#havok x plus size reader

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Sunshine and Flowers

Logan Howlett x plus size reader

Logan has had a great many loves in his long life and he’s over it. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else yet somehow, the annoying and very much younger art teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, wormed her way into his heart.

Warnings: grumpy and sunshine, jealousy, Logan is a dick but we been knew, reader is kind of oblivious and touch starved, age-gap (reader is mid 20s and Logan is old as shit), Logan POV, bit of a slow burn, reader and Logan are Keely and Roy coded

WC: 3.8k

Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Yo Logan!” The seemingly ever present pounding in the older mutant’s temples suddenly got worse, the band around his forehead tightening as the young woman cheerfully skipped up to him without a care in the world. Her arm looped through his own, tucking herself into his side, like she always did. 

“What d’ya want?” He grumbled. It was easier to just ask her outright than stay silent and her chatter away at him for an hour before she finally got to her point. Y/N beamed up at him, her e/c eyes sparkling. “Wellllll… I was wondering if you wanted to come with me on a little field trip with the kids! I was thinking of bringing them to the MET, you know because art.” She waved her right hand around as if to emphasise her point. 

“No.” Logan said firmly. 

“Aw please! Please Logan! Please! Please! Please!” He could practically feel his blood pressure rising as Y/N pleaded with him, pulling on his arm, acting like a complete child. Dear god, what had he done to deserve this?

With the huge throngs of students constantly being enrolled in the school, Charles had come up with the bright idea to introduce an art program to the children as a way of “expressing their creativity”. But what that actually meant was hiring a new teacher specifically for this class since no adult in the school had even an ounce of artistic talent.

And so six months ago, Y/N Y/L/N, a recent college graduate, strolled into the mansion and never left. Her gift to generate small stars gave her the remarkable ability to light her classroom in any way she wished, allowing her students the perfect lighting to create absolute masterpieces. And like her gift, she herself was a big ball of endless energy that constantly bounced around, latching onto whoever she came across, and more often than not, that person was Logan.

For some inexplicable reason, she gravitated to him, always seeking his approval, trying to get him to engage in activities with their students, among many many other things that made the older man truly resent when the final bell of the school day rang and she would float into his classroom, ranting about something or another. The only way he could get her to stop was by distracting her, usually by shoving her in the general direction of her best friend, Alex Summers.

But Havok was on a road trip with Sean and Peter for the next month, so he had been abandoned. Logan sighed as her grating voice made his sensitive ears ring, and the overpowering smell of her flowery perfume was a downright assault on his senses. “Logan, come on! It’ll be soooooo much fun! I’ll even buy you lunch after!” 

While the temptation of free food was great, Logan knew it wouldn’t be worth spending the entire day with Y/N glued to his side, forcing him to do whatever she wanted. Taking a deep breath, prepared to let her down as gently as he could, given that his patience was hanging on by a thread, he would probably be more rude than he wanted to be, when he paused, really taking in the young woman.

“Is that my shirt?” He drawled, his dark eyes flicking over her plump body. She was wearing one of her typical outfits, white converse splashed with paint, shorts that very well could be called Daisy dukes, they were that short, with little flowers embroidered on them. Her chubby thighs almost entirely on view with one of his favourite red plaids on top of a black tank top instead of her usual blouse, making her sizeable cleavage pop. Y/N looked away bashfully. 

“Yeah, I um found it in the movie room and it looked so warm so I took it and it’s super comfy like seriously how do you get your shirts so soft it’s really weird but they always smell like cigars so I guess that’s the downside. That’s not to say you smell bad! I’m just saying that it’s like your trademark-“

There she went again. “It’s fine kid, just wash it before you give it back.” 

“What about the MET!” She called after him.

“Maybe.” He grumbled and with that he walked away, be-lining for the kitchen where he stashed his Vodka, losing her in the sea of students just getting out of class.

“Now, for today’s class, we’re going to go over some art history!” A collective groan resonated through the room but Y/N’s bright smile never faltered, it actually got bigger as she looked over her small group of students sitting around the art-filled room. “I know, I know but this stuff is important! Art plays such a big role in human evolution. Actually, the argument can be made that our ability to create art is what truly sets us apart from other animal species-“

There was no denying that Miss Y/L/N’s class was a favourite among the young mutants. Her rants not only served to brighten up their day but they also prevented her from giving out any actual work. It especially helped when most of them came from Logan’s class the period before. He was quite well known to be, well there’s no delicate way to put this, a hard ass. 

So when, during this spring afternoon, with just a month left before summer break, Logan strode into the art class, his heavy boots thundering loudly against the hardwood floors, everyone was shocked. Y/N was pacing the room now, well and truly absorbed in her own thoughts, which became an impassioned speech as soon as the words formed in her mind. Logan cleared his throat as he leaned against the door jam, his jaw cleaned tightly when she didn’t answer or look at him.

The collection of children were now starting to get nervous as the seconds ticked by, Logan’s eyes getting steadily darker with anger, the muscle in his lower jaw working over under his mutton chops. They could all see his famous tempter growing and none of them wanted to be on the receiving end. “Um Miss?” A young girl spoke up, trying to break her train of thought. But nope, that couldn’t stop her.

Logan was getting fed up now. How in the hell did these kids even learn anything with the way she was carrying on? “Kid.” He growled, immediately making the entire class freeze, including the young teacher. 

“Oh Logan! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She laughed nervously, pulling on the edge of her sheer pink sleeve. He noted she was wearing a dress today, it was frilly and absolutely drowning in flower print, with translucent sleeves that went all the way down to her wrists.

“Right, Wheels needs us in his office. Now.” He pressed as she opened her mouth to point out she was in the middle of a lecture. Y/N nodded then addressed the class. “All right, students. I guess you’re getting out early today. No homework!” She was quick to jog out of the room before the kids were able to leave their seats, effectively avoiding the clambering mass of them trying to practically sprint out. 

Her smaller hand easily slipped into Logan’s bigger one, intertwining their fingers as her left hand came up to rest on his exposed forearm. He felt the cool of her metal rings against his skin. Unconsciously, he noted that he had never seen her wear any kind of jewellery before. “Did Charles say what he wanted?” Her eyes caught his brown ones, falling into step with the older mutant through the quiet halls. Logan just shrugged, fishing a half used cigar from his breast pocket and sticking the thoroughly chewed end in his mouth, a sharp canine slicing into it.

“Hmm.” She hummed, her gaze shifting down to her feet, trusting Logan to guide them to the headmaster’s office. “Do you think it’s a mission?” 

“He doesn’t send you on missions.” Logan said firmly. 

“Yeah I know but it could be! Stranger things have happened.” 

“Like what?” He humoured her.  

“How about Peter actually scoring a date~” She teased, making the Wolverine’s lip turn up briefly in a smile then dropped again into a frown before she could see. 

“You do have a point.” He conceded. They rounded the last corner and came to a stop outside the solid door of Charles’ office. Logan went to knock, a muffled ‘please come in’ sounded before his permanently bruised knuckles could meet the stained wood.

Charles sat behind his grand desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he looked over a mountain of paperwork that gave Y/N a headache just from looking at it. She pulled her hand from Logan’s and bounced over to one of the two chairs in front of the headmaster, immediately making herself comfortable. 

Clasping her hands on her lap with her back up straight, Y/N focused on the older mutant as he took off his reading glasses and laid them on what looked to be his grade book. Logan himself leaned against the doorjamb, much like he did in the young woman’s classroom, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest. 

Charles sighed deeply as he looked at his teachers. “There really is no way to say this delicately so I suppose I’ll just say it: Erik’s come home.” Logan’s entire body seized with an emotion akin to fear.

“Fuck.” He snarled. But Y/N had an entirely different reaction. Her face visibly lit up but not with excitement but instead with the joy of someone who didn’t have to lie anymore. Charles raised an eyebrow at the young woman, prompting her to explain herself.

“He slept in my room last night, there was no other free space.” She said casually as if she hadn’t just dropped the bomb that she spent the night with a dangerous mutant who hadn’t hesitated to kill before. “Don’t worry! I was being safe. He slept on my couch.”

“Like that makes this whole thing any better.” Logan muttered under his breath but only Charles heard him. The telepath gave him a strange but knowing look before turning back to the young art teacher.

Her smile wavered only for a moment before returning with full force. “He was super nice to me! He even picked out my jewellery today.” She flashed her hands towards the headmaster, showing off the various silver rings that adorned her fingers. Logan huffed at her naivety but Charles had an entirely different reaction. He took her hands into his own, delicately tracing the metal with a soft touch.

“Erik did a good job, they look wonderful. But Y/N, I still want you to be wary. Erik can be very volatile and unpredictable and his abilities far outmatch your own. Just be careful.” She gave a firm nod. “Although, I believe you could do him some kind of good to be around someone who finds him tolerable.” Charles gave a not so subtle glance toward the Wolverine who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

An awkward and tense silence fell over the trio. Y/N cleared her throat, tugging on the hem of her dress which lay only an inch above her knees. “Is that all you wanted to tell us?”

“Well, I do need to speak to you about this art trip you have planned. Logan, you’re welcome to stay, you might find this information useful.” 

“Fuck no, I have better things to do with my time.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. She visibly flinched at his words and her smile became so fake it made him ache. Charles’s own expression fell as he sat back in his high-back chair.

“Then if you’ll please excuse us, we have some things to discuss.” He said sternly, quite obviously not pleased with Logan’s rudeness. “Close the door on your way out.” 

As the door swung shut behind him, Logan caught the smallest whimper escaping her lips and the muffled words of his old friend consoling her.

The manor was almost dead silent as Logan emerged from the cave that was his room. There were no sounds of footsteps (save for his own), or screaming or chatter, there wasn’t even the ever present clatter of utensils from the kitchen. 

Curiously, he wandered through the empty halls, occasionally glancing into the empty rooms he passed. Just as his dark brows began to furrow with concern, Ororo turned the corner, nose buried in a book. “Hey Storm.” Her dark eyes met his own.

“Logan?” She replied with a curious head tilt before returning to her book. Logan huffed through his nose.

“Where is everyone?” She gave him a strange look and glanced over her shoulder as if the answer to his question was just behind her. The young mutant snapped her book shut.

“At the MET? You know the big field trip that Y/N organised. I thought you were going with them. She has been talking about it for weeks.”  Logan’s frown deepened. That was today? Storm seemed to pause as she took in his stormy expression. “Oh, I guess you forgot. No wonder she was so upset when they left. I guess it’s a good thing Erik went with her then.”

Just then, noise exploded through the halls once more as dozens of feet stomped on the expensive hardwood. Ororo sighed heavily through her nose, upset at not being able to have a little more quiet to finish off her chapter. But Logan remained frozen in place, his veins filled with icy terror. “Repeat that last part?”

She glanced at him with a devastating side eye. “Evidently, Erik saw how upset she was this morning when you didn’t get on the bus so he decided to go with her to take care of the kids.”  She shrugged and tucked the leather-bound volume under her arm. “She looked like she was going to cry before he stepped up.”

Poison curled in his gut but he quickly stamped it down. Just then, kids and teens stampeded around the corner, hyped up on what Logan guessed to be sugar and excitement. And right smack dab in the middle was Magneto, his head thrown back in laughter, the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders rippling with the movement. His right arm was bent allowing for the soft hand of the younger woman to rest on his forearm. Y/N was smiling shyly at him, not used to the undivided attention he was giving her.

As they passed him, Logan caught her eye. She barely even gave him a glance but he saw the sadness deep within those e/cs and he knew it was because of him. She quickly looked away, drawing her gaze back to the dangerous mutant who was speaking once more, his laughter fading. But Logan couldn’t hear what he was saying over the roaring in his ears. 

He watched them until they disappeared into one of the many living rooms of the manor. “At least he got her smiling again.” He barely registered Ororo’s words before she too left him.

This went on for weeks. It seemed that everywhere he turned, Logan would see the unlikely pair together. Whether that be baking in the middle of the night, reading quietly in the library, working on lesson plans, he even saw them training together! 

He watched them from afar as they grew closer and her pull away from himself until one day he was walking out of his classroom after a long day. “Wait up!” Unconsciously, Logan slowed his pace , a smile crawling upon his face. He expected the familiar weight of her touch against his arm, the smell of her floral perfume and the bright sound of her laughter but when a blur raced by him, his heart dropped.

Y/N flung herself at Erik who was just a few paces in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug too tight to be just friendly. He caught her easily, his arms winding around her thick waist and tugged her closer. 

Logan forced himself to turn away, missing the sad look she cast him, heartbreak clear in her eyes.

The end-of-school party was alive with laughter and music. Lights floated over the small dance floor that had been assembled in the gardens. Professors mingled on the wooden stage, swaying to the smooth acoustic guitar Kurt was strumming. But Logan’s attention was trapped on the centre of the crowd where a small circle of space had been formed and trying as hard as he might, he couldn’t look away. 

Y/N twirled in time with the music, her eyes shut as she let it wash over her. Her skin glowed in the golden sunset, the sweat along her brow sparkled like glitter as she moved. Pale green tulle embroidered with dozens of sunflowers floated around her, her dress fluttering in the light breeze. She was absolutely breath-taking. No weight rested on her shoulders nor anxiety in her face. She was serene, she was like a goddess in human form, dancing and delighting with mere mortals. 

How badly he wanted to stride across the gardens and take her into his arms, to feel her curves beneath his palms as they moved together. Logan shook himself from those thoughts and took another sip of whiskey. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat but that was nothing compared to the burning rage in his stomach as another man approached her.

Erik, dressed in a matching dark green suit, caught her mid-twirl, his left hand holding her hips in place as he captured her left hand in his right. She fell easily into step with him, her once fluid movements becoming a slow waltz. 

Logan was so consumed in his anger that he hadn’t noticed another person walking to his side until they were right next to him.

“Why are you so worked up about this? You’ve made it very clear that you can barely even tolerate her.” Logan’s scowl deepened, his eyes growing even darker with rage as Hank spoke to him. “I mean even I’ve heard about the things you’ve said to her and I barely leave the lab.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Beast.” He didn’t bother to hide the way he was glaring at the pair. Almost as if in slow motion, Erik pressed his lips to her ear, speaking in a whisper so quiet, even Logan’s powerful hearing couldn’t pick it up. She pulled away from him for just a moment and hope bloomed in his chest. But it quickly died as she nodded in response.

Erik took her hand, their fingers intertwining as he led her away. Logan slammed his now empty glass down on the temporary bar behind him and stormed off towards the couple. The music faded away as he ran. 

Her laugh carried on the breeze, the skirt of her dress fluttering behind her. Logan ran faster, now regretting the tight suit pants and button-up he donned for the evening as they got steadily further and further away.

Without thinking, he made a sharp left, launching himself over the perfectly pruned flower beds Charles loved so much and tore through the gardens. Then suddenly, she was within sight. One heeled foot was over the threshold but he still had a chance.

With a final burst of speed he grabbed Y/N’s wrist before she could enter the manor, forcing her to let go of the other man. “Don’t go with him. Please.” 

“Logan, what are you doing?”

“I can’t let you go with him. Y/N, I-“ He swallowed harshly, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly. Y/N looked over her shoulder to the other mutant only to find him gone. “Fuck why can’t I just say it.”

Her body was fully turned to him now. “Say what?”

Taking in a deep breath, he looked into her eyes. “I love you.” The slap came out of nowhere, knocking the breath from his lungs. Y/N’s jaw was dropped in shock as if she didn’t see it coming either even though it was her hand that now burned with the sting of meeting his unshaven cheek.

“Let me go, who-who put you up to this?” She attempted to pull away from his hold but he wouldn’t let her go. 

“Y/N-“ He started but was quickly interrupted when she spoke again, tears spilling down her full cheeks and voice wavering.

“No. You can’t feel that towards me, you barely even like me. You’ve made that very clear over the past couple weeks, no the past year! You brush me off! You make me feel like an idiot! You ignored my blatantly obvious feelings for months and now you say something?!” 

“You feel the same?” He asked in disbelief. 

“Of course I do! That’s why I asked you to go to the MET with me. I was gonna bring you to the American wing where all the native art was because I know you love it so much and then I was going to tell you. But then you were just so awful to me when Erik got here and you forgot about the trip!” Once again, she tried to break his grip but Logan instead tugged her back and right into his broad chest.

With a massive paw, he cupped her soft jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Can you just let me explain?” Her bottom lip popped out in a pout but she didn’t object. “I have lost so much, too much. Every woman I have ever loved has died because I loved them. And you, you are so young and so beautiful and way too kind for your own good. I love you more than anyone else and I guess that scared me. I pushed you away. But I can’t do it anymore, I can’t watch you fall for someone else.” 

“Goddamnit.” She growled before her arms shot out and wrapped around the back of his neck so she could yank his face down to her level, and then she kissed him.

Stars burst around them like little fireworks as he pulled her closer by the small of her back. Her hands travelled from his neck downwards so her fingers could curl into his shirt like she was terrified that this was all just some dream. 

“You do anything even remotely close to that whole fiasco again and I will let Erik do whatever he wants to you.” She murmured against his lips.

“Just kiss me again, sunshine.” And she did.

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[telleroftime]

Little Melody ||| Bowser x Reader

King Bowser struggles with a certain part of a composition when playing on his piano. You, his captive, chime in with a chord suggestion that ends up working.

———————————————

Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Gen

Word Count: 2.8k

Bowser Masterlist

———————————————

Being held captive for ransom was certainly an experience, especially when the person kidnapping you was most definitely not penurious.

From the towering doors edged with polished silver - the surface of which was decorated with engravings depicting bones and beasts and fire - to the cascading walls of glowing lava that had to be suspended using tedious magic, the castle you were taken into was truly quite fascinating. The architecture was different from your home, making you feel like a helpless little mouse trapped in a giant's den instead of a spark of musical might that kept you alive. Everything was plus sized. The ceilings reached too high. The corridors were too long. But there was less fear behind the anxiety blooming in your chest and more so a sense of wonder. This place was different, inspiring almost.

And, if the outward appearance wasn't enough to settle that, the stark disparity between court ethics made the slight culture shock that more obvious. There were no ladies in elegant garb wandering in search of rich lords and famous musicians. The castle staff was kept to a minimum of a few Shy Guys dusting random corners instead of bustling maids and palace servants. There were no princes or princesses causing immediate havok amongst the stationed guards. The court was quiet. Too quiet.

It was a silence that did not falter even as you were led towards the throne room during your first few days there. You could remember the sound of your dark chains as they clanged against one another, their heavy alloy creating minimal discomfort, surprisingly not irritating the skin of your wrists at all. With the two magikoopas keeping you walking - one in front and one behind - you had to steel yourself before you could actually come face to face with your kidnapper.

Your steps echoed loudly down the halls. One step after the other, like walking to the set rushed pace of a metronome, you forced yourself to remain confident. You were more than aware of the hanging cages decorating the more fortress-like areas; the skeletons brushed to the side were not that far out of view.

Scratches disrupted the perfect surface of the rock below your feet, telling tales of struggles that were overshadowed by the huge statues of a giant beast. You remembered how the stone was cut, chiseled with finesse to mimic the shapes of a raging monster. The pointy teeth. The sharp claws. The horns of a bull curling up like a laurel wreath. Even then, when looking at the hovering black flags that wore the emblem of this foreign kingdom, you had pieced together that the statues must have depicted the king himself.

You were right.

At first, when standing in front of his throne and having to crane your neck up to witness the true potency of his glower, you had hoped you could reason with His Majesty, King Bowser. You wanted to plead your case. You wanted to reason that this was all a misunderstanding. It was all a wreck of a symphony that could yet be fixed. However, with an arrogant upturn of his snout and the flick of his decorated wrist, you were quick to realise it was all just wishful thinking.

For the first few days trapped in this unknown world, you were kept locked within the dungeons. You were given a simple cot, the pillows flat and uncomfortable and not at all what you were used to back at home. The food was given to you as tasteless, uninspiring mush. The only light you were allowed was the dull glow of fire that filtered through the iron bars. You were held like a convict within the small cell.

All until you weren’t. The cold stone slabs turned to polished wood. The rationed prison food turned to exquisite three course meals. Instead of the now-dirty clothes you wore when you were taken in, you had been dressed in white fabric, edges of the garments trimmed and lined with colours of flames and gemstones mimicking the glimmer of embers. You don't know what brought about the change. Maybe the people of your home agreed to the king's conditions. Maybe the giant koopa had a change of heart. Whatever it was was definitely not to your benefit when you were placed in a large, golden cage beside the king himself.

Despite your voiced complaints and near constant nagging, the king insisted on having you dragged after him. You dined with him. You sat idly next to him as he slouched back on his throne. You were trapped in every sense of the word, stuck in a cage like a little, doomed songbird. A musician with no thrill and a creator with no hope. The only thing you could do was sit on top of a small bar attached to the base of the platform - a little, worthless bench that allowed you to rock your legs back and forth - with your body leaning forwards on your elbows. Trapped with nothing to do but lazily hum your comfort songs as you daydreamed of home.

However, be that a stroke of luck or of misfortune, your boredom was temporarily sated when you were brought into a large, circular space surrounded by a glow of thick, molten lava. It was a new place, and now the heat of the glowing walls caused your palms to sweat and your skin to sparkle with moisture. It was arid, but not entirely unbreathable.

The king placed your cage down on a small stool next to a black coloured grand piano, the plaque reading 'Ludwig Von Koopa' informing you of the brand, and sat himself positively on the cushioned chair. Confidently, his claw pressed the first key.

You're guilty to admit that you would have never expected the large koopa, let alone your beast of an impolite kidnapper, to be able to play on such a fine instrument. It was tuned perfectly, the sounds echoing within the body with beautiful resonance. The king's claws glided against the keys with a practiced precision you couldn’t help but observe. With each note he played, his face of concentration morphed to fit the sound. It pulled and it twisted as if you were not there, passion for the craft evident even in the way he closed his eyes. He leaned his body in when the tune demanded a longer sound, and swayed backwards for the faster notes.

You gawked at him, your silhouette still as you simply watched him play. At first, you were certain that you recognised the chord progression. You thought you knew the melody, the kingdom you were from known mainly for its involvement in the evolution of music. However, you refused to be vain enough to say for certain. In some places it sounded familiar, though that was common within many compositions. In other parts the melody sounded original. It was unlike anything you have ever heard before, and it was something that would have never reached the shores of your homeland. It sounded like something born to this room, and the flex and twitch of the king's arms showed the truth to that.

You watched as his brows furrowed, then relaxed. Then they furrowed again, and His Majesty's playing took a pause.

One try after the next, King Bowser played and replayed a certain part of the melody. The composition was unfinished from the looks of it, and you readjusted your spot on the metal bar. You heard him huff as he glanced at your movement, but other than that he ignored it in favour of the piano.

Playing for a minute, he stumbled, then he tried again. Each time he started from the same bar, giving himself room to think. He tried, and failed. He tried, and failed again. After about the fifth time, your eyes flitted away from his general figure and turned instead to the entrance of the room. You stared blankly at the door, eyes unfocused slightly as you listened to him play.

F major seven, G major, F minor. You knew those chords, recognising them as they rang in the background of the sound. Then, the king faltered, the misplay making the piano ring an off tuned sound. A broken noise.

Turning your focus back to the koopa, you noticed the angle of his face no longer flowed with the wave of musical passion. You saw him bare his sharp teeth in anger, the smug grin from his confident playing wiped clean off his snout. His claws hovered with a twitchy tension above the monochrome keys as if he didn't wish to inflict the aftermath of his rage onto the instrument. His eyes twitched as his bushy red brows furrowed in spiteful annoyance, following a distinct streak of black smoke that pushed itself out of his nostrils.

Blinking, you turned your gaze forward to think again. F major seven. G major. F minor… and then another misplayed key that sent a growl echoing into the silence of the room that fought against the popping sound of lava. F minor… but what if…

"Try A-Sharp minor," you chirped, leaning your body forward on the hard seat as you looked up at him expectantly. His attention turned away from the piano, his head tilting up slightly so that he could more strongly look down at you.

Instead of the friendly acknowledgment you would have hoped for, the king gave you silence. His eyes were sharp and narrow, cast in a fiery glow that made his frown appear shadowed and menacing and arrogant. The look made you slouch back in your seat, watching as he huffed out yet another cloud of ash. This time you could taste the sulphur on the base of your tongue. "Be quiet," he instructed, turning his head back to the piano with an irritated swing of his tail. You watched as his hands clenched and unclenched above the keys.

"I'm only trying to help you-"

He snarled, the sound deep and guttural, causing your mouth to shut in an instant. It was a wordless instruction that made you cross your arms.

Sitting up straight, you grumpily turned your body away from him as an act of small rebellion. Your features lay low on your face then, a small pout twisting your lips. Though you refused to look back, you could feel his eyes on you as the silence hung like thick goo between the two of you. Then you heard him shuffle and you relaxed at the tentative press of one of the keys. The king went back to playing.

Starting from the very beginning, you closed your eyes as you let the sour taste of tension dissipate with the sound of the notes. You were lost in the sound of the piano, only hearing the sound of King Bowser's breathing whenever a pop of lava snapped you back to reality. Any stolen glances you permitted yourself revealed not a face of anger, but instead one of contemplative concentration that did not affect the quality of the piece. He wordlessly continued, note after note, chord after chord, until he returned to the end of the section.

The first chord sounded. Then the second. Then the third. You were certain that he would hesitate again, but to your surprise he played your suggestion, minimally delaying to play the starting chord again. A minute or two passed as the giant koopa finished with the piece. Then he stopped and you opened your eyes.

Slowly, his eyes scrolled to meet yours, brows raised lightly with his lips parted. He stared at you with those brutal red eyes, his hands playing the chord again, and again, and again causing you to shrug. Letting his features relax, it was as if the aimed annoyance had completely dissipated from his body.

"I wasn’t expecting you to actually play it," you mumbled. However, your surprised tone was lost on him as he tilted his head up, side eyeing the piano before looking back at you.

“How’d ya know?”

You hummed, kicking your feet slowly in the air as you balanced on the metal seat. "I thought about it."

Your kicking stopped as a low growl rumbled in his chest, his snout pulling back incredulously, "you saying I didn’t?"

"No," you turned your entire body to face him, stradling the seat to match his show of arrogance, "I'm just saying that I did."

“It doesn’t explain how you knew the chord.”

“It does.”

He grumbled, “does not.”

“Does too.”

Huffing, the king childishly tossed his arms in the air, turning his attention back to the piano with a pout evident on his snout, though he didn't seem to notice, or at least he didn't seem to care. You observed him intently as he froze in his spot, thinking. Then his clawed hands pressured down on the piano in favour of a different tune. It was a lively one, a melody that originally belonged to a much larger, angry symphony. However, when singled out the tune almost sounded happy. Hopeful. It was also a composition that you definitely recognised, and one that King Bowser played with an expert's touch.

Your intrigue had returned, and you subconsciously leaned your body in. It was honestly beautiful. His hands fluttered across the length of the piano. The movements were muscle memory, the skill seemingly engraved into him.

Tilting his head from side to side as if he breathed the music itself, you almost missed the side glances he threw your way. Every once in a while, after every enunciated chord, you saw his downcast, amber gaze turn to you.

Whether it was him showing off once again - probably what the original purpose of coming to this room was - or it was a test, you did not care much. You listened, then you took the bait. You allowed your hands to flow in a familiar motion, as if you held onto a conducting baton. Every other moment, you listed the key or the chord he had played. You saw his fingers twitch at this, but he continued and so did you.

Sometimes he would slow down the tempo, sometimes he would speed it up. Most of the time, throughout the course of the piece, his eyes remained on you, bar from the few glances back at the keys. He played the piece to its end, exhaling a loud breath before his attention turned to you. You were still humming, in your mind finishing the parts that the very much missing ensemble could not. When you looked back at him, his eyes were glowing flames, though it wasn’t in any form of wrath. It was a curiosity, one that silently egged you on.

"I know how to play," you offered with a grin, your finger pointing at the piano through the bars of your cage. However, your hands were quick to dart back to your face to cover your grin. This was your kidnapper. He no doubt wanted to butter you up to use for ransom or he wanted to use you as a tool in a political war… and yet even knowing that fact, the grin refused to leave your face. Especially not after you saw His Majesty gawk at you with a smirk of his own.

He blinked a few times, eyes twitching from you to black shell of the piano. Then they closed, the grin dropping. You waited, and after a moment he opened them again. "Prove it."

Your lips thinned slightly and you tilted your head to the side. You ran your hand down one of the golden bars of the cage, your brows raised, "from in here? Or will you let me out?"

The king huffed then, and just as his lips moved to respond, the doors to the room creaked open and your collective attention turned to the single magikoopa that entered the room. He looked startled and unsure. Frightened almost. It was a dull reminder of who exactly you were sitting with.

"Your Majesty, Kamek requires your presence," the magikoopa said with a prominent waver in their voice.

Poorly masking the forming anger, King Bowser blew out a steam of flames at the unwelcome interruption, standing from the piano stool. His eyes looked to you before he shook his head, once again flicking his wrist with a disinterested persona. "Take them back to their room. Make sure they're fed well."

Your eyes widened, "what? Hey!" But the king ignored you, stomping angrily out of the bright room. He ignored your shouts, and you had to bite your tongue into silence as the mage awkwardly lifted you cage with a mist of purple magic.

Though it had an inconvenient end, that was not the last time you sat in that room.

———————————————

A/N: Get rickrolled all of you.

Bowser Masterlist

[plus-size-reader]

Not so Bad

Alex Summers x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1133 words

Warnings: none

Summary: A ghost from Alex's past coming back to haunt him when Charles brings you to join the team

(Just a small introduction to his character)

——————————————————————————————————

You hadn’t seen Alex in years.

It would have been a lie to say that you didn’t think about him all the time, but seeking him out was a different story entirely. In fact, you weren’t even sure where he was. 

To your knowledge, he was still locked up, but you hadn’t heard much lately.

There was a time in your lives when you had been close, in your youth, but that was years ago now. It was before they’d taken him away. 

Your hometown was full of stories, all villainizing the male, about what had happened. 

The murder had been the talk of the town. However, you believed the story that Alex told. He told the authorities that he and his foster sister had been abducted, and that was why he’d killed him. 

...But that wasn’t all it was either. 

As far as they knew, he was some kind of criminal, a monster, but you knew that wasn’t the only thing he had going on. 

Alex had a mutation, an ability that he had never been able to control, and you knew that because he’d told you. 

You grew up with a similar affliction, one far more easy to hide.As far as mutations went, you were lucky. Unless you wanted them to, no one would ever know what you were capable of. 

To put it plainly, you could manipulate other people’s blood. It was always right there, pulsing just below their skin and if you wanted to, you could burst every blood vessel. 

Though, that was the one thing you had that Alex didn't. No matter what, you had to want to do it for your mutation to take effect. 

The physical toll was more of a danger to you more than anyone else. It would be hard for you to hurt someone accidentally. 

Alex didn’t get that courtesy.

If he so much as made a wrong move, he could injure someone, or worse. He just didn’t have the kind of control that you did, which made him dangerous. 

Until the Fed’s decided they needed his help. 

Up until that point, he was just some criminal they didn’t have time for but when they needed him for their own gain, it was only natural he be let out. 

You had agreed to the plan both Charles and Eric proposed, out of nothing more than boredom, the same as the rest. However, the last thing you were thinking about right now was how bored you’d been before. 

He was right there. 

Alex Summers, your childhood best friend, was standing right in front of you. 

When you’d agreed to do this, you didn’t expect to see him here but considering what the government was trying to do, it made sense. 

Under the right pressure, they could easily weaponize his abilities. 

“Alex? What are you doing here?” You asked, confused for only a moment as you tried to make sense of it. After all this time, he was just here, waiting. 

It was a hell of a coincidence. 

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you wanted people to know” He returned, that was always your whole thing. You took great comfort in the fact that no one could tell that you were different.

Though, if you were willing to do something like this, it was clear that something had changed. 

You would have never done this before. 

“I didn’t, but I figured if I can make some kind of difference, it would be worth a try” you shrugged, rolling back and forth on your heels. 

You hadn’t really given your current state much thought, as you didn’t think you’d be standing in front of Alex Summers today but that didn’t change the facts. 

He was here. 

“Fair enough” Alex decided, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked at you, his eyes flicking back and forth from your head to your toes. 

It had been a number of years since he’d been able to see you but he had to admit that in that time, you’d changed quite a bit. 

You looked really good. 

The childhood weight of adolescence you’d had seemed to have developed into a stunning collection of curves, each more eye-catching than the last.  

It was something he couldn’t have missed if he wanted to, and unfortunately for him, his admiration for your form was far from subtle. 

Not to mention the fact that you could practically feel the way his pulse had quickened since you’d entered the room. There was no way you physically could have missed it. 

“What are you doing?” you wondered, a teasing tone escaping your lips as you watched him, his eyes flicking up to your face as soon as you spoke. 

You had caught him red handed and there was no real way he could play dumb. However, Alex wasn’t the sort of man who was going to go down without a fight.

He couldn’t just let you have that. 

“Nothing, you look good” he allowed, looking away from you as soon as the words fell from his mouth. It was sort of embarrassing, saying that to you. 

In general, Alex never had a problem flirting with girls and had a fair amount of romantic game but for some reason, that all melted away when it came to you. 

Nevertheless, you smiled at the compliment. 

If you were being honest with yourself, he looked really good too. He’d changed quite a bit since you two had seen each other and evidently, prison had done him good. 

Alex had bulked up a whole lot since high school. 

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself” you laughed, focusing on the way his pulse kept going, hammering against his veins as he looked you in the eye. 

You really were beautiful. 

“I’m so sorry, I know you aren’t a hugger but I don’t care” you hummed, your voice just as calm as it had been before, though there was an added awkwardness when you touched his skin. 

You knew that Alex hated to be touched and in general, hated to be near other people, but you couldn’t worry about that right now. 

It had been far too long since you’d seen each other. 

“Not so bad?” he whispered, only loud enough so that you could hear. You both knew that he was much better looking than ‘not so bad’ and now he was determined to get you to admit it. 

...And that wasn’t going to happen. 

“We’ll start there and see how it goes” you teased, matching his energy right back. As shocked as Alex was to see you again after so long, maybe this whole thing wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought. 

At least now he’d have you to keep him company. 

[soft-for-them]

Havok and Torment - Alex Summers x plus size reader - Headcanons

Summary: The reader is a mutant and is taken in by Charles and Erik, she gets close to Alex.

Trigger Warning: Mention of bullying, bad home life and pain.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: This is a re-write of some old headcanons that I've deleted.

. With a backpack and a bin bag filled with everything you’d ever need when running away from home you had hoped to flee to California or Hawaii, not picked up by two men called Charles and Erik, two mutants just like you.

. You had ran away from home. Well to rephrase it, you had moved out from home because you were an adult… without anyone knowing. Technically if anyone ever cared about you then you’d be a missing person, though because you were an adult by then even if someone had filed a police report they wouldn’t care.

. The day you ran away you were like an angry child, the black bin bag like your very own bag on a stick, a stash of money in your pockets and some food for the road.

. Your reason for running away? Well there are too many to list but being a mutant was a near death wish around the parts you used to live, that paired with a verbally abusive family and the bullies from highschool still beating you up despite now being an adult with a job.

. (Ok maybe working at a fast food drive through isn’t the most classy but you need the cash and the experience on you CV.)

. Before the boiling point when you’d just been put in the care of your extended family, when you were just a fat mess of hormones and pimples like clockwork the bullying had begun. You were moved to the middle of nowhere America because of the bulling at your last school but it still followed you.

. The pushes and punches never seemed to hurt you, only the words did.

. No literally, you were the opposite of ‘sticks and stone may break my bones but words will never hurt me.’

. It started as people walking into your shoulder. Fine it happens. Then it became being purposefully tripped up. Ok, surely that was a one-time thing? But when word got around that you hardly got hurt, that you were like a punching bag well the bullies flocked to pick on you.

. You would come home from middle school with the faint feeling of where the punches where punched, footprints on you back and trousers torn at the knees but with no actual injuries, not cuts or bruises, not even a weeping knee.

. The bullies though you hid the injuries well and you so called family never took any notice of you at all. When you’d get home you’d just sleep, no one could wake you up, not even an earthquake. Every day was like a ground-hog day of pain and misery but no proof, apart from you tears, that any of this was happening.

. You had become antisocial and quiet by the time you were ready for high school you didn’t talk unless it was purely academic related and you just looked grey.

- And because of this you became the ‘disgrace’ of the family, the black sheep. Your Aunt would say deeming words like ‘Why can’t you be like your cousins and try!’ even if you got straight A’s on every test. The bullies would scream over the crowded hallways things like ‘GOD DAME IT (Y/N)! Can’t you fucking talk like a normal person.’ making other students laugh and stare.

. Their words hurt so fucking much, they hurt so much that you did some things that you regret to this very day. Those hidden lines on your body will always be a reminder of that, though you’d never show anyone, well only one person but you hadn’t net him in your high school years.

. You had realised that you were a mutant when you were fourteen but it only became a rumour when you were a bit older.

. A girl you don’t care about to remember her name, the girl who had torment you ever since you could remember, had decided to make you her personal punching bag more than other people did.

. Gone of the days of being called a ‘fatty’ instead she’d beat you up so bad that you’d never be able to move afterwards. The pain was there for a minute or so, a painful reminder that you still felt something even just for a second, before dissipating to faint throbbing and achy joints.

. When the girl saw that her abuse did nothing physically to you she stopped. She just stopped like she’d never made your life a living hell.

. She stayed away from you like the plague.

. The rumour started to go around about you being a mutant. Others tried to harm you but only you could harm yourself. You acted innocent and oblivious, to you mutants weren’t real for if you’d ever let on that you were aware of them, aware that you were one, then you’d be taken away or maybe even something worse.

. The day you decided to leave your town was the best day of your life. You woke that day and realised that you were an adult and could do whatever you wanted to. You made your bed and rang up work declaring that you were quitting, you happily lied to you family saying you would be gone for an hour of two, you bags hidden in the hedges at the front so they didn’t see.

. With spare change and a boost to your mood you took the first bus you saw and road to the end of the line. You walked down highways and back roads, hitch hiked with total strangers, you were unafraid.

. For a year you visited roadside attractions like a tourist, stayed in dingy motels and blagged food from pit stops.

. One day whilst sticking your thumb out a van filled with hippies all looking like Joh Lennon and Yoko Ono stopped and let you in. They were heading for New York, they talked about how the seventies yet to come where going to be their decade of revolution.

. Two days after, parked on the side of an empty road, the van hot boxed and filled with weed smoke a guy singing off tune folk songs a bright yellow taxi pulled up beside to you.

. You were in the middle of nowhere, like tumble weed and farmers’ fields type of nowhere.

. Two men emerged from said taxi, the smarter looking of the two knocking loudly on the side door of the van, both of them introducing themselves as Charles and Erik.

. “Whoa, we are in our right to park here.” The John Lennon wannabe, well one of them, had said, a bong still in his hands.

“We’re not cops.” The taller one had said his voice a bit accented and deep, the turtle neck nothing like what the pigs would ever wear.

“That is very obvious Erik.” Charles had said, the faces now matched to the names they had given.

. They were mutants too.

. Erik pulled the metal stem from the bong in Lennon’s hands, a sly comment about smoking coming from his lips whilst Charles had raised his fingers to his head only to be met with only pain.

. This got the taxi driver, Darwin, out of the taxi. 

. “Your pain… I-You're so hurt.” His voice had croaked and his face had gone red as Erik and Darwin held him up.

. Thank fuck you were the only person not to have taken any magic mushrooms for if the van filled with non-mutants knew you were a mutant well who knows what would have happened.

. Somehow, you agreed to going to this ‘facility’ with the three mutants, not really because your mutation but because you had nothing to lose and you really wanted to shower in warm water. 

. “Um, can I-“ you had pointed to the bathroom to the side of your monotone but clean bedroom, waiting for the ok from Charles and Erik. They really were like two dads with the way they had hovered at the door of your temporary room.

. They allowed you to shower with no weird business but soon enough they had pulled you away into a room filled with other mutants closer to your age.

. Getting to the facility only to be bombarded by a load of energetic mutants had made you feel nervous and panicky. You had froze when too many of the new faces tried to introduced themselves with their loud booming voices which caught the eyes of one Alex Summers.

. The noise of the room had gotten louder and your body had begun to move towards the wall, your tried to blend into the background but you had realised that he was doing the exact same thing.

. He caught your eye and he smiled a small smile. It made you heart flutter with warmth.

. For the rest of the day you slept in oversized clothes and a bundle of blankets until an all too happy Raven dragged you out of bed to hang out with everyone.

. “Come on (y/n) it will be fun, you’ll be around your people.”

“I only came here because I’m homeless and fucked, I need sleep, maybe tomorrow I can ‘hang out’.”

- She dragging you to the living room anyway.

. You were drowning in an oversized hoodie with no foot-ware on with dent lines on your face from your deep sleep. The only seat left was either near Banshee or Alex and well Alex was quiet and looking at you with wide eyes so you had to sit next to Alex.

.Your eyes dropped from being so tired, your plush thigh touching his without you realising it.

. Alex understood you. He really wanted to be alone from everyone also but was made to sit with everyone else.

. Throughout the night he kept looking at you to see if you were ok and you were just staring into space.

. He thought you were cute, he felt like just wrapping you up in his arms in a big cuddle pile for comfort.

. “We should think of code names. We’re government agents now. We should have secret code names.” Raven had begun making you jerk out your trance, Alex snapping his eyes away from your soft face, “I want to be called Mystique.”

. Despite your eyes focused on Mystique as she talks and encourages everyone else to think up their code names you aren’t really paying attention. Really you just want to read a nice book or wrap yourself back up in a blanket and go back to sleep.

. Time ticked by, the feeling of Alex’s eyes gracing you every now and then as you try and concentrate. It wasn’t a creepy feeling, more of a feeling of someone looking out for you, a protector of sorts.

. Your eyes flicker towards Alex his blue eyes connected with yours.

. “You might want to cover your ears.” Sean said in the background as your cheeks turn warm.

. You hear nothing of Sean’s warning.

. Alex coved one of his ears whilst tapping your shoulder to alert you to the loudness about to come.

. He was too late.

. The high pitched scream shattered the table and your eardrums. Pain shot through your ears but despite their ringing you knew that they weren’t damaged, you felt no blood dripping nor were you deaf.

. “Shit, are you ok?” a soft touch on your arm had brought you back to your wits, your face gazed up to a concerned looking Alex who looked like he was about to cry and punch Sean at the same time.

. He was the only one who seemed to realise that you’d took the full force of the scream, that you hadn’t covered your ears. Only when he bent over to check if your ears weren’t bleeding was when people started to notice.

. “Yeah, my ears are just a bit throbby, no damage.” you said below a whisper.

. You looked around to concerned faces and said “I’m all good guys, carry on.”

. So the name giving continued with the showing of the different mutations, Alex more closer to you side, your thick thighs defiantly touching his now.

. “Alex, what is your gift? What can you do?” You perked up to Darwin’s question.

. Alex tried to get out of showing his mutation but you spoke up in curiosity and protection.

. “He doesn’t have to show anyone…” you said, “O-only if he wants too.”

. His smile was sweet, his mind boggled as he thought about whether he should show his mutation or not. Never the less Alex stood to show everyone.

. The red swirls from his body captivated you, it made you want to hold him just like he wanted to hold you, you had never seen such dangerous but beautiful spectacle before in your entire life.

. There was a connection between you two, it was the lonely ones sticking together, even when he was displaying his mutation he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

- At some point you felt tired and ultimately you fall asleep, you face leaning on the shoulder of Alex.

. You missed the shit show that went down for you were fast asleep, you missed the death and destruction because you were so tired and weak.

. You felt bad.

. Very bad. 

. Thoughts like ‘If I were awake I could have done something!’ raged in your brain, you blamed you mutation for making you sleep so quietly, you blamed the softness of the sofa and the warm feeling of Alex.

. Charles told you that being too tired might have been a side effect of you mutation, that there might be something bigger that what you have. He want to train with him but you felt dejected and sad to agree.

. You go quietly, all moved to Charles’ mansion.

. Alex walked close to you as you all arrive, his knuckles touched your hand, the connection grounding you.

. Charles grinned like a fucking idiot because he could hear Alex’s thoughts about you.

. They were VERY loud.

. He left everyone to get acquainted with the manor, to relaxed and calm down from the troubling things that had happened but all he could hear was snippets of Alex’s thoughts of you.

. Charles would be just doing his thing, playing chess with Erik or reading a book, and thoughts like ‘I wonder how (y/n) is doing’ or ‘I should go and talk to her.’ would travel to Charles’ mind.

. Charles would telepathically answer Alex’s mind questions, surprising him wherever he would hear Charles in his mind.

. One day you saw Alex storming out of the mansion into the green grass outside and call it instinct but you just had to follow him. You needed to see if he was ok, you needed to see him ok.

. “Alex!” you were dresses in a slouchy knitted jumper and corduroy jeans, only in socks and no shoes, hair down and a mess.

. He turned around to you his one angered face turned soft and sweet, his shoulders not covered by the sleeveless grey hoodie slumped. His outfit was covered in burn marks, his face dripping with sweat.

. Your appearance, all cosy and sleepy looking, made him low key melt.

. “I can’t do it! I burn every fucking thing.”

. He never raised his voice around you, he just sounded so sad.

. You grabbed his hand with both of yours, your voice quiet and composed said one thing.

. “I have an idea Summers.”

. That idea being you standing beside the mannequin whilst he tried to hit the middle one with his mutation.

. “I can’t (y/n)!”

. You whisper echoed around the metal room, you voice determined.

. “My mutation has something to do with healing, you can’t hurt me Alex, I know you can’t.”

“I-I…”

“Please trust me Alex.” 

. He hits the middle mannequin without a single injury. You jumped for joy whilst he let out a breath of relief.

. Ultimately you ran up to him, almost hugging him your hands shaking his shoulders with a bright smile on both of your faces.

. You not decided to show the small burn hole in sleeve of your jumper. 

. Eventually you had to show your mutation, when the time did come everyone was gathered in the garden like they were about to see something great.

. With Charles in front of you, the rest including Alex are stranded near the walls of the mansion, you stood ridged and slightly scared.

. “(Y/n) when I looked into your mind I felt so much pain but I also saw power. You mutation is brilliant. Nothing can harm you except yourself but you still feel paint.” Charles begun, “I believe that pain builds up inside you, it makes you tired and worn out because I believe all you power is building up to something.”

. Charles babbled on with his theory, a theory of stored power from you pain.

. You blanked and looked over to Alex who smiled at you.

. “I believe, no, I know that you can harness that pain, that power, that’s my hypothesis.” You looked back at Charles with wide eyes, “Realise that torment (y/n).”

. For hours you and Charles stood out there in the cold, frustrations running high. Everyone else had gone inside but Alex still stood near, sometimes reading most of the time watching you.

. “It’s not going to work. Your hypothesis is wrong Charles.”

. You went back inside, Alex a little behind, your feet took you to the living room where Raven and the rest sat.

. You sit close to Alex, who ever so slightly touched your hand, giving you some comfort.

. “I see that you failed (y/n).” Erik said with a smirk.

. At that moment you finally grabbed Alex’s hand, you face turned annoyed.

. “I see you couldn’t move the metal dish.” you said rather loudly.

. “Well at least I can use my mutation.” Erik barked back.

. You stood up quickly, angry and pissed, Alex’s hand still in yours.

. Your face twisted in to tears as Charles tried to stop Erik from speaking any more, an incredible force built up in your body like pressure shooting upwards every pain you ever known turned into a dull ache as a bright blue light, wispy like flouting dust, flowed out and around your body.

. It looked like dust particles in sunlight, soft and magical like, but the particles stopped mid-air as you anger boiled over.

. A strike of blue hit Erik hard, so hard that he tumbled backwards losing his breath.

. Alex grabbed you plush body in to a bone crushing hug, partly to stop you from storming over to Erik and inflicting more damaged and secondly to calm you down in his warmth.

. The magic like power absorbed back into your body. You felt sleepy and achy.

. “There it is. That torment. That power.” Erik bellowed as he touched his split lip, his grin big and menacing.

[imaginesbyabi]

Positive

Summary: The reader has some news, how will Cisco take it? 

Pairing: Cisco Ramon x Reader (The Flash)

Word Count: 852

Notes: This one-shot was requested by an anon, asking for the prompts “Oh God, I need a drink” (193), “You’d be a great dad” (58), and “I’m pregnant (39). I believe this is one of the first requests that I’ve done, and I hope I did the request justice! This was a little bit more angsty at the beginning than I aimed for, but I hope the ending was fluffy enough for your liking :D

Warnings: Pregnancy.

The tile of the bathroom floor felt cold as you sat upon it, spine resting uncomfortably against the hard wooden door. Impatience left you tapping nervously, wishing that the results of the silly piece of white plastic would just hurry up. The five minutes gave you plenty of time to think about how to tell the man that had wormed his way into your heart, yet as the timer on your phone went off you couldn’t help but swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat. Were you ready for this?

Pulling yourself off the floor, you took in a huge gulp of air, eyes closed so tightly that when you opened them there were little swirls of bright white in your vision. The test laid flat upside down on the bathroom counter, your fingers trembled as you flipped it over - holding in the last breath of oxygen you had taken in. 

Positive.

Laughter bubbled from your chest, unsure how to react. You weren’t ready for this? Were you? The idea of having a mini version of you or Cisco was pleasant in theory, but in practice, who knew what could happen? 

“Y/N, you in there?” Cisco knocked from the other side of the bathroom door. You looked up into the mirror, wiping away tears that you hadn’t even noticed dripping down your face. You wondered how Cisco would react, swiping the test from the counter and hiding it in your sleeve as you opened the door. 

“I think we should talk,” you murmured and pulled him to sit on the bed that you had been sharing in your combined apartment for the last year and a bit. The idea of having a baby became more pleasant the longer you pondered on it, yet the nerves of how Cisco would react had thrown a real spanner in the plans you two had developed. 

“What?! What happened? Did I do something wrong, are we breaking up?” Cisco rambled nervously as the two of you sat, you shook your head insisting for him to be quiet for a moment. Slowly, you showed him the pregnancy you had taken not even 10 minutes prior - the bright pink plus sign now visible. 

His big brown eyes widened, “you’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant.” 

He chuckled nervously, the panic obvious on his face as yours dropped. The image of the two of you growing old together and settling down with a few kids had dissipated from your mind. 

“We’re going to have a baby,” he deadpanned. The slight nod of your head had satiated his nerves, body quickly shooting up from the bed. “Oh God, I need a drink.”

You hadn’t even managed to get a word in before he had disappeared from the apartment entirely, leaving you to sit alone on the bed you shared with him. It felt like time had come to a stand-still, hearing the front door shutting abruptly and the walls shake from the force. 

The tears you managed to swallow prior now working their way back, face warm with embarrassment and fear. Cisco left, you kept repeating to yourself as the sobs wreaked havok throughout your entire body. 

It had felt like forever before he had returned home, several bags in hand of things you couldn’t tell. He gently shut the bedroom door, noticing you hadn’t moved a single inch since he had left a few hours prior - eyes softening with love and adoration as you turned your head to look him in the eye.

“I got some stuff from the store, there weren't many places open so this will obviously have to do for now,” he started. His hands worked quickly in taking things out of the shopping bags. One by one, baby onesies in multiple sizes were revealed, alongside books related to parenting and birth, baby toys and more. 

You glanced up at him, the excitement on his face as he rambled about what the baby would be like had quickly turned your fear and abandonment into strong feelings of pride and love, something that you had built your relationship upon almost two years ago. 

Cisco pushed his hair back behind his ear, watching you nervously as you stared at him. Suddenly, you pulled him into you, crushing him with a hug and smothering him with kisses across his entire face. “We’re going to have a baby.”

A huge smile worked its way upon both of your faces, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a position that you could both comfortable lay down in, the love shared between you had grown - the image of growing old old together and settling down with kids had returned to your mind and you laughed with anticipation of what the years had to come. 

“You’re going to be a great dad,” you whispered to him, cuddling into his chest further as you both stared at the ceiling with fond imaginations. You hoped your child would have his appearance, his hair and nose and smile, and every little detail you loved about his face. 

“And you’re going to be a great mother,” he reassured.