to end. Why had he been worried? Why hadn't he said something sooner? With his face pressed against your neck, taking a moment to memorise this feeling, he can feel your heartbeat fluttering with excitement just as he knew his was, and your hands clutching his sweater in fists, refusing to let him go.

"We're making a scene," you mumble loud enough for only him to hear, a little self-conscious after a moment, seeming to come back to the reality of the moment.

"I don't care," he answered, "I'm still trying to convince myself this is all really happening," he huffs a laugh, grinning from ear to ear, however, as he steps back, letting you go so you can collect your bags from where you'd dropped them.

You hadn't told anyone about your impromptu trip, so the first the internet hears about it is a blurry selfie where he's absolutely beaming, and you're smushing a delighted grin against his cheek, your eyes closed, and arms around his neck, posted on both his Twitter and Instagram story with the caption 'shut the fuck up you wish you were me'.

And the first Twitter response he reads fills him with indescribable joy; [oh when he said he wasn't joking HE WASN'T JOKING]. Of course he responds with a photo of you, before he'd even started the car, in his passenger seat, content smile on your face where you're leaning into his hand holding that's cupping your cheek, your own phone in your hands; [I ASSURE U ITS A JOKE FREE ZONE].

After reading this interaction, you cast him a dubiously amused glance while he's driving.

"A joke free zone?"

"They're ratio-ing me, I know, I can feel it," he grinned, gaze fixed on the road, "something about us both being here so it can't be a joke free zone?"

"Now I can't make that joke," you snorted, leaning back in your seat, enjoying the warmth of the sunny day, considering your words for a moment, "but I don't think I could anyways," tone dry, you add, "joke free zone and all."

"I fucking love you," having you here, next to him, laughing and poking fun at the situation like he knew you would, he finally knows it's real. He can stop worrying. You reach out, resting your hand on his knee, warm and secure.

"I fucking love you too, Q."

[whumperful]

CW: bad caretaker, blood, gunshot wounds, medical treatment, cursing

Frantic knocking woke Caretaker up. With a groan, he looked at the clock. It was four in the morning. What could anyone want from him at three in the bloody morning? The knocking came again.

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming!” he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before facing whatever idiot was waiting outside his door. He opened the door, ready to curse up a storm and tell whoever it was to come back at a reasonable hour, but no words came out when the stench of blood hit him, and he saw who it was.

Whumpee leaned against the doorframe, his clothes torn to shreds and soaked in blood. His skin was ashen and slick with sweat. He was bleeding out.

“Little help, please? I’ve got about a dozen unwelcome bullets in me that I’d really like you to get out,” he said before collapsing. Caretaker just barely managed to catch him and dragged him inside his apartment. He hoped the neighbours hadn’t noticed the commotion and called the cops. It would be hard to explain why he had a man who clearly should be dead bleeding out on his floor, and he’d rather avoid having any more visitors tonight.

“What the fuck happened?” Caretaker asked as he placed Whumpee in his usual spot and grabbed his medical supplies.

“Oh, you know the usual,” he grinned, “I pissed off Whumper again, but I think his aim has immensely improved since last— ah!” Caretaker cut off the rambling that was to come by plunging the pair of forceps into the first of many bullet wounds. “Fuck! No anaesthetic or anything? How heartless are you! I could die!”

“We both know you are utterly incapable of dying and keeping your mouth shut,” he didn’t bother looking up from his work, “so I’m not going to bother with anaesthetic or painkillers when you’re going to complain regardless.” Whumpee did shut up at that. His squirming lessened as he got paler, his breathing grew shallower, and his eyes unfocused.

“You’re not going to make me stitch myself up this time, are you?” his voice was barely a whisper at this point. Caretaker knew there was hardly any blood left in him, but it didn’t matter. Whatever was wrong with Whumpee made him always pull through. It had made Caretaker careless in his treatment of him, however. Why be careful when he’d be okay in the end?

“No, not this time. I promise” The last of the bullets clattered in the tray. Looking up, Caretaker saw the sunrise from his window, bathing Whumpee’s corpselike visage in a warm glow. He sighed and let his head rest against the icy skin of his still conscious patient. Whumpee would be able to move and talk again in a few hours, maybe less if Caretaker wasn’t too tired to bother with stitches and a transfusion. But for now, he enjoyed the silence and closed his eyes, just for a little while.

A spilt drop of blood woke him up; the sun was high in the sky. Where was Whumpee? He’d meant only to close his eyes for a moment. He got up from the bloody spot he’d been sleeping in. Then, panicked, he began looking through his apartment, hoping that it wasn’t Whumper who’d come in the night and taken Whumpee, who couldn’t even defend himself at that point because of him. Because of his negligence.

He let out a sigh of relief when he found Whumpee sitting at his kitchen table, his trembling hands holding a needle and thread, hissing as he forced the needle through his skin again and again. Caretaker’s heart sank at the thought of the scars they’d form. Whumpee was still pale and too weak. It was impressive they made it to the kitchen at all.

“Whumpee—”

“I’ll do it all myself next time,” Whumpee said, refusing to look at him, “it’s not like you care anyway.”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Anything For You–Zac Efron

Warnings: slight language, hinted sex

Usually, in a Hollywood Relationship, the actor is the one whose job causes friction in the relationship. That's not the case for me and Zac.

Zac and I met a few years ago when he was on the cover of Vogue. I'm a personal assistant for one of the editors. We met after he bumped into me, spilling the six coffee orders I was carrying down both of us.

I instantly went into a giant panic attack when I saw the mess. Zac on the other hand was completely calm. He just laughed as he grabbed my hand and led us to the wardrobe department.

We got a new outfit figured out for him and found me a replacement shirt. Twenty minutes later, the only sign that anything had happened was the missing six coffees. When I was trying to explain to my boss why I didn't have her coffee, Zac ran over and took the blame for everything.

After the photoshoot, he walked over to me and teased me about owing him. That night we went on our first date. That night, we fell in love.

Now, seven years later, we were still madly in love and my job was still coming between us.

I wish I could say his acting job was what made our relationship tense, but it wasn't. I'm the one having to be at work by six in the morning, not coming home until past 2 am. I'm the one who even if I have a day off, my phone never stops ringing.

Zac's birthday was on Monday and I was stuck in London for another photoshoot. I tried to get the weekend off so I could fly home and surprise him for his birthday, but my boss refused to give me the time off. Whenever I tried to bring it up and ask for fewer days than I did last time, she gets angry and threatens my career.

"You sound tired," Zac said when I hadn't spoken up in at least five minutes. I sighed, leaning my head against my hotel bedframe.

"I'm fine," I said, not even convincing myself.

"Babe," he sighed. "Where are you?"

"I'm at my hotel," I tried to reassure him. "We have a few hours between shoots, so I decided to call you."

"You should be sleeping."

"I know," I stuttered. "But I missed our call yesterday. And the day before. And the day before. And the day. . ."

"Y/N," he gently cut me off. "Barb is working you too hard."

"I know, but she says that I'm close to getting my promotion. Then I can have my own assistant and boss them around."

"She said that three years ago, babe," he sighed. My heart sank when I heard him clear his throat. "I know you hate arguing about your job, but I hate to see you work so hard for nothing. Barb pushes you and refuses to let you rise up. I mean, when do you not come home exhausted? Have you ever left work feeling happy or satisfied?"

"No," I said softly.

"I love you, Y/N," he sighed, "and I only want what's best for you."

"I know," I sighed. "I love you too."

"Try and get some rest, okay?"

"I will." I quickly changed the subject before he could realize I was lying. "Let's talk about something happier. Any big plans for your birthday?"

"Not really," he said, slightly clearing his throat.

"Nothing?" I asked, my voice dropping. "Dylan isn't doing anything for you?"

"I might go to dinner with him and my mom. Maybe go see Olivia."

"That sounds like. . . I'm sorry, baby," I whispered. "I know being away from each other is hard, especially on your birthday. I wish my job wasn't so damn demanding."

"Baby," he tried to interrupt.

"I did ask," I tried to reassure. "I swear, baby, I asked Barb if I could take the weekend off for your birthday but she said she needed me here. When I explained that it was your birthday, she said she didn't care. And she said if I left, she'd. . ."

"She'd what, baby?" He asked softly.

"She said she'd fire me."

"She can't do that," he started to angrily ramble. "She already works you way too hard. She has no right to fire you because you decide to take time off to be with your boyfriend on his birthday. I mean. . ."

"Zac," I cut him off. "You're right. It's not fair. And I would've walked out, maybe I should've but. . ."

"It's your job," he finished for me. "And you've worked really hard to get where you are. I would be a horrible boyfriend if I told you to quit just because she won't let you come down for my birthday."

"I would," I said softly. "I love you more than this job but. . ."

"I know," he chuckled to lighten the mood.

"I promise to call you on your birthday," I reassured. "I'll call you while I get ready for work. I'll call you during my lunch. I'll call you on my way back to the hotel. I'll stay on the phone with you all night."

"Y/N," he chuckled. "Baby, that will make your phone bill next month extremely high."

"You're worth it."

                                * * * * *

After I got off the phone with Zac, I couldn't stop thinking about him alone on his birthday. Ever since we first started dating, we've always made a big deal about each other's birthdays. Being away from him was extremely hard. Being away from him on holidays and birthdays was excruciating.

I looked across the photoshoot set and saw Barb barking orders. My heart sank as I wished I was with Zac. I glanced around at all the people I work with, not wanting to be here anymore. It only took me a few seconds to decide something drastic. I marched over to her, determined to make it home in time for Zac's birthday.

"Y/N," she sighed as soon as I walked up to her. "I thought I told you to stay out of the way."

"I quit."

"What?" She scoffed. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at me, challenging me to go through with it.

"I quit," I said just as firm as I said it before. "This job isn't worth it. You are rude and demanding and I've spent way too much time kissing your ass. I'm done. You treat me like shit and I deserve better."

I started to walk away from my dumbfounded ex-boss but stopped. I smirked as I turned back around.

"And what kind of boss won't let an employee, who has never taken time off, take one fucking weekend off to be with her boyfriend on his birthday?"

                                * * * * *

As I headed back to the hotel, I called Dylan and told him my plan to surprise Zac. By the time I got home, it would be later in the afternoon. Over the phone, Dylan and I planned a party for Zac. He and his mom would handle the details, all I had to do was show up and surprise him.

I straightened out my dress as I got out of the cab. I smiled as I looked up at Zac's mom's house perfectly decorated for the party. I went around the side, heading towards the open gate. As soon as I walked into the backyard, I made eye contact with Dylan. He smirked and nodded towards his brother who was across the yard, talking to their mom.

Starla made eye contact with me, her lips spreading into a smile. She said something to Zac, making him turn around. I smiled when I saw Zac freeze, his hand holding his drink inches from his mouth. I laughed when he finally put the cup down and stood up, instantly jogging towards me.

The second he got to me, he wrapped me tightly in his arms and spun us around. I laughed as he put me back on my feet.

"Happy birthday, baby."

I barely got out my greeting before his lips came crashing down on mine. I smiled as I moved my lips in sync with his. He broke the kiss, looking at me like he was still wrapping his head around the fact that I was here.

"What are you. . ." Instead of finishing his sentence, he leaned down and pressed another kiss to my lips. I smiled as I instantly started kissing him back.

"Easy, you two," Dylan teased us, making us break apart. "Remember, there are children present."

We looked at each other, our faces burning as Dylan walked away. Zac sighed, tightening his arms around my waist.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered.

"I've missed you too," I smiled.

Zac was about to lean in and kiss me but stopped. My face burned when he slowly smirked at me. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers. Zac led us through the party, past all his friends and family.

"Where are we going?" I giggled as he led us into his Mom's house.

He finally stopped outside one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. He smirked as he opened the door and pulled me inside.

                                * * * * *

We let out satisfied sighs as Zac rolled off of me. I smiled, glancing over at him as he grabbed my hand. He pulled me so I was leaning on his chest. I closed my eyes and let out a small moan as Zac dragged his fingers up and down my back.

"I'm so happy you're home," he whispered.

"Me too," I chuckled as I lightly pressed a kiss to his left peck.

"What about Barb?" He asked. "I thought she threatened to fire you."

"She did," I said, clearing my throat.

Zac sat up, causing me to do the same thing. I clutched the blanket to my chest and watched as he figured it out.

"Y/N," he said slowly, "please tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" I asked.

"Please tell me you didn't lose your job to come see me," he whispered.

"Not technically," I said as I started to get out of the bed with the blanket wrapped around me.

"Y/N," he said softly. "Did you lose your job by coming down here?"

"I wasn't fired," I clarified. "I quit."

"You what?" He chuckled as he got out of bed.

"You were right," I sighed. "She's done nothing but treat me horribly. I couldn't take it so I walked right up to her and quit."

Zac grabbed the sheet and pulled me into his chest. I smiled as he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine.

"I'm proud of you, baby," he whispered between kisses.

I moaned as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues battled for dominance for a few seconds before he broke the kiss and started kissing my neck.

"We should probably go," I giggled as Zac searched for my weak spot.

"Why?" He groaned against my skin. "I'd much rather continue what we're doing."

"But your mom and brother threw this whole party together in less than a day," I said shakily as Zac pulled the sheet off of me, letting it drop to the floor. "And because I made them."

"What do you mean?" He asked, pulling away from my neck.

I sighed as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moaned when he felt our bodies press together.

"After I quit my job, I made plans to come home. I called Dylan and we planned the party."

Zac leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I smiled into the kiss as our lips moved in sync.

"You're right," he sighed, breaking the kiss. He gave me one more kiss before we started getting dressed.

When we walked out to the backyard, a few of his friends gave us knowing smirks when they saw us walking out with our hands intertwined. Throughout the party, Zac never let go of my hand.

I noticed him continually glancing over at me with a weird look in his eyes. Whenever I looked over at him, he looked as if he was debating something. Towards the end of the party, we were dancing.

"What's going on with you?" I giggled.

"What?" He smirked. "I'm just enjoying my birthday party with my beautiful girlfriend. Actually. . ."

He looked over at his brother and nodded. The music stopped and Zac turned back towards me. As if on queue, everyone stopped talking

"Zac," I said slowly. "What's going on?"

My breath got caught in my throat when Zac got down on one knee. He let go of my right hand and reached into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" I asked under my breath.

"Probably something crazy," he chuckled. "But I don't think I can wait any longer."

My eyes filled with tears as he pulled out a black velvet box and slowly opened it. I gasped when I saw the gorgeous ring.

"I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice getting caught in his throat. "Every day that we've been together, I've been happier than I thought I could ever be. You make me happier than I thought I could be. The past couple of years hasn't been easy, but without you, I never could've gone through any of it. You've been my rock, my foundation, the most important thing in my life. I could lose my apartment, my job, anything tomorrow and I would be fine as long as I didn't lose you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Y/N, and I will spend every day we have together giving you the life you deserve. I will never stop taking care of you. I love you so much, babe. Will you make me even happier than I thought possible? Will you spend the rest of your life with me? Will you, Y/F/N Y/L/N, marry me?"

Tears were streaming down both of our faces as he finished his speech. I took a deep breath, gathering up as much of my voice as I could.

"Yes," I said softly. "I would love to marry you."

Zac laughed as he slipped the ring on my finger and stood up. The second he was standing, he pulled me into his chest and pressed his lips to mine. Zac's family and our friends cheered as we kissed. I broke the kiss and leaned our foreheads against each other.

"I love you so much, baby," I whispered. "And I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together."

"I love you," he chuckled.

"Happy birthday, Zac."

[dottiechan]

ICEBREAKER Pt. 1

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

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

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter; Tech x Reader (platonic)

Wordcount: 2389

Summary: Tech watches on helplessly as his brothers' affection for you threaten to ruin the squad.

Warnings: cursing, yearning

You’re just as cold on the inside as the ice is under your boots. It crunches with every step you take, and your heart seems to beat along with the fall of your boots, aching. You feel unsteady, almost enough to miss the tracks running in the snow right in front of you. You pause and crutch down, gloved fingers dipping into the indentations as you grumble to yourself. It’s not even your turn to scope out the area where you’re setting up camp, and besides, there is a literal tracking genius in your squad - it really shouldn’t be you who’s out here in the snow and ice, eyes straining against the blinding white of the planet, fingers freezing off as you set up perimeter alarms. And yet you just volunteered for the less than ideal task without explanation, not understanding your own decision either.

At least Tech offered to tag along, but you suspect he’s simply had enough of his brothers for a while. Not that you can blame him.

“Fascinating.”

You sigh, internally begging him to stop talking as you stand, abandoning the tracks after deciding they most likely belong to a lone whitefang. You have enough on your plate right now, with Hunter still being pissy and Crosshair avoiding you like the plague, and silence would be much more preferable right now to listening to one of Tech’s rambles.

“Did you know that this moon’s surface is almost entirely composed of water?”

“No.”

“Despite the subzero surface temperature, there are subsurface oceans underneath the ice that are warmed by the moon’s internal heat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wish we could stay long enough for me to study the subsurface flora and fauna. There might be plants underneath the ice that-”

“Tech.”

“-that use chemosynthesis-”

“Tech!”

“What?”

He has the decency to look flustered, one hand gripping the datapad tightly, the other flying up to adjust his goggles as he peers up at you. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Sometimes, the confinement of the Marauder is enough to turn you into a ticking time bomb, irritated by the slightest seemingly innocent things. And you’ve had more than just mere sparks to flare your temper as of late.

...

His rifle is spotless, and yet he’s still scrubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it does, because if he jumps up and lowers his guard for a second, he’s out the ship and off to find you and Tech. Maybe you’re a fool sometimes, a god damn nuisance, a person he still couldn’t grow used to, but you belong with them now, you’re theirs, you’re his, and that means something to him. You frustrate him beyond reason, and he often grows callous and agitated because he refuses to allow himself to feel the emotions you elicit from him whenever you’re near him.

Even now, on an ice planet, the mere thought of you infects him with a sweet, sweet jungle fever that knocks him off his feet.

And he’s supposed to be angry now, Crosshair reminds himself. After all, you almost gotten yourself killed on Bracca, and almost broke him in the process.

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Hunter grumbles as he paces up and down like a caged nexu craving to run free. But lately Crosshair began to suspect that he craves something else, someone else, and the thought has his throat tightening in jealousy. He’s been watching, and he convinced himself that he’d misread the signs until he saw the same agitation reflect in his brother’s eyes that he himself has to wrestle with every day.

If it ever came down to your choice, he knows he wouldn’t be it, and he hates living with this knowledge.

Hunter has all the things you seem to like - unlimited kindness, longing looks, smirks that turn a little too soft when directed at you, broad shoulders he caught you staring at more times than he can count. Deep down, he’s still hoping it will never come to you having to choose, but it’s impossible not to wish to be in the centre of your attention. You drive him insane, but you also make him want to commit and stop fighting and lay down his weapons for once in his god damn life.

“Relax. They’re probably fine.”

The screen to their left lights up, and Hunter rushes across the ship in long strides before exhaling in relief. “The proximity alarms are online. They should be heading back soon.”

Crosshair sucks in a breath, worried about seeing his own emotions sitting behind Hunter’s eyes as well.

...

You were assigned to assist the Bad Batch for an unspecified period of time some months ago. You’re a versatile field agent, specialising in both stealth and combat casualty care, one of the few volunteers who were qualified enough to join the GAR. Oh, and you’re also clearly mistrusted by your new squad as they flip out the very moment you risk yourself in the line of duty. You’re not stupid, you weighed the risks carefully, and you trusted your abilities to see you through the job unharmed.

But ever since the incident on Bracca, you’re given the cold shoulder by most on the squad, and for once, the scenery matches your mood.

And yet Tech deserves better than to be cut off like that. He deserves to be listened to, and appreciated as the good man he is. You’re friends, but in moments like these, you think you don’t deserve his friendship.

“Look, I’m... I’m sorry, okay? But right now, I have too much on my mind to think about, umm, chemo...”

“Chemosynthesis?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I think I understand,” he nods, satisfied with your half-assed apology for the time being as he goes back to scanning the vast icy desert stretching as far as the eye can see. The Marauder’s lights blink in the background, orange against the dark blue of the growing darkness that surrounds you. It’s like a beacon, a sign that promises warmth, and you gaze at it longingly until you remember that you’ll have to go back to Crosshair’s scowl and Hunter’s disapproving frown and Wrecker’s awkward little smiles. Somehow, the ice is preferable once more, and the snow that just began to fall in soft flakes is little more than a mild annoyance.

“Well, aside from a few distant life forms-”

“Whitefangs.”

“Yes, most likely whitefangs - aside from those, we should be quite safe inside the ship for tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “You might be. I’m not the most popular with the squad right now, remember?”

“You are a valued addition,” Tech declares, and the certainty in his voice releases inside you the emotional equivalent of a sucker punch. All you can do is stand, and fight the sting of tears in your eyes. You’re confident, but you never in your wildest dreams imagined how difficult it would be to live up to the expectations of a special unit. You also know your worth, but it’s hard to keep on believing in yourself steadfastly when the rest of your squad doubts your every move. “Which is why the prospect of losing you elicits a rather severe emotional reaction in us. It is rare for regs to warm up to us as well as you have, let alone volunteers. Aside from the obvious tactical disadvantage losing you would mean, I believe it is a little more personal than that.”

...

Hunter knows something is off even before one of the alarms is triggered - whatever it is, it is within five clicks of the ship, making you and Tech plenty exposed before he could do anything. He was straining his ear simply to keep you all safe - so what if he accidentally heard your muffled voice, or the soft crunch of snow underneath your boots?

But now is not the time to be idle, and he knows it. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his squad. And to you, he corrects himself almost softly as he grabs his helmet and checks his weapons quickly. Despite the fact that he’s still angry about your previous carelessness, he cannot deny the forbidden yearning coiling in his stomach whenever you’re on his mind, making him just as nervous as hopeful. And to be fair, it happens more and more often as of late, which is both alarming and exciting as he never thought he’d ever have the luxury to feel this way about someone else. Sure, he knows love, he loves his brothers with all his heart even if he isn’t very vocal about it, but this is different. New, scary, exciting different, an effervescent and persevering tingling blinding all his senses.

Crosshair is beside him in less than a second, rifle in hand, silent, and they share a nod before lowering the ramp and rushing out into the freezing dusk.

When he picks up on your muffled voice, he seems to ignore everything as he breaks into a sprint towards you, hoping to reach you in time before you’re in danger. He almost misses the way Crosshair’s heartbeat picks up, the usually stoic man reeking with genuine worry as he looks through the scope of his rifle.

He can deal with this later, Hunter promises himself as he pushes down this uncomfortable feeling. But then he sees you and Tech, and he seems to forget about anything and everything - you have that unfortunate and awfully distracting effect on him.

...

“But Hunter yelled at me for being reckless for a solid hour. And Crosshair said he didn’t care if I wanted to get myself killed, but I should do it in a way that didn’t interfere with the mission. Seriously, what an asshole.”

“Nevermind what they actually say,” Tech waves his hand in mild annoyance. “Hunter was worried sick. Crosshair almost went after you. And they’re both too pigheaded to admit the real reason why they’re so worked up.”

“Which is?”

“Obviously they both view you as a potential romantic partner.”

There’s a moment of pause as you two stare back at one another before you snort and chuckle, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest as a futile attempt at staying warm. “Tech, you need to work on your sense of humour.”

“And you need to work on your observational skills and situational awareness.”

“My observational skills are exceptional,” you defend yourself, a finger held up in the air defiantly. “And my situational awareness is-”

“Lacking, as you didn’t seem to notice the whitefang return. I suggest we head back to the safety of the Marauder.”

Sure enough, the wild cat is there lurking amongst the ice dunes, its eyes glowing in the dark as they reflect the light of the ship. It shouldn’t pose a threat to you as it is alone, and relatively small, but you still consider wrestling with it instead of returning to the ship and facing the rest of the squad - somehow, even that feels like a fight more fair than the ones that await you upon your return. So you hold its gaze as it curiously inspects you, wishing to swap bodies and run away and avoid any more conflict. Before you can even think of returning to the ship, you hear quiet footsteps catching up to you.

“I thought I heard something.”

“It’s probably more curious than anything.”

Hunter unsheaths his vibroblade and twirls it in his hand so theatrically it makes you roll your eyes. He glances at you, shoulders all tense, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of danger, and even though his face is obscured by his helmet, you can almost see the disappointed frown sitting on his features. “You want to test that theory?”

“My money would be on the whitefang winning.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tech.”

“Any time.”

“Relax.” The distorted rasp of your commlink is not enough to drown out the smugness of the sniper. The stand-off ends when a single well-placed shot right before the big cat sends it sprinting away into the darkness. You all turn to find Crosshair standing by the ship, his rifle still aimed at the retreating form of the whitefang.

“Well, there goes my opportunity to finally have an interesting patrol,” you mutter to yourself as you all make it back to the Marauder.

“Do all of your patrols end in you staring down carnivores?” Crosshair snorts, clearly unamused.

“Only the good ones,” you fire back, deciding not to wait for any of them as you head inside. Crosshair is hot on your heels, another string of mockery sitting on the tip of his tongue, because fuck, you’re stubborn, but he’s not going to cave in and tell you how it makes him feel to see you in danger. He can’t, however, put up with being away from you either.

Hunter lingers a little outside. He has to set himself straight, to contain all the things he wants to say you that have nothing to do with scolding you about Bracca, to kill all the feelings that suddenly demand to be felt so desperately. He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, pretending to survey the surroundings of the Marauder. Tech moves in the periphery of his vision, but instead of following you and Crosshair, he steps closer to Hunter.

“I believe the threat’s been averted.”

“Yeah. Good job on setting up those alarms, Tech.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. You should head back inside. The last thing I want is for you to keel over with hypothermia.”

“That’s not how hypothermia works,” Tech mutters, his voice trailing off, eyes uncertain behind his goggles. He suddenly places a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder, making the sergeant glance at him.

“Hunter, I’m only asking this because I care about you all, but... how long do you think this can go on before one of you gets hurt?”

Tech’s words echo in his mind long after he’s rejoined the squad on the ship. And Hunter just stands outside in the snowfall, watching the last rays of light disappear on the horizon, wondering which one of you he’ll have to hurt when the push comes to shove.

[midgardianweasley]

The Wedding Series

It took me a while, but, i’ve finallyyy got part 2 of the series up<33 

Ring her up

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: with an ever growing feeling of love for her girlfriend, Y/N wants to take the next step, but, like every plan, she needs to carry out step number one.

Word Count: 2k

Message/ask if you want to join the taglist! 

Part one | Part two 

It had been four years since the day you and Natasha had started dating, four wonderful years. The team hadn’t let either of you forget about the night you both got together, how they all saw it coming and how they couldn’t believe you both hadn’t seen it sooner. Looking back, you weren’t so sure yourself, but you liked the story of how you became girlfriends, even if it was something straight out of a rom-com.

Over the course of four years, it only made you more and more certain that she was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Unlike the story that brought you both together, this wasn’t a big moment of realisation. It was in the little things. It was in the way she protected and cared for you. In the way she had always been the one to wipe your tears and in the way she’d laugh with you in the rain when you were happy.

The two of you had discussed many things over the years, now having moved out into your own apartment together, you were beginning to take big steps in your relationship so some conversations had arisen in the process. Marriage being one of them.

__________________________

You were both sitting in your living room, snuggled up together on the sofa, a blanket draped over the two of you as you watched ‘Friends’, though you weren’t really watching it.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” She whispered, not looking at you but with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Why would I when I have the real thing right in front of me?”

“Touché”

You briefly returned your attention back to the screen in front of you, watching a scene unfold where the main characters are running in and out of a wedding chapel in Vegas. Seeing them had sparked a thought in your head as you looked up adoringly at your girlfriend, never breaking your eyes away, even when she grabbed the remote and paused your programme to give you her full attention.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“Who says something has to be up? Maybe I just want to appreciate how pretty you are.” You gave her puppy eyes, but she knew better than to fall for that.

“I can practically feel the cogs turning in that head of yours. C’mon, you can tell me Detka.”

You quickly glanced between the television screen and her eyes, taking note of the curiosity lingering in her eyes, alongside some concern which made you admit defeat.

“I was just thinking, y’know, about us.”

“Right, is something wrong?” She took your hands in hers, the pad of her thumb gently stroking the back of them, silently encouraging you to continue.

“No! No, not at all. It was just watching this, it got me thinking, what are your thoughts on getting married?” She opened her mouth to speak, but you quickly cut her off before she could get a word out. “I don’t necessarily mean to me! Just generally! Well, it would be nice if it was me, but I don’t want to put any-”

“Babe, slow down, breathe.” She chuckled while you caught your breath, only continuing once you’d calmed yourself down from your ramble.

“First of all, I like the thought of getting married, I could see myself doing it. But, in terms of who I would marry, it would be you.”

“Really? You’re serious?”

“I’m serious. You’re it for me. There isn’t anyone else.”

You didn’t know why tears appeared in your eyes, it was a perfect answer, an answer most people dreamed of getting. Nonetheless, they built up, completely blurring your vision, even as they fell. Natasha was quick to wipe them away as they did, and despite you not being able to see much, it was near impossible to miss the love she held in her eyes as she looked at you.

“I love you.” You mumbled, placing your hand over the one that she held on your cheek.

“I love you more.” She placed her forehead against yours, eyes closed as she enjoyed the intimacy, you doing so too.

“Never.”

“Always.” She whispered before meeting your lips with a gentle, loving kiss.

That conversation was your most recent, it will have been months ago now. As time went on, the feeling inside of you only grew, and you became more certain with every moment shared between you both, that you want to marry this woman. You want to marry Natasha Romanoff.

_______________________

You didn’t know where to begin, so you did what first came to mind.

You called your best friend. Thankfully, Nat was currently out with Steve, picking up after him again. Though you’d usually be moody at the fact that she had to leave, this time you couldn’t help but try to encourage her to go, spiking her curiosity at your actions, but still leaving nonetheless, giving you the perfect opportunity to call and ask for help.

“Wanda, Wanda, help.” You immediately rambled as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Yes. Well, kinda, no, yes?”

“Right, thank you for clearing that up.” She let out a hearty laugh over the phone

“I want to propose.”

“To Natasha?”

“Who else?”

“I just wanted to clarify!” She exclaimed, a hint of defense in her tone.

Silence fell upon the phone call,

“Oh my- You want to marry Natasha.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“We need to start making plans! What dress would you like? Ooh where should the venue be? I heard-”

“Wan’, is that not a bit too soon? I don’t even have an idea for a proposal or a ring or anything.”

One sound. One sound was all it took for you to know that you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into as Wanda gasped, quickly hanging up before you could even ask what was wrong.

Taking a look at your phone, you saw an unread text from Wanda, sent only seconds ago.

Wan<3   ‘Get your shoes on, I’ll be over in 10. We’re going out.’                                               Delivered.

At least now you know where to start.

Okay, you’re still not sure, but at least someone does. ______________________________

It wasn’t long before Wanda had arrived at your house, dragged you outside and was now pulling you along beside her as she ran around like a hyper Golden Retriever, leading you in and out of different shops, all of which had one thing in common. They sold engagement rings.

You could’ve facepalmed the minute you realised the pattern, how did an engagement ring not occur to you in the first place? You decided not to dwell on it, you’d just kick yourself later on when you’re alone to save any embarrassment.

You hadn’t realised you’d zoned out until you felt a tug on your wrist, looking up to see the culprit, a huge grin on her face as she pointed to the shop in front of the two of you. It was so..shiny. There were silver necklaces, rings, bracelets, and watches. They all looked so pretty, how were you going to decide?

“Come on! We need to go in and have a look! I have a good feeling about this one!” She squealed, even though you could’ve sworn she said that the last two times. Either way, you flashed her a quick smile, nodding and walking in. If you had to search all day for the perfect ring, so be it. It’s what Natasha deserves.

There were rows upon rows of different rings, there must’ve been hundreds, if not thousands in the brightly lit room, allowing each and every one to have a sparkle. You smiled gently at each one, imagining how they would look on your girlfriend’s hand. How it would feel for her title to go from ‘girlfriend’ to ‘Fiancé’, relying on the hope that she says yes.

A couple of minutes went by before something caught your attention. Turning your head to the left, you see one particular ring standing out to you like a beautiful, shiny sore thumb. Walking closer to inspect it, you manage to take in some more of its finer details.

It was a simple silver band, just like the majority of the others, however, while they had simple diamonds, this one had a ruby instead, the red complementing the silver perfectly. One look at it, and you were strong in your opinion that Natasha would love it.

You soon felt a presence behind you, recognising it immediately as the one who had brought you out here in the first place.

“Are you looking at the red one?” You whipped your head round.

“How did you know?”

“Because you look like you’ve decided to fall in love with that ring instead.” She raised her eyebrows, taking great enjoyment in watching you look around and get excited with almost every ring you see as you think about how it would feel if Natasha was to say ‘yes’. In all honesty, a part of you was a little scared, nervous. Marriage is a big step, and while she had said she would want to, you don’t want to get the timing wrong. You want it all to be perfect, and you would do your damn best to make it so. She was your forever, and you refused to let that slip through your fingers.

Before you could even blink, Wanda had asked the saleswoman if they could have it brought out of it’s viewing unit so that you could take a closer look, which she responded with a kind smile before unlocking the case and holding the ring out to you, exposing all of it’s edges and how it glistens differently in every light, a faint red glow appearing every so often.

This was the one.

“Could I buy this one, please?” You asked the lady who appeared to be nothing but friendly.

“Of course, let me just ring that up for you and I'll get it boxed up.” You had to hold back a small giggle at her choice of words. Immature, you know, but you didn’t overly care, feeling too over the moon at taking the first step towards marriage with the love of your life.

Wanda gave you a pearly white smile, clapping her hands in joy at how the trip has turned out, watching you now hold the small box in your hand. You didn’t blame her, this has been a success. You can’t wait.

___________________________

“Babe! I’m home!” You called, shutting the front door behind you and kicking your shoes off, the ring safely held in its box, which was settled in your back pocket.

“Hi love” Natasha walked over, placing a sweet kiss on your lips before pulling away and brushing some loose strands of hair behind your ear, a gesture you had always adored. “How was your day? I heard you went out with Wanda?”

Of course she did! Luckily, she’s not the only spy around who could think quick on her feet.

“Yeah, we went for some lunch and just had a girls day. I think she needed to get out of the compound for a bit, too much ‘boy’ energy.” You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips as you watched hers curl upwards in agreement.

“I don’t blame her, poor girl. We’ve totally abandoned her with the males.”

“Would you like to go back and stay there?”

“Absolutely not, I’m quite happy where I am, thank you.” She raised her eyebrows in a playful manner before gesturing to the TV. “Do you wanna watch some ‘Friends’?”

“Yes! I’ll just change into some comfier clothes, jeans are not the one today.” You happily agreed, quickly giving her a peck on the cheek before scurrying off to the bedroom, hoping she didn’t notice the odd shape of your pocket.

You made it into the bedroom, getting some pj’s out of your wardrobe and looking for a place to hide the ring. You were going to just put it into your bedside table, but you knew Natasha often snuck in there to steal some of your favourite moisturiser. Not as subtle as she thinks.

You settled on hiding it on the top shelf of your wardrobe, behind some storage boxes and rucksacks neither of you used, hoping it would be well hidden there.

Now all you had to do now, was wait.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova​ @wvnda-maximoff​

[sakura-83]

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 6: Remorse Is the Poison of Life

1. Diana having to run through the dark with nothing but a lantern and quite reasonably tripping. I never really thought about how dark it would actually be out because there’s always light.., somewhere in a modern city. It’s dark but you can usually still see

2. Every time Anne and Diana are separated they end up reunited during some great tragedy and are like “I missed you so much!!” Like yeah that’s great but. Please focus

3. It’s terrifying how easily children could die before modern medicine. They still can die very easily and that’s still terrifying but back then there was no quick fixes or easily accessible help

4. “It’s an old wives tale.” “I might be one but not the other. Evidently one doesn’t have to be either thing to know it.”

5. Anne knowing how to treat croup because all of Mrs. Hammond’s sets of twins had it

6. “I was supposed to be a boy but when I wasn’t, they decided to keep and raise me.” “How extraordinary!”

7. Minnie May almost choking to death on her own phlegm and Anne ultimately saving her because there’s no way the doctor would’ve made it all the way from Soencervale in time

8. “I believe I need a brandy.”

9. It’s really interesting how much of the script comes straight from the book

10. “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts, aren’t you?”

11. John Blythe’s love for adventure and how Gilbert undoubtedly sees it in Anne

12. Eliza apologizing for how she misjudged Anne

13. “My darling Diana”

14. “I can’t tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishes at this thrilling moment!”

15. “Even aunt Josephine said she’d like to see you again, and she doesn’t like anyone.”

16. “Shes disinclined to stay home alone since her companion passed away.” “Her companion?” “Her best friend forever and ever.”

17. “Aunt Josephine never married. Neither of them did, they lived with each other their whole lives.” “I’d live with you forever if I could. But I know you’ll leave me the date you get married to some wealthy and handsome gentleman. I hate him already.” “How’s Gilbert?”

18. “It’s very likely Gilbert’s father isn’t going to get well, so it’s more than possible that when Gilbert finally comes back to school… he’ll be an orphan.”

19. The cut from that conversation to John Blythe’s funeral

20. Matthew grabbing Marilla’s arm because he knows how much john meant to her

21. Gilbert watching the snowflakes melt in his hand

22. Marilla’s flashback

23. Young Marilla teasing john

24. Him giving her the same hair ribbon she later gifts to Anne

25. Anne and Gilbert being just like their parents, mirroring their romance and yet achieving the love Marilla and John could never have

26. Anne trying to make Gilbert feel better but making it seem like it’s about her. I often find it hard to articulate my relation to others in a way that does sound like I’m relating and not like I’m making it about me

27. Aunt Josephine on a stroll in the woods

28. Anne’s ranting about her “extensive knowledge of being an orphan”

29. Her calling Gilbert a dumb boy and refusing to think about him

30. “Romance is a pesky business. No sense to be made of it.”

31. “May I enter your humble abode.” About Anne’s run down little shed

32. “I couldn’t be less interested in Gil- that boy!”

33. “Let your ambitions and your aspirations be your guide.” “But I have so many!”

34. “I’ve always wanted to be a bride, but I don’t really expect to be a wife.” “Interesting!” “So you see the conundrum.” “I do. I have the following thoughts to offer. First, you can get married any time in your life, if you choose to do so.” “That’s true-“ “And two, if you choose a career, you can buy a white dress yourself, have it made to order and wear it whenever you want.” “Why didn’t I think of that!? I love that idea! I’m going to be my own woman!” “I’m a proponent for making ones own way in the world.”

35. “If you become a doctor, perhaps you can discover a cure for old age.”

36. Anne calling aunt Josephine her new role model, as well as Marilla and Matthew

37. “I’m going to be the heroine of my own story.”

38. Marilla finding an old letter from John

39. The theme Unrequited Love playing during this scene

40. It’s fascinating when you come to recognize the instrumentals by name, the names actually have a lot of double meanings in relation to the show. Fire in The Town not only plays when there’s an actual fire, but also when Anne’s rumors about prissy set the town ablaze

41. “If the key to a mans heart is through his stomach-“ “Which it is!” “Then, we have to make sure that this is the best shepherds pie that Gilbert has ever had.”

42. Anne wanting a boy to loved for her brain and personality rather than her abilities to keep a home

43. “Don’t you think Gilbert looks even more handsome now that he’s sad?” “I didn’t notice.”

44. I just noticed aunt Josephines mourning clothes, I know she was grieving but I didn’t put two and two together

45. “Take the boy the godforsaken pie before I suffer a mental collapse.”

46. Anne rambling excitedly about Jane Eyre.

47. Anne almost spoiling the book, just like Gertrude used to do

48. Anne suddenly breaking down over death. I’ve done that before, far more frequently in middle school when I realized that we all die someday

49. “It must be awful beyond measure to lose someone that you love deeply. In a split second, a heartbeat, they’re gone forever… and there is nothing you can do to change it or bring them back…”

50. “Anne? You’re crying on the potatoes.”

51. “There’s nothing wrong with saying ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, Ruby. And I’m going to say it because I am.” “You’re just going to make it worse if you say that. His father!! Just died!!!” “That’s what people say when someone dies.” “I don’t want you to upset him.” “He’s already upset because his father just died!”

52. “We hope you like shepherds pie.” “Everyone LIKES shepherds pie 😡. We hope it’s a comfort to you, Gilbert.🥰”

53. Anne telling “but I would make a terrible wife!” And running out.

54. Matthew offering to help Gilbert get his farm back in order

55. Gilbert not wanting to be a farmer but having an entire farm shoved off on him when his only family does, despite being… 14 at most? 15 maybe?

56. Matthew losing all his crops when the Dal Marie sank

57. Billy wanting Gilbert back to control the “ugly orphan” and Gilbert defending Anne

58. “She’s smart, deal with it.”

59. Gilbert telling billy to read a book for once

60. “I’ll give you a tip, okay? I’m not your bud. And if you ever hassle Anne again, you’ll regret it.”

61. “What’s your problem?” “Ask me that again. No, seriously. Go ahead.” “Why you gotta be like that?” “Ask me!” “…what’s your problem?”

62. Gilbert throwing his stuff at billy to preoccupy his hands and THEN punching him straight in his stupid face

63. The boys are fighting!!!! And rolling around in the snow too that’s kind of funny looking

64. Gilbert beating billy in that fight

65. Marilla telling Gilbert about his father

66. All of Gilbert’s siblings died

67. Gilbert’s father taking him to Alberta before he died, where Gilbert was born

68. “You resemble him in many ways.”

69. “He asked you to go?” I’ll always be grateful to him for thinking I’d be brave enough. Obligation… can be a prison.”

70. Anne trying to write a letter to Gilbert apologizing for what she said

71. Anne visiting aunt Josephine for advice and accidentally interrupting her grieving

72. “Emotion is rarely convenient and often intolerable, but I find at the moment that I don’t mind it.”

73. “Grief is the price you pay for live, you see. So it’s alright.”

74. “You and I are not the marrying kind.” “Ah, but I was, in my way. And we had a full and wonderful life together, and I gave no regrets. That’s all you really have to decide Anne, to live a life without regrets.”

75. Anne kissing aunt Josephine on the cheek and running off to live said life

76. No Matthew don’t make that loan deal!!!

77. Anne sprinting to Gilbert’s house bit for the first time of many to come, being too late to reach him.

[squishmallow36]

Good Evening, My People up in the Chandeliers

Word count: 4.8k

Tw: Swearing, alcohol mention

(It's called Fitz is angry and I didn't feel like censoring him)

Kotlc AU where Sophie's either living in elfland or living with humans I have no clue but Fitz is a Foxfire valedictorian and Dex inevitably creates a trap remix of his speech.

Credit for the AU goes to @synonymroll648

On AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36400201 hopefully the link works) or below the cut

Fitz fidgets with his sleeve, waiting off to the side of the crystalline stage as Magnate Leto drones on for an extraordinarily long amount of time about his hopes and dreams for the graduating class’s future before finally saying, “Now that I’ve kept you long enough, I would like to introduce someone who needs no introduction, the top of your class, Fitz Vacker.”

Magnate Leto steps aside as Fitz climbs up the stairs to take his place at the podium without tripping over any of the cords nobody bothered to tape down.

Magnate Leto departs the stage on the opposite side, walking around the back while Fitz pulls out a thick stack of index cards and takes a breath.

“Good evening, my fellow graduates. Over our last six years here at Foxfire, we have learned a lot. Sir Harding taught us how to levitate, or, more accurately, fall from mildly concerning heights. Lady Galvin taught us how to turn a rose into iron. And how to do it very wrong. And Dame Alina taught us how to avoid getting in trouble when we skip class or melt a table.”

Fitz pauses, smiling. He’s trying to strike a balance between formal and entertaining, but a few illegible bullet points makes that a bit more difficult than usual.

He continues, “All of this knowledge will no doubt be valuable as we go forward in life. But I think that the most important thing that we have learned over the last six years is how to fake it until you make it.”

He sat for over an hour trying to come up with something important enough to tell everyone in his graduating class. This was the best he could do.

“Over the next few minutes, I’d like to talk about what we’ve learned, the people we have to thank, and the people we have to remember. I told you that the most important thing that we learned was how to fake it until you make it.”

He takes a short pause for dramatic effect and fixes his eyes on the index cards.

“Let me give you just a couple of examples of what I’m talking about. I remember about a little more than a year and a half ago, Keefe decided to do his homework during lunch. It worked for a solid week until he got detention and it started a chain reaction of more detention that ended up breaking the school record. The one time he actually went to class, he got detention. It was great. But I don’t think there’s anyone in here who hasn’t forgotten some homework and had to do it at lunch. I know I have.” Fitz smiles.

“More recently, all of our Elvin History teachers decided to gang up on us earlier this year and we all had to write up speeches. Well, at least everyone I knew was complaining about it. The best part was that on the day of Rissa’s presentation, she just showed up and rambled about nothing for a solid class period because she didn’t feel like writing it down. After that, I’ve tried desperately to reduce the number of bullet points I use per presentation. It hasn’t worked. I’m reading this almost verbatim except for the incoherent scribbles from midnight last night when I actually wrote this whole thing down. And then, I heard this after like seven different people, so I’m sorry if it’s inaccurate. Once, Shayda tried to organize a rebellion with Siofra and a few others where they wanted to ban homework by refusing to do it. I wish it had worked.”

He takes his stack of index cards and lines them all up again against the podium.

“Next, I’d like to take a moment on behalf of myself and my fellow graduates to thank the people that have brought us here. Everyone here has different people in their lives, but I’d like to thank some of you that stood out most to me. First, I would like to thank my Mum, Della, who taught me how to stress bake. It’s gotten me through many exams when my eyes just couldn’t read History anymore. Next, I would like to thank my Dad--”

His voice cracks.

“--Alden for being the best role model anyone could ever ask for, showing me what it means to be an Emissary. Now, I would like to thank Keefe, my best friend, for teaching me all of the things I probably shouldn’t have learned, like how to get away with not doing my homework and prank people like my life depends on it. I’d also like to thank my sistaer Biana because ae kept me sane this past year. Although I’m not entirely sure how. I had to ask out, like, four different girls for aer. This term. Finally, I’d like to thank my brother Alvar, who was Keefe’s biggest role model and kept him sort of under control.”

Fitz smiles and takes a breath.

“Finally, I’d like to take a moment to remember our classmates and teachers who can’t be with us today. It wouldn’t be right to start with anyone but my father, Alden, whose mind broke earlier this year, as I’m sure you’ve all heard by now. He is exactly who I aspire to be someday.  I also apologize if I’ve been a little short with anyone recently. I don’t know all of you personally, but I know I’m not the only one who has lost a friend or family member during our time here. Regardless, we all miss Sir Astin. I didn’t have him as one of my Universe mentors, but Biana’s told me about his tendency to forget to assign homework. In addition to that, while they weren’t part of our school, I must mention our beloved Councillor Kenric Fathdon and Fintan Pyren. I’m sure you all remember the fire that burned down half of Eternalia. Finally, unless I’ve talked long enough for anything to change, Keefe is still in the Healing Centre.”

Fitz’s eyes find Elwin in the crowd, and his face falls subtly when there’s no good news. “I haven’t got a clue what’s happened, but he’s been in a coma since the beginning of the school year. If that hasn’t already gotten into the rumour mill, now it’ll be.”

He cringes slightly, knowing that it sounds like he wrote it late last night and just wanted it done, but recovers, saying, “So now we’re Foxfire graduates. And soon we’re going to be signing each others’ yearbooks and saying goodbye. Some of you will be continuing with me to the Elite levels. A few of you already have jobs lined up. At least one of you is planning on starting a restaurant, and I expect an invite when you open. Your Mum’s umber leaf soup is magnificent. A portion of you have no idea what you’ll be doing with your lives. What’s certain is that there will be hugs and tears. We’ll do our best to stay in touch. But we’ll be living our lives and doing our best.”

He flips over the last index card and concludes, “As a final thought going forward, I’d like to leave you with a quote from Keefe, who somehow always knows what to say. Especially when you want him to stop talking. He said, ‘Our family doesn’t decide who we are. Believe me, it drives my parents crazy.  And sometimes that’s the only thought that gets me through the day.’ These are our lives now, to do what we choose. Don’t forget that, and if you feel overwhelmed, just fake it until you make it. If Keefe’s taught me anything, most things take ninety percent less effort than it should. Thank you all.”

Magnate Leto starts climbing up the stairs as Fitz finishes his speech, and leads the school in a round of applause.

Fitz leaves the stage without a cue, and Magnate Leto makes a few final remarks before releasing everyone as graduates. The graduating class used to throw their caps in the air, but during the time of Dame Alina, everyone started throwing them at the principal.

Needless to say, no caps were allowed the next year.

Fitz takes a breath when he realizes he’s searching the shifting crowd for Keefe’s blond curls. It’s not like he’d have come willingly but the fact that he can’t be here still...there are no words.

Fitz’s blood boils, hands curling into useless fists. He knows there’s nothing he can do, and that’s the problem. There’s nothing he can do.

Everything was supposed to follow the script, but it all took a sharp left when Keefe fell into that coma.

He wishes he knew what happened, but it’s not as though Keefe can tell him, and Elwin has as much information as everyone else. Zero.

Fitz’s thoughts are interrupted by Biana trying to tackle him from behind, and he’s spent enough time playing bramble that he knows who it is immediately. And that there’s no fighting against aer.

Ae gets down after a second of hanging on to him, and says, “Nice job up there, Fitzipoo.”

“It wasn’t too depressing?”

“Yes, but you didn’t fall off the stage.”

“That was your criterion?”

“Yep. Come on, Mum’s made ripplefluffs for you and I don’t wanna wait any longer.”

“Like a Vanisher couldn’t have sneaked one.”

“She counted them.”

���I don’t know. It seems like you’ve not tried hard enough. Perhaps you just didn’t want to bother with creating a master plan. Or you didn’t want to be a bloody tosser for once.”

“You’re really trying to make me regret my life decisions, aren’t you?”

“That’s the hope.”

Around a week later, Fitz knocks his head on the wall he shares with Biana’s room. All these bedrooms in this place, and ae had to choose the one next to him.

“Biana!”

“What?” comes Biana’s answer.

“Why did you just send me this?”

By ‘this’, he means a recording of his valedictorian speech, remixed with a trap beat in the background.

“You haven’t seen it yet?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

He can feel his blood pressure start to rise in frustration.

“Do you know who made this?”

“No.”

Something about the tone makes Fitz think that Biana’s not being exactly forthcoming with what ae knows.

“Can you tell me anything at all? Maybe like who sent it to you, for starters.”

“I could…”

He lets his hopes get up for just a moment.

“...but what will you give me in return?”

And there they plummet once again.

He sighs. “What do you want?” He pauses before hastily adding, “Within reason.”

“So many things. But what will I ask you for this time?” Biana pauses, thinking for just a second as Fitz waits for his punishment. “I know! You’re gonna find out if Marella likes me.”

“Says the Vanisher.”

“Yes but I won’t have to do it.”

“And you want me to break the rules of telepathy because you have yet another crush.”

“I don’t care how you get an answer. That’s your problem.”

“Fine. I’ll just go up and ask her the next time I see her. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve done this for you.”

“Again, that’s your problem.”

“Just give me an answer. Please.” Fitz begs.

“Marella sent it to me. That’s all I know. It’s highly likely she knows more.”

“I wonder why you asked me about her,” Fitz asks sarcastically, already pulling out his Imparter to text Marella.

Hey, do you know who created the remix of my speech?

Yeah, quickly comes her reply.

Are you willing to tell me or will this require bribery? he asks.

Well now that you mention it...

He rolls his eyes. What do you want?

She takes a second to consider before replying, Does your sistaer have a gf?

Ae literally just fucking asked me to find out if you liked aer to know who sent aer the video. Please for the love of stars if you go out with aer let it be longer than two dates.

So you think ae’d be willing?

Fitz knocks his head on the wall once again. “Biana! You’re going out with Marella. Text her to figure out when and where. I’m not going to be your messenger pigeon.”

He can hear squealing through the wall, and not for the first time.

Biana’ll be texting you soon so I’m going to ask now before the gay takes over. Who made the trap remix?

That was Dex.

Who?

You know, Dizznee.

That doesn’t help.

The Bad Match with the triplet siblings?

Oh. Yeah. Okay.

She pauses for a second. Thx for being the unwilling mediator between two lesbians.

Biana technically uses bi lesbian. Ae gets very defensive about that.

Oop sorry.

Be careful. I don’t want to clean up yet another breakup.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

It’s not you. It’s this term’s track record. The odds aren’t exactly in your favour.

Marella doesn’t respond, and Fitz assumes Biana’s pulled aerself together just enough to send her a text.

Fitz shrugs and starts marching down to the Leapmaster to find that bloody git Dex Dizznee.

Standing outside Slurps and Burps, Fitz clenches his teeth, trying to rein in his anger before he accidentally breaks something.

He tries to take in a shaky breath before swinging open the door, ready to ask whoever is at the register where he can find Dex.

He realizes then that it might have been helpful to ask Marella for a description, but at this point, it’s too late.

Fitz’s gaze falls on the smiling boy behind the counter, maybe a little younger than he is, with strawberry blond hair, periwinkle eyes, a gazillion freckles, and unfairly cute dimples.

He looks up, smile faltering, and Fitz asks, “Pardon me. Do you happen to know where I can find Dex?”

“Xe’s right here,” he--xe--answers, rolling xor eyes and sighing. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to know why you fucking remixed my valedictorian speech.”

“Why fucking not?” xe counters.

Fitz’s teeth grind and he can’t form words for a solid two seconds. “Do you enjoy contributing to dragging the Vacker name through the mud?”

“Oh puh-lease. One tiny speck of dust on your shining reputation and you throw a hissy fit.”

“I’ll have you know that reputation goes back a thousand years! Not like you’d understand that, though.”

Blood rushes to xor cheeks. “You really are a haestehen. Clearly you’ve no idea who I am but somehow you know I’m the son of a Bad Match. That was low, even for your highness.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like you aren’t fully aware that you’ve always thought of yourself as better than everyone else.”

“That’s--what right does that give you?”

Xe snorts. “Not even gonna argue. And I really don’t give a shit what you think about the remix. And, anyway, it’s the most publicity a valedictorian speech has gotten since Dame Alina got into the Fizzleberry Wine right after she tried to stop your parents’ wedding and walked off the edge of the stage. I thought you’d love that attention.”

“Thanks for that reminder,” Fitz snaps sarcastically.

“You’re welcome. I do what I can,” Dex replies, even more sarcastically.

“You really don’t give a shit about anything, do you?”

“I’ve given up trying to please you Vackers a long time ago. At least maybe this time you’ll remember that I exist.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I see you all the time around Foxfire. But your majesty has never even bothered to remember that. I splotched Biana during our first year, for stars’ sake!”

Fitz stops for a moment, trying to dredge up some shred of that memory.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Dex snorts.

Fitz refuses to give xem any satisfaction. “That’s not my problem.”

“That sounds like a yes to me,” xe mutters.

“Is that why you hate me so much?”

“Pretty much. It’s not personal.” Xe shrugs.

“Hating me isn’t personal?” Fitz deadpans.

“I blame mostly your father. He seemed like an ass. I’m pretty sure responsible for at least ninety percent of this mindset.”

“Well, your father is Talentless. So I really don’t give a shit what you think.”

“Then fucking leave! Or did you forget where the door was?” Dex exclaims, marching out from behind the counter, fists balled.

Fitz takes two steps back.

“I’m not leaving until you stop sharing the remix.”

“That won’t help, dipshit. I sent it to Marella and haven’t seen it since.”

“Then tell her to stop sharing it!”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Common courtesy?” Fitz suggests.

Dex just looks at him, saying so many things without words. Most of them seem to be ‘fuck you’.

Fitz rolls his eyes before sighing. “Ever since my Dad...you know…” He pauses, waiting for Dex to argue. “There’ve been whispers about how us Vackers aren’t as….”

Fitz stops, searching for the word he wants, and Dex supplies, “Special?”

It’s close enough. “...as everyone thought we were.”

Dex snorts once again. “Welcome to my world. Although most aren’t nice enough to limit it to just whispers. You’ll stop caring soon enough, though.”

“What if I don’t want to stop caring.”

“Nobody gives a shit what you want, Wonderboy. They just give a shit about what they want, and occasionally those line up.”

“I refuse to be that pessimistic.”

“What it is is realistic. People are assholes.”

“Do you have any faith in Elvenkind?” Fitz asks honestly, brows drawing together.

Dex smirks in a distinctly un-Keefe way. “Why the fuck should I? I’m sure the only reason Marella was willing to share your favourite remix was because I sent it anonymously. Ever since everyone found out I’m gay, even she won’t talk to me. And she talks to Drooly Boys. That isn’t a very high bar and yet somehow I’m below it.”

“I don’t think it’s personal.”

Xe tilts his head and Fitz feels his heart stutter for half a beat. He shifts imperceptibly forward against his better judgement.

“My hatred of you and your entire family is personal, but it isn’t when applied to me?”

“You couldn’t have chosen to be the son of a Bad Match and you couldn’t have chosen to be gay.”

“Nobody can choose their family, you included. And I could’ve stayed in the closet. But someone sounds like he has some experience in that area.”

Fuck. “Biana is a bi lesbian if you’ve forgotten.”

“How can I? Everyone worships aer for that while I just get disgusted looks.”

“You were the reason ae figured out ae was a bi lesbian. Ae learned about you, had a gay crisis for a few weeks and...here we are.”

“You look like you want to say something else,” Dex says, and it’s not like Fitz can escape xor periwinkle gaze.

“This cannot be told to anyone else. If it does, I won’t hesitate to erase that memory. I don’t have much practice, so I’ll probably wipe out half of your brain in the process.”

Dex smiles, revealing those dimples. “You’re gay.”

“What the--? How did you--,” Fitz takes a breath before he further embarasses himself by rambling all pver the place. “Technically I’m using bi at the moment but close enough.”

“That’s why you’ve got such a problem with me, isn’t it? You hate that you’re bi because of Elvin heteronormativity and you blame me.”

“Why is it so wrong for me to want a wife and a kid or two just like my Dad? Why do guys insist on being so freaking cute? If you could all just stop, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Dex blushes, and Fitz realises that he included xem in this request. But he doesn’t refute it.

“Sorry if you don’t vibe with the term guys. I’m not very good at that filter yet.”

“It’s fine. I use he/him and xe/xem so you can use whatever traditionally masc terms you want. Honestly, half the school uses it/its despite trying to explain that that's a very bad, so I don’t really care anymore.”

Oh you can bet I’m going to pull so many strings that won’t happen again. That’s one of the nice things about having so much attention directed at you. When you tell Biana to start aggressively correcting people, they listen. Ae got them to listen to aer.

Fitz takes a small step forward. “That’s…horrible.”

“Like I said, I don’t care anymore. I’ve got a pair of headphones blasting music and an ability to avoid conversation like no other.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that though.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Biana can be very persuasive.”

“Lemme guess. In exchange for that, you want me to tell Marella to stop sharing the Valedictorian speech?”

“There’s a lot of things that I’d use to trade for what I want. Arseholes not misgendering someone isn’t one of them. That being said…”

Dex pulls out his Imparter, and types something quickly on there before saying, “There you go. I changed the permissions on the file. If your sistaer or someone else saved it and continues sending it around, that’s not my problem.”

With that, Fitz can’t think of anything else to bother Dex about so he mumbles a goodbye before leaving hastily, knowing if he stays there too long on amicable terms, his web of lies, especially the ones to himself, might start to unravel.

Stars, why does xe have to be so fucking cute?

Fitz forgets about that entire interaction by shoving the memory aside as much as he possibly can until Biana insists on making him go to Slurps and Burps to restock aer alchemy supplies for some reason before school starts back up again.

Ae did get Galvin for Alchemy Five, so you can’t exactly blame aer.

When Fitz finally gives in to aer demands, he’s stuck somewhere in the middle of dreading it with every fibre of his being and disproportionately excited. This is directly being caused by the thought of seeing Dex again.

He arrives at the store as Stina is leaving, and she gives Fitz a smile. Normally he wouldn’t have taken note of that, but there’s something there that doesn't seem right.

Well, more than usual. Stina’s always been a little off, but until now, Fitz has mostly written it off as just her being a bitch. A fact that Maruca refuses to see. Biana’s a little less blind to it, but Fitz thinks the gay is still getting in the way a little bit.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Fitz doesn’t think Stina’s ever actually used Biana’s ae/aer pronouns. Just avoided them like the gnomish plague once she got tired of being corrected.

Fitz opens the door, and when he sees the strawberry blond-haired boy behind the counter once again, he smiles involuntarily. “Hey, Dex.”

Dex raises a suspicious eyebrow, and Fitz doesn’t blame xem. The last time he was in here, he was pretty angry. “What can I do for you today?”

“Just some back to school shopping. Biana’s got Galvin this year.”

Dex makes a thoughtful sound and says, “She always gives a massive list. Do you want me to help find the stuff in here? I basically have this place memorized.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I don’t exactly have anything better to do.”

Halfway down the list, Fitz has to ask, “Do you happen to know where the oil of vitriol is off the top of your head?”

“Seriously? Galvin’s asking for that?”

Fitz shows xem the paper.

Dex takes a second to process. “That’s not exactly a safe chemical. I’ve got it in the back but we should probably leave it for last. It enjoys burning through glass bottles.”

“And what about aqua tofani?”

“Okay...clearly Galvin has lost it. That’s in the back too. What’s next? Chlorine trifluoride? Azidoazide azide? Alkahest? A whole block of Polonium?”

“Aqua vitae.”

Dex points to a shelf without hesitation. “Right there. Pro tip: don’t set that on fire. Trust me. Very flammable.”

After a dozen or so more dangerous chemicals, Fitz reads off, “Last one. A crap ton of Bismuth.”

Dex brushes against Fitz’s arm, to check the actual amount, and the light touch brings goose pimples to his arms.

Fitz flinches away, more mad at himself than anything else.

Dex, thankfully, doesn’t notice, giving Fitz the bismuth, and saying, “Here you go. I’m going to go get the oil of vitriol and aqua tofani. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

Xor voice carries a teasing edge and Fitz doesn’t really know how to react, but he makes sure he doesn’t touch anything.

He doesn’t need Dex to be mad at him. Not when they’re finally on kind-of-okay terms.

But he does want to know where all the stuff is stored. For no real reason.

Dex is back in half a second, and Fitz has absolutely no clue how he knows where everything is so easily.

“How do you have this whole place memorized?”

“Spend a week here and tell me you won’t start remembering where things are. But it is kind of Exileish when your siblings come in here and decide to reorganize everything and then you have to go fix it and it takes for-fucking-ever. No, I’m not bitter.”

“So there is some form of organization in this place?”

“Of course. Acids on the left. Bases on the right. Pure elements in the middle. Neutral compounds will be closer to the door and pH gets more extreme as you head towards the register. So I can keep an eye on them better or something. I think it’s more likely for people waiting in line to knock over a shelf the closer it is to me but, hey, what do I know?”

“A lot apparently. I’m lucky those words even sound familiar.”

“Are you taking Alchemy this year?”

“Exile no. I barely survived the normal levels.”

“Says the top of the class.”

“That’s entirely because I studied my arse off and still got a ninety-three. Nearly lost my spot because of it.”

“Well, let me know if Biana’s willing to accept any help. Ae’s gonna have one Exile if a year with Galvin and I don’t want you destroying half of Everglen. We’ve patched so many holes in the ceiling here, I doubt any original is left.”

Fitz looks up and sees a patchwork of large, slightly different-toned spots covering the whole ceiling. It’s a mottled combination of chemical exposure, different ages of plaster, and a bit of ivory here, a dash of eggshell there, and a messy brush of cream down the centre.

“I’ll let you know.” He nods.

With that, Fitz starts to leave, but a few paces away from the door, he hesitates before turning back.

He looks like he wants to just turn around and forget whatever he wanted to ask.

“Dex?”

“Yeah?” xe replies with considerably less sass than he could have had.

“Would you…maybe…be willing to go out with me? Maybe get some custard bursts? I know this stall in Atlantis that makes the best ones by far.”

Dex flushes nuclear red. With a shaky voice, xe asks, “Do you really want that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Fitz replies, taking a step closer.

“What...what would your Dad think?”

Fitz flinches but doesn’t hesitate before saying, “You sound like you’re trying to be nice while turning me down.”

“That’s--no. I just don’t think you’ve thought this through. I’m a Dizznee, remember.”

Fitz pauses for a second. “Do you see me running away screaming?”

“Maybe not today. But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? Or next week?”

Taking another step forward, Fitz says, “Why should I give a fuck about what might happen tomorrow. Exile, my mind might break tomorrow. Or in a few millennia. I can’t let that dictate every single decision I’ll ever make.”

Dex considers for a moment, his face softening as xor walls crumble. “As long as this isn’t a banshee shit prank setup, I’d be willing to go.”

Fitz smiles. “I’ll look at my schedule and text you what times I’m free because I have no clue what I’m doing this week.”

“Honestly, same. I never have a clue what my hours here are more than maybe a day in advance. If I do say that I’m working here when you’re free, it’s not just my attempt to escape from plans. If I can find any sort of schedule to screenshot, I’ll send it to you.”

“Cool. I guess...I’ll see you later then.” Fitz nods.

“Bye! And for the love of the stars, please don’t drink the oil of vitriol.”

“I’ll do my best.” Fitz says, as he leaves.

The door closes behind him, and a tidal wave of emotions, both excited and terrified rush up to fill its place.

Stars, he’s cute.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Eleven: Love - SMUT

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, cunningless, tit play, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, food and drink mention, emotional because we’re nearing the end, a family being brought together and our favourite soft, sad dad loving his son and, well… you.

Word count: 4300>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist 

Previous - Chapter Eleven - Next

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

Just entering Black Gold Cooperative again, when you thought the previous night would be your last, drew tears to your eyes. This extensive size office was the place you’d first journeyed too upon venturing to the world of man. The building meant more to you than you had first realised, and it held so many amazing memories of self discovery. Your eyes flicked between the velvet sofa where you had once slept on, and the plants that peppered each corner of the lobby. They were vibrant and filled with life, symbolic of new beginnings. Now, the only magic in the air was love. You could feel it, Maxwell could feel it, and from the way Alistair perked up as you sneaked up behind him, he could feel it too. Love truly was the most powerful thing.

Seeing the way Alistair ran into his father’s arms, and the way he squeezed Max so tight -- like he was afraid to let him go, was enough to make your heart melt into your chest. “Daddy! You’re back!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Did you win?” He asked, his dark brown eyes glittering with hope. Alistair tugged on Max’s dark blonde shaggy hair as he waited for a reply.

“Yeah buddy, I won,” Max chuckled breathlessly. With those two words of affirmation, Alistair burst into tears. You took a step back as you watched the interaction, sensing how high the emotion was. You knew that Max had waited for this day to come for a long time. “No no, don’t cry. You should be happy.” Max cooed apologetically, his eyes widening as he tried his hardest to comfort his son. You were no longer a Goddess, and you had been stripped of your powers, but you could still feel the compassion between them both. And it was beautiful.

“I am happy,” Alistair choked out in between sobs, pulling back to look at his father. Max wiped away Alistair’s tears and offered him a weak smile.  “This is all I’ve ever wanted.” Alistair confessed, nuzzling his face into his father’s chest.

Max sniffed and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “I’m going to redeem myself for everything, Ali. I know… I know I’ve done terrible things and made big mistakes, and I really am a pretty messed up loser but--”

“No,” Alistair cut him off, his tone chaste. “Daddy, you’re a winner. Thank you for fighting for me.”

“Always,” Maxwell hummed, picking up Alistair and cradling him in his arms. “Let’s go home.”

***

Maxwell drove, and Alistair insisted that you sit in the back of the car with him. You obliged, unable to ever refuse the bright eyed little boy. Alistair’s small, clammy hands squeezed yours and he watched intently as you gazed out the window, entranced by all the things you passed. There was still a lot you had to get used to, but it brought you comfort knowing that now, at least you had the time. There was no pressure to return back to Themyscira. D.C. was your home. Wherever Alistair and Max was, you were home.

Alistair nuzzled his head into you and closed his eyes, feeling completely content with your company. “I like your new outfit.” he hummed, his fingers tracing your glimmering gold belt.

“You do?” you asked curiously, and felt Alistair nod against you. “You know Ali, I sorta prefer the normal clothes.” you shrugged, and caught Maxwell smiling in the reflection of the rear view mirror.

“I like this,” Alistair admitted. “You look like a superhero. Like… from my comic books.”

“You don’t need a fancy costume to be a hero, Alistair,” you said, tapping his chin so he looked up at you. “Your dad is proof of that.”

***

Maxwell dropped his keys on the side table by the front door when the three of you returned home. “Are you guys hungry?” he questioned, scratching the back of his head. After a day in court, he’d worked up quite the appetite, he must admit.

Alistair grinned and nodded his head. “Starving! Can we get pizza? Please daddy, oh please can we get pizza?” 

“Hmph,” Maxwell grumbled, displaying a faux annoyance before bursting into an adorable grin. “I suppose so. Since it’s a day to celebrate.” 

“Yay!” Alistair cheered, running into the living room and jumping on the sofa. By the sounds of it, he’d found the remote control for the television and turned on one of his favourite kiddie TV shows.

Walking over to the telephone, Maxwell caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the many mirrors in the hallway and frowned. He was happy, but Gods did he still look a mess. The blonde in his hair was rapidly fading out and he was in desperate need of a trim. He’d been neglecting his biotin supplements and forgetting to moisturize, and oh, his tired eyes. You caught him hyper analyzing his appearance and approached him from behind. Pressing a kiss into his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist, you sighed.

“What are you thinking about?” you wondered out loud.

Maxwell swallowed. “I just… I’m not the man I once was,” he ran his fingers through his hair and gestured down to the power suit that he’d worn to court. “I’m not Max Lord anymore. Not this… big oil tycoon businessman. Not on TV anymore. This whole thing is a facade. It’s not me. And everytime I look at myself… I’m reminded of all the mistakes that I made,” he admitted quietly before taking a shaky exhale. “It’s fine,” he quickly backtracked. “Guess I’ll just have to suck it up.”

“The worst part is over, Max. And you’re a survivor,” you told him, taking his hand. “The world can forgive you, but it means nothing if you can’t forgive yourself. You need to learn to love yourself.”

“Will you help me?” Maxwell asked quietly, a nervous tone prominent in his voice.

You offered him a warm smile. “That’s why I’m here,” you reminded him sweetly. “To help.”

Maxwell turned around to face you fully and placed a hand on your cheek. You swore, in that moment and under his touch, that you had forgotten how to breathe. Max might not have been able to see it, but he truly was so beautiful. The gold in his former life may have been gilded, but the gold in his heart was pure and authentic. And now, it was all yours.

Maxwell pulled his tie off his neck and shuffled out of his suit jacket. “I think it might be time for me to hang up this tie for good.” Maxwell sighed sadly, running the patterned silk material between his fingers.

“Do you want to?”

Maxwell paused for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve worked so hard to get here… I just can’t give Black Gold up.”

“Then don’t.” you whispered, shuffling your body into his. He snaked an arm around you and sighed even louder.

“It’s not that easy, darling. I don’t have the money to keep it going.” 

“I won’t let you give up on your lifelong dream, so… we’ll figure something out. Maybe you’ll have to downsize. If oil isn’t making you any money then maybe… you might have to specialise in something else. If the past week has proved anything it’s that all our problems can be figured out through the power of love. And you have that. Right here,” you maneuvered his hand and placed it on your heart before pointing your free hand into the living room at Alistair. The door stood slightly ajar. “And right there.”

Maxwell smiled. “There’s a thing, here. In the world of man…” you could tell he was about to start rambling about Goodness know what. He looked up slightly, avoiding your eye contact as he talked. “Where two people… love each other, a lot. And so they make a promise to dedicate themselves to one another. Asking you to be my girlfriend sounds a little childish,” Maxwell chuckled softly and your eyes widened when you realised where he was going with this. “But I guess… if you wanted…”

“I do!” You said quickly, cutting him off before he could even finish.

“You do?” Maxwell asked, truly stunned that you had agreed so fast. He couldn’t believe someone as magnificent as you would love him back, let alone want to be with him. He never thought he was deserving of love, especially after everything that had happened. If Maxwell had never met you, he would’ve been certain that he’d grow old, cold and alone. 

“I do.” you confirmed, grinning and pressing your lips into his.

The genuine smile that was on his face when he pulled away was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. More beautiful than the sands and oceans on Themyscira. More beautiful than the landmarks and caves in Athens. It differed to his television smile. This was one hundred percent authentic. This was Maxwell Lorenzano. “I’m going to change into my pajamas,” you announced. “And I’ll bring Ali upstairs with me and have him get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” Max acknowledged, still grinning. “I’ll set the dining room table for the pizza.”

You guided Alistair upstairs and followed him into his bedroom. You sat down on his bed, and pulled him down to sit next to you. “I told you I had a gift for you, from Athens.” you smiled and watched as Alistair’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes!” Alistair cried out, bouncing up and down.

You detached the lasso of Hestia from your tunic and placed the rope gently in his hands. “This is my lasso of truth. Remember that one night when I met Julianna and Theodore, and I came to visit you? And I showed you how it worked? Do you remember?”

Alistair nodded slowly. “Yes. You told me the lasso wasn’t powered by you. It was powered by the truth.” 

“That’s right,” you confirmed, your heart swelling at how Alistair had retained that piece of information. “The lasso is important to me because it was a gift from my mother. And now, I’m passing it down to you. I didn’t get this in Athens, but it is from Athens originally. I hope my lasso will be a constant reminder for you to always tell the truth, and always see the good in people.”

Alistair’s jaw was agape and he was struck with awe as his fingers traced the magical rope. “I love it…” he whispered.

“I’m glad,” you smiled. “It’s very powerful Ali. Who knows, one day you might be able to use it.”

“And I can be a superhero just like you…” Alistair grinned before biting his lip. “And just like my daddy.”

“Exactly. Just like your daddy. C’mon now, I want you to go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. Then we can go order our pizza, okay?”

Before you left his bedroom, Alistair called your name. You sensed hesitancy in his voice, almost like he was nervous. “Can I… can I try out the lasso... on you? Maybe?”

You wanted to ask him why the child might possibly want to do that, but then you realised, he was probably just curious. So, you obliged, and held out your wrist. Remembering how you’d shown him before, Alistair wrapped the rope around your arm and took a deep breath.

“Do you love my daddy?” Alistair asked, after taking a deep breath.

“Yes.”

“Will you promise not to leave him, ever?” 

“I promise.”

“Would you mind if… if… I called you mommy?”

You felt warm tears prick the corners of his eyes. A mother. It’s everything you had always wanted to be. You were the goddess of home and hearth. The urge to one day have a family was in your nature.

“I’d love that, Ali.” you admitted.

Alistair pulled the rope from your wrist and enveloped you into a tight hug. “Okay. Because I love you mommy.”

“I love you too.”

***

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked his son, pen in hand. He’d been scribbling down the order, the businessman in him wanting to have everything planned out before he made the phone call.

“Pineapple pizza! The biggest one!” Alistair exclaimed gleefully, stretching out his arms. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ali, you won’t eat it all,” Maxwell frowned. You nudged him, as if to say, ‘let him have this’. “Okay,” Max sighed. “The biggest pineapple pizza. And what do you want?” he asked, turning to you this time. You furrowed your eyebrows together, taking another look at the menu that had been passed around the dining room table.

“How do I know what’s good?”

“Well, not pineapple.” Maxwell grumbled. 

Alistair gasped, unable to believe the words that had just left his father’s lips. “Don’t listen to him,” Alistair said, grabbing your hand. “Daddy is wrong. Pineapple pizza is so delicious. Will you try some of mine?”

You squeezed the little boy’s hand. “Sure,” you agreed. Maxwell swore his heart melted everytime he witnessed interaction between you and his son. It was so pure, it was like you and Alistair had known each other forever. Granted, you’d known the little boy longer than you knew Maxwell. The day you woke up in the park felt like yesterday. “What do you like, Max?” you quizzed, eventually giving up on the menu. 

“Pepperoni, I guess. I don’t eat pizza much.” He admitted sheepishly. Before you could reply, Alistair’s voice made you jump up in shock.

“Boring!” He called out. Max shot him a playful glare and you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t be rude!” Maxwell chastised, wiggling his index finger, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

“He’s like you,” you pointed out. “Always has something to say.”

“My son.” Maxwell declared proudly, pulling Alistair into his lap and ruffling his dark hair.

Just like Max had anticipated, Alistair couldn’t eat the large pineapple pizza. In fact, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa after only two slices, a Star Wars blanket draped over him and a stuffed toy curled tight into his chest.

“Alistair asked me if it would be alright if he called me mommy,” you admitted quietly as Maxwell gathered the plates and empty glasses. His head snapped to face you the second the words left your lips. “I told him yes. But I figured… maybe you should have some say in it? I don’t know.”

“It means a lot to me that Ali can put his faith in you, and that he sees you as his mother. But this is a big deal. Family is for life and I don’t… he’s already lost one mother. I don’t want him to lose you too. So of course, it’s fine by me. As long as you promise to always be a mother to him, no matter what.”

“Always,” you whispered in reassurance, cupping Maxwell’s cheek and gazing into his dark eyes. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” Maxwell replied, kissing you on the forehead. “I should take him to bed.”

“Let me handle it,” you replied, stretching before leaning down to pick up the sleeping boy and cradling him in your arms. Clearly, somewhere down the line, you had forgotten you had been stripped of your powers and you were now a mortal. You let out a yelp. Once able to carry Alistair easily, you were now struggling. You wobbled slightly and Max hurried to your side to hold you and help you keep your balance.

“You okay?” Max asked, quirking an eyebrow. “He’s heavier than he looks.” you gasped, already a little breathless.

“Wanna trade?” he quizzed, raising a plate.

You mumbled a ‘yes’ and passed Alistair over to his father. “I’ll do the dishes and meet you upstairs.”

***

Max was still with Alistair by the time you had finished up the dishes and headed to the bedroom. You sat by the dressing table, brushing out your hair, and looked at the pile of discarded armour sat in the corner of the room. Maybe one day it would come of use, but for now, this was it. This was the start of a new life where you didn’t need no Amazonian armour. With Maxwell and Alistair, you had all the protection you could ever need.

“Hi,” Maxwell whispered, padding into the bedroom. You turned to face him and smiled. “I’m glad to be home… now… with you. Glad this is all over.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and began to rub them affectionately. “Me too.” you replied warmly, leaning into his touch and nuzzling your head into his chest. You closed your eyes in contentment. Every second you spent with Max, you spent wishing it would last forever. Although you knew better than to make a wish.

“Are you tired?” Max pondered, smoothing out your hair and admiring your face.

Pushing back your hair and admiring your beauty was up there with one of his most favourite things to do. Your eyes looked like home, your lips tasted like home. You were home.

“Mm, no, not really…” you confessed, staring at the image of both you and Max in the reflection of the dressing table mirror. But Max’s gaze was fixated only on you. “Actually. I had an idea, since you know, we’re celebrating and all,” you confessed after a brief moment of comfortable silence. Maxwell raised a curious eyebrow and waited for you to continue. “Remember our first night back in Athens when we…” you trailed off and glanced over towards the bed.

“Yeah.” Max answered, already breathless from the thought.

“I liked it a lot.” You admitted bashfully as you reminisced on your first time with Maxwell.

“Me too.” he agreed.

“So do you want to do it again…?”

Max didn’t reply with words, but instead he pulled you up from the stool that you were sitting on and twirled you around so you were facing him. He crashed his lips onto yours and let his large hands freely roam your back, desperate to feel every inch of your body. He’d been waiting to do this again.

Without breaking away from the kiss, you pushed him towards his bed and climbed on top of him. You straddled his hips and began to run your hands over his chest, leaning over and kissing along his jaw and down his neck. Feeling his cock already hot and heavy, he cursed under his breath, dipping his hand under the hem of your silk nightgown and smirking upon finding that you weren’t wearing any underwear. He slowly slid his thick fingers between your folds, causing you to gasp at the sudden bolt of pleasure that ran through you. His thumb began to circle your clit and you dug your fingers into his shoulders as he worked at your bundle of nerves.

He loved to look at you and watch as your face twisted in pleasure. He liked to know you were feeling good. His fingers were like magic, and he truly had a golden touch.

“Want you to cum on my fingers, okay?” Max asked, increasing the speed. You tried to push out a word but just came out as a mangled moan. You nodded your head, feeling your cunt desperately clench around nothing and your thighs tighten as you neared orgasm. 

When you came undone, Max’s dark eyes gleamed with desire and pride. He pulled his fingers from under your nightgown and placed them on his tongue, sucking your arousal from his own digits.

“You taste amazing baby,” He praised, unable to contain his smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You replied back with a smile.

Both you and Max made your way over to the bed, stripping yourself out of your clothes and intertwining your bodies together. 

“I don’t ever want this moment to end.” you confessed with a shaky exhale as Maxwell squeezed your breasts, peppering kisses down the valley of your chest.

“It doesn’t have to, princess, we have the rest of our lives to spend together.”

There it was again. The dumb nickname he’d called you from the day you first met. You’d insist that you weren’t a princess, and by no means royalty, but to Maxwell, you were. You were his princess. A rose stuck amongst a bush of thorns. You were the epitome of hope, beauty and love. And you were all his.

So the nickname grew on you, and you’d come to like it.

You felt the tip of Maxwell’s cock tease against your entrance as he swiftly rubbed his length up and down, between your glistening wet folds. By the time he pushed himself inside of you, just the scrunched up look on his face was enough to make your stomach erupt into butterflies. The crinkle in between his eyebrows and the way his perfect lips parted into an ‘o’ shape as your walls clamped around him.

“Fuck, you-you’re so tight,” He gasped, the Adams apple in his neck prevailing as he tried to swallow away his desire. “Always so tight. So per-perfect. Good girl. Such a go-good girl.” he praised, a small strand of dark blonde hair falling out of place and crossing his forehead.

You shuddered at his words.

“Look at me,” you begged, and he obliged, his chocolate coloured eyes snapping open. Despite the glaze of lust that seemed to cloud his vision, he was able to fixate on you, spending a few moments adoring your face -- the face he fell in love with -- as he remained seated deep inside you. He was stretching you open and Gods, it felt delicious, but you needed more. You desperately needed more. “Move, please.” you whimpered, bringing your hands up to cup his face.

Maxwell began to rock his hips into yours, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. He leaned over you and pressed his forehead against yours as he picked up his speed. “Don’t be too loud,” he warned quietly, his warm breath fanning over your ear.

It wasn’t long before he felt his cock twitch inside of you. “Shit,” he moaned, squeezing your shoulder to signify that he was close. “Neither of us are protected-- fuck, I need, I need to pull out.” 

“Mm, no, no Max. Keep going. Don’t stop.” You begged, your fingers tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You could get pregnant.” he rasped out, suddenly remembering you were now a mortal.

“Would it really be so bad?” you asked, and your question alone was enough to throw Maxwell over the edge.

Would it really be so bad?

You had a point. Max had never imagined having any more kids. Hell, he’d never really planned on having Alistair. But times had changed, and he was so in love with you. He figured -- maybe kids were something he could give another go at. Little mini you’s running around the house would simply be so adorable. And who better to have children with, than the goddess of home and hearth? Having a family was written in your destiny. It was always meant to be. Given the time and the place, the prospect of having kids, getting you pregnant… it just felt right.

The start of a new life… both figuratively and literally.

Of course he was certain that this was what you wanted, and evidently, you wanted it to. But the idea of seeing you swole and round, carrying his children… well that was a whole different thing.

“Fuck princess, you’re gonna look so good carrying my baby.” Maxwell grounded, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

You felt your orgasm wash over you, and your walls clamp around his cock. That was enough to push him over the edge.

Maxwell came inside of you, and he made sure to cum deep, too. Once he’d regained his breath, he grabbed two pillows from his side of the bed and propped them under your butt so the lower half of your body was higher than your upper half.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Making sure not a drop of it goes to waste,” Maxwell replied as he pressed sloppy kisses along your inner thighs.

And when he caught a glimpse of his seed beginning to spill out of you, he plunged his index finger and pushed it back in. 

“I love you so much.” You whispered as Maxwell smoothed out your hair and kissed your lips.

“I love you too, darling. And I can’t wait to embark on this new life together.”

You pondered for a moment, relishing in the comfortable silence before you brought your index finger and pointed it towards Maxwell. “Life is good, but it can be better.”

Maxwell was trying his damn hardest to fight the grin that was edging to cross his lips. How could one person be so adorable?

“It can always be better.” he whispered, bringing his hand down to your stomach and kissing you again.

———————————————

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