#but that course was a year ago so if we learned anything about it (which wouldn't have been much) i certainly don't remember it

[specialagentartemis]

Feel like dropping the rant about how "pre-written records = prehistory" is not a good way of conceptualizing history? It's not my area at all so I'm fascinated.

Hah absolutely

It’s a mix of semantics, and word connotations, and the way history gets presented, and tbh legacies of racism.

So. Part of it comes from the distinctions between the academic field and practice of history, and the academic field and practice of archaeology. The practice of history means analyzing the past through written texts and records; the practice of archaeology means analyzing the past through the material remains left behind. This is fine. It refers to the way you approach information about the past and what tools and theories you use to do so. I have no problem with this part!

Of course, it starts to get more complicated when you also have classicists (who study ancient Greek and Roman history primarily through texts but also incorporate some aspects of archaeology) and Assyriologists (ditto but for Mesopotamia), which have their roots in old-school European practices of formal education. There’s also historical archaeology, which is primarily archaeology but incorporates written records of the time and place for a fuller picture, or uses archaeology to complicate or fill gaps in the records. Historical archaeology is a practice that can be applied to any place and time with historical records, but primarily it refers to archaeology of the Americas post-European colonialism.

These refer to the ways we study the past. Where I start to disagree is when these terms get applied to the past itself.

Historians study history through written texts, so there is often a delineation where history = the presence of written texts, and prehistory = before that. And I have problems with that delineation of time.

For one thing, the connotations of the terms. History, in common use, is important, it’s everything that built the world we live in and led to where we are now. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. While prehistory conjures images of dinosaurs, or cavemen. It implies that the things that happened in it aren’t as important as the things that happened once history proper started. It also feels very, very old—it feels weird to call, say, the Inca empire prehistoric, when the Inca Empire is younger than Oxford University and the first Inca emperor was crowned in Peru after the Norman Invasion of England in 1066—something nobody calls prehistoric.

Because that brings up a more objective issue with splitting time into “history” and “prehistory”: writing was invented at different times in different places, and used to different extents. Writing was first invented in Mesopotamia in the Early Bronze Age, about 5,000 years ago. It was probably independently invented in Egypt shortly afterward, and was independently invented in China 3400 years ago, and in Central America about 2500 years ago. Writing spread across Asia, India, North Africa, Europe, and Mexico/Guatemala; it was not used in North America, South America, southern Africa, Australia, most parts of Polynesia, Micronesia, Australia, or New Zealand at all until European contact. According to the written records definition, this means history starts in very different times in these different places. Not only does this unbalance what we think of as “history” a lot, it ends up discounting or minimizing these people’s own ways of reckoning history, making their history start when Europeans arrived.

This is an incredibly dismissive way to consider whole continents’ worth of people and cultures! It turns them into a “people without history,” and implies that whatever they were doing before Europeans (or Chinese, Indians, or North Africans depending on the region, but mostly Europeans) doesn’t really matter to what happened since. If anything happened at all in that “time before history”; a common perspective of both early colonists and modern pop-history in places like the American West or Australia is that the people there have been living the exact same way for thousands of years, unchanging since the Stone Age. Only upon contact with Europeans did anything change and “history” start. This is hugely dismissive of these people’s autonomy and their past. (You’ll notice it’s a lot of people who suffer from racism who are denied the title of “history”!) It’s also just not true.

I’m an archaeologist who studies the US Southwest/Mexican Northwest region; I focus on Arizona and New Mexico in the 1000s–1400s AD. And one of the things that opened my mind so much in studying the US southwest was just how much things changed from decade to decade and century to century in the past, the same way they did anywhere else in history at this time. There was no written history in this part of the world, but what we do have is very precise tree-ring dates. Using tree rings, we can date when this or that building was built down to the precise year. And because it’s a desert, things preserve well for a long time, so we have lots of ancient tree-ring dates. Because of this, we can see how art styles, architectural styles, settlement patterns, family organization, farming practices, religion, politics, and cultural interactions changed over the past four thousand years. And we can see that they did change, and sometimes they changed slowly and sometimes they changed rapidly. People did things. They had new ideas, they formed new political organizations and adopted new religions, they came together and broke apart, they developed new art styles and new technologies, elite lineages controlled the social order until their power fractured, people moved into new places and adapted their old practices to what they found there, or developed new ones… and because of tree-rings and desert preservation, archaeologists can see it in ways we can’t in cooler and wetter environments. This is history. This is people doing things, shaping the physical and social landscape for the centuries that followed.

And of course, Pueblo and Diné and Apache and O’odham people of the Southwest have their own oral histories that overlap with these archaeological studies. This is true in many, many places that did not traditionally use writing. They can’t be discounted just because they weren’t written down.

So to me, history = writing and prehistory = before writing is a false dichotomy that’s unhelpful at best and racist at worst. To me, history starts when people become socially organized enough that they care about what happened before, what happened where, and why it’s important, and what it means. Every culture has history, whether they wrote it down or not. Studying it may not always be suited to the skillset of historians, but that doesn’t mean it’s not history.

[11queensupreme11]

I honestly haven't fully figured it out yet and I don't know what I might come up with going forward, but for now I thought it would be really funny if she was a pjo!verse mortal because

You know all those times Percy became a world famous terrorist? Yes. MC has heard about them and even though Percy was innocent in the end the mist makes the story so vague and disjointed in an attempt to cover up the mythological stuff. Because of this, she is much more worried about Percy in the beginning and sees her as a ticking time bomb, constantly recalling all the times there has been a new explosion involving Percilla Jackson on the news. Оf course, in the end it will be clear that Percy is not the danger that should be worried about, even the complete opposite. But I'm going to try to stretch this subplot as much as possible because the MISUNDERSTANDING LMFAO.

We can get a different perspective on the events that happened in pjo (like the Battle of Manhattan) through the eyes of ordinary people and how it inpacted their lives.

Regarding the crumbling soul issue, I want to explore the difference between Percilla, who learns from a young age what curses and problems it means to be a god, and MC, who is only aware of an idealized perfect version of immortality. It will take her a while before she realizes their true nature, but will it be too late and she will already be one of them? 😏

Also this story will be my way of trying to find the answer to why the Bisford dragged them there lmaoo. (I probably won't contrive anything, but the important thing is to try 😂)

I think the fear and awe she has of Percy in the beginning while thinking of her as a terrorist 😭 will appease the yans enough to see her for what she is which is just an annoying pet who will die in a few decades (which is like a few months to them lol) and until then they'll just put up with her and keep her alive because if that's what Percy wants..well who are they to say no?

Poor Percy in the beginning when she just wants to be her friend and will wonder why MC can't just trust her when she's doing everything she can to help her survive. Eventually they'll figure things out and laugh later, but until then the only ones laughing are us watching the ridiculous situations they get into 😂😂

(and the idea of ​​ariel saving her from drowning is so good omg. if it's ok can i use it somewhere in the story?🥺❤️ )

hold the fuck up THAT'S GENIUS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

MC THINKING PERCY'S A TERRORIST????? hold on this totally reminds me of this super long-winded tumblr post someone made a long time ago about mortals recognizing percy because of his "crimes" and then doing some internet-sleuthing and discovering other sus kids like annabeth, nico, leo, jason and thalia, hazel, etc. 😭😭😭

i truly hope you manage to find a way to stretch out that subplot cuz that's hilarious 😭😭😭 mc being afraid of PERCY when she's actually the most decent person in that entire universe afajshfvahf 💀💀💀 and poor percy just being like "why human no like me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺" throughout it all like a sad puppy 😂

AND A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE ABOUT THE PJO EVENTS???? mc was there to experience some of that chaos!? now you got me curious how old mc is. was she around the same age as percy??? how old would she be in the story now that some time has passed? or are you gonna put a time difference between the two universes (like hundreds of years have passed in ror verse, but back in pjo, percy's only been missing for like 5?). ooooh, is this set after hoo? what's the state of the pjo verse without percy there to stop gaea??? i'm so curious lol, dw you don't have to answer these

I ALSO LOVE THE DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES OF IMMORTALITY/GODHOOD. it is very normal for people to like the thought of immortality/godhood because they have a rose tinted view of it. ppl don't immediately think of the downsides like "omg i'm gonna leave my family behind forever, i can't get attached to other mortals cuz they'll die while i live on, can i really handle all of this???" cuz the whole "be beautiful looking and perfect forever, have unlimited power, control the universe!!!!!" part of godhood would sound sooooo good to ppl.

it reminds me of twilight tbh LMAO. like how bella loved the thought of becoming a vampire, so she could be beautiful, live forever, and be with edward whereas rosalie had a more realistic view of it because she knew the downsides. mc would be like bella and percy would be like rosalie in a way lol (which actually kinda fits cuz the immortality was forced onto both of them. rosalie was also turned to be a potential mate for edward, similarly how percy was turned due to the obsessions of her 7 yan hubbies 💀). ngl, i'm hyped for the misunderstanding trope cuz that's hilarious, but i'm looking forward to this part of the most!

AND YES YOU MAY USE THE "ariel saving mc from drowning" IDEA!!! 💖💖

[smile-files]

chat do you think i could learn integral calculus in the next few hours

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[luveline]

More spencer x hotch's sister? I love her relationship with hotch so much btw! Maybe spencer learns some of what she went through in her past?

“What did you get Haley for your six months?” you ask. 

Aaron shakes his basket of fries. You can smell them from your side of the table, salt and grease from the fryer. He doesn’t need to see you looking, maybe he doesn’t care that you want one or not, he tips half of the basket onto your plate and shrugs. “It was a long time ago, I’m not sure I remember. For our first year together I gave her a promise ring, I think.” 

���I don’t think I can get him a promise ring…” You swirl your drink with your straw. Fizzy bubbles rush to the surface. “A ring might be nice, though. Can he wear jewellery in the field?” 

“One nondescript ring would be fine.” 

“Maybe a necklace.” You stab a few of his given fries on your fork and smile. “I’m very stressed, but he’s been so kind the whole time. He never makes me worry about anything.” 

“Spencer is kind.” Aaron glances to the side as a couple sits in the booth opposite. “Admittedly, I was worried. But you’re happy, so I’m happy.” 

“Six months is a long time for no fights.” 

“Honey, some people don’t fight.” 

You toy with a stray piece of lettuce. “I’m really glad that we don’t, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“It won’t drop. You think I’d let you date Spencer if I suspected he was secretly evil?” 

“There are a few things wrong with that question…” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Okay, it won’t drop. Can we get, um, dessert? Rocky road sundaes?” They’re Aaron’s favourite, so they’re yours, too. 

Despite his assurances, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You think about your conversation with Aaron for the days leading up to your six month anniversary with Spencer, which he aptly names your ‘half anniversary’. He doesn’t plan any surprises —he sends you a PDF with different options for everything. Five different restaurants with different options for courses, moods, and settings. There are notes for each place and why you might like them, and there are activities for each one afterwards based on the location. It’s so thoughtful it makes you feel sick. The other shoe looms, and looms. 

You choose a smaller restaurant just outside of the busy city, with a beautiful outdoor eating area on a stone veranda. It’s lively but not crowded, secluded but not completely private. 

Spencer tucks your seat in, and he kisses your cheek before he takes his own. When he does, he looks across the table at you, and says, “Wow, you’re so pretty.” 

“You think so?” 

“You’re beautiful.” He gives you one of his not so shy, almost cheesy smiles, like he wants to laugh. “Do you want your gift now or later?” 

“Is it rude to say I want it now?” 

“No, it’s not rude. I’ll feel better once I know you like it.” 

He presents you with a box wrapped in dark blue crepe paper and rounded silver star stickers. There’s twine wrapped around it and bowed, too beautiful to want to open. You look between him and the present in awe. “This is real pretty,” you say softly. 

“It’s nicer inside,” he says. 

You unravel the twin carefully, and you take off the paper to reveal a large, flat box. You put the paper in your jacket pocket, folded primly to keep. Spencer waits patiently. 

You press your thumbnail into the box’s seam and push. 

It’s four pieces of jewellery. What catches your eye first is the sapphires, blue crystal with deep dark hearts pressed into the pendant of a necklace, the heart of a bracelet, and the main bodies of their matching earrings. All simple, elegant pieces, and compiled, their impressiveness is amplified. Your breath catches. You don’t need to be an expert in jewellery to immediately assign a ballpark price tag, and it’s a lot. It’s sort of startling. 

But the price doesn’t matter half as much as the sentiment. 

“Do you remember them?” he asks softly. 

Fourth date. Hand in hand, you and Spencer walked through a shopping centre with iced drinks and churros, and you’d paused for a few seconds to ogle the jewellery display. You’d pointed straight at the sapphire bracelet and said, “That’s gorgeous. I think if I save, I can get it for Christmas.” 

“I know it’s not Christmas,” Spencer says, “I’m sorry, I cheated. But I hope you like them.” 

“Spencer, I love them, I love them,” —you reach your hand across the table— “I love you. Thank you.” 

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I love you, too.” 

You can’t stop yourself from getting up to hug him. He bends under your weight and holds your arms, doesn’t wince when you press the entirety of your face to his hair and breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, kissing his forehead twice, “thank you, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He takes your face into his hand before you can leave. “You like them?” he asks. 

“I love them.” 

His smile is everything. “I really did cheat, I wrote it down when we got home and you know I can’t forget the things I read,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Six months later and your heart still skips a beat. Doesn’t matter that he has an eidetic memory, what’s important is that he wrote it down. 

You take another hug, to his delight, and return to your seat. Your presents wait in a bag under the table. Two books, one jewellery box. He goes for the smaller box first. 

“It’s a ring,” you say, too nervous to let him discover it by himself. “I know you don’t often wear them, but I thought maybe it’s because it’s not something you’d get for yourself, and I think it would look good on you.” 

He opens the box with a smile. So pretty, and exuberantly bright. “Oh, wow.” 

“I don’t know if brands mean anything to you, but it’s Vivienne–”

“It’s beautiful,” he interrupts, “I love it. What finger do I wear it on?” 

“Most wear it on their marriage finger, I think, but you obviously don’t have to do that.” 

He slips it onto his ring finger, turns his hand one way and another, and there’s this joy that echoes all the way across the table from his very core. “Thank you. I love it, and now every time I look down I'll remember why you gave it to me.” 

You spend a lot of time apart, what with both of you working. “I thought that, too.” 

He takes the books next. His laugh is soft. “I’m not surprised.” 

“They’re… they’re my personal copies.” 

He startles at that. “They are?” 

“Yeah. Uh,” —you point at the first— “that’s my favourite, and I think it could be your favourite too.” 

“And this one?” he asks gently, slipping the first underneath the second. 

“Aaron gave that one to me. I know what you’re thinking, okay, that I’m giving something to you I should really keep. Maybe it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know, but I love you.” You lick your lips. “It’s nice to fall in love. And you’ve made it so easy.” 

He stares at you, lips parted. 

You panic. “It was hard, growing up, and I know everyone struggles but it was hard. If it weren’t for my brother… I feel like it sticks to me and you’ve never made me feel that way. You love me for me. I was convinced nobody would ever do that.” 

“I know it was hard,” he says. 

“Really hard, sometimes, but you aren’t. I’m never scared of you.” 

He reaches across the table to touch your hand. “You aren’t supposed to be scared of anyone, angel.”

Warmth blossoms under his touch. You shake off the fog. “It’s not just about all of that, I swear, I really do think you’ll like them. But if I got it all wrong just lie to me, okay?” 

“You didn’t get anything wrong, shut up,” he says. Spencer stands, his turn to hug you, but he goes about it differently. He tips your head back and he kisses you, and his nose is a pressed line in your cheek as he squeezes you to him. “I’d be surprised if anybody who’s ever met you didn’t love you. Okay? Thank you for trusting me with it.” 

It, and not them, not the books. 

He peels away. You beam at one another. 

“Should we eat?” you ask, feeling pleased and shy at once. 

He kisses you again, one quick peck. “Yes, we can eat.”

[museanddream]

One Night - part 1 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: When you complete a dream transfer to Barcelona, there’s only one problem - you have to learn to coexist with your ex-hookup and her new girlfriend.

Warnings: 🔞 | no actual smut in this chapter but contains references to sex and this is just setup for several parts of pure filth

Word count: 5.4k

It takes you all of about ten seconds on your first day at Barcelona to realise that Ona Batlle and Lucy Bronze are dating.

Strangely, it’s not Lucy who gives it away, but instead the young Spaniard.

You don’t actually know Ona beyond the distant professionalism of two people who have played against each other a handful of times over the years. Lucy, however, is somebody you’re more than acquainted with. Intimately so.

You started sleeping with Lucy a few years ago, during her first spell at City. Lucy was charming, hot and available and you were … well, you were young and horny. It was a mutually convenient agreement until she moved to France and you to Germany, when it became obvious within just a few months that a casual situationship was much harder to nurture when you lived in different countries. That’s when it fell apart, heated words fired from both sides then radio silence as if you’d never even known each other.

You knew you’d have to face up to your past when you signed for Barcelona. Lucy’s been here for a year already, but you don’t say no to a club like Barça, not even when you’ve got history with one of their star defenders.

All you can do when you show up for your first day is hope that you’ve both matured enough to be professional about it.

“I’d heard a rumour you might be coming here.”

Of course you find yourself alone with her in the dressing room pretty much straight away, fresh out of your signing photoshoot. The soft fabric of the blaugrana Barcelona kit feels good against your skin, but you feel anything but comfortable alone with Lucy.

“Back on the same team, huh?” you reply stiffly. “Who’d have thought it?”

“The best team,” Lucy brags.

You’re saved from having to make any more awkward smalltalk with Lucy as the door to the dressing room clatters open.

“Lucy, you left your trainers in the-”

The newcomer, Ona Batlle, stops mid sentence when she notices you, forgetting whatever she was saying so that she can instead greet you with a dazzling smile that knocks the air out of your lungs.

She’s pretty. You’re sure that you must have already known this, you just haven’t had time to properly appreciate it, not when you were playing against her and focused on other things.

“Hi. I’m Ona,” she greets you, letting you introduce yourself in return before she turns her attention back to Lucy. “You left these in the gym. If I’d known I’d be tidying up after you, I’d have stayed in Manchester.”

And that’s when you realise that there’s more to the relationship between Ona and Lucy than just being new teammates. It’s a mixture of things that gives it away, the affectionate tone of Ona’s voice, the familiarity with which she teases Lucy, but mostly the look of absolute adoration in Ona’s eyes as Lucy takes the shoes off her. It’s a look that you recognise, because there was once a time when you probably looked at Lucy with that same expression.

If there was any doubt in your mind, what Ona says next is the final nail in the coffin.

“We should stop for groceries on the way home by the way,” Ona says to Lucy. “We don’t have anything for dinner.”

Home. So it’s serious enough that they’re living together, she’s not just another one of Lucy’s flings.

You were never that serious with Lucy. Aside from occasionally carpooling to training the next day if one of you accidentally fell asleep at the other’s post-hookup, you never reached this level of domesticity.

Lucy mumbles something in agreement, tucking her trainers into the cubby behind her, and soon enough Ona is gone as quickly as she arrived.

Left alone with Lucy again, the atmosphere somehow even more tense than before, the first thing that spills from your lips before you have time to think twice is a joke.

“Bit young for you, isn’t she Luce?”

“I don’t know what you…” Lucy trails off and sighs, probably realising that there’s no point trying to deny anything when you’re going to be sharing a dressing room with her and her new beau and will inevitably learn the truth anyway. “Look, I really like her, okay? It’s real.”

You ignore the heavy implications of Lucy’s words, that what she shared with you all those years ago wasn’t real, for the sake of the harmony of the team you’ve just joined.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell Lucy, not entirely untruthful. You never thought that Lucy would be partnered up when you joined Barcelona, but you definitely didn’t expect any of your old history to be reignited either. It’s been long enough that Lucy is just another teammate, someone you can learn to get along with.

…

You do get along with Lucy, in a kind of amicable yet emotionless way that almost feels like you’ve never played on the same team before, let alone slept together on and off for over a year in your early twenties. It’s purely professional, cordial without getting too close to friendly.

You’re relieved, of course. The last time you encountered Lucy was an international match a couple of years ago, an evening which started with heavy tackles and the two of you earning a yellow card apiece on the pitch and ended with Lucy on her knees between your legs in an empty medical room after the game. It was the last time you saw Lucy, the last time you slept with her, the last time you even spoke to her until you moved to Barcelona.

So you’re glad that you can get along with her, even if you’re still trying to wrap your head around how normal it is to be teammates again after everything.

But somebody you really start to get along with is Ona.

It turns out you have more in common with Ona than just being new signings and finding Lucy Bronze attractive. You bond quickly at training and soon you’re hanging out outside of the training ground, grabbing coffee a couple of times a week and letting Ona show you around the city that has become your new home. Lucy gets invited along once or twice but always manages to find an excuse not to join you - whether Ona knows about your history with Lucy isn’t clear to you and you decide it’s not your place to be the one to tell her.

And that’s how you become good friends with your ex-hookup’s new girlfriend.

You quickly realise exactly what Lucy sees in Ona.

She’s got a personality that matches the Barcelona sunshine, a smile that would charm anybody, and eyes that are so big and perfect you’re not entirely convinced that she wasn’t hand-drawn by a cartoonist.

It’s not a crush, you tell yourself. That would be inappropriate in all sorts of ways. It’s just an appreciation.

One that only grows as the season progresses.

Ona does your hair before a game, putting it into a braid that matches her own, and it quickly becomes a pre-match tradition. You sit on the floor between Ona’s legs while her deft fingers work your scalp and pull strands of hair this way and that and can you really be blamed for the direction your traitorous thoughts threaten to move, especially not when Ona was standing beside you in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra mere moments ago? Now you’re thinking about her abs and her fingers.

She taps your shoulder when she’s done, letting you know that you can stand up, and you make eye contact with Lucy across the dressing room as you get to your feet. Her gaze is intense, not jealous or angry that you’ve become so close to her girlfriend, but there’s something in those familiar eyes that you just can’t place.

Focused on the match ahead, you store that information in the back of your mind for later, but end up forgetting about it altogether.

…

There’s some kind of mix-up in communication that means that Lucy has joined you for one of your usual outings for coffee with Ona. You try to excuse your way out of it, claiming that you don’t want to third-wheel their date, but Ona is too nice and jokes that it’s actually Lucy who is the third wheel, before saying that you can’t back out now.

So that’s how you end up sitting at a table on a terrace outside a quaint little cafe with Lucy. Ona goes inside, having insisted that she’ll buy the coffees, despite your protests that she paid last time and it’s your turn.

“You’ve got a good one there, Luce.”

Lucy grins across at you.

“I know. Always had good taste in women, me.”

It’s … flirty? At least it feels borderline flirtatious, considering your past with Lucy. Then again, Lucy’s always been a little flirty, she just didn’t have a girlfriend the last time she turned her charm on with you all those years ago.

“I just mean, don’t fuck it up with her, that’s all,” you tell Lucy, rolling your eyes.

“You mean like I did with you?”

It’s the first time in the three months since you joined Barcelona that either of you have openly acknowledged what you used to have and you don’t really know how to react. Your policy since joining Barcelona has been to pretend that you and Lucy were never a thing. That’s a lot harder to do when Lucy is reminding you that you were.

“It wasn’t just you who fucked it up,” you reply, avoiding eye contact with Lucy out of fear that looking at her might bring up old attraction. “Anyway, that was different, it wasn’t like what you have with Ona.”

Lucy hums, then says, “Maybe it could’ve been the same. If we hadn’t been so dumb and immature.”

There’s much less room to misinterpret Lucy’s words this time. Here is Lucy, pretty much admitting that she wishes things had gotten more serious with you when she had the chance, while her actual girlfriend, the same person who has been nothing but welcoming and an all round great friend to you since you joined Barcelona, is at the counter inside the coffee shop.

“We were around the same age as Ona when it started,” you point out, hoping that the mention of her girlfriend will snap Lucy back into a reality where she doesn’t feel the need to reminisce over your past.

“Ona…” Lucy glances at Ona through the coffee shop window and her expression softens. “Ona’s got a wise head on her. Plus she’s a hopeless romantic. She’s been all-in since the start. Probably knocked a bit of sense into me too, along the way.”

They’re disgustingly in love with each other and it’s enough to squash any butterflies in your own stomach.

“Like I said, I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

The conversation finishes there as Ona returns with the coffees, setting the tray on the table carefully and passing the drinks around.

“Thanks, Ona. You know, I might steal you away from Lucy if you keep fuelling my caffeine addiction like this.”

You say it as if having a little flirt with Ona somehow makes up for whatever traitorous thoughts you were having about Lucy before Ona returned to the table, but at least the smile that spreads across Ona’s face at your words is enough to smother some of your guilt.

“It’s good to keep Lucy on her toes,” Ona says, raising her eyebrows at you like she’s letting you in on an inside joke. “And she’s always saying how much she likes a competition.”

Lucy stirs her own coffee, then sets her spoon down as she leans back casually in her chair as if completely unbothered by the thought of having to fight you for Ona’s attention.

“Yeah,” she says with a shrug. “And I always win.”

…

You’ve always liked away games. Especially now, in a new league. New teams to play against, new cities to visit. And you quickly get used to the expectations that Barça has for its players on away trips.

The main one is the rooming rules. Couples don’t share, you learn that quickly, and also notice that everybody seems to accept that rule. You’ve been on teams before where that’s been an official rule, but teammates have made arrangements between themselves to trade with each other to share with their partner instead. That’s not the case at Barcelona.

The other thing is that while there are some players who mostly seem to always share with each other, there seems to be a deliberate effort to rotate room pairings for the newer signings as they integrate with their new teammates. You’re with Esmee for the first trip, which is a relief to you both as neither of you speaks a word of Spanish yet, then with Ingrid who is just as friendly, having been a new signing herself only a couple of years ago.

You never share with Lucy. Part of you wonders if she’s put in a deliberate request to whoever organises the hotels that sharing with you is just as off-limits to her as sharing with Ona would be, but you’re grateful for it. Though it’s no longer as weird between you, sharing a room with her seems like a step too far right now.

It takes four months at Barça before you room with Ona for the first time, for two nights on a Champions League away fixture in Sweden. The first night is quiet and focused, you talk through some of the tactics from the earlier training session together before getting an early night.

But the second night, after winning the game, there’s a knock on the door when you’re getting ready for bed.

You probably shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and find Lucy standing outside, given that she’s your roommate’s girlfriend, but you forget that for a moment until Lucy speaks.

“Hey. Is Ona here? Just wanted to say goodnight.”

You blink yourself out of your surprise, then gesture at the closed door to the en-suite bathroom.

“She’s just in there.”

“Can I wait?” Lucy asks.

You hesitate for just a moment, then step aside to let her in.

“Sure.”

Lucy enters the room and you close the door behind her. When you turn around, she’s taken a seat on the end of your bed.

“Uh, that‘s Ona’s bed,” you tell her, pointing at the other bed.

“Oh. Shit, sorry.”

Lucy moves to the other bed, but still sits on it just as awkwardly as she sat on yours. Though it’s mostly normal between you and Lucy these days, when it’s just the two of you, you sometimes remember the way things used to be.

And then you remember that it’s not like that anymore.

“Remember when we used to sneak into each other’s rooms at City?” Lucy asks, with a low chuckle. Apparently she’s reminiscing over the past too.

You glance towards the bathroom, wondering if Lucy is really trying to remind you of the late night trysts you used to have at away games while her actual girlfriend is on the other side of the door.

“Is that your way of hinting at me to piss off and leave you alone with your girlfriend?” you ask her drily, arching an eyebrow as you plug your phone in to charge on the nightstand.

“Nah, it’s against the rules, innit.”

“It was against the rules at City too,” you remind her.

“Yeah, but that’s what made it exciting.” Lucy’s green eyes are alight with mischief, and your stomach does a little flip as you remember the thrill of trying to hook up with Lucy at any available moment without getting caught by teammates or coaches.

And then you feel guilty. Because this is another conversation with Lucy that borders on flirtatious, another split second where you forget she’s in a relationship and are transported right back to when she used to want you.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the bathroom lock clicks and the door swings open. Something shifts in the air between you and Lucy as Ona steps out, hair falling in pretty waves over her shoulders. Her brown eyes light up with pure joy and adoration when she spots Lucy sitting on her bed.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Ona teases Lucy.

“I’m not staying,” replies Lucy. “Just wanted to drop by and say goodnight.”

An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach and you’re not sure if it’s because they’re so horribly in love with each other that it’s making you nauseous, or if it’s a lingering guilt that Ona has no idea you and Lucy were just talking about your heated past. Either way, you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be here for, making a mumbled excuse about giving them a moment and take yourself into the bathroom.

It’s only when the door is locked behind you that you realise you’re now trapped in the bathroom, while they’re saying goodnight to each other in god knows what sort of way.

You press your ear to the door, then jerk away as if the wood is scalding hot when you realise what you’re doing. If they’re talking, it’s not your place to eavesdrop. And if they’re doing anything else…

Your cheeks burn hot at the idea. Surely they wouldn’t? Not while you’re in the bathroom. But they had been so enamoured by each other that you’re not even sure if they noticed you slip away.

You think back to your situationship with Lucy all those years ago. She always had an incredible knack for getting you naked in record time and somehow, you really doubt that she’s lost any of that charm since then.

What if they get carried away with their goodnight wishes and you’re stuck in here all night?

You don’t know how long you’re left wallowing in your own anguish in the bathroom, it could be anywhere from three minutes to three days, but eventually there’s a knock on the door, which is followed by Ona calling your name. You flick the lock then open the door, relieved to find Ona still fully dressed in her pyjamas and now alone in the room again.

“You okay?” she asks. “You were quiet in there. Not that I was listening! Just that you were in there a while and … and I didn’t hear the toilet flush or anything.”

Ona is exceptionally cute when she’s flustered.

“I just didn’t want to get in you and Lucy’s way.”

For just a second, Ona looks like she wants to say something, but she holds it back and the moment passes. Soon you’re each lying in your own bed, the lights off as you settle down for the night.

Sleep feels a whole universe away. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think you can still smell Lucy‘s perfume lingering in the room. The air somehow feels even thicker than it did when Lucy was here. You can hear every movement from the other side of the room, every shift of the bedsheets, every breath that Ona takes, like it’s being amplified through a speaker.

“I know about you and Lucy.” Ona’s low voice eventually penetrates the darkness. “What you used to have. Lucy told me a while ago.”

That’s - well, it’s not what you’re expecting her to suddenly admit. You’re grateful that the lights are off, saving you from having to twist your expression into something neutral.

“It didn’t mean anything. It was just a bit of fun. It was never anything serious.”

You hear Ona’s chuckle rise up from the other bed.

“I know. She told me everything. I’m not jealous. That was way before I knew either of you. Anyway, it makes sense.”

“It does?” you ask.

“Yeah. I like you both. Makes sense you’d like each other too.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “Also you’re both hot.”

Not for the first time, you wonder if everything that’s happened since you joined Barcelona has been some kind of bizarre dream, because there’s no version of normal that includes your ex-hookup’s new girlfriend implying she thinks you’re attractive in the middle of the night on an away trip.

You don’t really know how you’re supposed to reply.

“Uh, thanks.”

Ona continues, “I’m telling you I know just because I’ve noticed you’re a bit weird around Lucy sometimes, so I just want you to know it’s fine with me if you two want to hang out.”

You wonder if Ona would still be fine with it if she knew that you and Lucy have almost flirted with each other twice now. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you’re glad for the darkness that hides your flush from Ona.

“Maybe we could all hang out together sometime?” Ona suggests, oblivious to your turmoil.

“Oh, I don’t know if…”

“We could have a movie night,” Ona suggests, ignoring your attempts at declining the offer. “At our place. It’d be fun!”

It’s such a typically Ona suggestion. Because Ona is sweet and kind and of course she wants to do everything she can to make sure that her friend gets along with her girlfriend without any awkwardness. There’s not a bone in Ona’s body that would even consider the possibility of being jealous of the fact that you and Lucy used to sleep with each other.

And so in that moment, staring up at the ceiling in a hotel room in Sweden, you vow to never let yourself have a private conversation with Lucy again that’s about anything other than football, to never let Lucy flirt with you or the idea of flirting with Lucy back cross your mind, and to definitely never reminisce about Lucy when your hand is between your legs.

…

You don’t manage to talk your way out of going to Ona’s planned movie night, though if you’re completely honest, you don’t try too hard.

When you arrive at their apartment, it’s Lucy who opens the door and you have a brief moment of panic that she doesn’t actually want you here. But you’re quickly reassured by the way she steps aside to let you in and greets you with a mumbled “Alright?”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” you comment to fill the silence, as Lucy leads you through the apartment to the living room.

“Thanks.”

You sit down in the single armchair, leaving the couch for Lucy and Ona to share. There’s no sign of Ona yet and Lucy doesn’t sit down, instead hovering awkwardly by the door, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds as if looking to see if Ona is joining you.

“I know this was Ona’s idea but if it’s weird I can just go,” you pipe up, wondering if it’s really that awful for Lucy to be alone with you that she needs her girlfriend as a buffer.

“No,” Lucy says decisively. “It was both our ideas. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you too.”

Finally, to the relief of both of you, you hear bare feet pattering down the hallway from one of the other rooms and Ona appears in the doorway. She smiles warmly at Lucy, brushing her fingers against Lucy’s hand as she passes in a gesture that feels far too intimate for you to witness, then grins at you.

“Hi! You came!”

Ona sounds genuinely surprised, like she half-expected you to not turn up, and maybe you haven’t been as good as you thought you were at pretending your relationship with Lucy is one between two normal teammates if Ona was worried that you might bail on a movie night just because Lucy would be there too.

“Of course,” you say, as you try to relax back in your armchair as Lucy and Ona sit down at opposite ends of the sofa. “So, have you already picked out a movie?”

“A movie?” Lucy asks. Confusion briefly flashes across her face, but then it settles into realisation as she turns to Ona and repeats, “A movie.”

A tiny smirk graces Ona’s lips as she shrugs and says, “What? You told me to get her here. You didn’t say how.”

Lucy seems equal parts annoyed and amused - about what you’re not exactly sure - as she says, “I thought you’d do some of the explaining instead of leaving it all to me.”

It’s your turn to be confused.

“So we’re not watching a movie then?” you ask slowly, your eyes flitting between the two of them as you wait for an answer.

Silence hangs between the three of you, Lucy and Ona apparently both waiting for the other to say something, before Lucy rolls her eyes and takes control.

“Listen, here’s the deal,” she starts to explain, leaning forwards slightly in her seat. “I told Ona about our past as soon as you signed for Barça and she found it pretty amusing. Soon she was asking more questions about … well, about you and us, I’m sure you get the picture.”

Still trying to figure out what this has got to do with a movie night, you say, “I don’t think I do.”

Lucy lets out a groan.

“Jesus, am I gonna have to spell it out? She wanted to know what it was like to ‘be with you’ -” Lucy throws up some exaggerated air quotes with her hands, rolling her eyes again along with her words. “So I told her. Well, actually I told her that if she wanted to know what it was like then she should just sleep with you herself. Was joking, of course, but it turns out Ona’s really into that idea, actually.”

Your eyes flicker across to Ona, whose cheeks are tinged a pretty shade of pink and eyes are wide with a mixture of worry and expectation as she waits for your response.

Turning back to Lucy, you ask, “So you’ve invited me over to fuck your girlfriend?”

Lucy nods.

“Well, both of us, if you’re up for it. We figured you and me already had that chemistry and I know you fancy Ona, judging by how often I see you checking her out in the dressing room.”

Your mouth falls open, embarrassed that your staring has been noticed, ready to protest, but they’re both looking at you with more amusement than annoyance.

“Anyway, that’s us,” Lucy finishes. “Ball’s in your court.”

Two pairs of eyes watch you, waiting for your reaction. Lucy almost seems indifferent, settling back in her seat casually as if trying to play it cool, which almost has you wondering if you’ve imagined her just propositioning you for a threesome, if not for the way that one of her fingers taps nervously against her thigh. Ona, on the other hand, looks at you with eyes that are wide and vulnerable, as if the prospect of you turning them down might shatter her heart.

The pieces start to fit together - the tour of cute Barcelona coffee shops from Ona, the occasional flirtatious comments from Lucy. To know that they both want you is flattering. To know that they’ve been talking about this, planning how to get you into their home and their bed, is something that your mind struggles to comprehend.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Ona eventually says. “If you need time to think about it?”

“No, let’s do it.”

Your words are decisive. If you give yourself too long to think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it and you can’t deny that this is something you want. Maybe you hadn’t imagined that it would end up happening like this, with both of them, but you’ve definitely thought about them. Lucy, and the things she used to do to you, the spark you used to have that still makes the occasional appearance when you least expect it. Ona, and the way her hands feel in your hair when she braids it before a game, the way your stomach churns with butterflies whenever she smiles at you and those perfect eyes look into yours.

To have both of them at the same time is beyond your wildest fantasies.

“Go on,” Lucy says to Ona. “I know you’ve been dying to kiss her for months.”

Your heart rate picks up.

“Yeah?”

Ona counters this by shaking her head.

“Not months. Lucy’s exaggerating.”

“I’m not. She talks about you all the time. About what it’d be like to kiss you, to have you in our bed. And I told her if she was that desperate, she should just go for it. I know you like the direct approach, it worked for me all them years ago. But no. No, Ona wanted to seduce you. Why do you think she’s been taking you on all those coffee dates? She’s been trying to woo you.”

Your ego swells with the knowledge that Ona, beautiful and kind and funny as she is, who has already pretty much hit the relationship jackpot by bagging herself Lucy, has apparently spent months plotting her pursuit of you.

Not that you had any idea. Ona has always strayed onto the affectionate side of friendship whenever you’ve hung out with her. Maybe if she’d been single, you might have picked up on some clues, but you’ve known about her relationship with Lucy since you joined the team and never had any reason to think that Ona’s familiarity with you was down to anything else but the fact that she’s simply Spanish.

You explain this to them.

“I thought she was just being nice.”

Lucy chuckles to herself at this, then says, “Course you did. Sweet little Ona, welcoming you to Barça. Just wait until you find out Little Miss Perfect isn’t so innocent after all.”

If you weren’t already interested, Lucy’s words fill you with intrigue.

“Come here,” you instruct Ona.

Ona glances at Lucy, as if asking for her permission, and Lucy responds by rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Don’t get shy on us now as if this wasn’t your idea in the first place.”

Ona’s cheeks are pink but she pushes up to her feet and crosses over to you. She stops awkwardly in front of you, scratching at a hangnail on her thumb until you reach for her hand and pull her closer, leaving her very little choice but to clamber into your lap.

“You’ve been planning this, huh?” you murmur to her, as if you’re the only two in the room. Your hands find her hips as she settles with a leg on either side of your thighs. “What, Lucy wasn’t enough for you?”

“She is,” Ona says. “But…”

Ona trails off, teeth chewing into her lower lip.

“But what?” You prompt her.

There’s a brief moment where time seems to stand still, except for the visible rise and fall of Ona’s chest as she breathes, then she answers, “But I wanted you too.”

Hearing Ona vocalise her desire for you gives you a rush that comes second only to scoring a goal in a cup final.

It makes you giddy. And you really don’t want to fuck it up, which is why you take a few deep breaths in time with the strokes of your hands up and down Ona’s thighs as you compose yourself before you speak again.

“All those times you took me out for coffee, all the times you translated for me in training or did my hair before a game, you were thinking about this, weren’t you? About having my hands on your body.” You lean closer until your foreheads rest against each other, hot breath mingling in the almost nonexistent gap between your mouths, then whisper, “My lips against your skin.”

Ona tilts her chin up slightly, trying to tempt you into finally closing the gap. When you don’t, she resorts to begging.

“Please.”

“What do you want?” You want to coax it out of her, committing every part of this moment to memory. “Tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

[wosoloml]

From Rivalry to becoming Family || Alessia Russo x German!reader (Frankfurt!Reader)

Summary: When you and Alessia get engaged, you decide to celebrate this milestone with both of your national teams. What starts as a union between two people becomes a beautiful transformation from the rivalry of the Euros 2022 into a bond that feels like family.

a/n: throwback to the most painful day ever as a german. ich hoffe ich habe deine request gut umgesetzt <3 danke für deine worte!! i hope its okay i wrote also about how they got together.

wc: 1,4k | from this request

warnings : nothing just fluff except for mentioning the euros final

"Y/N! Are you finally done?" Alessia shouts through the house for the third time, trying her best to stay patient while waiting downstairs for her fiancée.

"Babe, relax. We won’t be late; everything’s going to work out," I reassure her, descending the stairs to join her.

Four days ago marked one of the best days of our lives.

After two and a half years of dating, Alessia finally asked me to be her wife. And, of course, I said yes.

It all began during the Euros in 2022. Alessia and I couldn’t be more different when it comes to our nationalities. Keeping our relationship private was tough, especially when we faced each other in the final. But at least we knew one of us would be celebrating that night.

The day after the final was when we finally told our teammates about our relationship. Since that day, the rivalry between England and Germany hasn’t felt quite as intense (even though we all know Germany is the better team).

"We’re going to be late if you spend another hour deciding which shoes match your dress," Alessia says, her impatience bubbling over as she watches me.

"I'm done! What do you think of my outfit?" I ask, turning to face her. Alessia’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me.

"Wow," she breathes, her expression full of admiration.

I feel my cheeks warm at her reaction. Even after two and a half years of being showered with her compliments, I still haven’t learned how to process them without blushing.

---------

When we arrive at the little beach house, everything is perfectly decorated, but no one is waiting for us. It’s a stark contrast to Alessia’s prediction that we’d be late because I took “so long.”

I can’t help but feel grateful that we managed to arrange this small party to celebrate such a special milestone in our relationship. Playing in different countries makes it difficult to maintain anything resembling a normal relationship, so it means the world that we were able to bring both of us—and all our national teammates—together for this one celebration.

----

The clock struck exactly 3:00 PM when the first guests arrived. Unsurprisingly, it was Alessia’s best friends, Lotte and Ella. My heart swelled with love as I saw how many people cared about Alessia enough to travel all the way to Denmark to celebrate with us.

"Ella! Lotte! I’m so glad you’re here," I exclaimed, pulling them into a tight hug. In the beginning of our relationship, spending time with Alessia’s friends felt a bit awkward—especially since they played for England. But they turned out to be the sweetest people, and I’d never felt more welcomed.

"I can’t believe she finally asked you," Lotte teased, rolling her eyes. "She must have called me a thousand times, asking if it was too early, too late, or what your answer might be. Honestly, thank you for saying yes!"

I couldn’t help but laugh as Alessia came over, resting her hand gently on my back and joining in to greet her friends. Moments like this reminded me just how lucky I was to be surrounded by so much love.

Here’s a polished and restructured version of your text:

I could hear two loud voices singing and laughing with Alessia, and I immediately knew who had just arrived.

"Y/N, go get your girls before Laura starts drinking all the champagne before nightfall," Alessia teased, flashing me a grin.

"My girls! There you are!" I exclaimed as I rushed over to greet them. "I’m so happy you both are here."

We were used to speaking English with each other, but it still felt amusing, given our shared history.

"I can’t believe my little girl is getting married to the blonde English striker," Sara said, her voice full of mock disbelief. "It’s still unbelievable how you kept it a secret. We all knew you had a crush on her—like, who didn’t? And then secretly meeting her after games... and now here we are. My lovebirds!"

Sara couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at Alessia, her words filled with warmth.

"Okay, Sara, enough is enough!" I interrupted, my cheeks turning crimson.

Alessia caught Sara’s eye and gave me a playful wink, which only made me blush harder.

-----

As time passed, more and more guests arrived, until all of our national teammates were finally here. My heart swelled with love as I watched Leah chatting animatedly with Lena and Mary exchanging tactics with Merle. After years of playing against each other, it felt surreal to see everyone coming together like one big family.

I wrapped my arm around Alessia, unable to stop myself from smiling. It was hard to believe how perfect my life felt in that moment. I was the luckiest woman alive, with the best fiancée by my side. (And let’s not forget—she won Arsenal's Goal and Player of the Month! How could I not feel proud?)

----

My eyes caught Ella as she stood up and cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

"When Alessia first told me she had a crush on Y/N, I already knew," she began with a soft smile. "Her eyes never lied when she looked at her. It didn’t matter if it was during tactical meetings while we analyzed other teams or when Y/N crossed our path on the way to different games. That same look was always there—an expression full of admiration."

Ella paused for a moment, her gaze shifting warmly between us. "I’ll save the big words for their wedding speech, but what I can already say is this: no one has ever made Alessia’s eyes sparkle the way you do. Thank you, Y/N, for making our Lessi the happiest girl on earth."

Ella fought back her tears, just like the rest of us. I smiled warmly at her, holding Alessia’s hand tightly in mine.

"She’s not the only one determined to make us all cry tonight," I said, glancing over at Laura. My heart immediately swelled with emotion. Laura wasn’t typically one for big words or grand displays of sentiment, so her standing up to speak meant the world to me.

"We didn’t win the Euros," Laura began, her voice steady yet filled with emotion, "but we won something even more special—new friendships. And most importantly, my best friend found the love of her life."

She paused, her gaze flicking between Alessia and me, a gentle smile gracing her face. "Whether it’s singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ in a karaoke bar or cheering for you at the Emirates, know that it’s always from the bottom of our hearts. Alessia, you are the first person I trust completely with Y/N’s heart, and I know it’s safe with you. Here’s to many more memories together. Cheers!"

Her words left the room in a silence filled with love and admiration before glasses clinked together in celebration. I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up as I squeezed Alessia’s hand, grateful beyond words for this moment.

I stood up, taking a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking on behalf of both of us.

"First of all, I need to thank our best friends for making us all cry and for finding the perfect words. You truly know how to touch our hearts. Thank you." I paused, looking around the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"And we also want to thank all of you for being here today. We know it’s no small feat to find a free spot in our busy schedules, so we really appreciate you making the effort."

I smiled and raised my glass. "Please, enjoy the day, and let’s not drink too much!"

The laughter that followed helped ease the nerves in my chest, and I couldn’t help but feel thankful for everyone here, sharing in this special moment with us.

----

Alessia had her arms wrapped tightly around my waist as we swayed slowly to one of our favorite songs. Despite Leah’s role in music, today’s playlist wasn’t half bad.

"Thank you for spending the rest of my life with me," Alessia whispered softly in my ear, her words sending a warmth feeling through me.

"It’s a pleasure to spend it with you," I replied, my voice shy as I glanced at her. "I hope you liked today."

She smiled at me, her expression full of comfort. "I loved it today."

I leaned in closer "I love you."

May our story continue, forever.

[coffeeman777]

This is for all of my follwers/mutuals who are Christians:

I want to preface this by saying that what I'm about to share with you is only to ask you for prayer. I don't want favors, and I'm not looking for a handout. We need God to open a door for us, and so I beg you, please pray for us.

We moved to Florida coming on three years ago. We came here primarily because we believed God was leading us here. In various ways, we believed God confirmed His will for us, and so I left a great job and we sold a great house to move here. We have been opposed in every way imaginable since.

Days after moving down, Lisa and I were in a terrible car accident that we only walked away from by God's grace. We were rear-ended by an Edible Arrangements delivery truck on the highway, and Lisa sustained significant injuries that are still causing us major problems. The franchise owner was operating their delivery vehicle without insurance, and I've learned since that they shut down their Edible Arrangements franchise and took off, leaving us holding the bag.

I've been in armed security since I got out of the Marines, and in New Hampshire, that was enough to take care of myself and my family. But it isn't in Florida. The pay for most armed security gigs here is super low, and I haven't been able to find work comparable to what I had in New Hampshire. So I tried to change courses.

I earned my personal trainer certification through the National Academy of Sports Medicine, but couldn't make it as a trainer. I made the attempt to go back to college and get a degree and certification as a paramedic, but after months of jumping through hoops, that fell through. I went back to New Hampshire by myself and spent six months away from my family to try to earn enough money working both my old job and a second job, but that plan didn't work because hours were limited with both gigs, and each job wanted me to work overlapping hours; I couldn't make the schedules line up.

My incredibly generous parents-in-law offered to pay our bills so that I could come back to Florida and try a new plan. I went to a CDL training course to get into trucking. After the very long and very expensive process, I finally got my CDL-A. While I was working on that, a random disagreement between my health insurance company and the medical supplier that issued me my cpap (I have sleep apnea) resulted in the supplier demanding that I give them the machine back. It took from middle February to early June for me to get another cpap. The end result is that, as of today, I have just under two months of cpap usage data. I discovered only after getting my CDL that no trucking company will hire me with less than 90 days of cpap usage data.

I've been pre-hired and subsequently turned away from three different trucking companies since I got my CDL over the cpap nonsense (one of which told me that what I had for cpap usage was fine, only to tell me on the first day of orientation that it actually wasn't fine, and they had to let me go). It's going to be another month before I can get started with any trucking company, and I'm concerned that I'll have to go to refresher training, which will only increase the months of time I'll have to spend as a trainee with whatever company hires me, which means it will be a long time before I make enough money to survive.

My in-laws can't continue paying our bills, and although I've had a half dozen low paying jobs in this time just to be bringing in something, now I'm struggling to get anything. I've applied to more jobs than I can remember, and I can't get any traction. Not even Domino's will call me back. Our backs are up against a wall.

My first payment for the money I borrowed to pay for CDL school was due almost a month ago, and I haven't been able to pay it (I had to get financing because my GI Bill expired and the VA ignored my request for an extension). Rent is almost 2k a month. We can't afford groceries (we've been living off of food pantries).

I don't know what to do. I've been crying out to God for an open door, but so far nothing has happened. My in-laws are just about tapped out, and in my mind, the only thing worse than wrecking my own family financially is dragging them down with me.

Please pray for us. Please pray for God to give us an open door, or some understanding of what to do next. I know God didn't bring us here to let us die. God is good, and God keeps His promises. God is perfect, and righteous, and just in all His ways. God has promised that He will turn about all things for the good of them that love Him. I know God has not abandoned us, and that when the time is right, God will make a way.

I say again, I am not looking for favors or begging for money. I know all of us are really going through it right now. All I want from you is prayer. Please pray intensely for us.

Thanks, I love you all.

[dronningreid]

✧ Part 1: All the times I knew you

A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

[slytherinshua]

◍　FALLING DREAMS　( 이석민 )

genre fluff , period comfort , established relationship , seokmin x fem!reader   cw cramps/nausea/headaches/other period stuff mentioned but no blood , not proofread   wc 804   request for @seokminfilm lyr my love this will cure ur cramps 100% (i hope)   note slytherinshua svt fic era WE ARE SO BACK (i'm not actually in an era only for my pookie lyr) ++ listen to falling dreams while reading   net @kstrucknet

You’d been cursed with painful cramps on your periods since you were a teenager. Coupled with nausea, headaches, and soreness, it was safe to say you loathed whenever that week of torture came around. Most people thought you were being dramatic about how much it hurt, even when sometimes it was too hard to even stand up because of the pain. 

The worst was whenever you had to bring up the topic to men. Calling in sick for work became more trouble than it was worth due to your prying boss who was stricter than reason. And God forbid you mentioned your time of the month as a reason for your absence. You’d been laughed at, threatened, and humiliated multiple times to the point that you avoided it at all costs. It was easier to suffer through the pain all day at the office than try to fight your way for a reasonable excused sick day.

But you were lucky that there was at least one reasonable man in your life. Your boyfriend Seokmin took your time of the month more seriously than you sometimes. He was always more than willing to get you anything you needed, and was extra affectionate and loving. Although he didn’t know how it felt to go through the painful cramps, he could imagine just how painful it must be. Seeing you grimace your way through every long day saddened him. He tried his utmost best to make it even a little easier for you.

Which was why now, after a long day at work and several breakdowns throughout the day due to the hormonal rollercoaster your body was riding, you were now lying in bed listening to the soft sound of Seokmin’s singing from the kitchen. He was making your favourite brownies as was tradition. 

It started years ago when you first started dating. You were a bit too shy to ask your boyfriend of only a week to help you with anything relating to the pain. Meanwhile, Seokmin was both confused and concerned on why you kept wincing every few minutes while trying to watch a movie. When he finally coaxed the answer out of you, he was unexpectedly sweet about it all. 

You laugh at the memory now. Of course Seokmin was the sweetest ever when he heard about the pain you were experiencing. It was perfectly in character for him. You soon learned that the attractive man who always made you laugh was also one with the kindest soul you had ever met. You knew from that day that you had chosen right. Seokmin was a dream. 

“Baby, I just put them in the oven, okay? Thirty minutes and they’ll be ready,” Seokmin called as he made his way back to your shared bedroom. A pretty smile graced his face as he caught sight of you wrapped up in the blankets. “How are you feeling now?” 

His soft question made your heart melt a little, and with a gentle hand reaching to brush back your hair, you felt overwhelmed all at once. What did you do to deserve a man as perfect as him?

“Still feels like someone’s stabbing my insides repeatedly, but you’re making it better,” you told him, raking your hand up to meet his, interlacing your fingers together. He frowned slightly at your response, hating to see you in such pain, even if it was a normal thing. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokmin’s voice was gentle, soothing to your ears. Whenever you were around him, all the pain you felt seemed to subside, even just a little. His touch was delicate as he pulled you up from the pillows for a hug, squeezing extra tightly when he heard the muffled whimper of pain escape your lips. He knew after years that this is all you needed. A warm hug, comforting words, and delicious fudgy brownies to distract from the pain.

Tender kisses were what came next, the first few pressed to your cheek before he travelled lower to your lips. You giggled with every exaggerated ‘mwah!’ that Seokmin added after every peck, attempting to lift your mood in any way. And it always worked wonders. 

It worked too well, in fact, judging by the whine of protest that left your lips as soon as he stopped kissing you. But he remedied it as quickly as he could, lips falling back onto yours, hands holding your waist gently, cautiously, as if you were in danger of breaking at any additional pressure. To Seokmin, you were the most precious part of his life. He made it quite known with his selflessness and caring towards you. And if you were to ever doubt it, all it took was one bite of brownie to be reminded again.

Seokmin was a dream. And he was all yours.

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,, @parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[espinosaurusrexex]

Remember Me

WinterSoldier!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Just a short piece that I managed to finish. I know it's not a lot, but I hope you enjoy anyway 💕

warnings: a bunch of fluff and angst, mentions of war, mentions of sexism, swearing, Bucky is really broken in this one, happy ending (:

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Proceed with caution, unidentified shooter on bridge. I repeat: unidentified shooter. It is not clear what the motive is. Take cover and shoot on sight.”

“Dispatch, this is Captain America - we’ll take it from here.”

“With all due respect, Cap, I will keep my men on site to keep your cover.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Least I can do for you, sir.”

“Stop chatting it up with the police and do your job, Rogers.”

“Alright, alright.”

You chuckled and turned to Tony. “How long are we out?”

“Three minutes, 46 seconds.” 

“You gonna survive that long, Stevie?”

“That guy’s got a good aim on him, gotta give him that.”

Muffled noises pushed through your earpiece before you stepped into the back of the Quinjet to gear up. 

“Can’t let him do anything. It’s one guy they’re fighting... one.”

“Yeah, one Hydra-trained assassin who’s apparently immortal and got more deaths on his record than Romanoff.”

You huffed as the meeting recollected in your mind. The Winter Soldier had been the newest pain in the Avenger’s asses ever since you discovered that Hydra was still operating in the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“They’re just making a show out of everything, huh?” 

You strapped your gloves over your wrists and watched as Tony chuckled in the pilot seat. You and him had become good friends over the past few years. Ever since you and Steve had been discovered in the frozen airship of what you had thought to be your last mission about 70 years ago, you and Captain America had woken up in a vastly different world. One through which Howard’s son, Tony, gladly guided you. 

Both you and Steve were overwhelmed by the amount of changes the world had endured while you had soundly served your time as human popsicles, though Captain America seemed to struggle a little more with 21st-century technology and norms. 

It was fine, Steve had always been a little old-fashioned, even back in the day. You for one were delighted to learn about all the opportunities the world had to offer for women and other people who couldn’t have dreamed of any in the 40s. Because while Steve was celebrated for being the face of hope for the American people, you were still dodging snide comments doubting your place in the Army. And while you tried not to let anyone see the toll it took on you, it was the reason for enough nights you spent with Peggy sharing stories over a bottle of wine. 

You both decided the important men in your life should never find out. Though, of course, your not-so-secret didn’t stay hidden from Bucky for long. Which was one of the reasons you had jumped on that plane with Steve. Even when Bucky was already dead. Even when Steve was still oblivious. You constantly needed to prove yourself. But this one time, it had actually changed something – well, time had. 

You shook your head free of that thought and walked towards the cargo hatch. Tony had landed the Quinjet – it was go time. 

“Ready?”

“That guy won’t know what happened to him when we’re done with him.”

“Let’s rock his world, then,” Tony winked before his helmet closed and he flew out of the jet. You were close behind him, running the short distance from the ramp to the bridge from which you swung yourself off with a grappling hook. 

“What’s the status?”

“I’ve been shot.”

“I’ve got it, Bearcat check on Steve. He looks ridiculously helpless.”

“Roger that,” you sprinted towards the two fighting men on the street, as the Winter soldier threw Steve to the ground, his shield nowhere to be seen. 

“Okay, my turn.” You stepped in front of him, analyzing his movements, and dodging punches, trying to get some in yourself. 

“Oh come on, that’s not fair.” You huffed when he took a knife out of your leg holster and almost acrobatically threw it over your head just to graze your cheek with the blade. 

He had knocked off your guns at this point, leaving you with choking wire and some smaller daggers in your jacket. When he turned the right angle, you jumped his shoulders and locked your thighs around his neck, kicking the knife out of his hand and watching as he ripped your choking wire in half. Damn.

“Now, that’s not nice.” You threw the torn metal to the side as The winter soldier struggled to get you off him. A look to Steve told you he had a new plan, and with a short nod, you signaled your understanding to him. 

“But if you wanna be like that...” Steve threw you his shield and in a swift motion you managed to drag it over the soldier's head. He pushed his metal arm forward just in time, though your hit had already knocked the mask off his face. 

When the shield came down, you heard Steve’s footsteps halt next to you, the world going quiet. 

Your stomach churned when you watched blue eyes twitch between the dark smudges. Familiar and oh-so strange at the same time. 

“Bucky?” Steve stammered, and at the sound of his name, goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

The Winter Soldier’s look darkened before he reached for a gun. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

From then on, the day seemed like a blur. You remembered Sam knocking Bucky down and the lot of you flying back to the compound on standby. Steve was functioning a lot better than you were, considering the man you thought to be dead for over 70 years was currently handcuffed to a handrail on your jet. 

James “Bucky” fucking Barnes. Captain America’s best friend, founding member of the howling commandos, infamous war hero apparently turned assassin, and the man who stole your heart somewhere along the way. 

You dared a glance at the chained-up, unconscious brunette in the corner as Steve sat down next to you, a calming hand squeezing your shoulder. 

“Can I get you anything?”

You ignored him. “How are you not freaking out?” You whispered through glassy eyes instead. 

Steve’s expression softened when he pulled you into his chest, his other hand pressing your head further into him. His heart was hammering beneath his ribcage, his fingers cold to the touch. 

“I am. Just trying to be a captain.” His voice was strained when he mumbled into your hair. 

You just nodded in understanding, finding comfort in the fact you weren’t the only one feeling this way. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You watched him through the glass of the interrogation room with your arms crossed before your chest. Buck was sitting at the table, his head hung low, his dark hair falling in wet stands into his face. He didn’t move a muscle. For half an eternity, he stared at the table his wrists were chained to, almost statue-like. But when he finally looked up, you could see the confusion and nervousness in his ocean-blue eyes. 

They had given him time to recover, to shower, and feel like a human again. They forced him into normal clothes and offered him a bed to sleep. But it wasn’t enough. The man you were looking at was terrified and lost - exhausted and overwhelmed. 

Bucky visibly tensed when the door opened and Steve stepped into his sight. They spent the next hour reconstructing his past. Steve told him how he had ended up in the 21st century and by the end of their conversations, the tension was a lot less static.

“She’s alive,” Bucky stated and tore his eyes away from Steve to look at the one-way glass.

“She’s a tough one. Survived the crash without super soldier serum and came out of the ice just as unharmed as I did.” 

“What are the odds?” Bucky chuckled bitterly. “What are the fucking odds we all end up together again?” 

Steve only gifted his friend a sympathetic smile along with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Take it as a chance.”

“Feels like a punishment.” 

They were locking eyes and even though you were watching the interaction from the outside, you could feel the atmosphere turn somber. The men were staring at each other in silence for a while, though you knew there was an entire discussion happening in their eyes.

“Does she... does she want to see me?” Bucky’s voice was hesitant and broken. And you couldn’t help but somehow imagine a different question nestled in his words. 

You almost had to stop yourself from touching the glass with your hands, wanting to tell him that you were already seeing him - really seeing him. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Steve stood and with a last smile to Bucky, he exited the room. 

This was it. The door was open. The love of your life sitting only a few feet from it. Though it seemed like he was trapped inside another’s body. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Steve murmured as he stood in the doorway looking at you by the window. And you just nodded, trying to suppress your pulse rushing in your ears. 

“Thanks.” It was only a whisper. You weren’t used to your voice being this small. And Steve didn’t seem so either. He was looking at you with sad eyes, fists clenched by his sides. There was nothing he could do to make you feel better. Not this time. And he seemed to know so. With one last tight smile, he sent a short nod your way and then left. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky didn’t look at you when you finally built up the courage to step inside his room. He was much bigger than you remembered. Thick muscles adorned his arms and shoulders. Shaggy, longer hair fell from his head and over his scrunched brows. His left arm was entirely of metal, a red star reminding him who had taken claim to him several decades ago. 

If you hadn’t known, the man before you had almost no resemblance to the soldier you loved in 1941. He had been lean and full of life. He was broken now. And you were terrified someone had taken the very thing from him that would keep him from becoming himself again. 

Without a word you approached Bucky, cupped his hands with yours, and undid the restraints that tied him to the table. And this was the first time he looked at you. Really looked at you. Bucky’s piercing blue stare was full of awe and sorrow, a deep pain etched beneath the grey flecks within the vibrant color. 

You sat down beside him. 

“Hey.” Your voice was shaky, dragging a long silence in its wake that only made your heart beat faster. 

“Hello,” Bucky finally whispered, breaking the spell. His voice was a raw timbre, like a long-forgotten melody. And so much more tangible now that you weren’t listening to it through a speaker. 

But that was it. Neither of you spoke afterward. 

There was so much that could have been said, so much that could have been exchanged, known, explored about the other. And yet it didn’t feel like any of the words known to you were enough to break the static tension in the room. You were just looking at Bucky, scanning every part of his body like it was a flash card for the most important test of your life. 

So, here you were: With the opportunity of a lifetime right at your fingertips and the confidence of a kicked puppy settled deep in your wounded soul. The person you had known for the longest looked so timid as if he were looking at a stranger. Not that he had ever been shy about strangers back in the day. But this was different. This was strange and beautiful, and scary, and exciting. No book in the world held the answers as to what to do in this situation. 

And the solution was so easy: you just had to say something. So why didn’t your damn mouth open?

The speaker above your heads crackled and then Tony’s voice rang through the room. And for the first time in what felt like hours, a tiny bit of the weight on your shoulders lifted with it. “Bearcat, If you don’t open your mouth and put the guy out of his misery in 5 seconds, I’ll personally mediate this incredibly static confrontation.”

You rolled your eyes and then glared at the mirror, knowing full well Tony was watching you despite your asking him to leave. You mouthed a ‘shut it’ towards the glass and then turned in shock when a familiar voice rose from the silence.”

“Bearcat?”

You stared at Bucky with soft eyes. There was an innocence in the way he slowly guided this conversation - almost like he’d always had. It was an easy question, a nice entry to the heavier stuff that was bound to be discussed. 

And just as you began to explain, it dawned on you how much you had missed about each other. How differently your life could have been if it weren’t for the cruel turn of fate.

“When Steve and I were discovered, S.H.I.E.L.D. was our home for a long time. They tried to put us in apartments, even set us up with chaperones to guide us through the new century.” Bucky looked intrigued, even leaning forth as he listened intently. You wondered if he ever realized how much time had passed when he was the winter soldier... if anyone ever cared to tell him. “But it wasn’t until I met Natasha that I felt like I had arrived. She showed me so many things and trained with me until I became an agent here. Howard’s son came up with the nickname. He reminds me of him.” You smiled and shook your head “He’s a pain in my ass but a genius that can be genuinely helpful even though I don’t want to admit it at times. I haven’t grasped the explanation fully, but apparently, my fast learning and efficiency when it came to fighting reminded him of one of those small powerful fighter jets that were finished just after the war.” You chuckled at the memory before your eyes found Becky’s again only to see pain all over his face. 

A silent tear rolled down his cheek and hit the floor before you could see it stain his skin. “I'm so sorry.” His voice was shaking, his body trying to make itself smaller but failing miserably with all the muscle surrounding it. He took up the room and your heart right along with it.

“Hey you have nothing to apologize for, you hear me.” You cradled his face and his hands instantly covered yours, only for his metal one to retract just as fast again. He was sorrowful and it made your heart ache. 

“You’ve been navigating through so much alone and this is yet another thing you had to do without me.” He confessed through his tears and squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t changed within - always caring for everyone around him and never putting himself first.

“I’m fine. Was then and am now.” You ensured him. “If you want to worry about someone, take Steve. He’s a lot more overwhelmed than I am.” Bucky chuckled through his tears, a deep seriousness settling in his eyes. “If anything, I’m sorry we didn’t save you sooner.”

He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.” And there it was: a glimpse of the loving, caring, charming man you’d known so many years ago. A small smile snuck onto your face at the revelation and a spark of hope shot through your body. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you confessed, "We never had the time to actually be just us. To live all the dreams we shared back then.” 

Bucky's eyes were full of sorrow before he closed them and pressed his forehead to yours. “I wish I could say I missed you,” he whispered and slung his arm around you, “But I didn’t remember.”

“And that’s not your fault, you hear me.” Your hand stroked over his damp hair, pulling it back and making Bucky look at you again. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever doubt yourself. What happened to you is horrible. And I vow to kill every single person responsible for keeping us apart for this long. But not once will anyone ever consider this your fault.”

Bucky averted his eyes and turned his head but you were quick to catch his face with your hand. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up. Please. That’s all I ask of you. Let Steve and me handle the rest and focus on becoming comfortable in your skin again. I can’t wait to meet the man you can become.”

“You don’t want to know me, doll. Not anymore. Even if it wasn’t my fault, it changed me. I’m not the man you-“ he stopped talking as you watched regret flash over his features. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t care what I deserve, Bucky. I want you. I always have and that won’t change because some bullies tried to brainwash you. The very fact that we are here talking like this shows how much stronger you are than them. How the good in you never wavered.”

“But I can’t even trust myself. How can I expect you to do so of me?”

You cradled his head harsher as you felt your own tears roll down your cheek. “All I need is for you to try and trust me. We’ll figure this out... like we always do.”

Bucky’s flesh hand had fallen to your thigh, a soft thumb stroking over your leg and he watched the movement in awe. You didn’t know how long it had been since he had last felt comfort but you were determined to make up for all the lost time. With the wild beating of your heart, you took his metal hand and laved your fingers with his, watching as Bucky’s eyes glued to your smaller hand in his. There was no fear of what could happen, no aversion towards the alien element attached to his body. And then, finally, he encased your hand with his silver fingers. 

Your other hand still stroked his cheek and you waited until he caught your gaze again. And once he did, you did not hesitate to slowly push your lips to his. 

Just a short, sweet kiss. One that held more words than you could ever say. And then you waited. What for? Maybe a rejection, the shake of his head, or the sheer confidence with which he used to kiss you decades back. 

Bucky’s breaths were shaky, his hands still touching you and sending softly timid comfort through your body. He held your gaze for a second... and then, he finally kissed you back. 

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[henry7931]

Great Shift; On The Farm

Andy:

I’ve been having a hard time adjusting to my new body especially since it belonged to my big brother Henry.

But Henry is having an even harder time with things. We are polar opposites and he hates having my “scrawny gay” body. (His words not mine)

That’s why my parents thought it would be a great idea for me to spend the summer with my grandpa on the farm.

My grandpa was also shifted into my cousin Garrett’s body which makes us the same age now. Weird right?

So when I arrive I see my grandpa outside in Garrett’s body doing some work. And I’m surprised by how he looks. It’s been years since I’ve seen Garrett and his body looks a lot different.

Handsome, I might say.

I feel myself getting somewhat excited about the thought but immediately turned it down in my head. That’s still my cousin’s body with my grandpa in it.

I get dropped off by my dad (who’s in our neighbor Rogers body).

“Hey dad! You never looked better,” he says to my grandpa.

“Yeah and you look older,” he says with a big smirk and a wink.

“Geez, thanks.”

“Andy! How are you bud?” says my grandpa pulling me in for a hug and I can feel his shirtless sweaty body rubbing up on me.

“Hey grandpa!” I say trying not to get a boner.

“Oh no! I’m not grandpa anymore, I’m just Harry now.”

“Oh okay, sorry.”

“Hey don’t apologize, you and I are going to have a lot of fun this summer.”

Grandpa or ‘Harry’ messes up my hair a bit.

“Great, I can’t wait!”

My dad says goodbye to us as I grab my bags. Grandpa or Harry— walks in with me and we catch up for a few.

“How are things for you Andy? Are you adjusting well to your brother’s body?”

“ I guess so, at least better than Henry with mine. I don’t know it’s all still odd to me.”

“Well I know it takes time but just embrace it. This is probably permanent and as much as I hate it for your cousin— I’ve accepted his body as my own. I actually feel comfortable in it. Plus, your cousin was a prick prior to everything— god love him. I’d say this humbled him. Probably will humble Henry too. I remember when those boys used to pick on you.”

“Yeah…” I said looking down at my brothers hands. Flashbacks from years ago started to fill my head back when Henry and Garrett used to trick me into doing stupid stuff.

“But that doesn’t matter now, Andy. This is the new us. So let’s enjoy ourselves! Wanna beer? You’re old enough now haha.”

“Uhhh sure!”

We both sat at the table and drank beer together.

I listen to Harry talk but I can’t take my eyes off of his shirtless chest.As he’s talking, he pulls off his shoes and I can instantly smell his stinky feet.

He pulls his sock off and now I have a full view of his foot. He notices me looking and says, “sorry that smell so bad.”

“No you’re good, I don’t mind.”

“Oh no! What if I—”

He takes Garrett’s foot puts it up close to my face.

I jump back to make it seem like I was grossed out.

“Hahaha sorry! Just wanted to make you jump! You have no idea how much I appreciate these smelly toes…” he says rubbing his foot. “I used to have a hard time walking and now I can do anything!”

Harry continues to tell me about how things are so different from when he was originally 21. And I learned so much about him that I didn’t know.

Hours past and it’s around 8. We cook dinner together and both of us were pretty lit by then.

We eat and by this point both of us are ready for bed.

Harry, who doesn’t seem to have a care in the world and is way more hammered than me, strips off all of his clothes down to his briefs.

He crawls into bed and tells me to give him a hug. I do and I notice something strange… he’s fondling his crotch.

Oh my!! He has a boner! Even the head of his dick is coming out of his briefs.

Of course I don’t point it out, I just try to say good night to him.

But before he lets me go he gives me a kiss on the lips. It took me so off guard and yet I felt that same excited energy like earlier. As I pull back, he says to me, “you just wait, this is going to be the best summer yet.”

“Okay Harry, I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hit the light and look at him in bed. My dick gets hard just at the sight of his feet.

I walk up to him and snoring. I carefully bend down and sniff them.

Fuckkkkk…

I go to the guest bedroom, licking my lips from Harry’s sloppy kiss and kick off all of the clothes I had on.

I look at Henry’s reflection in the mirror. I’ve had some shame about being put into this body. And yet it wasn’t anything I could control.

I think about what Harry said to me. “Embrace my new body.”

Well I guess if this is mine permanently then I need to accept it.

I sit on the ground and look at the feet that used to belong to my big brother… but they’re mine now. I control them. And you know what? Like I them!

I grab on to MY 10 inch dick and started pumping it. Letting out grunts… shit it feels so good! I haven’t jerked off since the shift…

I rub my hands over my chest and back down to my thighs. I feel my butt cheeks and grab on to one.

I watch myself in the bedroom mirror making lustful faces to myself. Although I look like some country boy, I’m still the same skinny gay guy deep down. Or maybe I’m now something in the middle?

I feel my balls tighten and I knew I was close. Cum squirts out of me and it’s so much of it.

I feel so much relief, it’s been so long!

I clean myself up and try my cum for the first time.

I lay back in bed and begin to slowly fall asleep.

The Next Morning…

“Hey bud, you ready to start our day?” says Harry.

My first thing I see in morning is Harry’s bulge. Half way awake I’m almost tempted to touch it.

“Good morning…”

I pull the blanket off of me and Harry has a big grin across his face.

“Someone must have been having a good dream,” he says directing to my crotch.

I look down at my naked frame and my raging morning wood.

“Oh sorry!” I say tossing the blanket back over.

“Oh don’t be! Also, don’t worry about hiding your parts from me. Especially that handsome thing you got between your legs.”

I pull the blanket back and Harry sits by my bed.

“Do you mind if I?” he says gesturing to it again.

“Sure!”

Harry grabs my dick and I let out a little grunt.

He starts running his fingers all over and I’m in such a state of shock I almost thought it was all a dream.

“Boy this is such a good lookin cock! Sorry for playing with your junk. I’m just so horny in this body and it’s been a bit since I’ve seen someone else’s bits.”

“I don’t mind at all Harry.”

Harry continues to fondle my wood and it’s almost too much to handle. I need to just tell him how I feel, I mean he can’t make it more obvious on his feelings.

“Harry!”

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something?”

“What is it?”

“I’m so attracted to you, I don’t know if it’s right or wrong but I want you so bad right now.”

“Well, I have to say that I have the same feelings. And honestly don’t know what to do with them either.”

“Well we could just act on them…”

Harry puts my cock down and gets close to my face.

“If we do this we can’t go back.”

“I know.”

“Also we can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell a single person.”

“Good.”

Harry kisses me with so much passion, he kisses down my neck, my chest, all the way until he’s face to face with my cock.

Harry sucks me off and I watch him work my dick. He feels up and down my Harry balls.

“Ohhhh god Harry!!!”

His warm mouth feels so good. I can only hold out for so long….

“Fuccccc!!!!! Harry! I’m gonna cum!”

I expected him to pull back but he keeps his mouth on my dick.

I explode into Harry’s mouth. He sucks all of it out of me until I’ve released every last drop.

He looks up at me with a big grin and cum dripping from his lips, “you taste good bud!”

“Thanks lol, so… do you want me to…”

Before I can say anything Harry yanks off his underwear and lays back in bed.

“Show me what you got,” he says with a smirk.

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── hanma loves his sweet wife, and he loves it even more when you’re barefoot and pregnant for him. but, when you complain he needs to lay of off you for a bit, he decides he's never going to fill you up again. unless you beg nicely, of course.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 + 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with hanma shuji

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── wife!reader, fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, reader is breastfeeding, unprotected s[e]x, oral s[e]x, established marriage, mentions of babies, shuji is obssessed with knocking us up, orgasm denial, future toman!shuji, hanma as a dad, mom!reader, loosely based off the characters in my series back to us

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

It's no secret that Hanma Shuji is a difficult man.

His subordinates, old gang members and even his boss slash best friend, Kisaki Tetta, would bet on saying the same. 

He was brash, violent and impulsive all rolled into one neatly pressed pinstripe suit and nicotine-roughened voice. The tattoos on the back of his hand shone more often than not with blood and gore than anything else, and he grew up on a steady diet of abuse and cheap thrills. 

But, despite all of his atrocities, he was your husband and you loved him.

Even if you were currently exasperated over his determination to knock you up again when you had just came back from the hospital 8 weeks ago.

“Shuji, you have to stop,” your pleading tone slowed the roll of his hips.

Frowning, Hanma took a hard pause from fucking you, the look on his face laced with both confusion and worry.

“Shit, baby,” he plucked your hand from between your legs where it was steadily stimulating your clit, kissing the rise of your knuckles. “Did I hurt you?” 

You shook your head, unable to voice out the anxiety clouding your mind. Shuji, however, was always patient with your unravelling thoughts, and gave you the space you needed to sort out your emotions. 

He had ceased every movement, waiting for you to speak.

“The babies,” you finally managed to mumble. “They’re still so young.” 

Referring to your two sons and daughter, your strange observation had him cocking his head to the side.

“Uh-huh. Shusei is eight, Shiori is two, and Shunki is three months old. Am I missing something here?” 

His tone was tainted with a sheen of frustration, and you could plainly hear the thoughts bouncing in his head: Did she really stop our love making just to ask about the kids?

“N-no,” you whispered, trying to get him to understand. “They’re still so young, Shuji. We… I don’t think we should have any more babies… for now.”

Your voice turned meek towards the end of your suggestion, and you braced yourself for Shuji’s uproar. If there was one thing your husband loved more than pleasing Kisaki and expensive cigars, it was the sight of you swollen and pretty with his babies.

And it wasn’t because of some weird masculine need to spread his seed thoroughly—Shuji actually enjoyed the pregnancy process together with you. 

The six foot five Reaper would shrug off other people’s judgement to get you anything you were craving for even if he was in the middle of a deadly meeting. He was present for every single one of his children’s ultrasounds without fail—except for Shusei’s, but that was a prickly past you had learned to make peace with. Shuji would follow you wherever you went if he wasn’t busy with work, and if he was, he always had a group of men shadowing your every movement, terrified that someone would hurt his precious family once his back was turned. 

As shocking as it was, the great Reaper of Tokyo was actually a fantastic family man. 

Never would anyone in a million years come to that conclusion, but it was the truth. Shuji lived and breathed to take care of his small family… and unfortunately, it came with the territory of knocking you up whenever he felt like it.

Which was currently the issue you were trying to get him to see.

“I need to rest, baby,” you murmured, cupping his face to ease the sting of disappointment you knew he was feeling. “I’ve been pushing out babies for the past three years. My body, it’s… it’s not what it used to be.” 

You gestured at your obvious stretch marks, at the cellulite speckling your thighs and abdomen. “It looks bad… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I felt like I needed to tell you this because I’m… I’m ovulating today.” 

Usually, those golden words would have Shuji seeing red for the whole evening. And you did notice your husband’s throat bobbing at the knowledge of your body being fertile and ready for his cum. 

But, he tried to understand where you were coming from, even if he didn’t like it. 

“Baby,” Shuji cooed, caressing your face with one large palm, inked knuckles grazing your wobbling lower lip. “You’re so fucking beautiful to me, don’t you know? I don’t care about what your body looks like. I love you for you. Plus—” he grabbed your breast fondly, squeezing it much to your gasp of surprise. “—I love how these tits have fed my babies.” He moved his hand lower to your hip, kneading the plush flesh with a playful grin. “And these fucking hips? Majestic, baby. I could live in between your thighs forever.”

His words made your cheeks burn hotly, and you struggled to not let him derail you. Focus on the end goal, Y/N. 

But, it wasn’t like you were going to lie to yourself—you wanted a huge family just like Shuji did. But, he had to understand about spacing out conception times so you didn’t feel like a big, ol’ baby making machine from the 1700s. 

“Shuji, that’s not what I’m saying,” you whined, pouting. He sighed, and rolled you over, his softening cock slipping out of your twitching heat. 

“What is it, darling?” he asked, intent on uncovering what’s got your thoughts in a twist. “If you’re worried I would find you unattractive, I won’t. Every time I remember I’m married to you, I get really nervous like… like, fuck—she’s still with me? I have the most beautiful woman as my wife?” His tone turned teasing, like it always did when he was trying to fluster you. “Give me a bit more credit, will you?”

Of course, you did, and you rolled your eyes, half in exasperation and half in spellbound charm for his sincere words.

“I know, baby,” you said, and took his face in your hands again, willing for him to understand. “But, I need you to promise me one thing—no getting me pregnant this year. Not until Shunki is at least two.” 

Shuji looked like you had just told him to jump off a cliff. His golden eyes widened with disbelief, mouth falling slack. 

“Baby—”

“I mean it, Shuji.”

And he knew you did. His sweet wife rarely sets such harsh boundaries, and he was coming to realise how much he had fucked up. 

“Are you angry with me?” 

The little glimmer of uncertainty and fear that you might leave him again reared its ugly head—something uncommon but understood when memories of what you both went through filled your uneasy mind.

“No, Shuji,” you took his face in your hands, tilting it close enough for your foreheads to touch. “I’m not. I love you. I just… want to not be pregnant for a bit.”

He hummed, the sound slightly fractured towards the end. You could tell Shuji hated this idea with every fibre of his being, but he wasn’t the one physically carrying any of the children. Despite how he had tried to make each of your pregnancies comfortable by constantly being at your beck and call, your reality was different. The swollen ankles, aching muscles, sleepless nights and horrifying cravings were all starting to catch up with you.

If you wanted to give Hanma a big family, you needed to take some breaks in between or else you would lose your mind.

“I get it,” he sighed, those brilliant golden eyes downcast. “It’s your body so it’s your choice. I understand, baby.”

You internally exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank you, baby,” you sealed your appreciation with a kiss, and Shuji returned the gesture back half-heartedly. Your husband was pouting like a kid whose candy got stolen, and you couldn’t resist a quiet chuckle at his expense.

“Look on the bright side—we could save up a little extra to take the kids for another holiday instead of buying diapers all the time.” 

He met your optimism with a sour expression. “Yeah—if condoms weren’t so damn expensive.”

You fixed him with a disapproving look. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Shuji rolled his eyes and then pinned you down into the bed with his bigger frame. “So, lemme get this straight—I can still fuck you, still cum in you… but you don’t want my babies?” 

His words ignited a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and you cursed how susceptible you were to your husband’s seduction. Shuji could turn you on simply by lowering his voice and fixing you with his melting stare.

You swallowed hard, unsure how to reply to him. “W-well, yes—”

“Okay, fine,” he mumbled sourly. “Won’t do it, then.” 

Sighing, you shook your head. “Okay, Shuji. Are you okay?” 

He fixed you with an unfathomable look, and you were sure he would say something sarcastic. But, all your husband did was pull you into his embrace, kissing your hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

Then, he mumbled, “I won’t cum in you tonight, baby. You can trust me on that.”

And, you did. Shuji had proven to you time and time again how he religiously kept his word. Everytime he said that you were the only one or how he only wanted you in his life, he backed it up with real actions—like spending an entire night awake to take care of Shiori when she was down with a flu while you got your much needed rest; your pregnancy with Shunki wearing you out more than usual. 

You should’ve known Shuji was a man of his words, but like two extremes, Shuji could never find a balance.

And this time, he took his promise overboard. 

“Shuji,” you sobbed, completely lost in your pleasure. “A-Ah, I’m close!” 

Your nails bit into his shoulders, the bathroom tiles shimmering in your periphery. Shuji had your knees pressed to your chest, rearranging your guts with languid strokes as the bath steam perfumed the air with lavender fragrance. 

Your back was pressed to the grand mirror, and his lips were on yours, drinking every honeyed moan you had to offer him. 

Hanging by a single thread of your sanity, you were close enough to taste your orgasm.

Shuji was steadily wrecking you, hellbent on bringing you past the threshold of pleasure that you both barely cared to keep it down.

His hoarse groans were swallowed by your eager mouth, and your every purr went straight to his overstimulated cock.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he groaned, crowding you further up the cool glass, intent on invading every inch of your space with his dominating presence. “Wanna hear you scream my name—w-wanna… ah, fuck, you don’t want t’get knocked up.”

At the mention of getting you pregnant again, you whined, shaking your head.

“D-don’t—please, Shu.” 

He shook his head, reassuring you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh. “I won’t doll, I won’t. You know I won’t.” 

Your syrupy hiccup was met with a soft, sympathetic kiss on your jaw. 

“Ssh, ssh, darling. Don’t worry your head off, okay—a-ah, oh f—you feel so good.” Shuji’s beautiful golden eyes were heavy with lust, every weighty snap of his hips pushing his shaft to rub your sensitive spots deeper, making you see stars.

“I’m gonna cum,” every fibre of your soul was aching for your husband, your body echoing the same feat—demanding for Shuji to fulfil your gnawing lust. “G-gah, I-I’m g-gonna cum, Shuji—”

“F-fuck, me too, doll—fuck, fuck, you gotta—shit, shit, m’cumming—fuck!” Your husband’s guttural groan right in your ear made your insides flutter around his thick length, and you were rapidly melting for him; first your bones turning jelly, your muscles screaming and then your pussy was pulsing around him, ready to drop over the sweet, sinful edg e—

Shuji yanked you back from the edge when he practically ripped his cock from your swollen depths, jerking his raw and red cock hard. You barely had time to cry out in despair when you felt a hot spray coating your pelvis and thighs. 

The room was spinning, your whited-out mind reemerging back from the fog as one singular thought blared loudly like a hurricane siren: Shuji denied my orgasm. 

The devil in question exhaled out a laugh which stirred the loose hairs stuck to your neck with sweat. “You alright, baby?” 

Your mouth fell open, about to whine out your displeasure, when he tilted your face up, handsome face completely suffused with love as he kissed you slow and deep.

“You should get cleaned up,” he murmured, lips a heated stroke from yours, and yet so far away.

“Shuji—”

“I have some documents to wrap up,” he pried himself free from the beckoning circle of your arms, his smile touched with regret.

All you could do was gawk at him, dumbfounded by how he brushed your arousal aside like it barely even mattered. This was out of character for the man you intimately knew as your husband. Shuji had once eaten you out until his jaw went numb just so he could feel you cum on his tongue—his blase attitude towards your denied orgasm didn’t make sense.

“H-hey, I didn’t cum yet—”

“Hmm?” he cut you off, a pinch in his brow. “What do you mean, baby?” 

Flushing in anger, you pried him back into your arms, jaw clenched in fury. “Don’t be an asshole, Shu. I didn’t cum yet and I was so close. You knew I was close—”

“Sheesh, okay,” Shuji gently disentangled your hands from his body, giving you a smug grin. “I know you’re always a bitch in heat for me, but I honestly thought you came already.” 

Your jaw fell open, the anger giving way to disbelief. Your husband quickly pecked your cheek, backing away on his long legs in preparation for your mounting wrath. 

Quickly hopping onto your feet, you fully intended to chase him down and make him get on his knees for being so mean to you, when a familiar cry over the baby monitor stopped you short.

Shuji had already disappeared into his office, and you were left with the selfish decision of marching in to give him a piece of your frazzled mind, or tending to your baby. In the end, your motherly instinct won out, and you quickly slipped on your night robe, wincing at how you had to wash it now that the material had touched your husband’s cum as you hurried down the hallway to Shunki’s room.

Your baby boy was red in the face, screaming at the top of his lungs to be fed. You didn’t hesitate to shrug off one shoulder of your robe, placating him with your milk as he latched on hungrily. You fed your son and rocked him gently, brushing the baby fuzz on his head to get him to calm down. Once Shunki had his fill, you burped and cuddled him, waiting for his eyes to slip close after a fulfilling feeding.

Setting your son down to sleep in the crib, you had to take a quick shower and hurry to tuck both Shiori and Shusei in.

Once the children were all asleep, you had almost forgotten about the simmering lust in your veins, until the reminder of your soiled robe in the hamper stopped you up short.

Shuji would be working till late tonight, and there was no chance of him tending to your needs.

Somehow, you sensed it was because of the boundary you placed on him a few days ago which incited your husband’s petty actions. Which was a shame, because you were about to suggest hopping back on the pill if he refused to wear a condom. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before; at least one of you had to be responsible for the family planning, and unfortunately, the onus seemed to fall on your shoulders. 

So, you trudged back to bed, too tired to deal with your arousal and hoping it would go away when morning came.

… Only, you couldn’t fall asleep.

You stayed awake, tossing and turning; wishing Shuji were here to hold you. 

Unbidden, you reached for his side of the bed and found it empty. 

Lying up, you rubbed your eyes, reaching for your thin cardigan. Even though you were angry with him, you still wanted his comfort and love. Without a second thought, you trudged into his office, startling him from his papers.

“Oh? Darling.” 

Like a child, you padded over to him, throwing yourself onto his lap and burying your face in his neck. 

Shuji held you close, inhaling the scent of lavender from your hair greedily. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Mhm,” you smacked his chest lightly. “‘Cause of you, dumbass.”

His deep laughter rumbled under your cheek. “What did I do now?”

“Don’t act stupid,” you grumbled under your breath. 

“Baby, I’m serious.”

This close to him, your senses were ignited and tingling; a rush of desire flooding south to stain your innocent cotton panties with a bone-deep need for your husband.

“You’re so mean, Shuji,” your whine reached his heated ears, and he strangled back a chuckle at your expense. Sensing your cresting arousal, he ran his rough palms down your back, warming you up under your thin night clothes. 

“Yeah, I guess I was. I didn’t make my baby cum. I’m a bad husband for that.” 

“Mhm hmm,” you petulantly agreed. Sitting straighter, you inched off his lap to perch on the edge of his desk. Parting your legs, you dangled your arousal right in front of him, the innocence on the curve of your brow contrasting vividly with the wet spot his sights immediately latched onto. “So, what’re you going to do to make it up to me?” 

His hollow chuckle sounded strained, even to his own ears. He wrapped an inked palm on your bare thigh, calloused thumb rubbing circles into the heated flesh. 

“I guess you have to show me, darling.” 

This was the thing about your husband; while you were given full reign on the house and his emotions, Shuji still held all the cards when it came to your body. You had barely cared before; he had always made sure to put your pleasure above anything else in his life. But, in this instant, when you could feel the tides of power shifting uncertainty from one stubborn end to another, the ball was in your court to determine how you wanted this night to end.

Shuji was giving you both an out and an in—waiting on the choice you were going to make.

Without a word, you nudged his hand away, and parted your thighs further, slowly inching down your panties. His pen dug into your side, and you impatiently shoved it away, the pesky item rolling down the desk to clatter onto the floor. 

Once your cunt was naked and dripping in front of him, you didn’t hesitate to rub your clit, literally taking your pleasure into your own hands.

“Is this how you wanted me to react?” you quietly goaded, a fire in your eyes he found breathtakingly beautiful. Shuji responded by sitting back into his chair to get a good look at you touching yourself, those golden eyes infuriatingly unreadable. “By forcing your hand? You’re sick, Shuji. J-just because I enforced a boundary, you—nghh—want to punish me.” 

Your circles turned jerky, the previously denied orgasm he didn’t give you rearing fully back to the surface. The room was sticky and hot, the air saturated with the smell of seduction and repressed need.

You couldn’t see it, but Shuji was holding tightly to the arms of his desk chair, outwardly patient while you got yourself off; inwardly dying to feel your walls choke his cock. 

However, he hesitated to react; in some sick, twisted sense, he wanted to see how far he could push you—how much you could take until you crumbled.

He was always the more active one in pursuing your physical pleasure while you allowed him to dominate you and lead you down endless carnal paths. This time, Shuji took one step back, letting you decide what you wanted—because to him, your words and actions weren’t matching. The woman who didn’t want him to breed her, was displaying her pussy fully just for him; begging him earlier this now to make her cum. Every part of you begged for him deep inside you, but he had to make sure this was what you truly wanted.

“Shuji,” your sweet whine made his cock throb. “God—f-fuck—must I beg you to touch me?”

Immediately he pushed your hand aside, cheek pressed to the inside of your thigh as he greedily inhaled your arousal. In hindsight, it was your fault for goading him, because for the next hour, Shuji ate you out until you were dripping onto his proposal papers, smearing Toman’s next steps around your sweaty, writhing body as you came again and again for your husband.

His tongue rubbed on your tender spots deep inside you, his nose pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing back and forth back and forth until you cried out gonna cum again Shu, g-gonna cum again—

He let you grind your pussy all over his face, let your hands twine in his hair to hold him in place while you found your unravelling for the third time tonight.

Once your thighs had stopped spasming, he eased back, lips glossy and lower chin drenched in your juices. 

Pulling you into his lap, Shuji’s hard cock strained against his slacks, surely leaking now from how long he had teased himself—held himself back from ravaging you like you deserved. But, even saints were humans who had a limit to their patience, and Shuji would never delude himself to believe he was a good man.

He was as rotten as they came—corrupted both inside and out. But, his love for you would always be his salvation. 

You brought out the man underneath the monster; only you were able to claw him out from the dark and into your arms. 

You were his salvation, and Shuji was going to make sure you were ruined for him. 

“Undress me.” 

Those hooded golden eyes pushed you to unbuckle his belt first, your shaky hands pressing down on his broad pecs, trembling when they unbuttoned his dress shirt. 

Shuji simply sat back, studying the adorable concentration scrunching your brow as you tried to quickly take what you wanted. His dress shirt slid down his scarred shoulders, and his cock finally sprang free from behind the restrictive material of his slacks. 

It was your turn to undress. You eased the flimsy silk nightgown from your shoulders, letting it fall in a pool by your waist. Shuji’s intensity threatened to swallow you whole—from the smouldering heat in his amber eyes to his parted lips, he was looking at you like you were a rare feast laid out for him.

Those large palms cupped your breasts, massaging your swollen nipples and toying with them until you winced. He lifted you up slightly to slide the pretty black nightgown fully off you, leaving you bare and vulnerable just for his scrutiny. 

Shuji’s lips were on yours, drowning you with his kisses that tasted of whisky and cloying impatience. You drank him in deeply, until you felt like your lungs would puncture and overflow. His tongue slipped past the shaky barrier of your mouth, intimately dancing with yours as you both savoured and teased each other.

“Shuji…” your breathless sigh never failed to get him light-headed. He loved how his name always sounded coming from your sacred lips. 

Cupping your face in his hands, he gently pecked your nose, cheeks and lips, while subtly nudging you further up his torso so his cock could brush your entrance. Your first gasp rang through the room, the sensation of his fat tip pushing past the tight muscle an experience you never wanted to give up.

Suddenly, this game of cat and mouse snapped your patience in half, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hot cum flooding your womb.

“Shuji…” your gasp was swallowed by his feral mouth on yours, kissing away any of your anticipated complaints.

But, you were done restricting your husband from the most tender parts of yourself. It was his right to defile you; to drive his hips deeper and deeper into you until you bore him the fruits of both your labours.

Sacrilege was never giving Hanma Shuji what he wanted when all he wanted was you.

“I need you…” 

Hanma’s ears pricked, hearing something more than desperation in your sweet request.

“Yeah, doll? What do you need?”

He would always have a sixth sense whenever you were struggling with piecing together your needs. Shuji wanted to count all of your insecurities and pin them onto the bruises of his body just so he could brush them softly whenever they started to hurt.

Lifting your glossy, tear-filled eyes, you hiccuped: “You.”

His chuckle brushed your parted mouth, nose grazing yours. “You already have me.”

“No,” you whined, bucking your hips to take him at a deeper angle. The both of you hissed out curses, the sloppy sounds of your pussy taking his dick growing louder and fervent. “No, I want you. A-all of you.”

The pricking in his ears turned into a roaring. Shuji couldn’t make out a maths equation for his life, but he was pretty sure he counted every cadence of desire in your tone which led him to one singular conclusion: you were begging to be bred.

A smile of pure triumph spread across his face, hidden in your hair. “Yeah?” he struggled to keep his voice from shaking in excitement. “But, you already have me, doll. What more could you want?” 

He meant to tease you; to goad you further until you broke and bent just for him.

Shuji needed to hear those words leaving your lips, all for the sake of his bruised ego.

“I… I need you.” Your soft bleat went straight to his heart. God, he was so fucking in love with you; no one could change that fact. Come hell or high water, Shuji was all fucking yours till the end. 

He kissed your temple, soft and unhurried with his thrusts. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Close. He was so close to breaking you.

You groaned, the sound filled with lust and frustration—a little bit of your insanity leaking through. “Shuji!” 

If your whine was meant to scare him into acting, all it did was make his bastard grin grow wider. Hanma kissed down your neck, placating your impatience with the sweet temptation of his lips. You tensed in his arms, ready to slip down the freefall. But, his hesitation was keeping you from fulfilling your high.

One minute turned into two. The inner restraint you harboured fraying at the edges, like a glass dome showing cracks in the middle. Rocked by an earthquake, your resolve was fracturing bit by bit. Shiny shards slipped down your cheeks when the axis tilted and spun but never broke you—and so, you decided to take a sledgehammer to your own stubbornness and shatter those walls.

“Inside!” Your cry could’ve woken up the neighbours if Shuji hadn’t smartly made his entire office soundproof. “I want you—ngh—inside!” 

Your husband didn’t waste a single second. Grabbing you by the plush fat of your thighs, he nudged you up in one swift move, spreading you across his wide, oak desk. Shuji’s snarl would’ve been terrifying if you weren’t so relieved to feel him going deeper, throwing your legs over his shoulders to touch that spot inside that always made you melt for him.

His face was between your breasts, peppering the jiggling flesh with soft kisses and sharp nips which made you squeal. Shuji used every bit of his strength to push his hips forward, over and over again until you saw stars in the back of your eyelids—your orgasm threatening to explode like the formation of a new universe.

You welcomed the implosion with open arms, your lips on his; the desk rattling and eventually groaning as the full effects of your passions ricocheted around the room. 

Shuji’s gritted cry of your name, and your delirious moan melted into a sloppy meeting of tongues and teeth, his warmth filling you up, right where he belonged in the deep embrace of your body. 

You held him close to your thrumming heart, feeling him soften and relax in your hold. 

For a long minute, neither of you spoke—Shuji was afraid to look up in case he crossed a line, and you were dazed, trying to recover from your earth-shattering release.

He felt your fingers scratching his scalp, and that little move was enough for him to summon a shred of courage to look you in the eye. Your smile was soft, if a little hazy, those pretty eyes latched onto him with a woozy affection. 

“Are you okay?” Shuji gripped your hand tightly in his, hoping he hadn’t scared you away again. 

But, you shook your head, beaming angelically at him. “I’m fine, Shu.”

His nickname and your relaxed countenance made some of the fears stop dancing in his mind. He heaved a sigh of relief, pressing his forehead to your neck and inhaling your sweet scent lightly.

How could you have ever denied your husband what he wanted whenever he looked at you with such pure love in his eyes?

Every fibre of his body echoed an affection which remained steadfast and sure—you were positive if it resulted in more love to bring into this household, you would welcome those blessings with open arms.

“What changed your mind?” 

You hummed, relaxing further into the unyielding wood, safe and sound in his embrace. 

“You.” 

Shuji furrowed his brow, glancing up into your serene expression. “Huh?” 

Your laughter was pure and unaffected. “I want only you, Shuji. How could I say ‘no’ to more babies if it means we have more proof of our love? We always wanted to build a big family, and I want to do that with you.” 

Unexpectedly, he felt a lump grow in his throat. “Doll, you don’t have to do this for me. It’s your body—”

You shushed his complaints, giving him a look. “I want this,” you emphasised. “I want this with you—forever. So, you better make sure we have enough money to send the kids to college, Shuji… because we’ll be paying tuition fees for a long time.”

His answering giggle made more sticky sweet love bloom in your soul. “You got it, doll. I’ll work my ass off for you. Break more rules for ya. Up the drug prices to squeeze everyone dry till our babies are big enough. I love you.” 

And you knew Shuji would keep his word—he was a man of integrity as much as he was rotten on the inside. A man of trust and fulfilment only for you. 

Just then, the baby monitor he kept in his desk crackled, and Shunki cried out for his nightly feed.

Both you and Shuji lurched into action, slipping on your clothes in record speed. Your baby boy’s cries even catalysed Shuji into sprinting down the hallways, and he was there first thanks to his longer legs, cradling his son close to his chest while you caught up. 

“Give him here,” you hummed, taking the wailing bundle from Shuji and slipping down your nightgown to press one plump nipple past his tiny lips. 

Shuji watched you feed his son with pure love in his eyes, leaning back against the old, chipped yellow crib with arms loosely perched on his side. Absorbing this scene and imprinting it onto his brain as the idea of his perfect version of heaven.

If fate would allow it, he wanted a moment like this with you for forever. 

Nevermind his dangerous occupation or the nature of his lifestyle. You, Shunki, Shusei and Shiori were the only specks of light in his otherwise fucked up world. Hanma would fight tooth and nail to keep every one of you safe, and he would put every dream of his own on hold just to see his little family happy.

As soon as that thought arose, the door to the nursery swung open, and Shiori crept in, curious by her two parents who were still awake. Hanma lifted her into his arms, cooing softly at his sleepy, baby girl. Shusei, too, ignored your rule for sleeping early on school nights to peek into Shunki’s room. His father called him over, and Shuji easily lifted his other baby boy into the seam of his side, cradling them both while you fed your youngest.

All three of them were piled onto the soft couch you often sat on as you pumped more milk for Shunki, and Shuji was drowsily recounting a story for his other two children.

“... the elephant then said to the fairy: I want to be a cat today, and the fairy—” 

You sat down next to him, Shunki still in your arms, and admired how both your children looked at their father with honest admiration and adoration in their twin golden eyes. 

Shusei, who was following the story with rapt attention, smirked at his sister.

“I told you the elephant became a cat but you didn’t believe me.” 

In answer, Shiori stuck out her tongue. “No!” 

They were both about to bicker when Shuji stopped them with one large palm on each of their tinier heads. “Kids, let’s not start to fight, yeah? You’ll wake your baby brother up.”

All three golden eyes latched onto the sleeping infant in your arms, and you smiled at them. “Your tou-chan’s right. Shunki is really grumpy at night when he doesn’t sleep well.” Levelling them a look, you had to play the stern parent when you realised Shuji wasn’t going to say a word about how they both were up past their bedtime.

“Speaking of, aren’t you two supposed to be asleep?” 

Cheekily, Shusei shook his head. “Can’t sleep, mama. Wanna see Shunki again.”

Like the adoring big brother he was, your oldest son clambered towards you, his head on your shoulder as he stared intently at his baby brother. Shiori, too, was curious and Shuji let her go, carefully helping her down the sofa so she could rest her head on your knee. Carefully, you untucked one arm to pat her messy bedhead, fondly smiling down at your daughter. 

Shunki gurgled and burped in his sleep, eliciting giggles from all four of you. 

“He’s like a doll,” Shusei murmured.

“A doll,” Shiori echoed, always following her brother’s lead. 

“Yeah,” Shuji leaned forward, taking a spare moment out of his busy day to have this time with his family. “The cutest doll. Makes you want to have another sibling, huh?” 

Shusei groused, “Mama just gave birth.”

Shiori giggled. “More, more.” 

Hanma smiled at his daughter’s excitement, knowing his middle child was the most excited for a baby sister so she wouldn’t be the only girl in the line-up.

“We’ll get you both another sister.”

Again, you were scandalised by Shuji’s blatant promise to the kids, like he did a year ago before Shunki’s conception. He was filling the children with hope, cornering your decision so you couldn’t change your mind, not when they were already this invested. 

What a scheming, cunning asshole.

“Maybe we can all ask papa to take us to Disney World when Shunki is a little older—would you want that? And your new sister can join, too. We’ll make papa carry all the bags.”

Your quick plan was met with pure excitement from both of your children, and Shunki nearly roused awake if you hadn’t clamped one hand around his ear to block out their hushed squeals.

“Disney World!” 

“Didney World!” 

Shuji winced, and you knew you were triumphant when he conceded letting his children clamber back into his lap, pawing at his clothes and face as they excitedly enthused about a trip which hadn't even happened yet.

As your husband shot you a look of exasperation, all you did was grin cheekily back at him, your baby still miraculously asleep in your arms.

All was perfect in the Hanmas’ house and your life.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟱 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝗹𝘀

𝟭. travel ( ✈️ )

2024 took away many travel opportunities from me. i was supposed to go to barcelona with my family, but my grandfather passed away, and we stayed in italy to handle the funeral. i was supposed to travel to sofia with my cousin, but one of my exams was rescheduled to a date i couldn’t possibly miss, so i had to give up the trip. lastly, i was planning to go to valencia to celebrate my birthday, but a flood disrupted the city, and i couldn't go anymore.

in short, it was a frustrating year in this regard — i lost a lot of money and, most importantly, many opportunities to travel, which i believe has significantly inhibited me in this area. while i used to be much more inclined to book last-minute trips when the chance to travel on a budget arose, now i feel much more anxious about doing so.

i want 2025 to be filled with travels. i want to fully take advantage of the opportunities that circumstances beyond my control stole from me in 2024.

𝟮. keep my life even more private ( 🔒 )

it's been years now since i completely disappeared from social media. i no longer post photos or updates about my life online as if i were an influencer, and my daily life has significantly improved without the pressure to appear a certain way online. life is truly better when no one knows anything about you.

however, in real life, i'm quite the chatterbox, and i often find myself oversharing without even realizing it. that said, because i strongly believe in the evil eye, i've learned that, even if i have to bite my tongue, i can't share projects that are not yet completed — not even with the people closest to me, not even if i'm 100% sure they would be happy for me.

in fact, even though i cut off toxic people from my life two years ago, other friendships i thought were strong have ended this year. i want to live a peaceful, private life, even if that means staying silent. show results rather than plans.

𝟯. meditate and journal ( 🪴 )

i started this year (2024) well with this kind of self-care, but i completely lost it around may. i'll try again in 2025, hoping i can stick to it. if not, see you in 2026.

𝟰. indulge in healthy female friendships ( 🩷 )

two years ago, i cut ties with many toxic friendships that were holding me down and keeping me from healing. since then, i've been mostly alone, except for a few surviving connections i kept after high school. when i started university, i made new friendships, but they were very superficial and always centered around university matters.

however, since moving to spain, i've really understood which people were just taking from me without truly being interested in me as a person. in return, though, these past few months i've met some truly amazing girls in madrid, and i want to let myself indulge in that beautiful feminine energy that only girl friendships can give. wine and cheese in front of an episode of gilmore girls while you cut out pictures for your vision board.

𝟱. eat healthier ( 🥗 )

these past few months have been a rollercoaster with food. i've prepared a lot of homemade meals, but i've also ordered out quite often. i don't see anything wrong with ordering takeout or eating out with friends, but since it often happened when i was alone and didn't feel like cooking, i want to try to organize my cooking better and eat as many homemade meals as possible. of course, i won’t deprive myself of lunches and dinners out with friends, but i want to limit takeaway food to social occasions, not to lonely sundays.

it's been less than two years since i got out my ed and i want to keep the happy and healthy relationship with food i gained with so much hard work.

𝟲. keeping up with goals reached last year ( ☁️ )

obviously, all the work i’ve done over the past few years won’t go to waste! i want to persevere with the good habits i’ve developed and the work i’ve done on myself. the past few years have been strange and full of changes, but i feel like it’s all been positive. i’m happy with where i’ve gotten to and the person i’ve become, but i know i still have a long way ahead of me.

happy new year's eve everyone 🎉 which goals are you planning to reach?