#her own text will be shown too later

[iwatcheditbegin]

I don’t know how anyone can see an 80 page lawsuit that mentions multiple victims and witnesses and still go on about how we only have one side and no proof.

[femsolid]

Male celebrities who've attacked women.

an endless list

Shia Labeouf (Actor)

Has sexually assaulted, verbally abused and harassed several women. Strangled his ex. Shot a dog to "get in character for a movie". Has cheated on every girlfriend he's ever had and knowingly given them STDs.

Elvis Presley (Singer)

Has sexually assaulted several underage girls (as young as 14) and married one of them. A woman his own age was deemed "too old for him". He only wanted to have sex with virgin girls. When his young wife told him she didn't love him anymore and wanted separation, he became violent and raped her.

Dustin Hoffman (actor)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted mutliple women including a minor.

There's always more...

Cuba Jr Gooding (actor)

Has raped multiple women and no less than 30 women have come forward accusing him of sexual asssault.

Mel Gibson (actor, director)

Beat his wife.

Jared Leto (Singer,actor)

Has sexually harassed and raped several uderage girls.

Roman Polanski (Director, actor)

Has raped multiple women and children. Has admitted to drugging and raping a 13 years old then fled to France to escape justice. People still work with him and he's still receiving awards.

Armie Hammer (Actor)

Ben Affleck (actor, director)

Has raped multiple women and violently assaulted them. Sent a series of texts to his ex saying he was masturbating while picturing himself breaking her bones. Actor Robert Downey Jr has paid for his "rehab" and offered him to live in one of his houses.

Has sexually assaulted several women.

Casey Affleck (actor)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted several women.

Gerard Depardieu (Actor)

Has sexually harassed, abused or raped at least 13 women and is currently being investigated for it. Was shown, in a documentary, sexually harassing every woman he would come across. In the same documentary, he also made repeated sexual remarks about a little girl.

Snoop Dogg (Rapper)

Used to be a human trafficker driving around with a van full of girls he would sell to men, sometimes to a whole athlete team. He claimed he could have sex with any of the prostituted women he owned anytime he wanted. He was married at the time. He wrote multiple rap songs about beating up women to make sure we're kept under control, calling us sexist slurs. He was recently accused of sexual assault by multiple back up dancers.

Charlie Chaplin (actor)

Raped a child and got her pregnant. Later at the age of 48 he married a 18 years old girl.

There's always more...

David Bowie (singer)

Raped a 15 years old girl when he was 25 and committed statutory rape on a 14 years old when he was 17. He's been well known for preying on minors well into his 40s, including two 16 years old girls he took home one night. According to one of the victims, to groom them into a threesome he put his song "let's dance" on, got naked and danced, then told the girls to get naked and dance with him. They did, and he raped one of them. The other refused to participate as she was a virgin and didn't want her first time to be meaningless.

Jack Nicholson

After raping 2 prostituted women he refused to pay them. He beat them up and tried to kill one who ended up at the hospital. She pressed charges.

Donald Trump (US president)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted multiple women.

Vincent Van Gogh (painter)

Has harassed and assaulted multiple women, even following them home. A petition was therefore created by the locals to have him removed from the community and put in a hospital.

Sylvester Stallone (actor)

Raped a 16 years old girl.

James Franco (actor)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted multiple women and a minor. He would use his "acting lessons" and classes to manipulate his female students into doing sexual things.

Chris Brown (singer)

Beat his partner and raped another woman.

Freud (psychoanalyst)

Has facillitated the sexual abuse and rape of his female patients, some were children, protected rapists and participated in the disfigurment of a female patient in particular. He claimed his reluctant female patients were hysterical, lesbians and witches.

Marlon Brando (actor) and Bernardo Bertolucci (director)

Both raped an actress on set.

There's always more...

Dominique Strauss-Kahn (politician, formally head of the monetary fund)

Has sexually harassed multiple women and raped a roomkeeper at the hotel he was staying in.

Johnny Depp (actor)

Has been arrested multiple times for violence. Has raped and beaten his ex wife and called her a whore (among other things), notably commenting on the "fishy" smell of her vulva and writing about how he wants to kill and rape her to death.

Emile Hirsche (actor)

Assaulted a female collegue. She was a film executive and he strangled her before throwing her to the ground.

Woody Allen (director)

Has assaulted and raped multiple women, including his adoptive daughter who was 7. People still work with him and he's still receiving awards.

Cee Lo Green (singer)

Has raped a woman and explained on twitter that it wasn't rape, because "if the woman is unconscious it implies consent".

Nicholas Cage (actor)

Beat his wife.

Terrence Howard (actor)

Beat his wife and threatened to kill another woman.

Tupac (rapper)

Raped a woman.

Luc Besson (director)

Married a 16 years old girl and beat her. Raped another woman and sexually harassed several others. Despite this, many famous actors still work for him.

There's always more...

Ike Turner (musician)

Beat his wife.

Mike Tyson (boxer)

Beat his wife and raped a woman (was even convicted for it, yet he remains beloved celebrity.)

Sean Penn (actor)

Beat his wife.

Tariq Ramadan (theologist)

Has raped and sexually harassed multiple women.

Morgan Freeman (actor)

Has sexually harassed at least 15 women.

Charlie Sheen (actor)

Beat his wife.

Nelly (singer)

Has raped and sexually assaulted several women.

Steven Seagal (actor)

Beat his wife. Sexually assaulted several female collegues.

Mickey Rourke (actor)

Beat his wife.

There's always more...

Slash (musician)

Beat his wife.

Louis C.K (comedian)

Has sexually harassed multiple women.

Christian Slater (actor)

Beat his wife.

Victor Hugo (poet)

Raped prostituted women on the regular and was abusing his wife.

Quentin Tarantino (director)

Has sexually harassed multiple women and protected several rapists.

When discussing what Roman Polanski did (drugging and sodomizing a 13 years old girl) Tarantino said it wasn't rape, that the child wanted it, that the child was Polanski's girlfriend, that an actual rape is violent and that this one wasn't. When the radio hosts told him that the girl was clear about not wanting any of what happened, Tarantino responded that her interfering mother had coached her to say that.

Yanni (musician)

Beat his wife.

Michael Douglas (actor)

Sexually harassed a woman.

Josh Brolin (actor)

Beat his wife.

Cristiano Ronaldo (footballer)

Raped a woman and admitted doing it. No one cares.

There's always more...

R Kelly (singer)

Raped and tortured many, many girls.

Franck Ribéry, Karim Benzema et Sidney Govou (footballers)

Acted as pimps and sexually exploited a minor.

Joe Biden (USA president)

Has sexually harassed several women and girls.

Seal (singer)

Has sexually assaulted a woman.

Julian Assange (whistleblower)

Has raped multiple women. Assange has written about his obsession with impregnating virgin women and he has alread impregnated several women (who are now single mothers). The rapes he's accused of all involved him trying to impregnate the women without their kowing. He is a fervant anti-feminist and racist. He's still supported by most of the left and celebrated as a hero.

Michael Fassbender (actor)

Assaulted his ex multiple times. One time he threw her and dragged her alongside their car. Her injuries included a swollen ankle, a burst ovarian cyst, a broken nose, and a blown out kneecap.

Oscar Pistorius (athlete)

While his wife had taken refuge in the bathroom he shot 4 times through the door with a gun, effectively killing her. He'll be out of prison next year after spending 10 years behind bars.

Morgan Ciprès (figure skater)

Sexually harassed a 13 years old via messaging.

Has sexually harassed multiple women.

Joaquin Phoenix (actor)

Kurt Cobain (singer)

Tried to rape a mentally disabled girl, a "retard" as he'd say, but gave up because her "vagina" smelled too bad. Later the girl's father came to find him and screamed that he had taken advantage of his daughter. Cobain was therefore nicknamed the "retard fucker" by his classmates.

There's always more...

But I'm tired.

[jq37]

Your sister who you love so much (even though you’ve never shown it) asks you to be her sister again, her true sister, in deed not just in name. And yes, of course that’s what you want. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now that she’s shattered your defenses and destroyed the ones who would pit you against each other and died right before your eyes, how could you refuse? How could your answer be anything but yes?

So you go home with her, not the ruins of your perfectly posh prison, but a new home which provides love and care and bunk beds and it’s so so nice. Ridiculously nice. Sickeningly nice. And a small, sick part of you almost misses your old home (if you can even call it a home) because yes, it was cruel and awful and you hated every second of it but you knew where you fit. You knew what your role was. You don’t fit in here. Everyone accepts you because they’re all so nice, but they don’t know how to volley back your sharp words or find a hidden, “I love you” within an offhanded insult. 

And then your sister leaves to save the world again because that’s who she is. She’s the kind of person who goes out to save the world with her friends when she’s needed and you’re not. You’re not, not, not. Not on any count. You don’t save things, you destroy them. And friends? You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable for friends so of course that’s out. Your sister is 16 and she’s out saving the world for the third time and you, fully grown at 18, are a wanted criminal who hasn’t even properly graduated from high school. You can’t stop thinking about it and, without your sister and her friends occupying the house as a buffer, the ones who are left try to get you to talk about it so you make a rash decision, as you are wont to do. You leave, like a thief in the night. You can make your own way. You can. You’ll prove it.

You find a shitty apartment and pay for it with the ill-gotten spoils from one of your many exploits. You could probably pawn some treasure for more luxurious  accommodations–there is that chest of rubies just lying around–but you don’t. That’s not what you deserve. And what if your sister needs help later? You don’t have access to your parental funds anymore which means she doesn’t either. You know she won’t ask anyone for help–you wouldn’t. But someone has to look after her. You’re an abjuration wizard. You protect people. You protect her. No, that’s a lie. But you want to make it not a lie. You want to start now.

If you’re saving the rubies then you need a source of income. You narrow down your least villainous talents to try and find a suitable job and hit on teacher. You’re good at magic, right? So how hard can teaching it be? Hopefully not as hard as securing the job, which proves trickier than expected because, oh right, you’re a wanted criminal who hasn’t graduated high school. But you dip into your villainous talents once more and tell yourself it’s for a good cause. You secure the job. You’re doing it. You’re making your own way. 

You want to text your sister to see if she’s doing alright but you don’t want to intrude and you don’t want to answer any questions about what you’ve been doing because then either you’ll have to lie or explain that you’ve left again, right after you promised you’d be there. Both options make your heart ache, especially since it’s her birthday. So you wait until the house is empty (mostly empty–you’re never really alone in a haunted house) and enter the room you and your sister shared for too brief a time. You paint her walls with carefully rendered runes, filled with all your abjuration magic and stamped with your arcane mark. It’s a possessive bit of spellcraft. A selfish claiming of a climactic kill. You mean to make a different kind of claim. You are claiming your sister, as she asked you to months ago. You are telling the world that she will not be fucked with while you live. Your rooms were so close before. You could hear her. You knew every night she went to bed in the grips of a panic attack with no one to console her. She won’t have to feel unsafe in her own room again. You can make sure of that at least. 

The sun rises one morning and you know that means your sister is alive and well and coming home. You teleport to Falinel to make sure she returns to her favorite dessert. It’s worth the spell slot and the chance of being recognized. The tower where they kept you is long destroyed and you know that this time, if you were ever captured or even killed, rescue wouldn’t be measured in a matter of months. It would be days. Hours even if your clever sister and her powerful divination magic put things together faster. The thought fills you with more emotion than you know what to do with. You leave a note. “I love you,” you think. “Enjoy the nemesis ward,” you write. 

Practicing magic, as it turns out, is a very different skill than teaching magic. The children are loud and obnoxious and you don’t quite realize that maybe your expectations are too high between the hothouse you grew up in and your sister being the world’s greatest diviner, fullstop. You know you can always go back to the manor, but that somehow makes it easier to stick it out. You’ve always been taught that pressure provides the best results but there’s something about the security of a safety net that makes everything a bit more bearable. And so what if you have to take a second job involving a light criminal element. You’re only smuggling–that’s barely even a real crime.

Your sister who has saved the world thrice now, texts you and she wants help. She is looking to you for help. And you do your best to oblige. You offer your knowledge, you offer your rubies, you invite her over again and again. She sends you a text and deletes it. You’re not the diviner in the family but you drain your spell slots scrying for information you already know. Information that you'll hear from her own lips in just a few hours. “I love you.”

She finally visits and you’re not unaware of the state of your apartment. You know you’ve been too exhausted for an Unseen Servant or even a round of Prestidigitations but you know that your sister has seen your mind and there’s nothing messier about you than that. She teases you and you tease her back. She’s the only one who understands how to deliver a complement with a backhand so you can receive it without your skin crawling. The only one who knows how much tartness you need with your sweetness. 

Later, she visits again. She sits in your filthy apartment and you watch trash TV and it’s the highlight of your week. Your month even. That should feel pathetic but, somehow it doesn’t. You want to tell her. She deserves to hear it from time to time without having to filter out the layers of prickliness that you add as second nature, a layer of armor as ever present as your abjurer’s ward. You may not be able to handle naked sentiment but she can. You’ve seen her with her friends. How affectionate they are. You’ve always been taught that loose lips sink ships but you have experience with ship sinking and this prospect fills you with much less dread. You tell her and it’s awkward and fumbling but you manage. Maybe loving people isn’t so different from loving cats.

You have a new job which is perfect because the school year is almost over and, blackmail or no, you aren’t sure how many times you’ll be able to get away with casting Sleep on your class to give yourself a break. Honestly, you should have applied for jobs in Leviathan from the start. Why would pirates care about your sketchy history and lack of credentials? You could teleport yourself to Leviathan every day but that would be a waste of a spell slot when the door to the Compass Points is right there in the manor (and if your sister happens to be there too then hey, happy coincidence). While you’re there, you might as well do your laundry. And stay for dinner from time to time. And spend time with your sister in your her room where your runes stand sentinel and your old bunk lays untouched. You don’t think you’re staring but later, as you go to grab a snack from the kitchen your sister throws you a casual, over the shoulder glance. 

“You can just move back in, if you want.”

And would it really be that easy? Just like that? After a year of trying to make a point or a plan or a better version of yourself or whatever? Just like that? 

You remember a year ago. You and your sister and words that will be burned into your mind forever. 

“Despite the fact that you have not earned it, I do love you.”

Just like that. 

You say yes. You stay. 

[shakespearean-simp]

we just weren’t meant to be

pairing ⇾ mattheo riddle x f!reader

warnings ⇾ established relationship, light angst, no happy ending, mention of sex, mattheo being a sucky bf, break-up, crying (?), reader being stood up.

(tell me if i missed any!)

summary ⇾ mattheo has stood you up one too many times, and you have had enough.

word count ⇾ 1.5k

a/n - first fic! written on my phone at like 1:30, so kind of bad. this wasn’t proofread, so feel free to give me feedback! (really, don’t be shy). english is not my first language! <3

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The first few times he hadn't shown up for your dates, you were worried sick. Where was he? Was he okay? Hurt? Bleeding on the floor of some random boys' lavatory, waiting to finally leave this cruel, cruel world?

Your thoughts began to spiral, and you finally caved in and texted him.

Hey, where are you? Mattheo? Matt? Are you okay?

A few minutes later, he texted you back.

I'm so sorry love. I got into a fight, and I'm in detention right now, courtesy of Snape. I'm so so sorry I missed our date, my lovely girl.

Your heart had melted at his sweet pet names for you, though you were still worried about him getting into fights. You had stayed up all night worried about him, if he was bleeding, if he was okay, if he was in pain, if he was sorry for standing you up.

Now, it was just a common routine. You weren't sure why you still bothered to dress up for your dates; you knew he wouldn't show. Maybe he was in detention for fighting, or smoking, or in detention for smoking, or taking a prank too far; whatever it was, he missed your dates.

You had dropped texting him after you realised this had become an every-date occasion.

At some point, you had realised that you had scrapped more dates than you had been on together. 

At some point, you had stopped wondering where he was.

At some point, you had stopped caring.

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Mattheo knew that the two of you were drifting apart, and he wanted to fix it, he really did. He just happened to always be occupied whenever the date rolled around. He would have given anything to keep you by his side; you were the one he wanted to marry, after all. Maybe a few children, a nice house (preferably away from the wizarding world and his father) to settle down in, a neat picket fence, and, obviously, you sitting by his side watching your children play in the yard. He would do anything to mend your breaking relationship, but this was easier said than done.

He had tried to talk to you instead of texting, but you didn’t have the same classes and you weren’t in the same house. Plus, whenever he saw you in the halls between classes, it was either too noisy to talk to you, too crowded to make his way over to you, or you were protected by your forcefield of friends. He would wave at you and try to apologise or just say something, but you just gave him a faint smile as one of you were whisked away by something or someone. 

Maybe fate was working against him…

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You never even went to the restaurants anymore. You didn’t want to be known as the girl who got stood up by her own boyfriend. You had stopped caring about dates a long while ago, but you had to admit that it still stung. In the beginning, you had thought that maybe you needed to be prettier, skinnier, funnier, just better for him to love you more. During some reassuring sex, he had told you that you were perfect just the way you are, and that you didn’t need to change anything about yourself. 

Then, you had thought that maybe you needed to do more to get him to care more about your relationship. You had gone on one date, then he was gone again.

But now, you had stopped trying to mend your broken relationship, stopped trying to plan dates, stopped trying to reach out to him, stopped trying.

You were tired of watering a dead plant.

You knew it had been dead for a while now, but you still held onto the hope that it would come back and flourish as it once did. But now, you knew that it was time to say goodbye.

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When Mattheo received your voicemail, his heart had plummeted to the floor and shattered. He sank to the floor, cradling the phone as it repeated, and started to wail. Tears streamed down his face as sobs were wrenched from his body, and he wished he could drown in them so that his pain would end. 

Theo, Draco, and Enzo, who were hanging out with him when he saw the voicemail, were frozen in place. They had never seen him break down like that; they had never seen anyone break down like that. Sure, there were times when they comforted him after a traumatic experience with his father, but he had always restrained himself and bounced back quickly. Never had he ever sunk to the floor sobbing before. Never had he ever cried before. Never had he ever been so heartbroken. 

Even after his dormmates had fallen asleep and he had long since ran out of tears, he still replayed and listened to your voicemail with ragged breathing and tears streaking his face. As it restarted for the umpteenth time, he slowly started to drift asleep, listening to your voice ring in his ear.

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Your hands shook as you picked up the phone, dialing Mattheo’s number and listening to the voice saying, “Please leave a message after the tone”, followed by the beep. You knew that once you sent this message, there was no coming back. And you weren’t going to. You knew that you deserved someone who treated you well, not like something disposable or a back-up plan.

You took a deep breathe, and began.

Hey, Matt.

I’m not even sure you’re going to listen to this. You probably won’t, but it’s fine. I just wanted to explain why I’m about to do what I’m about to do.

Do you remember the first time we met? I was so convinced that you were just a stuck-up, petty, daddy’s-boy like Draco. Kind of funny, isn’t it? Y’know, I gotta give Snape some credit; you and I would have never met if not for me being so dumb at potions. But then you swooped in like my knight in shining armour and decided to tutor me after he had yelled at me for my Dreadful on the last potions exam. You had tutored me for weeks, and we had sort of just hit it off. I was truly sad when the tutoring ended, it meant that I would likely never speak to you again; afterall, you were the untouchable Mattheo Riddle, the bad boy of Hogwarts.

You let out a breathy laugh as you remembered your not-so-little schoolgirl crush.

But then, to probably everyone’s surprised, you started to wave and smile at me in the halls. I was shocked. Surely, you would have forgotten me in seconds after you stopped seeing me every Wednesday and Thursday. My heart truly melted whenever you smiling at me, seeing the way your eyes crinkled and your dimples showed. Merlin, you had me long before you asked me to be your girlfriend.

You paused, and sniffed as tears started to well.

And when you did, I was the happiest girl alive. It could have been thundering and raining, and I still would have felt like I was basking in the sun.

But then, it all started to go downhill. I knew that you got into fights, but it seemed like you were getting into even more, and more frequently. You started missing our dates for detention or smoking with your friends. Don’t try telling me that you’ve tried to quit or you’ve tried to refrain from fighting. I could smell it on your clothes and you always have bruises and cuts somewhere.

At some point, I realised that dates were useless, because you would never show. I’m pretty sure some of the staff at the restaurants I planned to go to know me as the girl who keeps getting stood up. 

At some point, I realised that I was being naive waiting for you. I kept coming back even though each and every time, my heart broke a little more. 

If you haven’t figured it out by now, Mattheo, we’re done. I’m done. I deserve to be loved too. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to not be someone’s second choice.

I truly do hope you get better, and that you learn that your actions have consequences. I hope you learn to trust people more, and that you’ll learn to love someone properly, because no one deserves to be treated like an option.

Maybe in another life we’ll end up together. But all I know is that in this one, maybe we just weren’t meant to be.

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a/n - you know how that one randomly specific scene pops up in your head but you can't find it bc you're the one who thought of it and now if you want to read it you have to write it? i wrote it. very proud of myself.

[xcaptain-winterx]

Requests are open you say? How about Steve Rogers having a huge crush on the new recruit (reader) and being very awkward in trying to pursue her

Be a man

Steve Rogers x reader

summary: above

warnings: fluff, awkwardness, shy Steve, cum

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.

Part 2

Main Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

Steven Grant Rogers also known as the hero Captain America. Fought against Hydra and their leader Red Skull, his brainwashed best friend, Ultron, his own team and even Thanos. You would think that Americas golden boy is unstoppable, that nothing can stop him.

You’re wrong.

See, Steve has years of experience in fighting due to the fact that he’s over a hundred years old and fought in World War Two. The only thing he doesn’t know about, or to be more specific, doesn’t have any experience with, is the opposite sex. Steve has never been on a date or had a real first kiss. Ok, yeah, he kissed Peggy and Natasha once, but that meant nothing. God, he’s still a virgin.

To sum it up, Steve is an awkward bean around women. He doesn’t always show it obviously, but ask him something not work related with a flirty smile, and he starts to sweats like a polar bear in the desert.

Steve always thought that he was going to be able to talk to ‘the girl’ once he saw her, that he will have no problem to communicate with her.

He thought wrong.

Steve is in the training room, punching the punching bag until it falls off again. He was supposed to be training with Sam, but he hasn’t shown up. So far, Sam always showed up or at least texted him if something came in between and he couldn’t make it. Steve stops hitting the punching bag and goes over to the bench where his phone is laying. He picks it up and swipes it open, seeing that he didn’t receive any text message from Sam.

It’s not normal for Sam to be late, so Steve decides that he’s going to look for Sam. He puts his phone in his pocket and walks out of the gym, in the direction of the living area.

As he walks down the hallway Bucky crosses his path, “Hey pal, have you seen Sam”, Steve asks.

“No, but I can imagine he’s talking to the new recruits, telling them something about teamwork makes the dream work, or some other shit”, Bucky says, mimicking Sam’s voice.

Steve’s brows furrow; what new recruits? Steve heard nothing about new recruits. “I don’t know anything about new recruits?”

“Transferred from a SHIELD base in Germany, I think. Sam will probably force us to introduce us to them”, Bucky says. Steve knows that it’s hard for Bucky to talk or communicate with new and many people at once, but he knows that he’s trying his best. Since he began going to therapy, his old self made more and more of an appearance, and Bucky feels a lot better in general even though it’s hard sometimes. He’s proud of Bucky. He’s trying his best.

“Better we do it now than later. Come on, Buck”, Steve says, patting his shoulder, and pulling him with him.

Bucky lets out a chuckle, “Ok”.

Both super soldiers walk towards the meeting rooms, thinking they might be there when Bucky suddenly stops walking. Steve looks at Bucky, silently questioning why he stopped. Bucky reads Steve’s facial expression before pointing towards the end of the hallway, “found him”.

Steve follows Buckys finger and sees Sam. Sam is not alone, he’s with a woman. A beautiful woman. A goddess.

Bucky sees Steve’s face heating up. “You good, pal?” he asks with a teasing voice. Steve doesn’t answer him, to lost in the woman’s beauty next to Sam. Bucky snaps his fingers in front of Steve’s face, trying to get him back to reality, but it doesn’t work.

Lost in thoughts, or to be more specific the woman, Steve doesn’t see how Sam noticed them too, and is calling them over.

“Steve!”

Steve comes back to reality when Sam calls him for the third time. Bucky laughs at Steve’s confused puppy stare, looking like he just woke up from a coma without any knowledge of what happened before. It gets worse as they see how Sam and the woman are now walking towards them. Bucky feels Steve panicking next to him. “Hey Steve, calm down, ok?” Bucky whispers to him.

“Mhm”, Steve answers, not being able to form any words. Sam and the Woman getting closer and closer to them.

“Remember, we just introduce ourselves” Bucky tries to calm him down, his own anxiety leaving and instead focusing on helping his friend, “You can do this. Just remember to think and talk at the same time, and don’t just stare at her”. If his friend wasn’t looking like a dead fish Bucky would’ve really enjoyed this moment. Him helping his friend talk to a woman like he did back in the 40s, but nothing about Steve’s current problem is funny. Well, maybe the fact that he for real looks like a dead fish.

“Ok” Steve says.

“Ok”

“Ok”

“You can do this, Steve”

“Ok”

And the woman gets closer and closer.

Steve begins to murmur what he wants to say, making Bucky look nervously at him.

The woman and Sam are now almost completely by them as Steve suddenly says, “I need to finish the mission report”, before sprinting the other direction.

“Hey, why did Steve-“ Sam can’t finish because Bucky is already sprinting after Steve, leaving him and the woman utterly confused. “BUCKY!”

Sam puts his hands on his hips, “normally they are not like this, ok? They probably just remembered to take their anti-aging cream”. He turns to you, “Super soldiers, you know”.

You smile as Sam claps your shoulders and says, “how about I show you the training room?”. You nod, letting him lead you to the training room.

Meanwhile, Steve is sprinting towards his room, looking like a gazelle who’s running away from a predator. Steve thought he could talk to her, but no.

Once he reaches his room, he locks the door, and then just stands there, staring at the locked door; what just happened? He begins to hyperventilate like how his pre serum self did when he had an asthma attack. The room feels like it’s shrinking. Steve feels small and scared. Just the sight of the woman made him with a snap of a finger feel like his weak 40s self before the serum. Back when no one liked him.

While Steve is having a panic attack, Bucky is running towards Steve’s room. Bucky started running after him some seconds after he sprinted away, and normally Bucky would’ve caught up to him, but Steve’s panic and the super soldier serum made it a bit difficult. Luckily, Bucky knows Steve like no one else and knows that he’s hiding in his room.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, knocking on the door. “You good, pal? Can I come in?”. He waits, but no answer comes, so he tries opening the door but it’s locked.

Bucky sighs, “Steve, let me in”.

On the other side, Steve is debating if he should let his best friend in. His debating goes too long for Bucky though because the next thing Steve hears is Bucky saying ‘Friday unlock the door’, and the door opens.

Bucky walks in, seeing a teared eyed Steve who’s breathing fast and heavy. Bucky strikes over to him and pulls him slowly down to the floor, sitting face to face with each other. He takes his hand and puts it on his heart, “Steve, hey. Focus on me. Focus on my heartbeat. You feel mine?” Bucky says, putting his other hand on Steve’s heart, feeling how his heart is still beating fast. “Steve, focus on my heartbeat”.

Steve looks at his friend and tries to focus on his heart. He closes his eyes, only trying to listen to Bucky’s heartbeat. “Yeah, I feel it”.

Bucky gives him a smile, “ok, good”.

They sit in silent for a few minutes, Steve’s heart beating now slower and his breaths coming out normally.

Bucky waits until Steve’s heartbeat is fully back to normal before asking “better?”.

Steve nods, “I didn’t think we would have had to use that method on me”, he says chuckling.

This calming method showed Bucky’s therapist, Steve. She told him that it would help Bucky calm down when he’s having a panic attack, and it did in fact help. The night after she explained it to him, Bucky woke up from a nightmare and started to panic. Steve’s room is right next to him, so he heard his friend’s panic. He tried the method that night and it worked perfectly. It took some while until Bucky calmed down, but it was way faster than without the method, and Bucky was able to fall asleep again after.

To other people, this method may look a bit weird, but it calms his best friend down, so who cares? It’s also no surprise that Steve is the only one allowed to do this method. Sam once tried it and Bucky punched him in his face when he put his hand on his chest. Sam left the room angrily and annoyed with a broken bloody nose. Bucky punched him with his metal arm. He thought Sam was in danger that second and in a state of danger he uses his metal arm. Bucky apologized to Sam though, and he truly felt bad and sorry. Sam instantly forgave him though, he knows it wasn’t his intention.

At least not in that situation.

Bucky even ‘baked’ Sam some brownies. Well, more like bought some Brownies and said he baked them. Sam knew he didn’t, but said nothing and just enjoyed eating some good, tasteless brownies with a smile on his face.

“Well, we didn’t think you would ever run away from a girl”.

Steve sighs, “Yeah. Back then, they would run away from me. Now it’s me running away”

“Why did you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know. I got scared I guess?”.

When Steve looks at Bucky again, he comes to face with a blank stare. It kinda reminds him of Bucky’s winter soldier stare. If they weren’t having an emotional and serious conversation, Steve would’ve been actually concerned that something happened that made Bucky go into Winter Soldier mindset.

Bucky scares Steve when he suddenly jumps up, “You know what” he pulls Steve up, almost making him fall over “You will have that girl”.

“Huh?” he asks, confused.

“Or just someone”.

He doesn’t like the thought of Bucky helping him. Bucky was a true player back then, a gentleman, but a player.

“I help you talk to women. I can do that. I did that a hundred years ago” he stops when he realizes “fucking hell, that’s a long time ago”.

Steve scowls, “Language, Buck”.

“Sorry”.

“I get that you’re trying to help me, and I appreciate that” Steve takes a deep breath before continuing, “but I can’t”

“Why?” Bucky asks crossing his arms, standing like an angry parent.

“I just can’t, ok? Also, colleges are not allowed to be in a romantic relationship”.

“Then look for someone else. There’s this woman named Leah. She works at my favorite sushi place and I heard-“

“I don’t want someone else!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. “Ohhhh, so you want her. Ok, Steven. I see you”. He winks at Steve as he groans.

“I didn’t say that. I just-ugh, I like her, but-there’s not gonna be anything between us” he tries to give his best friend a reassuring smile, but knowingly fails. “You can ask Leah out”, Steve tries changing the topic.

“No, she’s not my type”.

Bucky knows that Steve won’t stop having a crush on the new recruit. It took Steve a hundred years to get over Peggy. He was still in love with her even after being unfrozen. Now imagine he’s thinking about the new recruit until he dies. Bucky doesn’t want that. God, he was honestly happy when Peggy passed. That woman was like a snake slithering her way into his friends heart only to poison it. He didn’t like her from the second she interrupted Steve and his conversation. Dumb Bitch.

He wants his friend to be happy. He wants to be an uncle. He hopes Steve will get himself together and talk to her.

“Ok. Whatever you say”, Bucky says, patting him on his shoulder. They continue talking, but this time about what movie they are going to watch for their ‘we need to learn about cinematic history’ movie night. While talking, Bucky’s mind continues to wander back to their original conversation, and about the fact that Steve doesn’t want some dating teaching from him. In all honesty, he’s slightly hurt by that.

He could still help him somehow, though.

It’s been a week now since he saw the new recruit and he’s been trying to avoid any situation that could lead to him seeing her. Steve knows it sounds silly, but he’s scared of her. Scared of seeing her. Scared of her seeing him. He hasn’t been training for a week. Steve knows the chances are high that she will be there. The only sort of trying he did this week was going for a run. Alone.

Sam noticed a change in Steve. Everybody did. Steve was never a huge extrovert and now he’s such an introvert. He doesn’t even eat with them anymore because she could be there, or just walk past them eating.

Today he needs to be brave, though. Bucky asked him to train together because he’s the only good match for him. Bucky told him that winning against Sam slowly starts to get boring, and that Steve needs to train again. Cardio is good, but Steve needs to do more.

After trying to convince Bucky that they can also train outside or anywhere else than the training room, he knew from Bucky’s reaction that it’s not gonna happen. So now he’s on his way to meet Bucky in the training room.

To say Steve is nervous is an understatement, he’s almost shitting his pants.

Bucky assured him they would have the room for themselves and Steve just hopes that that’s true.

Steve walks into the gym and surprisingly sees no one. No Bucky. Steve was already late because he was nervous, so it confuses him why Bucky isn’t here. He looks at the clock on the wall and sees that he’s sixteen minutes late, meaning Bucky is to late too.

“Maybe he’s still asleep”, Steve tells himself. Technically, he would be happy that Bucky is able to sleep, but it’s the first time since a week that he’s training and last time, Sam already didn’t come.

He is just about to go to Bucky’s room when he hears a soft voice.

“Well, it’s only seven in the morning”.

Steve turns around and freezes.

It’s the woman

Oh, no no no no no

“Every normal person would be asleep at this time”.

Steve is unable to speak, he’s just staring at her. Not even blinking, just staring.

She looks at him with a smile, waiting for an answer, or just something.

When Steve realizes that she’s waiting for an answer, he clears his throat. “Yeah, uhm-I uh, I mean he likes to sleep-uh- he can’t sleep that much and-uhm yeah. He normally only uhm-sleeps with me- Wait not like that-uh I mean, he just likes to sleep with me-no. He uhm, he sleeps better with-me-uhm because I’m a good sleep partner- no, I just-uhm. IM NOT GAY”.

Steve looks at her with wide eyes. He knows he just made a fool of himself, so he tries to save himself.

Tries.

“There’s obviously nothing wrong with liking-uhm men, but I’m not like that. Yeah, uhm I hate men- wait not hate men, I like them, but platonic like ha ha. I like woman. But I’m not a relationship-I uhm”, he doesn’t want to look like he is desperate for a relationship. She could think that he’s trying to ‘hit on her’. He believes that what it’s called, but you can never trust Tony. “I’m not into relationship- uhm, the romantic, uh, kind-just the other kind”

Now she looks at him with wide eyes. The only other non-relationship kind she can think of is the sexual one. She can’t believe that Captain Rogers, the golden boy, is such a man. The worst part is that Steve doesn’t understand what he just said and instead looks at her with a nervous smile. Poor boy thought it sounded more like normal relationship, platonic kind. It didn’t, though.

“You do you, I guess” she says, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. She didn’t think her first time meeting Captain America would be like this.

Steve sees that she’s not comfortable or at least confused by what he’s saying. Maybe she doesn’t like his answer.

So he continues to try to fix this conversation.

“I uhm I would like a relationship-with someone-uh I want to-“ he can’t say dancing, that sounds boring. He needs to come up with something that everyone does these days. Something that she would probably like “do Netflix and chill”.

Steve needs to get better at telling when he can trust Tony and when not.

“Oh, uhm” she doesn’t know what to say “that’s nice I guess”.

Right now, Steve would rather fight against HYDRA than talk to her. He can feel how he’s sweating. And if that already isn’t bad enough, he starts to really look at her. Oh boy.

She’s wearing tight black leggings with a matching black sport bra. She must’ve been already training for a while because he sees some drops of sweat on her chest area, running to her cleavage. Steve is directly looking at her cleavage, not taking his eyes off it.

He doesn’t notice that he’s looking at it, well, that he’s so obviously looking at it.

She puts her left hand on her right shoulder, acting like she’s massaging it, and not like she’s trying to cover her chest.

Steve’s eyes move to hers, and it only takes three seconds until realization hits him.

“Shit!” he screams, making her jump “oh, I’m sorry I didn’t want to scare you-I uhm, and I didn’t want to stare at your you know-chest. Not because they are not pretty, they are-NO Uhmmm, they uh. It’s just”.

Steve stops talking when the door opens and Bucky walks in with a smile on his face “Language, Steve. Good morning you two”. At least someone is having one.

“Morning”, she says, smiling at his best friend before walking away to lift some weight. Deep down they are both happy that Bucky saved them from the awkward situation, though, Steve is also sad because he wanted to talk to her, to have a chance, but he failed.

Bucky smiles after her, then turns to Steve. “Hey Steve, how are you?”

“You knew, didn’t you” Steve almost spats, his voice echoing throughout the training room. He turns around and sees how she is looking at them.

He quickly turns back around, facing Bucky, who just gives him an innocent smile. “What do you mean Steve?”. Bucky knows that Steve can’t say anything about that, due to the fact that she can hear everything they are saying.

Steve glares at him, grinding his teeth. “That you would be late”, he lies.

“Yeah”.

Steve wants to scream, but he can’t “why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his veins showing.

“I texted you, Punk”, Bucky says as he walks over to get a punching bag.

Steve frowns; Bucky didn’t text him. He pulls out his phone.

Love❤️‍🔥- I’ll be a bit late

Send one minute ago

Steve cringes as he sees the name Tony and Sam saved Bucky on his phone. He would rather want Punk with that heart. Platonic style. He doesn’t know how to change it, though.

“Didn’t you see my message?” Bucky gives him a fake questioning expression. A teasing one.

“I must have missed it”, Steve says in a monotone voice “I mean it says you send it a minute ago. Bucky”.

“Oh, you know. The signal is quite bad here”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, Bucky. You would’ve thought that Tony would’ve already handled it”.

Bucky snickers “Yeah”.

“Yeah”.

Bucky walks with the bag over his shoulder towards a hook to hang the bag on. He turns to look at Steve, a grin on his face when his eyes move to look behind Steve.

“Hey, how about you help her, Steve~”, Bucky says loudly.

Steve follows his eyes and sees how the recruit is struggling with moving some weights out of her way, so she can put the bench there to do some bench presses.

She looks at them and gives them a shy smile. “That would be kinda nice”.

Steve looks back at Bucky, panic in his eyes. Bucky gives him a big smile that says ‘yes’.

It’s time, it’s time to shine, Steve. He can do that, he can easily lift that.

‘Ok, Steve. Pull your ass cheeks together and help her’ he thinks to himself as he walks towards her. He stops in front of her, getting lost in her eyes for a second. This time he snaps back quickly though and moves the weights away.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers”, she says, his back still towards her.

“Mhm” he can’t bring out a single word. Instead of turning back to her, he sorts the weights, so she doesn’t see him blushing. “You-You’re welcome”.

He hears her getting on the bench and takes that as his cue to leave.

“Hey, Steve!”

Please, don’t Bucky.

“You should help her. Stay behind her to make sure that her arms don’t give in”

Steve doesn’t turn around this time. He can hear how she doesn’t lift any weight, meaning she is looking at them.

“Yeah, I uhm would, but- mission reports. I need to finish the mission report”, Steve lies “important stuff you know. Not like helping her isn’t important, but yeah. Avenger stuff is important….”.

It’s that second that Bucky realizes that Steve is the worst person in admitting his crush he ever met. The best friend he is, he needs to help him. “Oh, I already did them for you”.

Great, now Steve’s lie is a lie. Thank you, Bucky.

“No, I don’t think you did”, he tries to save himself “They were on my desk this morning, unfinished”

Good job, Steve.

“I did them this morning. We were on the same mission, Steve. Only one of us needs to do them” Bucky says, punching the bag “I send you a message”.

“No, you didn’t-“ he looks at his phone to see a message from Bucky.

Love❤️‍🔥-already did the mission report.

Send a minute ago.

Bucky knows Steve like the back of his hand. He knew what excuses he would use to try to flee the scene. A laugh almost leaves his mouth as he sees the face Steve is making. God, he missed teasing him.

“I thought you were asleep”.

“No, I wanted to finish it. You’ve been quite stressed the past week, and I wanted to lift some weight of your shoulders”.

“Thanks, James”.

The tension between them is noticeable. So noticeable that the recruit is more uncomfortable than when she was alone with Steve.

She gets their attention when she walks past them to grab her water bottle. “Have fun training”

“You already leaving?” Steve asks disappointed, sad that she’s leaving.

“Yeah, I’ve already been training before you both came. Also, I need to find Sam. He promised to show me the rest of the compound. I only saw half of the facility so far and don’t want to get lost at some point”, she says. So far she didn’t get lost because the most important areas were already introduced to her, but it’s better to know the whole compound. “Bye” she waves them before opening the door and walking through it.

No one says anything until the door closes. Bucky is the first to break the silence, “wow”.

“I know you did that on purpose!”

“I was trying to make you talk to her” he grabs his shoulder “I just want to help you. She’s a beautiful woman-“

“Hey!”

“See” Bucky says, “you’re jealous when I just say that she’s pretty. You have a crush on that girl, Steve”.

Steve sighs in defeat. “Ok, maybe”.

“I KNEW IT” Bucky screams, jumping like a little kid on Christmas morning “FUCK YES, STEVE”

“Language”

He stops jumping and looks at him. “You will get that girl. I promise” Bucky looks like he’s about to cry “oh my god, you’re all grown up”.

Steve lets out a slight laugh. It’s almost ridiculous how happy Bucky is that there’s a girl that he kinda likes. It reminds him of how they talked about their futures when they were little. They talked about carriers and family, and how they will be called uncle Steve and uncle Bucky by their best friends kids.

“Are you crying?” he asks, seeing Bucky wipe his eye.

“Pfff, no”.

Oh, he’s definitely crying.

“Calm down, Bucky. Just because I like her doesn’t mean that she likes me”.

“Yeah, because you’re just an Avenger, the symbol of America, a super soldier, owner of America’s ass-“

“Ok, I get it”. Steve isn’t dumb, he knows that people know him, that he’s quite famous; god he sounds like Tony. All this doesn’t make him the most liked person in the world, though, and not everyone fall for him. Not just because he has blond hair and some women like dark hair, or he is to old schooled and doesn’t know every new show on Netflix, or women are not into him because they hate male genitals and prefer women’s….parts. The shield only shows what he shows the world and not the people he cares about. He doesn’t show his emotional side with all his flaws.

“You like her, right” Bucky asks, knowing the answer.

“Yes, of course, but-“

“Then you will go to her and tell her that”. Bucky claps his hands. “You will tell her how much you like her. You will take her dancing and to the movies. Understand?”

“Yes, Sargent” Steve smiles.

“I know she’s the one. You will propose to her at sunset and give me some nephews and nieces”. Steve laughs at Bucky’s hyper fixation about his crush. Both of them are acting like two teenage girls.

“A uncle to Steve Jr’s and….uhm…what’s her name again”

“……”

“………..”

“……………”

“………you don’t know her name?”

“no, not really”. Well, that’s awkward.

“Oh my god, Steve”, Bucky is regretting his decision to help his friend “how about we start with you introducing yourself?”

“Bucky, please don’t do anything stupid”, Steve pleads. He doesn’t want Bucky to give him to much pressure. The thought of Bucky trapping them in a closet scares him, or him basically throwing him against her.

Bucky just looks at him confused. “You will do something stupid. I’m here to prevent that from happening”.

“Promise?”

“Promise” Bucky says showing Steve his hands “I swear on Sam’s life”.

Steve smile slowly falls and Bucky corrects himself “ok, I swear on uhm, your life”.

“I guess that’s ok”

Since then Bucky’s been on the mission ‘get a sister-in-law’, with no luck though. He thought being a wingman would be easier, but it’s not. Definitely not. Or he has just a bad person that he needs to help.

So far Steve had like four times eye contact, spoke two sentences in two conversations. The one sentence only being two words.

The best try so far was when Steve was in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, when she came and asked him if he could move a bit so she can get to the fridge, and Steve said ‘yes’. He said something, made eye contact, didn’t walk away and didn’t stutter. He didn’t even sweat! Steve did this on his own without him and for that he needs an applause.

And the worst try was when he was ‘forced’ to train with her.

“You can do this Steve”, Bucky whispers to Steve before giving him a pat on the shoulder and pushing him towards the mat.

Steve still hasn’t introduced himself yet, so Bucky thought it would be a good opportunity to see the skills of the new recruits and to train with them. Surprisingly, Steve is now sparring against his crush, the woman they still don’t know the name of.

Steve walks on the mat, giving a quick look over his shoulder to see Bucky giving him a thumbs up.

He takes a deep breath before saying, “Ok, come at me”.

To say he’s impressed is an understatement. He’s fascinated by her skills, by the way she moves with such grace. Instead of directly coming at him and trying to punch him, she moves around him. She does that the whole time, dodging every single move of him while he tries to land a hit on her, well, more like pinch her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Ever.

At some point Steve finally manages to get a hold of her, but she is quicker and kicks his one leg away and then uses his arms to lift her up and wrap her legs around his neck, bringing him down. Steve is now on the mat with her legs around his neck, her directly hovering over his face. Steve doesn’t know why, but he’s not complaining about this position.

He gets himself back together and uses his legs to his lower back of the mat and makes a roll, so now she’s on the mat, with him in between her legs.

Steve can be lucky that most of the recruits are already doing their own thing because this is not a professional normal work position. Sam, who just walked in, stopped next to Bucky when he sees the scene. He looks at Bucky and sees how he’s directly looking at where Steve’s face is.

“Stop doing your creepy eye thing”, Sam tells him, but Bucky simply ignores him. Sam is about to say something when he hears a loud slam, and sees her on top of Steve, straddling his hips “oh”.

This scene doesn’t last long though because Steve flips them around, now straddling her hips and pinning her arms above her head. She tries to move around under him, successfully. Her back towards and is about to use her knees to make him fall off. Steve thinks quicker though and flips them again. Her back against his chest and his back against the floor. He wraps his legs around each of her legs, making her unable to move them, while he wraps his arms around her neck, taking her in a headlock. She tries to wiggle away, but can’t.

She taps his arm, signaling him that he won. Steve lets her go, softly lifting her arm to help her up, and then getting up after her.

“Everything ok?” he asks, wanting to make sure that he didn’t hurt her in some kind. That would definitely make admitting his feelings harder.

“Yes”, she smiles at him, panting slightly, “thank you, Captain Rogers, for training with me”. The smile she gives him is a true, generous smile. Steve doesn’t see how Sam and Bucky are exchanging scared looks.

“Y-You don’t need to tank me”, Steve says. Now it’s the time to introduce himself; he can do it. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you can call me S-“

He gets pulled away by Bucky, forcefully getting pushed against his chest. Steve looks Bucky confused into his eyes as Bucky pulls him with him behind the corner, out of sight of her, with Sam walking next to them. All the way to behind the corner Bucky keeps Steve against him, while Sam blogs other from seeing Steve’s side.

“What are you doing? I was just about to introduce myself”

Sam looks at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, something else was also about to introduce himself” and points to Steve’s crotch.

Steve looks down and sees what Sam is talking about.

For the first time, the golden boy is having a boner. A huge one. The serum really did make everything bigger.

“Oh, no no no no” Steve goes.

“Hey, it’s ok” Bucky tries calming him down “it’s uhm normal”

“Yeah, you know how many boners I had in my life”, Sam continues.

“See, even Sam thinks so. Did you ever notice how often I had when we were out with some girls, or just when I was thinking about one”, Bucky continues, Sam nodding his head the whole time. Both giving Steve a smirk. “You have them everywhere. In the shower, during work, in bed, I even had them when we had a sleepover”.

“Oh my god” Steve hates talking about that. He doesn’t know what’s worst, talking about women things or about men and their boners. “I had it in front of her, in front of everyone” he cries out.

Sam pats his shoulder. “No one saw it”

“You did!”.

“Because we watched both of you”, Sam assures him. “The others did their own thing, and she looked in your eyes, man. Not what’s below Captain America’s waist”

“Maybe she felt it though”, Bucky says.

“Bucky!”

“Your not helping, man”, Sam shrugs and looks down “ok, maybe she did because you know, it’s not small”

“See, Wilson! You agree”

Steve had never been this embarrassed in his entire life. He covers his erection with his hands, but it only makes it more obvious. He’s trying to cover his boner while his two best friends are talking about his penis size and how often they get a boner. He wants to dig himself a grave.

“Guys!” Steve whisper screams, getting their attention back. “I need to get rid of it”.

“Of your giant boner?”

“Yeas, Sam. What else is there to get rid of?” Steve says. Bucky slaps Sam on the back of his head, with no context at all. “What was that for, Bucky?”

He shrugs “I know you would like to do that, but are too nice to actually do it”. Steve just wanted to have a nice day where he maybe finally managed to speak to the woman of his dreams, but no, everything had to go like shit. “What do I do?”.

Sam and Bucky look at each other before letting out an obvious loud breath of air. They turn to Steve. “Well, you could try to calm down” Sam says, and Bucky continues “or you could, you know, help yourself out”.

“No!” Steve doesn’t even want to imagine helping himself out. The simple thought disgusts him and he feels an incredible feeling of shame.

Steve shakes his head at them. “Tell me something, that helps uhm, the problem”.

“Remember when your mom caught us looking through her drawers and spanked you”.

“….”

“….”

“….”

“Are you getting harder?” Sam asks, looking at his now slightly bigger boner.

“N-no” Steve pushes with all might on his boner to get it down “s-say something else”. He begs his friends for help.

Bucky looks hopeless “I don’t know what to say to get her off of your mind”. Steve wants to say something when Sam holds up his hands.

“Hold up, her off of your mind” he says looking at Steve, “so it wasn’t just because you got a bit close to her”. The smirk on his face is huge, a teasing one.

Steve groans out of frustration and pain.

“You know, I could see you together”, Sam goes, giving him a thump up.

“I know, but he’s too afraid to ask her. He couldn’t even introduce himself”.

“You didn’t introduce yourself to y/n?”

Steve looks at him and repeats her name softly. Y/n. Your name sound like an angel, a page out of the Bible that you worship and say as a pray. He would do that. Say your name like it’s a holy prayer. He wants to say your name again again and again. Whispering your name in your ear as you slowly share a kiss.

“Shit” Bucky says. He thought that Steve’s boner couldn’t get any bigger, but he was wrong. So wrong. It’s now almost twice as big as before. “Sam, why did you say that?!”

“I didn’t know this was going to happen! I just said her name. I didn’t think he would get hard because of a name”.

“Well, he did!”

They hear people coming into the training room. A lot by the sound of their talking. At least fifteen entered the room. Now you add them three, plus y/n and plus the seven recruits that were already in here. That makes twenty-six people. Two, Sam and Bucky, already saw Steve’s boner.

“Guys!” Steve screams “what do I do?!”, hiding more in the corner.

“Obviously getting her out of your head doesn’t work”.

“How about you stay in front of me while I walk out”.

Both shake their head “they would see you though and stare at you. Also, there are too many. You wouldn’t make it out unnoticed”.

“What if I wait until they leave”.

“Steve, they will eventually walk to this corner when they get more weights, and then see you”

Steve looks hopeless. “Bring me some pants that- I don’t know, doesn’t show my you know”.

“Steve…nothing can hide that boner”, Sam says “there is only one option”.

“What?”

“you could…help yourself out, Steve”

“No”

“Steve, please”

“No”

“Pal, listen-“

“No, Bucky. I can’t do that. I can’t just touch my…member…and..bring myself pleasure”, Steve hates talking about it. “How am I even suppose to do it?!”

“You take your dick in your hand and hold it tight, then you start to move your hand up and down. Personally, I would advise you to do it fast but-“

“I meant where!” he covers his ears trying to forget what Bucky just said. Though he learned something new. “I can’t just do it here, it would..spill”

Sam looks around until he sees something that could help “take this to collect your sperms”. He shows Steve an empty probably by someone forgotten water bottle.

“But-“ Steve knows that this is the only way and that he should accept it, but he doesn’t want to “fine”.

“I wait around the corner so no one walks over here, while Bucky makes sure you don’t get a heart attack” Sam says, winking before walking around the corner. Bucky gives Steve a slight smile before turning around. He doesn’t need to see his best friend Masturbate.

Surprisingly, Steve isn’t that loud. Sam only heard him once or twice a bit louder. One time he was screaming Bucky’s name because he turned around for a second.

Sam walks over to them when Bucky gives him a thump up. Steve is sitting on the floor, panting heavenly. Next to him, a completely full to the top water bottle. Or more like cum bottle.

“Congratulations on your first orgasm, Steve”

They are on their way out now, happy that Steve doesn’t have a big gun in his pants anymore.

“Hey, Sam”

Fuck

“Hey, Y/n” Sam smiles, while Steve panics. He’s drenched in sweat and is holding a bottle of his own cum.

You smile at Bucky and Steve too. You look at Steve and see how he looks like he’s in pain and completely drenched. “Are you ok, Captain Rogers?”.

Bucky and Sam quickly cover him up. “Oh yeah, he’s fine, he just-“

“Is hungry!”

“Uhm yeah and you know how you can get sick when you didn’t eat”

“Yeah ya get really sick”

You stare at them for a second, trying to process what they said. “Oh, maybe you should drink your shake then, Captain Rogers”, and point to his ‘shake’, and give him a smile.

“I-“

Bucky stops Steve. “Yeah no, he will just get something from the kitchen, you know?”.

“Bucky’s right, uhm I don’t think that would be such a smart idea to drink the shake. Hah ha” Steve says awkwardly.

Your smile falls. “Oh, yeah sure. I just thought that would help. We don’t want you passing out”.

Was his answer mean, is what Steve thinks. He doesn’t want you to think he just didn’t drink the ‘shake’ because you said that. Steves heart pains as he sees your reaction; you looked so sad. It obviously isn’t that big of a deal. Surely you forget about it later, but what if you don’t? You don’t forget that he didn’t want to drink the ‘shake’. What if you think you’re dumb for asking that? He thinks for a second, a long second, a second that will change everything.

“You’re right”, and opens the cap.

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 2

“A very chocolatey Christmas”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Masterlist

A few months later...

“You know, I was kind of surprised when I got your text.”

“Why?”

“Because I usually am the one who goes visit you in Madrid and not the other way around” my cousin Irene says. 

“Then it was time I came to visit you in Barcelona” I smile.

“Yeah… But why?” she says, giving me a suspicious look.

“Why what?”

“Why have you come to visit me now?”

“I was home alone and bored" I shrug. "My parents are on their annual solo trip before the holidays and Leonor still is at the academy, so I thought… Why don't I go pay my dearest cousin a visit? And I haven't seen Aunt Cristina and your brothers in ages.”

“But we are a few days away from Christmas, and we are spending them all together with grandma. It doesn't make any sense to come now. What are you hiding, Sofía?”

“Me? Nothing”

“Liar.”

“What?”

“You are lying” Irene says. “Who is he?”

“Who is who?”

“The guy you've come to see here in Barcelona.”

“I've come to see you, not a guy” I chuckle.

“You are such a bad liar, Sofía” she laughs. “C'mon, spill the beans. Who is he? When and where did you meet? Is there a Tinder for royals or something?”

“What?”

“I don't know, could be a thing” she shrugs. “Anyway, who is he?”

“He… Ok, fine” I sigh, giving up. Since we were little Irene has always read me like an open book, and it can be so annoying. “There is a guy.”

“I knew it!” she smiles. “Now tell me all the details. When did you meet?”

“This summer.”

“Oh, so this is new! Was it during your holidays in Mallorca?”

“No. It was before that.”

“In Madrid?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of? What do you mean?” she asks with a confused look.

“First Berlin and then Madrid.”

“First Ber… No!” she gasps. “During the Euros?”

“Yep” I nod.

“Is he a football player?”

“Could be.”

“Could be? Oh… my God, Sofía. Oh, my God! The princess is a wag?” she laughs.

“I'm not a wag.”

“But you may end up being one” she smirks.

“Maybe… I don't know. Everything still is too new and we are just getting to know each other.”

“But wait. Wait, wait, wait. If you've come to Barcelona… Does it mean that he plays for Barça? Is he… Oh my God, is he Gavi? Did you steal your sister's crush?” Irene laughs again. “She's gonna be so pissed when she finds out…”

“It's not Gavi.”

“Then… That new guy? Fermín? He's cute.”

“I don't like them blonde, Irene.”

“Then… umm… No! Ferran? He is like the hottest! You are such a lucky bitch!” she says, hitting my arm.

“Ouch, that hurt!” 

“I can't believe you are seeing Ferran. Like… Woah” she chuckles. “And then you go around saying you are invisible to everyone and that no one pays you attention. You are seeing one of the hottest Spanish players!”

“I'm not seeing Ferran either, Irene.”

“You… what? Then who…”

“Pedri.”

“Pedri? The Pedri?”

“Yes, Pedri. Why that face?”

“I don't know, I just… He doesn't seem your type.”

“Doesn't he? Have you looked at him?” I laugh.

“I… Not really, no.”

“Then you can properly look at him tomorrow, because you are coming with me to watch him play” I smile.

“What?”

“I got tickets. Well, Pedri got them for us.”

“So this is why you've come to see me? To have me third wheeling?”

“I've come to visit you and your family, and then to ask you to accompany me to the game. If someone spots me with you it'll be less suspicious than if I am on my own.”

“Aren't you the invisible princess like you say all the time? You don't need me” Irene says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That's what I thought too. But Pedri has shown me that that isn't the case. That to him, I've never been invisible.”

“Did he tell you that?” she chuckles.

“He did, yes. And stop laughing, it was quite romantic.”

“If you say so…”

“It was” I say, now being the one who hits her arm. “So, are you coming to the game with me or not? I haven't gotten to see him play with Barça yet, this is the first time.”

“Really? Haven't you known each other for a few months already?”

“We have, yes. But he's been recovering from his injury and we've only managed to meet in person once since the Euros.”

“Just once?” Irene says.

“Yes, for his birthday.”

“And how did you celebrate?” she asks, moving her eyebrows up and down.

“You are the worst” I reply, rolling my eyes. “But yes.”

“Yes what, dear cousin?” she smirks.

“Yes, we had sex to celebrate his birthday. Now, are you coming to the game with me or not?”

“Don't change the topic of conversation just yet. Was it good?” 

“Irene…” I sigh.

“I know it wasn't your first time, Sofía. But what about him?”

“It wasn't either.”

“Interesting… Very very interesting. If you are so eager to see him again, it's because it was good. Is he an expert on anything in particular?”

“Irene, I'm not going to tell you anything else.”

“But you will in the future.”

“Urgh” I groan.

“May I ask you something else?”

“I'm not going to tell you how big he is, Irene.”

“I wasn't going to ask you that, Sofía” she says, rolling her eyes. “Though now I'm curious… Anyway” she says. “What excuse did you use to come see him that day?”

“I told everyone I was going to visit Leonor at the academy” I shrug.

“Wait, she knows?”

“Yes, she does. And before you ask, she approves, so… Are you coming to the game with me or not?” I ask her again. 

“You know football isn't my thing, Sofía. Footballers, yes. But watching them run around for 90 minutes?”

“C'mon, Irene. Say yes. Carlos will be there too, you can talk to him if you get bored” I smirk. 

“I don't know why that should interest me” she says, trying to look unbothered. She's always had a bit of a crush on him even if she denies it. “But I don't know… What does he think about this? Does he agree?”

“Is that important?”

“Well, yes. He's your bodyguard.”

“He doesn't approve because he doesn't like that Pedri is a football player. But I don't give a shit about his opinion on this. He is no one to tell me who I can or cannot date. So, Irene. Will you come with me? Please” I pout. “Please, please, please. I'll tell Pedri to introduce you to Ferran.”

“Ok, fine. I'll go with you” she sighs.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you” I say, hugging her.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” she says, patting my arm. “But I'm only doing it because you seem to really like this guy and I've never seen you this excited about anyone before. And maybe a bit too because I want to see if Ferran is as hot in person as on tv.”

“Thank you” I smile. 

“Though now you owe me one.”

“And I won't forget about it. Thank you, Irene” I say before hugging her again.

“You're welcome” she replies, hugging me back. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I like your cousin.”

“Even if you only talked to her for five seconds before she only had eyes for Ferran?” I chuckle.

“Even so” Pedri smiles. “But I don't blame her. He is a really handsome guy.”

“And so are you.”

“Thank you” he says, kissing my cheek. “But have you seen his abs? You can grate cheese on them.”

“Meh. I can't eat too much cheese, it doesn't sit well with my stomach. That wouldn't be useful to me.”

“What?” he laughs.

“Yeah” I shrug. “And I've seen your abs, and they are perfect. You have nothing to envy him.”

“I think you are a bit biased here, my lady” he says with a teasing smile.

“Maybe” I reply with a matching one.

“Ehem” someone says behind us as we are about to kiss. Carlos, my bodyguard.

“Sorry” Pedri says as we keep walking.

After the game we decided to visit the Christmas market and maybe grab something to eat before going back home, both of us wearing a hat and a scarf to kind of hide our faces and not get recognized. And so far it has been working and no one has looked at us, though maybe the fact that the market is packed with people is helping us too.

“You seriously chose the coldest day of the year to come visit me, Sofía” Pedri says, the arm he has around my waist hugging me a bit tighter.

“What? This isn't cold, stop complaining” I laugh.

“It is to me, ok? I'm from the Canary Islands in case you've forgotten. I'm not used to it.”

“Then I guess I won't be able to take you skiing with my family. It is a tradition that has been done for generations.”

“I'm not allowed to ski, so” he shrugs. 

“Then you can stay with my grandma in the lodge and play cards with her. She can't ski anymore.” 

“With your grandma… as in the previous queen?”

“The very same” I smile. “Does she also intimidate you like my mum does?” 

“She seems nice. Though I think she can be quite scary when she gets mad.”

“You have no idea” I chuckle. “And she doesn't like the cold either, so now you have two things in common.”

“Which basically makes us bffs. Cool” he says, making us both laugh. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“You have… Pedri…”

“Uh?” . 

“Your face.”

“What about it?” he asks before taking another ship from his hot chocolate.

“Oh my God” I laugh.

“What? What is so funny?” 

“Your face” I say again.

“What is wrong with it? I thought you liked it.”

“And I do. I like it very much. But…” I say before I burst out laughing.

“Sofía, are we sure you are drinking chocolate and that it didn't get swapped for alcohol?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just… Don't move” I say, putting my drink down and holding his face with one hand, using the other to deal with what had made me laugh. “Look. This was on your nose.”

“Is that… chocolate?” he says, looking at my finger. “There was chocolate on my super attractive nose?”

“There was, yes” I chuckle before sucking it. 

“Fuck” Pedri whispers, his eyes fixed on my mouth.

“What? Am I the one covered in chocolate now?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“That was so hot.”

“What?” 

“What you did with your finger, Sofía. That was… wow.”

“Oh… I see” I smirk. “Did it make you think of something we could do?” I say, closing the space between us.

“It made me think of something you could do, my lady.”

“To you?”

“To me” Pedri says. “Let's go back to my place.”

“Already?”

“Yes” he nods.

“But we haven't finished our hot chocolates yet.”

“I am too hot right now to drink that.”

“Well, you are wearing the thickest coat ever, that's normal” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Don't tease me, Sofía.”

“Or what? What will you do if I don't stop teasing you?” I say, brushing my nose against his.

“It's more about what I would not do to you once we are at my place.” 

“Ehem” Carlos says next to us, completely ruining the mood.

“Urgh” I groan, resting my head on Pedri's shoulder. 

“Now going back to my place doesn't sound like such a bad idea, uh?” he chuckles. “C'mon” he says, moving my arms from around his neck. “I'll make you a hot chocolate myself if you are still in the mood for it once we are done with… you know.”

“Do you know how to make hot chocolate?” I ask him, arching an eyebrow.

“It's not that difficult, and I'm a man of many talents, my lady.”

“Are you?” I smirk.

“I am. And we better go, because if we keep insinuating things, Carlos’ face is gonna turn so red his head may explode” he laughs.

“It might, yeah” I chuckle.

“Shall we, my lady?” Pedri says, offering me his arm.

“Sir” I giggle before taking it, Carlos sighing behind us and probably rolling his eyes too.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Your hot chocolate, my lady.”

“Thank you” I smile, taking the mug Pedri is giving me before he gets in bed next to me.

“Be careful, tho. It is…”

“Bloody hell!” 

“Hot” Pedri sighs. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. I think I won't be feeling my tongue for a couple of days, but I'm fine. And I managed to not spill it all over your sheets.”

“You also… umm…”

“What?” 

“You have chocolate on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes. Let me…”

“Fuck” I gasp when his finger suddenly touches me between my boobs and moves up. How had the chocolate ended up there without me not noticing, when it had burnt my tongue? I don't know. But holy shit.

“Done” Pedri smiles after sucking his finger. “Sofía, are you ok?”

“I think you just unlocked a new thing that turns me on.”

“What?” he laughs. 

“The chocolate… the finger… Wait.”

“Sofía, what… What are you doing? You are going to burn yourself again and… Is that a P?”

“A chocolate P, yes.”

“From Pedri?” he chuckles.

“Exactly. Now lick it.”

“What?” he says, his eyes going wide. 

“I want you to lick the chocolate from my chest, Pedri. And if you do it following the shape of the letter, even better. C'mon” I say, laying down. 

“As my lady commands” he says before moving to be on top of me, his elbows resting next to my waist, his eyes focused on mine as he licks the chocolate.

“Bloody hell” I gasp. 

“Those words didn't sound very princess like, my lady. Again” he smirks. “Did you like what I did, tho?”

“Very much.”

“Should we do it again?” 

“Please.”

“Give me the mug” he says, nodding towards the bedside table as he sats up, straddling me. “What should I write now? An S for Sofía?” he says.

“For example.”

“Ok” he says, dipping his finger on the hot chocolate before touching me, the feeling making me gasp again. “Perfect. But I think we could do more. Maybe… a heart?”

“S heart P?” I chuckle. 

“Actually… You've given me an idea. Hold this” Pedri says, giving me the mug. “Try not to let it fall, I'm very fond of these sheets” he smirks.

“I can't promise anything” I smirk back, biting my lip when I feel his tongue on my stomach, trying to focus on the mug in my hand and not on what he is doing to me.

“You taste so good, my lady” he says when he's done.

“Me or the chocolate?”

“I’ve tasted you in other places. It's you” he winks, making me laugh. “Ok, give me the mug back. Time to watch the artist work.”

“The what?” I laugh again.

“I should probably take a photo once I'm done. They could frame it and put it in the Reina Sofía museum.”

“Of course. Let's put a photo of me topless and covered in chocolate in the museum named after my grandmother. I'm sure she would love it. And my mum too. Especially her.”

“Yeah… Umm… Maybe it isn't such a good idea.”

“Still scared of my mum, Pedro?” I ask him with a teasing smile. “I think she liked you when you met her after the Euros.”

“She actually was really nice with me, asking me about the injury and all that. But if she knew the things I've done with her youngest daughter… well. And I have to focus on this, so silence, my lady” he says, dipping his finger on the chocolate again.

“My lips are sealed” I reply. 

Though they don't stay sealed for too long, because the moment his finger starts touching me, I hear myself gasping. First he draws an S over one of my boobs, then a heart between them, and then a P on the other. It is so stupid but so… hot.

“Urgh. Perfect” Pedri says when he's done, sucking his finger and putting the mug done. “Am I allowed to take a photo or will the secret service come after me?” 

“As long as you don't show my face… I don't think they could recognize me because of my boobs.”

“I could” he says, moving from the bed to grab his phone.

“What?” I laugh.

“You have a mole on the left one and another tiny one under the right one” he shrugs.

“Oh my God” I laugh again. “How have you had time to notice all that? We've slept together like twice.”

“Wrong.”

“Uh?”

“We slept together twice on my birthday. Earlier today was the third time. What we are doing will probably lead us to the fourth. And tomorrow I'm not letting you go back to Madrid without doing it one last time, so that would be five. Maybe six. And, like I already told you…” he says, coming back to the bed. “I am a man of many talents, my lady. And the mole on the left is visible when you wear something with a bit of cleavage.”

“Is it?”

“It is. And like I've also told you many times, you've never been invisible to me, Sofía” he smiles.

“Yeah” I reply, feeling my cheeks getting warm. This is what makes me blush. Him being cute, not having him licking chocolate from my stomach.

“Now, stay still. I want this photo to be museum worth it even if it will never be at one” he says, sticking out his tongue as he focuses to take the photo. “Beautiful. I'm such an artist!”

“Of course you are, Pedri” I chuckle. 

“Don't make fun of me, Sofía.”

“Or what?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Or all that chocolate will stay there until tomorrow.”

“As if you weren't looking forward to licking it” I laugh.

“I actually am, yes” he smirks. “So, without further ado…” he says as he goes back to laying on top of me, my body tensing in anticipation. 

“Well?” I ask him when he does nothing, just look at me while resting his chin on my stomach.

“I'm admiring the view” he smiles.

“Admiring the… fuck” I gasp when I finally feel his tongue on my nipple. He had drawn the beginning of the S as close to it as he was able to and… Bloody hell. Again.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I think I've packed it all” I say, looking around Pedri's room. “But urgh, I don't want to leave” I pout, wrapping my arms around his neck. “We aren't seeing each other until next year.”

“Sofía!” he laughs.

“It is a really bad joke, isn't it? Though accurate.”

“And bad" he chuckles. "But think it'll be just a couple of weeks before you come back. And this time for more than just two days and a half.”

“Yeah” I smile. Because with the help of my cousin Irene, we've come up with this excuse about us missing each other so much, that I've decided to spend a month in Barcelona with her and her family since I don't have anything important to do. Perks of being the second in line.

“But before you go…” Pedri says. “I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“For you. Wait here” he says, letting go of me and opening the drawer of one of his bedside tables. “You don't know for how long I've been debating if I should give you this or not since all this between us is still new and you may think it is too soon for gifts. And maybe you won't like it, or think it is a stupid gift, or feel like you now need to give me something in return when there is no need to, or…”

“Pedri. Pedri, hey” I say, taking his free hand and giving it a little squeeze when he walks back to where I am standing, the other holding a small box. “You are rambling.”

“Yes, sorry” he chuckles. “I just… ummm… Merry Christmas, Sofía” he smiles, giving me the box.

“Merry Christmas, Pedri” I smile back, taking it and slowly opening it.

“It's ok if you don't like it, it's something silly. But I saw it while looking for something for my mum and thought it was cute and…”

“Aww, Pedri!” 

“Is that a good aww? Do you… do you like it?”

“I love it!” I say before hugging him. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank God” he sighs, making us both laugh.

“Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course” he says. He has gotten me a necklace with a little banana charm and a letter S hanging next to it, and it is the cutest thing ever. “There. How does it feel?”

“Perfect” I say, touching it. “I love it, Pedri. I seriously do.”

“Don't you find it stupid? When I told Ferran he laughed at me.”

“Ferran knows nothing” I reply, rolling my eyes. “This is perfect. It is you and I, but no one knows. Only us” I smile.

“Only us” Pedri smiles back, neither of us saying anything else for a while. We are just smiling at each other like two idiots. “That must be Carlos” he sighs when someone rings the bell.

“Yeah…”

“Two weeks, Sofía” he says, cupping my face and resting his forehead on mine. “Just two weeks and we will be back together.”

“Two weeks” I reply, focusing really hard on not starting to cry and on not paying too much attention to the way saying goodbye to him is making me feel and at how badly I don't want to do it, all while trying to also ignore the little voice inside my head that keeps saying the same thing over and over again: you are falling in love with him, Sofía.

[rainboneish]

ngl i do kinda love the idea that Geto was kind of the glue that held Gojo and Shoko together in some ways and that’s why she never really managed to connect to Gojo as much after Geto was Gone.

it fits what the japanese VAs have said in the season 2 guide book (from the translations i’ve seen on twt anyway), about how Geto was the first person to really treat Gojo as a normal person and how Gojo used him as a guide for more than just morals

Obviously Gojo and Shoko have their own understanding and bond but Geto being the “translator” between the aspects of Gojo permanently shaped by being the Strongest/the one to kind of remind him how to be human and a person and show consideration for others (which is what most of their interactions in Hi are, from him telling him to ease up on Utahime (even if he is patronizing her) and later Riko, to the scene where he is concerned about him staying awake multiple nights in a row)

yes him reminding gojo to act proper is for politeness sake, which is a facade (a facade Geto is good at, sth shown in his cult leader days too, but still not a genuine character trait, hence why he also kinda fails to live up to it himself) but it is also him trying to meditate between Gojo and others (also partially why he was the one to tell Riko she had a choice, despite it originally being Gojo’s idea (obv Gojo wasn’t available at that point but they could have had that conversation earlier if he had wanted to be the one to have it)

Geto is also kind of shown on screen to be a mediator between Gojo and Nanami&Haibara (and Yuki but she doesn’t really fit in here because their relationship isn’t a personal one)

The first time Nanami and Haibara show up we don’t know for sure who communicated with them but it’s a fair assumption that it was Geto sending the text since Gojo presumably went back to playing around with Riko, Haibara also specifically mentions wanting to impress Geto (whether that’s because they are closer or because Geto is more likely to compliment their efforts is debatable but i think a combination of both is likely)

the only two other moments the both of them have are one on one interactions with Geto, and Gojo is brought up in both of them.

Haibara’s scene, Yuu running into Geto at the school, doesn’t have much to do with Gojo, until Geto brings him up. Haibara could have easily texted Gojo, and while the main thing this scene shows is Gojo’s absence (another reason why Yuu couldn’t ask him in person) and Geto still thinking of him when he is in such a bad headspace, it’s also another instance of Geto bridging the Gap between their schoolmates and Gojo.

Then we see Nanami’s scene with Geto over Haibara’s body, Geto telling Nanami that Gojo will handle the rest of the mission. Nanami responds with the much talked about “can’t he just handle everything” line and Geto is not in a state to respond. But once again Geto is the one having a conversation about Gojo (in Gojo’s stead), being treated as the go-between in Nanami’s venting.

(Even in the 236 airport scene, though i’m not gonna go too deeply into that one cause there are some differences in the translations )

Now, Gojo obviously still has relationships with Nanami and Shoko, as well as Yaga and other sorcerers, in the 11 years between Geto’s defection, but i think Geto’s defection could definitely have been one of the things that kept a distance between them.

Aspect of the Isolation of the Strongest aside (which is obviously the main reason for the distance between them),

their situation reminds me of when you have two close friends (or a couple) that hang out with a friend group in real life, where it’s mostly the more socially adept of the two who is putting in the work to stay in touch with their other friends (talking to the others and being the one who is being talked to on behalf of both of them, or always reaching out to one person cause the group knows the other person is probably with them anyway and will get the message)

so then when the two friends/couple drift apart or the more “connected” person leaves entirely for some reason (moving away, change of university/work), the remaining person often ends up losing contact with the friend group, not because the people involved don’t like each other, but because everyone got so used to the person who left acting as a mediator that they don’t really know/aren’t really used to keeping in touch/actively making plans together directly. Or they make an effort to hang out but end up feeling kind of awkward because everyone is so used to seeing the two people together that they suddenly find themselves unable to connect with the person who “lost” their close friend/partner

[raspberrybesitos]

birthday girl | frankie morales x plus size latina reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: It’s your birthday, and Frankie celebrates his favorite girl.

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all!!!), oral (f receiving), fluff, pet names (princesa, bebita, querida, hermosa, baby, etc), Frankie being in love, slightest hint of insecure reader, reader is female, reader is plus sized, reader is Latina, but no mention of hair type/skin color/height, reader understands Spanish, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at the end.

A/N: it’s my birthday meaning this is completely 100% self-indulgent lol no other reason behind this. i wrote it with me (a plus size latina) in mind, but i hope you can still find relatability in it! y’all know Frankie is one of my favorite P boys, and i’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. shoutout to @mandoisapunk for hyping me up to post this one ilysm <333 anyway, happy frankie friday!! i hope y’all enjoy!! i’m off to pamper myself, then get plastered at the club 🪩💃 this was written very quickly. not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Daylight peeks through the blinds, bleeding through the curtains. A gloomy morning, typical around this time of year. Stirring in the sheets, you feel around for your boyfriend. Instead, you’re met with cold sheets on his unmade side of the bed.

He must’ve been up a while ago.

You swipe your phone from your nightstand, catching a glimpse at the time while unlocking it.

10am. He’s definitely been up for a while.

Frankie is an early riser, waking with the sun. While you prefer to sleep in as much as you can, being a night owl and borderline insomniac.

Rubbing your eyes, you scroll and respond to the birthday texts you received throughout your sleep. A few missed calls, you make note to call them back later.

Sitting up, you stretch and let out a yawn. The urge to crawl back under the covers grows strong as the chilly air hits your skin. Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you hear those unmistakable footsteps.

The door gently swings open, there stands your Frankie - beaming with a tray in hand.

“Happy birthday, hermosa,” he says through his dopey grin as he walks towards the bed, balancing your breakfast. You let out a soft hum, touched by the sweet gesture.

“Babyyy, you didn’t.”

“But I did. And I don’t want to hear any complaints, it’s your day, let me spoil you.”

“But you always sp-,”

“Ah ah! Let me spoil you, bebita. It’s what you deserve. I even made your favorite,” he says, setting the tray down in front of you. A tiny gasp bubbles over your lips.

“Frankieeee,” you whine, bottom lip jutted out as tears well in your eyes.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but not one you make too often with how time consuming it can be. Your favorite childhood breakfast - chorizo con huevo y frijoles and homemade tortillas - one your abuelita would cook on the mornings you went to her house as a little girl.

You’d told him about it one morning when he found you downstairs making tortillas from scratch to go with breakfast. A labor of love from both of you, as you taught him the same way your abuelita had shown you - a way to honor her legacy.

He remembered.

“You remembered,” you whisper, voice wobbly as you’re overwhelmed with the simple, sweet gesture. Glossy eyes meeting his soft gaze.

“Of course, baby. I remember everything you tell me,” he says, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How did you make the tortillas?” you ask.

He chuckles, sitting down beside you.

“I told you, I remember everything you tell me,” he says while fishing out a crumpled up index card and placing it in your hands. It’s got all your abuelita’s instructions, measurements, and ingredients scribbled on it in his chicken scratch.

He’d written everything down.

“Wrote it all down after that morning. It took some trial and error, and they’re nowhere near as perfect as yours and your abuelita’s, but…”

“I- Frankie…” you sigh, tears pricking your eyes as you’re nearly rendered speechless. Cupping his face softly in one hand.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you,” you sniff, a stray tear cascading down your cheek as you smile at him through watery eyes.

He swipes his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your tear.

“Of course, baby.”

You capture his lips in a languid, sweet kiss. Sighing into each other as you wrap a hand around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair. Frankie cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Parting for air, he rests his forehead against yours - toothy grins adorning your faces.

“Come on, princesa. Eat before it gets cold.”

The two of you share breakfast in bed before getting ready for the day.

Frankie spends the rest of the day spoiling you - taking you to a surprise nail appointment he’d booked. He’d headed home unbeknownst to you, setting up something else.

He picked you up, and the two of you landed in Barnes & Noble. Letting you go rampant, Frankie bought every book you wanted. He’d tucked them away safely in his trunk, reminding himself to take them out in the morning. You’d both decided to grab some dinner before heading out to the bars with some friends.

The bars are loud, particularly this karaoke bar. Although he despises karaoke, his love for you trumps his disdain. Seeing you sing your heart out on stage with your friends - the people who always show up for you - makes his heart swell. Your happiness is his.

Frankie nurses a glass of whiskey the entire night, allowing you to have your fun with everyone. He can sense your exhaustion, your telltale yawn is his silent cue that it’s time to call it a night.

Bidding everyone good night, you and Frankie walk hand-in-hand to his truck. Heading home after a day well spent. Giddiness radiating from both of you on the drive home, excited to finally have some privacy.

You two could barely keep your hands off each other the second you stepped out of the truck. Both of you stumble into the house, giggling through the tender kisses. Frankie tosses the truck keys onto the table in the foyer and flicks on the lamp before cupping your face again. Both of you refuse to part for air as he attempts to stealthily guide you into the living room.

Something brushes against your head, making you break away and whip your head around. A soft gasp is punched from your lungs, your eyes glimmering at the sight in front of you.

Balloons hang throughout the living room leading into the kitchen as a bouquet of flowers sits on the coffee table. Frankie grabs your hand, pulling you out of your trance, weaving through the trail of balloons as he leads you into the kitchen. Tears well in your eyes at the gesture. A small cake in your favorite color sits on the table, next to a card and another vase of flowers - tulips specifically, your favorite flowers.

He fishes for a lighter in his pocket, showing you how prepared he was for this moment. Lighting the candles, he pulls you into his embrace, your back flushed against his chest.

“Surprise, princesa,” he whispers. A watery chuckle bubbles from within your chest, sniffling while he softly sings his own rendition of ‘happy birthday’ in your ear as he sways you side to side. The glow from the candles illuminating the blinding smile on your face.

“Make a wish, birthday girl,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss to the shell of your ear.

You close your eyes, wishing for this love, this life with him for eternity. Leaning forward slightly, you blow out the candles before falling back into Frankie’s arms. He gives you a gentle squeeze before turning you around to face him.

Gently kissing you, you yelp in surprise when he swipes frosting on your nose.

“Couldn’t resist, sorry, bebita. Que le muerda,” he says with a wink. Playfully scolding him, you reach behind you to scoop frosting on your fingers and smear it on his cheek.

Frankie smirks, “Oh you think that’s funny?” You nod, snickering as you lick your fingers. He reaches for the cake, gathering more frosting on his fingers. Smearing it all along your lips and chin, you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Normally, you hate the tradition of taking a bite of the cake - it usually leads to having your whole face smashed into it, makeup ruined. But with Frankie, it’s not done with malice, not done to embarass you. It’s playful, fun - like the life you’ve built with each other.

Before you can retaliate, Frankie swoops in and slots your lips together. The sugar from the frosting combined with the glass of whiskey he had at the bar makes for a full-bodied kiss. Giggling like a pair of school kids, you and Frankie clean each other up with some paper towels.

"You missed a spot, bebita," he says, gesturing to the bottom of your lip.

"Oh!" You swipe your lip. "Did I get it?"

He grins. "Almost. Let me help you, hermosa," he says before crashing his lips onto yours.

Shared laughter resumes as he guides you into the living room, never letting your lips part. He accidentally bumps into the coffee table as he moves onto the couch. He smiles into the kiss as you laugh at his clumsiness. He plops down, grabbing your hips and tugging you onto his lap.

His large, rough hands squeezing your plush thighs before giving your ass a firm squeeze. Eliciting a surprised hum from you, you part from him with heavy eyes and a dopey smile. Frankie mirroring your expression.

“You have a good day today, baby?” He asks softly, timidly awaiting your answer.

You fervently nod. “The best. Thank you so much, baby - for this, for everything.” You say, gesturing to his hard work.

“Of course, bebita. Least I could do,” he rasps against your skin, littering kisses along your neck. A content sigh leaves your lips, basking in the love he showers you in daily.

“Baby?”

He hums in response.

“When did you find the time to even do all this?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair as you straddle him, his lips still connected to your throat. He lifts his head, locking eyes with you.

“Did it all this afternoon while you got your nails done. I bought all the balloons and blew ‘em up on my lunch break yesterday and just kept ‘em all at work. The flowers, I went right after I dropped you off at your appointment to get them before I went to pick up the balloons and your cake from my fridge at work. Knew I could surprise you one day,” he explains with a wink.

You feel your heart grow 10 sizes bigger, a swarm of butterflies flutter throughout your tummy.

He’d done all this for you.

Tears sting your eyes again, a soft smile on your face - one only reserved for him.

“Frankie,” you whine in protest, your gaze shifting to the side as guilt floods you.

As if he can read your mind, Frankie grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Uh uh. I don’t want to hear it. I wanted to do this for you. It’s your special day. Now I know this day isn’t the easiest for you, but I want to make it easy. I want to make everyday easy, the same way you make loving easy. You deserve the whole world and more. And I’ll work everyday to give it to you. Let me celebrate my favorite day, my perfect girl. Because on this day those years ago, the world got brighter. And 2 years ago, my world did too.”

Overwhelmed by his devotion, you shamelessly let your tears fall. Love seeping from your eyes and onto your cheeks, Frankie draws you in gently. Kissing you with such tenderness, cradling your face as if you were the most delicate diamond in the universe, your cheeks wetting his. He pulls back, swiping those tears, mirroring each other's small smiles.

“I love you, bebita,” he says, his voice hushed and husky.

“I love you too, Frankie. Thank you for today, for all of this, baby. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had, all thanks to you. You always make me feel so loved, and I hope you know just how much I love you. Eres el amor de mi vida,” you choke out.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything and everything for you, princesa. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I do know how much you love me, you show me everyday, bebita. I’ve got you, baby. Always. Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. Eres mi todo. Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita,” he whispers against your lips.

Melding your lips together, your combined hums ring in the air as you vehemently consume one another.

He shifts his grip to your thighs, tightening his hold on you as he rises to his feet.

“Frankie, stop! I’m too heavy, you’re gonna hurt your back!” You yelp as he carries you up the stairs, the whispers of insecurity creep into your head.

“Hush, bebita. My back is fine. I’ve never thrown it out any of those other times I carried you before, and I’m not about to start now. You’re never too heavy. ‘Sides, how many times have I tossed your sexy ass around in bed? Hm?” He asks as he turns the corner, leading you to your shared room.

He immediately rids your mind of any insecurities as he’s met with your silence. Bashfulness coursing through your veins as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck..

“Exactly. That's what I thought,” he says as he kicks the door open, tossing you onto the bed. You yelp as you bounce in the air, Frankie’s pupils dilate - blown black and wide.

Your head resting on a pillow with dress ridden up your thighs, exposing your panties to him as your breasts nearly spill over the low neckline.

He pulls your shoes off, his following suit as tosses them off to the side. Snaking his hands up your thighs, he grabs the hem of your tights.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he warns before yanking them down, tearing them in the process. It’s unbelievably feral, how swiftly he ripped the tights in two. You gasp as another wave of arousal pools in between your thighs.

He hovers over you, hands trailing up your tummy and cupping your breasts. He captures your lips in his, patience thrown to the wind as his tongue invades your mouth. Sucking in your bottom lip between his teeth, you moan as he bites down. The slight sting only sending more slick to seep from your weeping cunt.

You eagerly fumble with the hem of his shirt as you moan into his mouth. His chest rumbles with a small chuckle, before parting from your lips. He quickly yanks it over his head and tosses it to the floor, refocusing on your lips.

He snakes his hands down to your waist where your dress is bunched up. Slowly raking it up your body, you lift yourself up so he can pull it off you. Frankie licks his lips. He knew you’d been wearing one of his favorite lacy bras, but it’s such a sight for him every time.

Sloppy kisses are exchanged while he slickly maneuvers to unhook your bra, lifting you slightly and discarding it on the floor. He kisses down your bare breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth while he fiddles with his belt. Frankie releases your nipple with a lewd pop and shucks off his jeans and briefs, his hard cock throbbing.

Both of you bared naked, on display for each other.

“So fucking beautiful, baby. The most beautiful woman on Earth,” he rasps, nearly to himself.

Heat radiates throughout your body, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and a fire simmering in your belly as he slides down to position himself in front of your bare sex.

Frankie insatiably licks his lips, feasting his eyes on your glistening folds. As if he’s about to devour the finest meal. He peppers kisses along your soft thighs, making you twitch under his grasp.

Your clit throbs, aching for attention. Whining, your hips buck up into his face as he presses a tender kiss to your mound.

“I got you, bebita,” he whispers against your core. He dives in, tongue licking languid stripes up your folds. Frankie groans at the taste, something he’ll never get enough of.

Flicking your clit combined with the vibrations of his groans draws out a high-pitched moan from you, your head sinking further into the pillow. His tongue prods your entrance, slurping up your slick.

“S-so fucking good, Frankie. A-always so f-fucking good to me,” you keen as the flames in your belly fan into a fully-fledged fire. Panting and whimpering, you squirm beneath his hold as he relentlessly flicks your pearl.

He grips your thighs tighter as he suckles your clit between his lips, humming into you. Stars burst behind your eyes as you're engulfed by your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, Frankie! I’m gonna-,”

You're cut off by a never-ending stream of moans, babbling incoherently about how good Frankie is. Tugging on his hair as you fall over the edge.

He lets out an animalistic groan as he laps at your slick, slurping up every last drop. Savoring the tangy sweetness seeping from your aching cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste. He takes great pleasure in getting you off.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body, glistening in the warm glow of the room. Frankie presses a chaste kiss to your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before towering over you.

Your eyes heavy and glossed over with bliss. Whimpering into him as he presses his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Sweeter than any fucking cake, bebita,” he jokes, getting a giggle out of you. You bring him down to meet your lips again. Humming as you feel his hard length graze against your bare sex.

Precum weeps from his tip, lightly smearing on your mound. A soft moan slips from you as Frankie lines his cock up with your pussy. He swirls the tip around your mound, gathering your slick on his cock as he teasingly prods your entrance.

“Frankieee, please. Need you inside me,” you whine, rutting your hips seeking relief.

“Relax, hermosa. Like I said, I got you.”

He slowly slips inside, your dripping pussy welcoming him in with ease. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. Moaning in tandem as he slides home, bottoming out. He’s so big, he’s already kissing your cervix.

You clench around him, panting as the sting from the stretch of his cock morphs into pleasure. Frankie lets out a moan, huffing as he tries to keep his composure.

“Don’t do that, baby. Or else it’ll be over before it even started,” he grunts above you.

“Then how about you fuck me, Morales? ‘S my birthday, I want you - need you, baby,” you whine.

“Oh I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Gonna have you fucking stumbling all over the place after this,” he slurs, nearly drunk on just being inside your warm walls.

Without preamble, he swiftly draws his hips back before slamming into you. You unabashedly scream, not caring that your neighbors will probably hear you.

Your noises drive Frankie wild, spurring him on to bring you to your orgasm. His pace picks up, unrelenting as he cants his hips into yours - pushing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust as he hovers above you.

His chest brushes against yours as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Feel good, bebita? Huh? Feel me here, in your stomach?” He taunts, pressing down on your stomach as he punches your g-spot. The added pressure makes the coil in your belly tighten, burning white hot as he fucks in and out of you.

“Answer me, baby,” he growls against your lips, the angle he’s at hitting that spot just right.

“Y-Yes, Frankie! Feels s-sooo fucking g-good! Gonna feel you for d-days,” you shriek, hiccupping as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Squeezing around him as your second orgasm rapidly approaches.

“That’s right, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking tight. I could live between these fucking thighs. Like you were made for me,” he babbles, moaning as you clench around him.

“Made for you, Frankie. Only you,” you whisper, the air being punched from your lungs with every thrust.

“Cum for me, bebita. Dámelo, wanna see your gorgeous face when you soak my cock. Come on, baby,” he grunts, holding out on his orgasm - set on making you cum first.

His words toss you over the edge. The coil snapping in your belly as you writhe beneath him, riding out your orgasm, gushing all over his cock.

“Fuck yes, bebita. Good girl, good fucking girl,” Frankie grits as he continues to fuck you through your high. His own orgasm not far behind.

“Cum, Frankie, f-fill me up, baby, please!” You beg breathlessly as you come down from your high.

He moans, chasing his high as he ruts into you. Moaning in tandem as he fills you with his load. Both of you sticky and clammy, covered in sweat and cum. He topples over you, caging you in between his broad biceps.

Small lingering kisses trail along your neck as you bask in each other's proximity and warmth. The post-coital bliss sinking in. You wrap your arms around his taut back, running your fingers through his disheveled curls.

“Love you so much, Frankie," you whisper into his ear.

“Love you so much more, princesa."

Translations:

Que le muerda - bite it

Eres el amor de mi vida - you are the love of my life

Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. - you are my love, my light, my light, my moon and all my stars. You are my everything

Eres mi todo - you are my everything

Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita - I love you so much, with all my heart, baby girl.

Dámelo - give it to me

hehehehe can you tell Frankie is rotting my brain?

this was definitely my most vulnerable piece yet, as it contains aspects authentic to me so i was very nervy to post. like i said, i hope you found some relatability, and enjoyed!

anyway, happy frankie friday!! thank you so much for reading!! 🩷

tag list: @nostalxgic @sweetercalypso @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @tinygarbage @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 10

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language. 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.7k

a/n: clarity by zedd playing softly in the background

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

After your fight with Yuji, things get bad. The next month is a blur. Your mind is clouded, unable to focus on your classes, or anything else for that matter. You feel like you’re watching yourself going through the motions everyday - wake up, go to class, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. As you stare at yourself in the mirror while you brush your teeth, it’s like you’re not even there.

Yuji hasn’t tried texting you, so you don’t even bother going on your phone anymore. You didn’t realize how dark your life becomes without the light of his presence in it. It feels like you’ve lost your ability to feel anything, too burnt out from the anger, confusion, and guilt you’ve been fighting the past few weeks.

Megumi can tell something is off when you sit silently next to him in class, your normal smile now gone without a trace. He wants to ask, but he has a feeling he already knows what’s bothering you, and pressing you on it won’t help. After every lecture you get up with a sigh, muttering a soft, “See you later,” to him, the only words he hears you say anymore.

You become listless. You no longer know how to fill your time, so you start wandering around campus. A part of you hopes that the fresh air will clear the dirt you feel clouding your soul, but it doesn’t seem to help.

During one of these walks, your eyes unfocused as you look down to trace the outline of the bricks lining the path beneath your feet, you suddenly get the wind knocked out of you as you collide directly into someone.

“Sorry,” you mutter without looking up, trying to regain your footing.

“Shit, it’s okay,” you hear the voice of the person you ran into respond. “Oh wait, I know you!”

You sluggishly pull your eyes from your ground to the person standing in front of you. Your eyes meet their face and you recognize the familiar shoulder-length brown hair - Nobara. She stands in front of you in a plain sweatshirt and leggings, almost perfectly mirroring your outfit. You can’t say anything, and you’re not even sure what you would say, so you just stare at her.

Sensing the silence, she takes initiative to continue the conversation. “You’re Yuji’s friend, right?”

His name sends a pang of guilt through your body and your eyes shift down, not sure how to respond anymore. Are you friends? Does he hate you? Does he even want to talk to you anymore? The questions course through your mind, but you’re pulled back by the realization that you should probably respond to her question. You muster an empty nod, your face blank, eyes still on the ground.

“Yeah, I recognize you! He talks about you all the time,” she laughs. “Sorry, I realize it’s kind of weird that I just started talking to you because we’ve never actually met, I just knew your face from all the pictures Yuji has shown me of you guys together. I’m Nobara Kugisaki,” she says, holding her hand out to shake it.

You slowly raise your hand to hers, shaking it loosely, still not making eye contact. As you do, her words replay in your mind. He…talks about you? He shows her pictures of you two together?

She raises one eyebrow at your visibly dejected demeanor, and decides to take matters into her own hands. “Hey, I’m about to go grab a coffee, do you want to come? I’ve honestly been dying to meet you,” she follows.

Scanning her voice, you don’t find any hint of jealousy in it. She actually sounds shockingly genuine. For the first time your eyes move up to meet hers. “Okay,” you say meekly.

“Great!” she cheers, wrapping her arm through yours as she practically drags you down the street.

She brings you to a cafe right off campus that you and Megumi had been to before, one that he personally described as “just alright.” You pick a table as Nobara brings over your coffees, setting a latte down in front of you as she takes a sip of her iced coffee.

“So,” she starts, “what’s going on with you and Yuji?”

Of course. You knew this question was an inevitability. What had he told her about you? Does she know about his feelings for her? Is she asking because she’s jealous, or because she’s confident in her relationship with him? Do they even have a relationship?

“Um, we’re just friends,” you mutter, eyes glued to the table.

“Mm, nope, sorry but I don’t buy it,” she smirks, stirring her coffee in the air.

Shit. Clearly he’s told her about you, and now she’s here because she feels threatened. She must know about his feelings for her, and whatever Megumi thought about her was wrong.

“I-” you start.

“No, see, there’s no way Yuji thinks you’re just friends,” she cuts you off. “He’s, like, in love with you or something. He literally will not shut up about you, to the point that it’s almost annoying.”

Hearing her words your eyes flit up to meet hers, shock evident on your face.

“Wait, did you not know that?” she takes in your surprise. “Oh my god, that little shit!” she exclaims, throwing her head back to laugh. “I’ve been asking him to meet you for forever because I feel like I already know you after everything he’s told me about you. I figured we’d be great friends, but he always made some weird excuse about it. I just thought he was trying to hide you from me, but now I get it - he never told you he had feelings for you!” she thinks aloud, still chuckling.

You just stare blankly at her, mouth agape as you take in the information she’s presenting to you.

“Wait, did something happen between you guys?” she suddenly asks, turning her attention back to your face.

Hesitating for a moment, you sigh, figuring there’s no harm in just being honest with her - clearly she and Yuji are close, so it’ll come out eventually. “Um, yeah…” you trail off. “We got in a fight.”

“I knew it!” she almost yells. “I knew something was up with him. The past few weeks he’s been extra weird, like more weird than normal Yuji. I kept asking him about you and he wouldn’t answer, and it was almost like he flinched whenever your name came up.” She pauses, taking a big swig of her coffee. “What did you guys fight about, anyways?”

Swallowing, you try to mentally weigh your options, deciding to just get it over with. “Well, we were at that party,” you sigh, Nobara nodding intently across from you. “And I…um…I saw him with you. And I just got jealous, and I saw you guys leave together, and-”

“Wow there,” she cuts you off again. “When did you see us ‘leave together?’ Because, no offense here, I would rather rip off my own legs than ‘leave’ with Yuji,” she laughs.

“He had his arm above you, and I turned around and when I looked back, you both were gone,” you explain hesitantly.

Recognition suddenly flashes across her face. “Oh my god, yes I remember that! I was making fun of Yuji because I could see you across the room and I wanted him to go over and talk to you, but he said something about you looking ‘too pretty to bother,’ so I shoved him to try and get him to go say hi. But when I did, he knocked into someone, they got pissed, and they threw their drink over me! Can you believe that? It wasn’t even my fault,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I had to go upstairs to get a change of clothes since Maki was hosting and I knew she’d be cool about it, but Yuji just sat outside the door to make sure no one came in while I was getting dressed.”

“W-what? No, that…that can’t be right” you stutter. Your thoughts cloud again. You try to replay your memories of that night: Yuji next to Nobara, her shoving him, both of them disappearing…the timing would make sense.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” she shrugs, “but you really have no reason to worry about me. I don’t really, how do I say this, go for the Yuji’s of the world, if you catch my drift,” she says with a smirk, taking another sip of her coffee.

“But…the two of you had a date?”

“Date?” she laughs. “He and I hang out for our group project sometimes, which he is totally not pulling his weight in, by the way, but we are definitely not going on dates.”

“But Yuji said…” you trail off.

“Yuji’s an idiot, respectfully. He starts talking before his brain can catch up sometimes. I wouldn’t put too much stock into what he says,” she continues. “All I know is that he’s been acting like an injured puppy for a while, and now I know why. Whatever he said or did, you don’t have to forgive him, but believe me when I say that he and I are nothing more than friends and you have nothing to worry about on that front.” She reaches her hand out across the table. “So, what do you say? Do you think you and I can still be friends?”

You nod, a smile starting to form on your face for the first time in a while as you reach out to shake her hand.

The two of you finish your coffee and you learn that she’s actually so much cooler than you ever could have expected. She’s a business major so she can learn how to run a national all-women tattoo shop, she was a semi-professional kickboxer, and she works as a carpenter on the side for a bit of extra cash. You silently thank the fates that she’s not interested in guys, otherwise you would never be able to compete with her. A few times throughout the conversation with her you find yourself laughing so hard your stomach hurts, a feeling you had all but forgotten.

As the two of you get up to part ways, you thank her for taking the time to talk with you. She punches you gently in the shoulder and tells you to call her any time.

On the walk home, you notice the sky starting to cloud as the wind picks up. The moment you step back into your dorm rain begins to pour against your window, as if the sky is cleansing the earth the same way you cleansed your conscience. The conversation with Nobara leaves you feeling rested and clear. Now, all that’s left is to apologize to Yuji.

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[cobalior]

Winx Club functional books

It's me again ! I know, weird that I'm more active in a week than I was in the last years, but hey I'm feeling productive so why not make some stuff out of it.

I feel like there's not enough activities for your kids in the Sims 4, like we don't really build their personnalities while they're children before turning them into teens and it bothered me. In my mind, it's at that stage that we truly discover how life works, what we like and what we would like to discover and learn throughout the years. It's at that stage that I discovered how much I loved books, and now it's my studying field !

So, in a nostalgic way because this series is one of the firsts I read as a child, and because my child sims need some love too, I made those 6 books for them to read (is there even any books for kids in this game ?)

They work as volume 1 of the logic skills so your sims will also gain some skills while reading (but as they level up, they might get bored)

This set is entirely base game compatible, they don't override any book and you can have as many book as you want in your game !

They can be read by children up to elders

I only did the first season because it took a long time to just make those six (even if the longest was to create the model I used throughout the whole collection) but I plan to make other seasons later (Aisha doesn't appear until the first book of the second season, I might at least make her book and release it before the entire second season is created as they are like 20+ books in that season)

The entire set is written is simlish BUT the books I referenced are written in french, so that's on french that I based the simlish textes + the title and the summary of the set in game are written in french (I'm sorry, I couldn't find the english version, but if you know of any, I will try to add them in the future)

I wanted to make pages for the interior, but the game works in a way that the two that are shown when your sims are reading books are the same, so it would be a bit weird to have two identical detailed pages next to the other. Thus, I took the lyrics from the opening credits in the TV shows (in french again) and copied/pasted them on those pages. Now you have a semi themed read, but not that substantial

TOU : You can recolor, edit and use my custom content as you like, but please don't steal my content, don't reupload and claim as your own or tag me if you made any slight change. I would love to see how you use it in your own game, don't hesitate to share some screenshots with me and I hope you like what I create as much as I love creating it <3

Download

You can find the whole design for the first book here :

Simlish font by @franzillasims once again, thank you so much for those resources <3

[bellewintersroe]

Charles Leclerc x reader smut - part 2

obsessed with this man I s2g, so here’s a part 2, literally just a series full of smut, kinda spontaneous so I don’t even know where this is going, but whatever. Link to Part 1.

Since Charles and Jenny’s encounter, Jenny was left even more frustrated, and with Charles’ orders that she couldn’t cum until he was the one to make her, she struggles even more to cope with the anticipation of having him again. The aftermath of them two is a tense, giggly mess skcieifiekw Charles is really soft hasnt shown his confident side in bed yet and reader can tell.

Smut - 18+ sexting, masturbation, teasing, swearing, dirty talk. Charles is a flustered mess, almost blows it a little too quickly… oral, fingering, p in v sex. Sexual tension? Ahh I want this man so bad.

My half sister was asleep in bed next to me and all I could do was stare at the ceiling of the hotel, waiting, waiting and waiting. Why she was asleep at 8pm I’ll never know, but now I had no way from distracting myself from the real issue on my mind. Charles. After our encounter earlier all I could think about was having him again, I got butterflies whenever I thought about it, and when I replayed his words in my mind they went straight to my core.

‘Don’t touch yourself until I can’.

How on earth was I supposed to wait? My hotel room was free for three whole hours whilst Eva, my sister was with her ‘boyfriend’ that she’d met in Austria. Seeing as she’d been sneaking out and I’d kept her secret, it was her turn to keep mine. I’d kept to Charles’s words all afternoon, waiting rather impatiently, but now it was getting later and later, all I could do was laid with tightly crossed legs and scroll through my phone in a pathetic attempt to distract myself.

Charles had been texting me back and fourth all afternoon, apart from when he was training of course. The more time that passed the hornier I got. So I took myself to the bathroom, deciding to run a second shower. “Fuck this…” I muttered, locking the door and stripping off my clothes. My underwear were already dripping wet, and I sighed, annoyed by my own desperation. I could still imagine vividly the slight stretch of my tight hole around his cock, the way he’d press so hard against me that his balls would push against my ass. Before I knew it my right hand was rubbing over my clit, taking my phone in my other hand and snapping a picture of my bare tits and torso, cutting it off just before he could see where I was touching. Oops

I’d sent to him the message, stepping in the shower with my hair tied up to avoid getting it wet. Maybe it was a good idea to cool off. When my phone buzzed again, I took it with wet hands.

I thought you said you were going to wait

I’m not making myself cum, but I’m just so wet from earlier, I can’t help it

fuck you are making me hard

To this, I sent him another picture of my wet tits pressed together, fingers slightly sprawled over my pierced nipple, awaiting his response as I tightened my legs. I loved the idea of Charles being hard over me, no matter how many times we had these conversations, they never failed to turn me on more than anything. You are so fucking beautiful, I’m going to fuck you so good later

are you touching yourself? Smirking, I pulled out the camera again, leaning against the wall as I sunk down to the floor, spreading my legs and sending him a video of me rubbing my clit slowly. fuck fuck fuck Jenny im leaving in a minute

So hard for you omg

Leaning back I let out a quiet sigh, enjoying the sensation of touching myself, I was throbbing so desperately, closing my eyes and becoming lost in the moment. I imagined his fingers pushed inside of me, fingering me until I squirted down his arm, screaming his name as I tugged on his short hair. The way he’d muffle a moan if his face was pressed up to my pussy, tongue licking up and down as he made me cum all over his face. Fuck, if I continued I wouldn’t stop. I was dangerously close to losing control, so I had to pull my hand away and continue with a second shower, unable to look at Charles’ dirty words until I was done.

I will be back in 10 minutes, I’ll come get you

just as long as you’re quieter than you were earlier 😉

shut up

I giggled, realising I kinda had to rush. I had to go through the full routine again, moisturising, spraying perfume, picking out new underwear. “What’re you doing?” My sister grumbled from behind me, thick in her French accent, as I stuffed my phone into my pocket. I had to leave now. Charles was outside the room. “Uh going out, I’ll be back in the morning, don’t tell dad, cos’ I kept your boyfriend a secret!” I warned as she pfffted out a tired laugh. “Salope.” She joked as I fake gasped. “You are the slut!” I giggled, heading down the corridor, knowing my secret was safe. “Jenna?” She then asked. “C’est Charles?” I cringed at her question. She’d caught on oddly fast. “Non.” I lied, before slipping out of the room and seeing Charles stood there, hood up and a gentle smile covering his face. I immediately smile, being quiet to close the door behind me. “Bonjour.” I teased as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my lips, “hello.” He eyed me up and down, squeezing my shoulder before his arm dropped and he left a lazy hand on my lower back.

“Thats his room… be quiet.” I whispered, as we passed my father and step-mums room with our heads dipped. “Lucky, I am on a different floor.” He shrugged, pressing the elevator button. The whole time we were waiting for the lift I was anxiously awaiting somebody I knew to open their door or come out from down the hallway. When a door did pull open, I was grateful that we’d hopped into the lift for safety. Charles pressed the button number 7 and then I frantically pressed the close button, relieved when we began moving upwards.

He laughed at my frantic behaviour, coming up behind me and making eye contact with me through the mirror in the lift. “You look so good.” He muttered, voice getting lower as he stepped closer towards me, hooking an arm over my chest.

Smiling back up to him, I watched as he dipped his head inhaling the scent of my hair. “You smell good!” His words made me laugh now, feeling him nuzzle his nose into my freshly washed hair. “You weirdo!” I giggled, digging my bum back into his hips as he groaned, moving the hair back with a kiss to my neck. “Mmm, ça m'excite.” He admitted it turned him on as I hummed, running a hand over his clothed arm.

He mimicked my hum, leaving several kisses on my skin as I gasped out a soft sigh, just as the lift doors opened. There was two different couples stood wide eyed, luckily I didn’t recognise either of them as Charles cleared his throat, lowering his head and leading me out of the lift with his hand. Once we’d past them, both of us giggled, sharing a kiss whilst he used his keycard to open the hotel door.

Oh my god, his room was nice, 10x better than mine and Eva’s and I wasn’t surprised. I turned back to him with my jaw dropped. “It’s so nice in here!”

“It is… I gotta shower and I’ll be back with you, put whatever you want on the TV.” He glanced me up and down as I nodded, sitting down on the plush bed and leaning back. “Ugh, so comfy.”

“I know!” He exclaimed, stripping off his hoody and tossing it straight onto my head playfully. His phone was still in the pocket, luckily it didn’t hit my head but it didn’t stop him from rushing over.

“I am sorry! I forgot that was in there! Are you okay?” He laughed, scanning over me as he held my face. “I’m okay, you idiot.” I laughed, playfully tapping his face as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then again to my lips. Charles jumped up quick, almost child like. “Ok, I will go shower now.”

Whilst he was showering, I was struggling to work the TV, everything was in French, or German. I mean we were in Austria, I just struggled to follow the language when it was on the TV. In the end I settled for some French sitcom whilst I awaited Charles to be finished in the shower.

10 minutes later, Charles walked back out in a fresh pair of Calvin Kleins, practically diving on the bed with a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t look at me half naked.” He half joked as I giggled. “What?! I barley even saw you!”

“Good…” he spun around on the bed, resting next to me against the headboard. “What are you watching this for?!” Charles spluttered out a laugh, taking the control that had been resting in my hand. “It’s my favourite TV show.” I sarcastically spoke. “Can’t you tell?” “No, I can’t.” He laughed sheepishly, clearly thinking I was being serious. “I’m being sarcastic, I don’t even know what they’re saying. Their French is too quick. Le mien est lent.” I told him mine was slow, longing out the sentence as Charles scanned over my face. His gaze dropping down to my lips. “You sound good when you speak French.”

“Hm?” The corner of my lip perked, pulling my knees up slightly to bend, but Charles had other ideas. His hand smoothed down my thigh, nudging it back on the bed as I swallowed harshly. “It’s a shame I could not hear you in those videos earlier.” He muttered sending a wave of butterflies through my lower stomach. “I had to be quiet.” “You didn’t cum did you?” He asked, hand pausing as his fingers just about nudged under the hem of my grey jogging shorts. “No, I listened.” I teased, watching a smile grow on his face. “Now I have finally got you alone.” Charles smirked, his fingers continuing their way up to rest on my inner thigh. “About time.” I moaned, watching him sit up slightly so he could nudge his lips against mine to steal a kiss. I could feel his smile against my mouth the whole time, it made it a little hard to kiss, but I didn’t care, his excitement was a compliment to me. Plus, I’d been waiting for this all day. The playful tone in the room soon switched up to something heavier as he lay between my legs, kissing me hungrily with his tongue rolling over mine. There was that thick tension between the two of us again, one that made me pull his hips further into my own. We didn’t have to speak to let one another know how badly we yearned for this. I was wet just from kissing, and Charles didn’t hesitate to slip off my shorts, discarding them next to us on the bed.

“I want to taste you… can I taste you?” He asked, fingers inching closer up my thigh, teasing around the area as I writhed, not being down for this teasing. After months of fantasising about this, and him saying how badly he wanted his mouth on my pussy, my dream was finally coming to life.

“Yeah.” I weakly spoke, hand on his head as he worked his way down my body. Oh god, oh god, I was already breathing heavy, but this was just making my chest heave and fall at a ridiculous pace. “Are you sure?” He breathed, lips pressing a kiss to the lace of my thongs. “Mmh, please.” I moaned as he let out a soft chuckle, fingers nipping under the edge of my skinny underwear. “I like this.” He whispered before sliding them down my legs. I gulped, fidgeting my legs as he nudged them open, leaning in and finally licking a stripe up my pussy. The two of us simultaneously groaned. “Mmm, Charles.” I cooed, as he hummed, licking over me once again. The heat from his tongue, followed by his lips wrapping around my clit sent me onto a whole other planet. “You taste so good, baby.” He uttered, barely breaking away from his movements as he sucked over my clit again. He looked away, shyly, rubbing his hands up and under my tight shirt, squeezing at my tits. “Couldn’t stop staring at these tits.” He admitted as I let out a louder moan, feeling him pinch at the pierced buds. “So sexy.” He commented before licking up and down over my sensitive clit once again. “Charles.” My body jerked, knees trapping his head as he continued his assault on my core. “Oh my god, you feel so god.” I finally spoke, feeling him smile as I whined, grinding my hips against his mouth. “How can I make you cum, baby, with my fingers?” He asked, seeming a little unsure as I nodded with a pleasured sigh. Charles wiped the back of his mouth before kissing me, tracing once finger down my naval, over my slit and easily pushing into my wetness. “Oh, fuck.” I gasped as he hummed, nodding besides me as he kept pushing his finger in and out. “Keep- keep going.” I gasped, hearing the squelching of my wetness against his fingers, my own hand moved down to assist his, rubbing over my clit as Charles kissed at my cheek.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. About you.” Charles admitted as I moaned, dropping my head against his for support. “Keep talking to me.” I whined, desperate to hear more. “About how tight your pussy felt, how badly I wanted to cum in there… can you take two?” He hummed as I moaned out loud, hand grabbing at his prominent bulge, desperate for something to hold onto.

“Yeah.” Charles pushed his second finger into my tightness as my breath hitched, feeling the intensity of his fingers jabbing at my G-spot. “I imagined you cumming all down my fingers.” His accent was doing wonders for me and soon it was my turn to talk back. “Gonna make me cum Charles, fuck, do you want me to?”

“Yes, baby, oui, jouis pour moi.” He instructed me to cum for him, my stomach curling and tightening as I let out a louder gasp, squeezing the head of his cock as he let out an inward groan. “Cum for me and I will fuck you so good.” He told me, “Charles!” I warned, hand moving to snatch at his flexed arm as I choked out several moans. “I-I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” I gasped, feeling the overwhelming pleasure soon rattle through me. I felt myself release from below, squirting on him as I let out a borderline scream, covering my mouth but Charles pulled my hand away. “That’s it, that’s it.” He cooed me through my orgasm as I sobbed out, body writhing and twitching as he milked my orgasm.

“Tu as giclé pour moi. Tu es tellement bon.” He muttered gently, easing his fingers out of me once my body had relaxed. “What? I don’t know what tha’ means.” I panted furiously. “I don’t know it in English, you… you know.” He gestured down to my below. “Squirted?” I awkwardly said as he nodded. “Yes, I lost my English.” “Mmm, it’s okay.” I hushed, pulling him in for a kiss as I swiped my hand down to rub over his cock. “You’re so hard.” I moaned as he let out a breathy sigh against my mouth. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” I urged him on, taking a hold and rubbing more at his cock.

“I need to fuck you.” Charles then spoke, “I need to- putain, c'est trop bon.” He cut himself off with a curse in French, hips jumping when I squeezed his dick. He made out with me for a little longer, breathing heavy as I quickened my pace. “Non, non… I am taking care of you.” He seemed to fight an internal battle, but didn’t push me away. “I like doing this, Charles, making you feel good.” I cooed as he moaned out loud now. “C'est trop rapide. Putain, si tu n'arrêtes pas ça ira trop vite.” (This is too quick. Fuck, if you don’t stop it will happen too quick).

“What will happen too quick?” I bucked my naked hips up at him as he quickly stopped me. “Non, non, non. Give me a minute-“ he exhaled quickly, freezing and stopping my hand from touching him. “Are you okay?”

“You just nearly make me cum too fast.” For some reason, his words spurred me on further, but I knew I couldn’t continue to tease. “It’s okay.” I whispered, turning around and stripping my top off. Charles eyes were constantly on me, and it was within no time that he was pushing me under his body. “You can fuck me exactly how you wanted to now.” I giggled as he bit down on his lips, kicking off his underwear. “You want this?” He asked, pumping at his cock. So fucking hard and long, he was the perfect size. “Yeah… do you?”

“So much.” He cooed, easing himself in once again. I gasped, snatching at his shoulders. This time, the burn was a little harsher than before, but I pushed through it, knowing I was just a little sore from earlier. “Is it ok?” Charles let out a groan, with a noise like that how could I ever stop? “Fuck me.” I begged, moving my hips up until he finally began thrusting in and out of me. “Does that feel okay?” I could tell he was holding himself back, straining as he held himself up to wait for my answer. “It’s good.” I panted with a reassuring smile. “You feel so good.” This made hun smile as he moved forwards to kiss me much deeper now.

“Oh, yeah.” Charles moaned directly into my ear making me sigh out in utter pleasure, feeling his hand holding the back of my head. “Harder.”

“Harder?” He looked back as I nodded. “Please, I need it.” I spoke through almost gritted teeth as he rested his hands either side of me, beginning to fuck into me at a pace that I could barely moan properly at. He was so good, his hips were slapping against my own, the bed beginning to squeak at our antics.

I took his hand, running it over my breasts and throat teasingly. “Oh god.” He closed his eyes, tending his jaw as he thrusted into me harsher. With each intense thrust I yelled out, snatching and scratching at his back as Charles hissed. His cock was filling me up, stretching my pussy out, my legs were wide and he was slotted so perfectly between them. Sinful noises filled the room as we continued with our passionate fucking. I couldn’t stop, neither could he, it was like a desperation as we chased one another’s orgasms. Every time we’d start off sweet and slow it’s like something inside of us clicked and an animalistic side came out. I tugged on Charles’s wrist, pushing his hand onto my neck as he groaned. “You will make me cum, fuck! You will make me come, Jen- jouis avec moi. jouis avec moi, baby!” We were spooning, my leg stretched up as he frantically fucked me like there was no tomorrow.

“Cum together?” I repeated. “Oui!” He gasped out, tightening his grip on my neck as I rolled my eyes back, feeling him rubbing over my clit. The pace was overwhelming, I could no longer hold back the anticipation racking up inside of me. “Okay, cum, cum inside me, fuck, give it to me- Ah, I’m cumming!” My voice raised as Charles gasped out, fucking his seed into me as he came with a satisfied moan, simultaneous to my own. “Fuck, fuck. I just came so hard.” Charles choked out, his tight grip loosening do rub over my skin. I was exhaling loudly, body jolting and jittering from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “So did I.” I sighed, feeling him milking the last of his cum inside of me, body dripping with sweat as he gently rested an arm over me. “Just stay like this.” Charles cooed, pulling me close as I hummed, snuggling into his back. “Are you okay?”

“Tired.” I responded feeling him lifting his head to take a look at me. “Tu as bien fait ma belle.” (You did so good, my beautiful). An undeniable smile grew on my face. “So did you…”

[avatar-anna]

i need more dadrry content with his 6 children 😩

Mom’s Night Out

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

“I can always stay home. Really, it’s no big—”

“You’re going.”

“Are you sure? Because Simone still has to do her reading assignment for school, and the twins sometimes pretend to brush their teeth, and Natalia’s teething—”

“Y/n. I’ve got this.”

Y/n stayed quiet as she fastened her earrings in the bathroom. Harry was sitting on their bed with Natalia while she got dressed, but he was also there to convince her to actually leave.

“You know, your silence gives me all the confidence in the world,” Harry said, slightly joking. He could watch the kids on his own while Y/n went out with some friends for a few hours. Did she think he couldn’t?

“I know. I’m sorry. I have total faith in you, baby,” she said, stepping out from behind the bathroom door. “Okay. How do I look? Is it too much?’

Harry’s tongue went dry before he could respond.

Y/n had always been the most stunning person he knew, but seeing her all dressed up...

“Wow, Mama,” he breathed. “You look incredible.”

He never needed reminders that his wife was beautiful. Even when he worked with actresses and models or did PR stunts, his heart was always with Y/n; there was truly no one else who could even come close to her. But even so, he suddenly felt lucky that she was his.

“You think? I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up.”

If Harry hadn’t been holding an infant, he would’ve shown her just how nice he thought she looked, but he settled for taking her hand and kissing it. “I don’t think, I know. I’m slightly worried about all the attention you’re gonna get now. No one knows you’re a married woman.”

Y/n blushed, but didn’t reply. Instead she took her youngest daughter into her arms and kissed her little cheeks.

By the time it was officially time for Y/n to leave, Harry had to practically force her out the door. She kept finding excuses to prolong her departure —laundry that needed to be switched out, putting Geneva down for a nap, helping the twins with a Lego set—until Harry finally ordered an Uber and told her to stop fussing and have a good time.

“Be good to Daddy, okay?” were her final words before she closed the door and Harry was alone with six children.

Harry knew this day was coming, had been preparing the last couple days. He bought games, ice cream, picked out movies to watch with the kids. It was going to be a fun night.

And then Simone said she was going to watch YouTube upstairs, Collette followed, and the twins went back to their Lego set, leaving Harry alone with the babies. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a little hurt because he was, but perhaps he should’ve expected everyone to go to their separate corners.

“Guess it’s just us, huh?” he said to Geneva and Natalia, who were both sitting in their high chairs.

“Baby Shark?” GiGi asked in her adorable little toddler voice.

“You got it, peanut.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Harry was expecting a more eventful night, but it was relatively quiet. GiGi, Natalia, and the twins went to bed early, and Simone and Collette were still playing together in their room the last time he checked on them. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, Harry thought, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Wife💕: How’s it going?

Harry smiled down at the text and typed his own reply. Taking a picture of him in bed with a book.

Harry: House hasn’t burned down yet!

He watched as the three little text bubbles appeared on his phone, wondering what she was up to. Harry wished he was with her so they could have a little date, but he knew how much Y/n needed this, even if she didn’t say it. She was always home or working, always driving the kids from place to place. She deserved a night off.

Wife💕: I’ll be home soon. Give my little munchkins a kiss for me

Harry: What about me?

Wife💕: You’ll get your kiss later

Harry couldn’t complain about that, could he?

He read a little more soon after their conversation ended, but before long, he heard a cry from the baby monitor. Not surprised that Natalia woke up, Harry got out of bed to put his daughter back to sleep.

When he made it to the nursery, she was wriggling in her crib, eyes scrunched up as she cried. Harry tried rocking the crib for a few minutes before picking her up, hoping that Natalia would fall back asleep without any trouble, but she kept on crying.

“Daddy’s here,” he cooed, reaching down into the crib to pick her up. “Did you have a bad dream, darling?”

Harry continued mumbling words and holding her to his chest until she calmed down. Which was not easy. He changed her diaper, wrapped her up nice and tight the way his mum taught him when Simone was born, he tried to sing her to sleep and feed her a bottle, but nothing seemed to work.

He finally left the nursery, deciding to walk around the house until Natalia fell asleep. By a stroke of luck, she seemed to like the sound of the laundry tumbling in the machine, and she finally stopped crying. It was a while before she fell asleep, but Harry felt just a bit more sane than before.

His shirt was wet with tears and snot by the time Natalia was back in her crib, and his own eyes were feeling heavy. He sat down on the rocking chair, his head falling heavily to the side when he heard yelling coming in the hallway. Simone and Collette.

“Give it back!”

“It’s my turn to pick!”

“Your videos are dumb!”

“You’re dumb!”

“Dad, Simone is being mean!”

“Don’t be a tattle tale!”

It was hard to keep up with his oldest daughters. One moment they were inseparable and the next they were at each other’s throats. Harry knew siblings had their little squabbles here and there, but Simone and Collette really got into it when the mood struck, though Y/n assured him that was common among sisters. Either way, it often gave him whiplash.

Their argument woke up Natalia, who immediately started crying again, and Harry almost felt like crying himself. But then he thought of Y/n and how this would be a minor issue for her, and he told himself to buck up.

Taking Natalia out of her crib once again, he went out to see what the problem was between his oldest girls.

“Alright, what’s all this?” he said, making sure his voice carried over theirs.

Simone and Collette immediately launched into their sides of the story at the same time, but Harry was used to getting the gist by now. Something about not sharing the iPad, ripping it out of the other’s hand, and name calling. When they finished, Harry didn’t really know what to say. He was tired, Natalia was still crying her little lungs off in his ear, and his first solution was to throw the iPad into the ocean.

But he took a deep breath and spoke to each of his daughters individually. “Simone, you know the rules. You share the iPad, and you especially don’t call your sister names.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Harry said, then turned to Collette. “And you. You know better than to rip things out of people’s hands.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

“I—It’s okay,” he said gently, pulling Collette in for a hug.

Then, out of nowhere, Simone began to cry as well. Harry’s eyes widened, not expecting more tears. He was still holding Natalia, but he managed to wrap an arm around both Simone and Collette, who seemed to cry harder when her older sister came closer.

“What in the world...” he muttered to himself. Three out of his six children were all crying, seemingly out of nowhere, and Harry was absolutely baffled. He hated hearing his kids cry. Was he too hard on them?

But then, in the midst of all the crying and noses rubbing into his shirt, Harry noticed something. It was almost as if Simone and Collette were trying to outdo the other. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.

And then, through a sniffle, Simone said, “Are we still in trouble?”

What? Harry couldn‘t believe it. He thought he was being a stern parent, and he was being played like a fiddle. The minute he saw his girls in tears he turned to mush. How many times had this happened before?

“Yes,” Harry said, trying not to let Collette’s sniffles break him. “No more iPad tonight or tomorrow. Both of you.”

The sniffling stopped as Collette looked up. “Why?”

Her eyes were wide and lined with tears, her bottom lip jutted out just so, but Harry held strong. “Because you weren’t nice to your sister, and she wasn’t nice to you, and now you have a consequence.”

“But Daddy—”

“No but Daddy. You can have it back the day after tomorrow. Now apologize to each other.”

They both mumbled something under their breath that perhaps resembled an apology, but that wasn’t good enough for Harry. Honestly, he was still a little miffed that Simone and Collette played him.

“Like you mean it,” he said, then nodded when he was satisfied. “Good. And because you two woke her up, you’re gonna help me put Natalia to sleep.”

Simone slumped her shoulders, but followed Harry back to her bedroom while Collette took his hand. Right, he thought. One crisis down, one more to go.

“Play with her while I grab something,” he told Simone, jogging back to his room for pillows, extra blankets, and Natalia’s swing. When he returned, Natalia wasn’t crying, but she was wide awake while her sisters played peekaboo. “Okay, we’re gonna hang in your room for a bit,” he said, switching on the colorful lamp that casted soft light on the walls and ceiling. “Help me lay these down.”

They all got comfortable—Simone at the bay window where Harry had made a little alcove for the girls a couple months back, Collette in her teddy bear bean bag chair, and Harry on the floor with Natalia.

“What now?” Collette asked.

“Now,” Harry said, playing some soft music from his phone. “I’m going to read.”

To his surprise, Harry didn’t receive any protest from the girls. After putting Natalia in the swing, he took a book at random from the bookshelf, opened it, and began to read.

He made sure to use different voices and push Natalia’s swing while he read. Eventually Collette moved onto her bed, and from the few times he looked up, Simone’s eyes were getting heavier. Natalia took a bit longer, but she eventually closed her eyes, and Harry was suddenly the only one awake, though not by much.

He was debating whether to leave Natalia in the swing a little longer or move her back to the nursery when the door opened.

“Hey, little man,” Harry said, opening his arms up for Julian to walk into. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I had a bad dream,” he said, his hand immediately reaching for Harry’s hair.

“I’m sorry, bubba. Do you want me to sit with you? Make sure the bad dreams stay away?”

“Wanna sleep in your room. I want Mommy.”

“Me too,” Harry sighed. “She’ll be back soon. Don’t you think she’ll be so proud if she sees you sleeping in your big boy bed?”

Jules shook his head, his mind clearly made up.

“Okay, I tried. I have to take Natalia back to her crib first. Is that okay?”

Harry first picked up Simone and put her back on her own bed. He kissed her forehead and then Collette’s, then took Natalia out of her swing. She moved around a little, but didn’t wake up, which Harry thanked his lucky stars for. Julian followed him into the nursery and quietly waited for Harry. When they finally made it to Harry’s room, someone was already there.

“You too?” he asked quietly, Maeve already fast asleep in the middle of the bed. Looking down at Julian, he said, “Where are Mum and I supposed to sleep?”

Julian merely held his arms up towards Harry, and Harry responded accordingly by picking him up and climbing into bed.

When Y/n entered the bedroom, Harry was doing everything he could to stay awake. She was only gone a couple hours, but he was exhausted.

“Got a full house tonight,” she mused, eyeing the twins sleeping soundly in her bed.

Harry stood up and followed her to the bathroom so they could talk while she got ready for bed. She told him about her night out with her friends and where they ended up going to dinner. She’d had a lot of fun, but she missed her babies.

“How was everything here?”

For a moment, Harry considered telling her that everything was smooth sailing the whole time, but he shrugged. “Natalia had a tough time falling asleep, and you know the girls. Had to take the iPad away.”

“Really? Wow,” she said, sounding surprised. But not that he had to, Harry realized, but that he did so at all.

“I can be stern when I have to be,” he said, defending himself.

Y/n smiled and wrapped her hands around her husband’s neck. “Baby, I love you, but you’re as soft as a marshmallow when it comes to the girls.”

“That is not—” he stopped himself to lower his voice. “That is not true.”

“I bet they cried to get you to cave,” she said, a knowing glint in her eye.

Harry just pouted. “I hate when you’re right.”

Y/n leaned up and kissed him, her hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love it.”

They kept kissing, Harry suddenly no longer tired. He pushed Y/n up onto the bathroom counter, his lips trailing down her neck and along her jaw. He began to kiss down her chest, pulling the top of her dress down when he heard a small voice from the other side of the bathroom’s door.

“Daddy?”

Both of them sighed, and Harry helped Y/n down from the counter. They straightened each other out before opening the door to see Maeve, hair a tangly mess and stuffed animal dangling from her hand.

“Mommy! You’re home!”

“Mommy’s home?”

Julian was suddenly off the bed and launching himself at Y/n, who was quick to catch him. She gave Harry a look, and he understood it perfectly. He leaned over, Maeve in his own arms and kissed his wife’s forehead.

Next time.

[contraryclock]

Limbus rambling Don Quixote edition number #2 the second

SO!!! that new canto huh Part 1 is out, im avoiding leaks to the best of my ability, and i am CAUGHT UP! still havent read La Mancha or Don Quixote though but i dont think that matters right now OBVIOUS disclaimer about my lack of knowledge with the source material once again point is i have a crackpot theory that just might not be that uncommon or unlikely? idk we'll see

Also sorry for no ALT text, this uses a lot of images and my fingers are very cold

spoilers under the cut obviously, catch up before you click and otherwise beware

oh yeah baby welcome to the cool people zone im going to be using a mixture of my own screenshots and the Limbus Main Story Library for this, so buckle up

I propose that there are in fact, two Don Quixote's! Our Don, the sinner of limbus company! and a much older, original Don Quixote, the possible Founder / Lord of La Manchaland!

To start, almost all of this theory is based on those flashback bits we get with the colored text, and is running under the assumption that the Yellow text is, reasonably, supposed to be our Don.

... which brings up the question of why they are acting so uncharacteristically in what is supposedly their own story.

Now, onto those flashbacks!

First up we have the instance at 7-9.

This one doesnt tell us much but it gives us some initial context.

The grey text is clearly Vergillius, you can just tell that from the delivery. The blue text is an unknown femenine voice, The yellow text feels somewhat familiar to that deeper voice that Don quixote will have on occasion. Ironically its more clear in her scream there at the end. ... and then we have the masculine voice in the red text.

But we'll get to that later! our next instance is in 7-13, on the inside of the Shooting Rage attraction. (( although i personally think it says Shooting Bagel. ))

okok but actually heres the text

Only the red voice this time, clearly the same person given the delivery too and with the added context of this node and the last one, it can be assumed that this is either the person who dreampt up La Manchaland, or straight up founded it.

And thanks to the Barber's Narration, we can also come to assume that this voice is also a Fixer, if these things are to be true.

Next, in 7-16, is NOT a flashback, but rather the reaction of The Barber.

The Barber recognizes the name to some degree, "THAT name" feels incredibly deliberate. But she is otherwise completely indifferent to Don.

and now we get to talk about this blue fuck

Sanson, Knight of the white Moon, Knight of Mirrors, ect ect, the BASTARD quick unrelated tangent but i think its cool that they made the arguable* main antagonist of Don Quixote possibly also be apart of Demian's Cool Blue Crew™ (( DCBC )) (( i say this because he shares his dialogue background with the other members of the blue crew we've met )) anyways basically the ENTIRE SEQUENCE he causes is the main reasoning behind my theory here *arguable ok again i havent read the book so i have no idea if this is an accurate assessment of his character i saw an article say that he was "arguably" the antagonist once and i haven't talked to anyone who has actually read the book to yap at about before i make these posts. addendum over

The fact of the matter is, Don Quixote does a right shit job of recounting her own story. She gets lines wrong, minor details, and this becomes readily apparent as soon as she implies that her own fucking shoes are who she was talking to, and that they are given proper reply. (( My thoughts are that instead of Rocinante, the role is in fact Sancho, but we have no evidence of that being the case ))

We also get the most telling flashback lines in this segment!

...The voice we've come to associate with Don Quixote is shown to NOT say her own line, but rather that of the line in red. And in both of these incidents, ellipsis are used to blank out a word, my bets are all on that word being "Knight" baybee

THATS A WRAP FOLKS we've established all the evidence for my epic theory that uhhh the Red voice in don's flashbacks are an Older, Original Don Quixote and that its possible that our Don is a 2'st Don instead of a real Don

As for why this is happening??? I have no fuckin idea its the first part of the canto i just wanted to get my thoughts out

i hope this wasnt too incomprehensible! as is usual dont follow me ect ect and reply or something if you have anything to add, as said im not very knowledgeable on the source material. or do that thing where you reblog with an additional comment because i will reblog that. free reblog ok goodbye now i will be stabbed to death momentarily

[faenos]

MEANT TO BE

a Joseph Descamps fanfiction

DISCLAIMER: This story is a fanfiction inspired by the series 'Mixte 1963. The characters, locations, and situations have been modified or expanded, but the original work belongs to its creators. I do not own any rights to the original work, and this piece is written purely for entertainment purposes and without any intent for profit.

This is not your typical 'Joseph Descamps x Reader' story simply because I don’t like writing with 'Y/N'; I prefer to give the protagonist a proper name.

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical errors or typos. I usually help myself using google translate, so iykyk.

Chapter 1 — Game of Superiority

Summary: Ophelia Montgomery is having a typical summer in Bloomsbury. She went out with her little brother for a summer walk, but as usual, he always manages to get into trouble. He plays soccer with some boys much older than him in the park, and she ends up defending him from a boy with a French accent and a cocky attitude who hurt him by hitting him straight in the face. A few days later, Ophelia receives some unpleasant news from her father.

Word Count: 5,294 words.

Warnings: Minor injury, Joseph being a pain in the ass, some sad thoughts.

📍Bloomsbury Square Garden, London. July 17th, 1963

The birds chirped among themselves, weaving light and unfamiliar melodies, as if lost in a secret symphony. Ophelia Montgomery, lost in thought, walked with a light step, absorbed in reading one of her usual novels pilfered from her mother’s private library. Beside her, her younger brother Oliver looked around with curious eyes. He had already spotted the birds responsible for the singing, perched on one of the sturdiest branches of the tree they had just passed. Now his gaze was captivated by a red butterfly that gracefully made two complete circles around his sister. Ophelia, however, was too engrossed in the adventures of the protagonist in her book to notice the butterfly’s delicate dance or its striking red color.

It had become a habit for Ophelia to take Oliver along on her walks, both out of routine and because it was her only way to escape, at least for a while, the confines of their home. Her mother, after all, would never allow her to go out alone, despite her having turned fifteen.

Still, Ophelia found comfort and joy in his company. Oliver — or Olly, as she had lovingly started calling him from the moment she first held him in her arms — was a child blessed with natural sweetness and an insatiable curiosity, which brightened every moment they spent together. His liveliness, often accompanied by an almost contagious enthusiasm, turned Ophelia's walks into unique occasions, full of laughter and unexpected discoveries. What might have seemed like a simple stroll to her became enriched with a new dimension thanks to him, filled with innocent questions, sharp observations, and small adventures that might have gone unnoticed had she been alone. Olly wasn’t just a walking companion but a bond that, with his effortless lightheartedness, reminded her of the importance of finding beauty in the simplest things.

Oliver, in fact, stood out for his innate talent for observing the world around him and his deep passion for nature. From an early age, he had shown an unquenchable curiosity about the animal kingdom, spending hours immersed in illustrated books and specialized texts that delved into the wonders of creation. His enthusiasm was contagious, and not a day went by without him sharing with anyone willing to listen—especially his sister—the fascinating facts and insights he had learned.

Every conversation with him turned into a small biology lesson, enriched by the liveliness and wonder that only a child could convey. He could recount, in incredible detail, the habits of a rare tropical bird or the life cycle of a butterfly, as if he had witnessed them firsthand. His dedication didn’t stop at theory: he often lost himself in explorations of the backyard or nearby parks, searching for traces, feathers, or insects to study and collect. This passion not only fueled his curious spirit but also enriched Ophelia’s daily life, as she ended up learning, almost without realizing it, many of the marvels Oliver eagerly shared with her.

Ophelia, on the other hand, embodied the essence of the classic "bookworm." However, it wasn’t just a scholarly attitude of always having her nose buried in books; her passion for reading had deep roots, cultivated since childhood thanks to her mother’s influence. Her mother, a university professor of classical literature, had not only passed down the fascination for literary works but had also instilled in her a love for the beauty of words and the power of stories.

Ophelia's mother was a cultured woman, driven by an inexhaustible passion for literature, to the point where books became a central element of family life. Even the names of her children, Ophelia and Oliver, were carefully chosen, inspired by characters from some of her favorite books. Whenever someone asked about the origin of those names, she would recount their stories with a touch of pride, revealing a part of her literary soul.

Ophelia had inherited not only a love for reading but also the habit of retreating into the pages of a book whenever she felt the need to escape reality. For her, books were more than mere objects: they were portals to distant worlds, fascinating ideas, and characters she somehow felt were old friends. If Oliver found his refuge in nature, Ophelia sought hers among the written lines, in the web of words that offered her both comfort and inspiration.

She struggled to admit it, but on that hot July 17th, Ophelia keenly felt the absence of her best friend and inseparable classmate, Lottie. The latter, however, was far away, visiting her maternal grandparents in Italy and wouldn’t return until the start of the new school year. The thought of an entire summer slipping by without her weighed on Ophelia more than she wanted to acknowledge.

Ophelia walked absentmindedly, clutching her book in her hands, while little Oliver told her something clever about the colors of butterflies. His words, however, faded into the void, drowned out by the murmur of the girl’s thoughts. She kept rereading the same lines of the novel, almost obsessively, in an attempt to dispel that gnawing feeling of emptiness.

With Lottie by her side, she thought, those long summer days would have felt completely different. There would have been no room for boredom or the silent melancholy that crept into her moments of solitude. Lottie wasn’t just a friend; she was a refuge, a lively and comforting presence that made every moment lighter and more memorable. Without her, summer seemed to drag on slowly, devoid of the carefree episodes and laughter she cherished so much.

"Did you hear me?" Oliver asked, tugging at her arm to get her attention. Pulled out of her thoughts, Ophelia finally looked up and closed her book, carefully placing the bookmark between its pages.

"No, sorry," she replied, shaking her head slightly to dispel her distraction. "I was lost in thought."

Her brother’s face lit up with an amused smile.

"Yeah, I noticed!" he said with a laugh, turning to face away from the path and beginning to walk backward with a mischievous air.

"Stop it," she scolded, her tone blending slight exasperation with concern. She hated it when Oliver amused himself by walking backward—a risky habit that often ended in inevitable falls. "You’ll hurt yourself, I keep telling you."

"Are you even listening to me?" he insisted, raising his voice in a faintly whining tone, waving his arms dramatically to emphasize his frustration. She looked at him with a questioning expression, not understanding where he was going with this. Oliver, exasperated, rolled his eyes theatrically.

"Can I go play with them?" he finally asked, pointing toward a group of boys engaged in a lively soccer game on an improvised field nearby. In the tall grass, the players moved with a mix of enthusiasm and strategy, alternating between goals and minor fouls no one seemed eager to contest. Ophelia watched the scene for a moment and then firmly shook her head.

"Not a chance." she replied in a decisive tone that left no room for negotiation.

"Oh, come on!" Oliver protested, grabbing her arm again and tugging harder this time. He bounced impatiently, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a nearly comical dance. The gesture brought a smile to Ophelia’s face, but she still shook her head.

"They’re much older than you." she explained, her tone patient and affectionate, almost maternal.

"But you’re older than me too!" he countered with the kind of childish logic that seemed irrefutable to him.

Ophelia laughed, shaking her head once more. "They play in a way that’s not for you."

"Oh! Please!" the little boy pleaded, tugging at her arm with more force, his tone growing more desperate. It was impossible to ignore the determination in his gaze, not to mention the sweet puppy-dog eyes he used whenever he wanted something. Finally, Ophelia gave in. She chuckled softly, resigning herself to the inevitable, and sighed.

"Fine!" she said with a nod, finally granting him permission. She immediately felt her arm released from his strong grip.

"But we’re going home in half an hour! And don’t you dare sweat too much, or Mom will start asking questions and I don’t want any problems!"

"I promise, I swear!" Oliver shouted enthusiastically while darting off toward the group of boys, who were erupting in cheers for a goal just scored by the team on the right.

Ophelia sighed, sat down on a nearby bench, and reopened her book, ready to keep an eye on her brother while trying to immerse herself in reading once again. However, the smile lingering on her lips betrayed the joy she felt at seeing Oliver so happy, even if just for one afternoon.

Oliver, meanwhile, slowed his pace as he reached one of the boys. This boy wore glasses, with a tuft of hair slightly plastered to his forehead with sweat. The older boy’s smile faded slightly as he stared at Oliver, casting him a questioning look.

"Are you lost, kid?" he asked, maintaining a mocking smirk. Oliver didn’t let himself be intimidated; in fact, he responded with a confident grin. The boy’s strange accent made him giggle—it was unusual, and Oliver thought he had never heard one like it before.

"Not at all," he replied, rocking back on his heels with a carefree air. "Can I play with you?"

The older boy, someone who enjoyed stirring up trouble and taking pleasure in making others uncomfortable, smirked even wider. His mind was already racing through the possible ways this little kid could entertain him. Not only would he get a chance to test him, but he could also have fun at his expense, along with his friends. He turned toward the others, who were already starting to grin at the idea.

"He’s asking if he can join us," the boy said, not even waiting for a response from the others. Catching the amused grins of his friends, he turned back to Oliver, slipping a hand into his pocket.

"Alright, shorty." he replied, and Oliver’s face lit up with visible excitement. "Let’s see what you can do." With that, the boy walked off toward his team, which was currently celebrating another goal.

"You’re with them," he added, pointing to the other team, who were outnumbered. "They're less than us."

Oliver nodded eagerly and ran toward the boys. He carefully watched where he was stepping, unaware that one of the players of his team had just mouthed the words, "Are you serious?" to the boy with the glasses.

He got into position and started playing with them.

From her bench, Ophelia watched Oliver’s clumsy efforts to chase the ball with an amused smile. The way he ran, full of energy and determination, reminded her of a tiny warrior fighting an invisible battle. But as always, the ball seemed to evade him with every move.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze back to her book, Pride and Prejudice, which she had borrowed from her mother’s library. The elegant prose of Jane Austen flowed across the pages, carrying her into the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, who were just beginning to grapple with their misunderstandings and cold impressions of one another.

The summer heat and the distant noise of the game made it hard to concentrate entirely, but Ophelia’s fingers turned the pages naturally, as if reading were an essential part of her being. She felt a kinship with Elizabeth—more for her courage in facing pride and prejudice than for the story itself. Elizabeth’s fiery, challenging words seemed to resonate within her, inspiring Ophelia to see the world with a sharper, yet kinder, perspective.

Sometimes, she glanced at Oliver, still doggedly chasing the elusive ball, but she never truly lost her place in the story. Even the boys’ chatter failed to fully distract her.

Meanwhile, on the makeshift field, one of the older boys grinned slyly, his intentions clear. Holding the ball in one hand, he prepared to throw it. His aim was deliberate. In one swift motion, he launched the ball with considerable force, targeting Oliver’s forehead directly.

The hit landed with a dull thud. The ball smacked Oliver straight on his face, making him stumble backward in shock. Caught off guard and unsteady, he toppled onto the grass with a soft thump, his small frame hitting the ground awkwardly.

The older boy laughed mockingly as Oliver lay on the ground, rubbing his forehead in a daze. He hadn’t anticipated such a blow. Gathering himself, Oliver sat up, his confusion mingling with embarrassment.

The boy with glasses sauntered over, leaning down with a smug smirk.

"Did that hurt, kid?" he asked in a taunting tone, feigning indifference as his amusement shone through.

Oliver scrambled to his feet quickly, trying to mask the wave of humiliation washing over him. His flushed cheeks betrayed him, though. He brushed his hand over his aching forehead, determined not to show weakness.

"It’s nothing!" he replied, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to sound braver than he felt.

The older boy turned to his friends, muttering with a satisfied grin, "Look at him. The little guy just got wrecked." Then, looking back at Oliver, he raised his hands in mock innocence.

"Hey, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to. But, you know, maybe you should watch where you’re going next time."

Laughter erupted from the other boys, their jeers cutting through the air as Oliver, his face still red and his heart pounding, tried desperately to ignore them. He clenched his fists and swallowed hard, determined not to appear too vulnerable.

Ophelia, who had heard the dull thud and the laughter of the other boys, lifted her gaze from the book. The moment she spotted her brother lying on the ground, his face twisted in pain, she sprang to her feet. With speed and determination, she ran to him, gently cradling his head in a touch that contrasted with the irritation burning inside her. Concern for her little brother was immediate, but the thought that another boy had caused this stirred an instinctive reaction within her.

"A truly admirable gesture," she said firmly, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she stared at the boy who was still laughing with his friends, as though Oliver’s pain were a joke worth bragging about. "You must feel like a real man now."

The boy looked at her, slightly taken aback by her intervention but showing no real emotion. He flicked his hair away from his forehead with a deliberate motion, clearly unused to being challenged in public. Her audacity amused him. Tilting his head to the side, he looked at her with a disdainful expression that radiated arrogance.

"Have you lost something, mademoiselle?" he asked, his tone heavy with deliberate slowness and contempt. "Or is meddling in other people’s business just a hobby of yours?"

Ophelia, if possible, doubled down. Her hands landed on her hips with determination, her posture exuding pride and fierce protectiveness for her brother. And that French accent only made her feel nauseous at that moment.

"It’s not a hobby—he's my brother," she retorted sharply. "And if you think bullying a little kid is fun, then you’re even more pathetic than you look."

The boy’s smirk stretched into an even more derisive grin. He adjusted his glasses casually, as if her sharp comment was just another minor episode in his daily showcase of superiority.

"Pathetic? Interesting. Maybe where you come from, yelling insults at strangers is the norm."

"Only when I meet people who deserve them," Ophelia shot back, folding her arms in a gesture of clear defiance. "And you’re definitely at the top of the list."

The boy paused briefly, as if weighing the force of her response, then broke into a dismissive, irreverent laugh, as if he found the entire situation absurd.

"If you’re done playing the heroine, you can go back to your brother," he said, his tone indifferent, barely masking a hint of scorn. "And maybe tell him not to get involved in grown-up games again."

Ophelia shook her head, visibly exasperated. "Grown-up? Where are they?" she quipped, her voice sharp with fiery irony. "All I see here are a bunch of idiots." With a decisive motion, she turned to Oliver, who clung nervously at her side. The smile that had lit up his face earlier was now completely gone, replaced by an expression of embarrassment and sadness.

"Come on, Olly, let's go home." she said, trying to bolster her brother but also eager to walk away from the scene that disgusted her.

As they walked away, the sound of the boy’s laughter still reached her ears. Ophelia felt an overwhelming urge to turn back, but she kept her gaze fixed ahead. Meanwhile, the boy watched them leave with amused interest, continuing to laugh with his friends, though a flicker of curiosity about Ophelia’s boldness glimmered in his eyes. Ophelia, however, didn’t falter and kept walking, angry and proud, despite the furious pounding of her heart at the intolerable sense of helplessness.

"I told you," she said after a while, her tone laced with mild regret but free of reproach. Her little brother walked beside her, his head hung low and silent as a fish. Ophelia sighed as she looked at him—she wasn’t truly angry. She knew Oliver wasn’t at fault. He had simply stumbled into the cruelty of someone who enjoyed causing trouble. Yet she couldn’t suppress her irritation toward that boy with his smug smirk and arrogant demeanor. How dare he pick on someone so much smaller than himself? The thought kept buzzing in her mind, fueling a simmering anger she tried not to let out on Oliver.

Oliver, meanwhile, walked in silence. His eyes no longer wandered in search of butterflies, snails, or ants on tree trunks as they usually did. All he saw now were the pebbles on the path, which he kicked absentmindedly, one after another. Ophelia immediately noticed the change—her little brother’s lively smile had vanished, swallowed by a shadow of mortification.

"Hey," she called softly, stopping and crouching down to his height. She gently placed her hands on his arms, her gesture radiating warmth and reassurance. When she spoke, her voice was a tender whisper filled with affection.

"It wasn’t your fault, Olly. Sometimes these things just happen."

Carefully, Ophelia brushed his hair aside to examine the spot where the ball had hit him. There was only a red mark for now, but soon a bump would appear. She touched it lightly, taking care not to cause him more pain.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head decisively but then, in a hesitant whisper, admitted, "A little."

Ophelia stood up and took his hand.

"Come." she said with a gentle smile, leading him toward the ice cream truck parked nearby. She pulled out some coins from her purse, preferring to use her own savings instead of her mother’s money, so she could replace them if asked. After choosing Oliver’s favorite flavor, she led him to a quieter bench, away from the field and the boy who had upset her so much.

Sitting beside her, Oliver nibbled at his ice cream with a now relaxed expression. After a few moments of silence, his voice rang out, "Sis?"

Ophelia turned to him, surprised by his suddenly tender tone.

"I love you." Oliver said, his smile timid but sincere.

Ophelia couldn’t help but laugh softly. "I love you more." she replied, leaning down to plant a light kiss on his head, carefully avoiding the bump.

Then she straightened up and added with a note of irony, "But now we need to figure out how to explain that bump to mom."

Oliver looked at her with a mischievous expression, the ice cream now reduced to a blue stain on his tongue. "I could say you did it!" he suggested, leaning forward with a playful tongue out.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, pretending to be stern. "Don’t you dare, little rascal!" she replied, shaking her head, but with a smile that betrayed her deep affection.

As her little brother laughed, Ophelia threw one last glance toward the field, where the French boy was still chatting with his friends. His arrogant laugh echoed in her ears, sharp and annoying.

She turned back to Oliver, who had resumed watching a group of pigeons pecking hungrily around, searching for crumbs. The scene brought a faint smile to Ophelia’s face as she let out an amused thought while pondering the most plausible excuse to make up.

"We could tell them you were looking for snails or ants under a tree, and distracted, you hit your forehead against a low branch?" she suggested with a slightly ironic tone, pointing to an overhanging branch nearby. Her voice was firm, but she had deliberately chosen a simple yet believable alternative, aware that a more elaborate explanation would raise suspicions.

Oliver, finally diverting his gaze from the pigeons, lifted his eyes to her and nodded, though fear still showed on his face. "Do you think she’ll get angry?" he murmured uncertainly, almost hoping his sister could ease that worry.

Ophelia leaned slightly toward him, her smile gentle and reassuring. "No, she won’t." she replied sweetly, stroking his cheek to comfort him. The gesture managed to bring out a faint smile from him, which was enough for Ophelia to feel relieved.

Though she knew the bump would still attract her mother’s attention, Ophelia was determined to protect her brother from any feelings of guilt. She sensed how fragile Oliver was in that moment, and her goal was clear: to make him believe that no matter what had happened, he would always find unconditional support in her.

—

In the following days, the small red mark on Oliver's forehead swelled, turning into a visible bump. However, their mother accepted the explanation about the tree branch without suspicion, believing it to be true. Oliver received a light scolding for his distraction, while Ophelia had to endure a long lecture on the need to watch over her brother more carefully and stop losing herself in her thoughts.

Despite a thread of frustration at the unfair scolding, Ophelia took care of Oliver with affection in those days. She spent a lot of time with him in his room, organizing games and telling him stories to make him forget the incident. Meanwhile, her mind slowly drifted further from the French-accented boy, relegating him to a vague and annoying memory.

Between a card game and a drawing session with her brother, she even found time to finish the book she had started at the park, finding in the final chapters a pleasant escape from the worries of those days.

The warm light from the chandelier illuminated the sturdy wooden table, where the dishes were arranged with almost meticulous order. The Montgomery family dining room, with its walls covered in bookshelves full of well-organized volumes and a window overlooking the flowered garden, had an intimate, family atmosphere. Ophelia, sitting across from her mother, had her face partially hidden behind the glass of sparkling water she was drinking, trying to mask her discomfort with a barely perceptible sigh. Oliver, beside her, was laughing as he recounted his misadventures with his friends, but his enthusiasm felt distant, like Ophelia wasn’t fully present.

The conversation flowed without much substance between the family members until it was her father who interrupted the delicate flow of words. Edward Montgomery set his fork on the plate and, with an elegant gesture, turned to his wife, Catherine.

"Catherine, dear," he said in a calm, almost solemn tone, "I received confirmation from our colleague in Paris: the restoration of the Royal Abbey of Saint-Jean-d’Angély has officially begun. The project will span a long period, and our role is crucial. As the lead architect, I’ve been offered the chance to temporarily move to France to supervise the work."

Ophelia finally looked up, captivated by the revelation. She hadn’t expected something so significant, let alone that it would affect her own life.

Edward continued, his voice calm and measured, but with a subtle note of determination. "We’ve discussed it at length, and after considering the opportunities, we’ve decided it would be best for us to move for a year, if not longer. It will be a unique opportunity, not just for me but for the whole family. The French culture, history, architecture... it will be an experience we can’t afford to ignore."

A cold silence fell over the table. Ophelia felt her heart race. She had no intention of leaving London, her city, her life as it was, her friends, her routine. She bit her lower lip, trying to keep calm. Her mother’s voice finally interrupted her thoughts.

"Edward, do you really think this is the right time?" Catherine asked, though her tone held a certain approval beneath the veil of concern. "Ophelia has just started her fifth year, the most important one before the final exams to access higher education, and Oliver is in the middle of primary school. Moving might disrupt everything. London is their home, it’s our home."

Edward looked at his wife with a barely perceptible smile, as if his proposal were already an unchangeable truth. "I know, Kate, but we can’t ignore the magnitude of this opportunity. In Saint-Jean-d'Angély, Ophelia will have the chance to face a different reality, to grow in an environment that stimulates her curiosity. Also, the project will require my commitment for an indefinite period. We can’t let an opportunity like this slip away."

Ophelia, hearing her father’s words, suddenly felt overwhelmed. Her fingers, still holding the glass, trembled imperceptibly. She couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving her London, of moving to a foreign country where everything would be different. Her life would change in an instant, without asking for her opinion.

With a smile that masked her frustration, Ophelia spoke, her voice barely audible but firm: "When will we move?"

Edward looked at her, but the answer seemed to come with the same naturalness with which he had announced his project. "In September, darling. Soon, so. There’s not much time."

Ophelia felt as if a huge weight had been placed on her shoulders. She looked at Oliver, who didn’t even seem to notice the gravity of the situation, too absorbed in his games and childish ideas.

"I don’t think I like the idea." Ophelia murmured, not hiding her displeasure.

Edward looked at her with an enigmatic smile, as if he had predicted her reaction. "I understand it’s not easy, but I assure you it will be a change that brings benefits for all of us. It will be an opportunity. Once you settle in, you’ll see."

Ophelia didn’t respond immediately. She looked around, observing the house she loved, the garden she knew like the back of her hand, and suddenly everything seemed distant, out of reach. A year in France, far from everything she knew. It was an idea she couldn’t process.

At that moment, her mother, who had not participated in the conversation assertively, spoke with a voice that, while trying to sound understanding, had an undertone of determination: "Ophelia, I’m sure you’ll find a way to adapt. This will be a challenge, but also an opportunity for growth."

Ophelia felt suddenly overwhelmed by loneliness, as if that proposal, that already decided future, was a step she had to take with no possibility of changing direction.

"And then," her mother continued, giving her a smile full of solidarity. "You’ll finally benefit from your French studies."

The rest of the dinner passed in a heavy silence. Her father’s words echoed in Ophelia’s mind, blending with her fears and uncertainties. On that warm summer evening, her life was already taking a turn she had never imagined.

Ophelia tossed and turned in bed, unable to find a position that would bring her comfort. The soft light from the bedside lamp cast gentle shadows on the walls of her room, a sanctuary she would soon leave forever. The thought clenched her heart, a knot of conflicting emotions that seemed impossible to untangle.

Before retreating to her room, she had stopped in Oliver’s bedroom. She found him already under the covers, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm that knew no hesitation. Talking about the move, her little brother had eagerly imagined a school full of adventures and new friends, as if the change was a promise of a whole new world to explore.

"Do you think there will be kids in France who will play soccer with me?" he had asked, his eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

Ophelia smiled at him, an almost instinctive gesture, trying to hide the weight on her chest. "I’m sure you’ll find them," she replied as she tucked him in. Oliver was her opposite at that moment: where she saw uncertainties, he saw possibilities.

Later, her mother came into her room to say goodnight. Catherine, with her affectionate yet resolute smile, spoke to her about the beauty of living an experience in another country, the richness she would find in meeting new schoolmates and growing in a different environment. Her words, though full of good intentions, seemed to Ophelia like a mosaic of unreachable hopes.

And yet, what really weighed on her heart was the thought of Lottie. Her best friend, with whom she had shared every secret, every dream, and every laugh, would be left behind, anchored to the life Ophelia would leave. She knew that letters and phone calls wouldn’t be enough to bridge the gap of distance. With Lottie, there were no filters, no need for explanations: a glance was enough to understand each other, a laugh to get through tough moments. Leaving her meant leaving a part of herself, a bond she feared she would never rebuild with anyone else.

Lying in the dark, Ophelia felt trapped between the duty to appear mature and the desire to scream her discontent. Her mind kept returning to her father’s words: "A unique opportunity." But an opportunity for whom? For him, surely. For Oliver, perhaps. But what about her? Where did she fit in this grand plan?

She realized that her heart was torn between the desire to please her family and the instinct to stay anchored to her life. It was as if London was a part of her, a place that had shaped her, that knew every thought and dream of hers. Leaving it meant leaving behind a part of her identity.

She pulled the covers up to her chest, holding them tightly as a solitary tear slid down her cheek. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that everything would turn out fine, the truth was she was scared. Scared of what she would find, but even more so of what she would lose.

The silence of the night deepened, and Ophelia closed her eyes, seeking refuge in the memories of days spent with Lottie, of Oliver’s laughter, of the quiet moments in the house that would soon no longer be hers. Before falling asleep, she made a silent promise to herself: no matter how difficult it might be, she would not allow this change to break who she was. London would always remain inside her, and whatever awaited her in France, she would find a way to stay true to herself.

CHAPTER TWO: Long time, no see

Author's Notes:

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS DONE. Hope you enjoyed it!

This is an introductory chapter where the characters are introduced, but it lays the foundation for the story to come.

For those wondering, JOSEPH X OLIVER will get their redemption! Maybe... later on.

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and repost if you’d like!

faenos ©

[atarathegreat]

Hi can I get a Bakugo x reader

(Honestly I have this Oc and I kinda based it of her but I wanna switch it more of a reader type thing)

What if reader has a electrokinesis power where they can confuse ppls energy to shoot out lightning but what if something happened to them causing them to leave UA leaving bakugo (her lover) confused on why they disappeared (yk breaking up) but years later they see each other again reader doesn’t really wanna talk to ppl even tho they used to be talkative

You can end it with fluff if you want (sorry if it’s to much😭)

UA second year. You weren't sure you were prepared for it. Sure, you survived the first year and all the trials it brought for you. But doing it all again?

You walked beside your mother into the school, not for classes or for meeting teachers. No. You were dropping out.

During your first year, you learned to grip your powers while also fighting for your life. Forcing the aura of another, or even your own aura, to morph and become an energy you could tangibly use took a heavy toll on your psych. It was a slow progression into mental instability. Your quirk was just too... much.

None of your friends received warning of the major decision you had made, aside from a vague message to the group chat and a private DM to your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend- Bakugo.

Bakugo tried to get ahold of you after the strange text. He wanted to know what the hell you were going on about, but you were completely ghosting everyone. Had you decided to join that idiot Deku and his group? No, because you hadn't even shown up to class. Aizawa didn't even seem concerned with your absence. Aizawa knew something was going on, he knew what was happening, but he refused to share the information with anyone who asked.

For the first few weeks, everyone was busy trying to contact you and trying to figure out what your texts meant, then they started reminiscing like you were dead.

Mina's favorite story was about the time you had glared at a man in public for calling your outfit cringe until you managed to spark him with a pinch of his own dark aura. Or the one Kaminari loved to partially tell: the time you got so angry at a group of jerks that you screamed until bolts of electricity shot out of your pores to tase all of them. Bakugo was getting sick and tired of hearing these stories about you. He missed you like hell and hearing about you was only hurting him.

Hearing about how you were so perfect with your quirk or about the time you absolutely obliterated a group of heroes who tried to test your metal.

"Shut up!" Bakugo screamed, throwing the controller of the gaming system to the floor. Everyone stopped to stare at him, shocked by his outburst. "I am so sick and tired of hearing about everything she was fucking perfect at! We get it!"

Even with all his yelling, he wasn't mad or anything. He understood their want to keep you with them in UA despite the fact that you left them. Aizawa silently ushered the boy back towards his dorm, giving the vaguest explanation to your disappearance.

He went through the rest of UA with the same bitter attitude, refusing to take part in any conversation that had to do with you. Even when he started his own agency and worked alongside Kaminari and, to his surprise, Momo, Bakugo would not speak about you. The man didn't know how to feel about it, being a grown adult and still yearning for his high school girlfriend, or at least that love he felt for her.

It's not until he's on patrol that he catches sight of you. You hardly changed. Older, yes, but still the same. Same hair, same face, same walk.

"Y/n." He doesn't hesitate to grasp your elbow, not thinking about how you may have moved on, gotten a new partner. He doesn't care. "Why'd you leave? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Still not beating around the bush, huh?" You chuckled awkwardly at his stern expression. Of course he would want to know. You dipped out without a word to anyone as to why. "Don't piss around with me, woman. Explain yourself." Bakugo backed you into a corner, not really caring that people were taking pictures of him. To those extras, he probably looked like a hero cornering an innocent woman, but to him, he was keeping your face from the photos. Obviously, you wanted privacy, right? That had to be a part of why you left UA. It only made sense.

"I couldn't take it... my quirk..." You mumbled, "It posed too much stress on me mentally... I had to leave for my health..." How long had you waited to be honest with Bakugo? How long had you waited to see his handsome face and apologize for leaving without footsteps? Too long.

Bakugo squished you more into the corner, keeping you out of view of lenses as people shouted at him for him to leave you alone.

"I've got you... you'll stay hidden..." Bakugo sighed, "You should've said something, jackass... we all would've understood."

[wolfdykeviolet]

Ever since she found this strange book, she has been so intrigued with the secrets contained within it. So many interesting rituals and spells recorded inside.

It's all bogus, naturally. But it's pretty bogus, written in gorgeous fonts and with - honestly? - pretty hot drawings sketched in.

But there's one spell there that she has not been able to get out of her mind... The Body Takeover.

For the past week and a half it's been weighing on her mind constantly. Like she's drawn to it, her mind keeps wandering to that page in the book.

Fuck it. It's bogus anyway, but might as well try, right?

But who to try on, she wonders. She would need a hair of her "hopefully willing subject", as the book so optimistically puts it, so there's only a couple of options really. Definitely not mom and dad, that's for sure. It's gotta be either her girlfriend - no, can't do that, she's too busy and is barely coming over anymore - well it's got to be her then.

When nightfall arrives, she waltzes over to their shared bathroom, scans for her little sister's hairbrush, and plucks a few strands out from it. "This is so awkward" she thinks. But, well, it's bogus, right?

She retreats back to her room and gets to work. She prepares everything as it's shown in the book, she lights the candle in the middle of everything else, and chants the words inscribed on the page. Once she's done, she takes the strands of hair and lays them down in the flame.

That nasty smell of burning hair immediately hits her nose, it causes her to tear up and blink a few times. Once, twice, three blinks, and her room goes dark when she opens her eyes again.

She's in bed now? So was this just a dream? She exclaims "huh?" then her eyes grow wide when the voice coming out of her is not her own, but her little sister's sweet voice. This is her sister's room.

It worked?! She frantically looks around the room, barely lit by the moon peeking through the blinds. By her side, on the bed, lies a book. Is that...? It must be her journal. She shouldn't, she knows she shouldn't, but, she literally is her little sister right now, so why shouldn't she?

She gets up and takes the diary over to the desk, flicking on a little light, and skips to the most recent page. She's in disbelief at what she sees.

"I don't know what to think anymore. She's been looking at me all day again. But even more than she had been the last two weeks. I feel so seen by her. Does she know? Has she figured out my massive crush? Does she think I'm a disgusting freak and now she's always judging me? Not a minute goes by anymore where she isn't on my mind. I touched myself again to the thought of her last night but the thoughts are getting worse, I wish she would just barge in and kiss me and take me and not give a shit about what I think and- fuck, get it together! Of course she wouldn't. I'm the worst. But she still treats me the same as always, so at least she hasn't let on that she thinks I'm such a fuckup. I love you sis..."

The rest of the page is filled with tiny scribbles and the words "I love you big sis" repeated a few times, increasingly more disordered, until it ends.

...

---------

A few days later, she texts her little sister the words "I love you little sis", waits a few minutes, then takes over her body again. The spell has become easier; she does not react so strongly as she did last time to the burning, and smoothly glides over into her sister's body.

This time, she awakes not to her sister calmly resting, but to her touching herself with one hand while the other keeps the phone in hand, with one message highlighted. "I love you little sis".

"Holy shit, she's wetter than I've ever been" goes through her head as she picks up where her little sister left off. Her fingers are a bit clumsier, she doesn't know what spots feel best to this body, but as if this body naturally reacted to the presence inside it, it feels absolutely electrified. Like it senses those fingers aren't truly hers. The love for her big sister has etched itself so deeply into her that even her body instinctively reacts this viscerally to just her big sister's spirit.

It doesn't take long for her to orgasm, and oh what a big one. Her mind and body go into overdrive as she takes this body above its peak. She shakes and whines and whimpers until her body goes limp. Her own body could never feel this good.

She pants, spent from making her little sister cum this hard. She gets one last idea and, with a malicious grin, grabs the phone and snaps pictures of her bare body, trying to keep all the important bits censored. Trying, because her hard nipples are clearly on display in some of them. She sends those pictures over to herself as a reply to the "I love you" message, captioning them "I am thinking about you big sis".

Oh she's going to have so much fun with this.