#i find it more confusing than anything. why'd they do that

[scrivenger-grimgar]

I came to you for calamity xie lian and i am EATING with your white gold gathers au.

Tell me more please 🥺

thank you?!? okay so food time!

quan yizhen and his followers are stupidly good at stumbling across magic items, to the point where its actually become a part of his mythos!!

additionaly quan yizhen: 1 is autistic (so is xl, trust), and 2 has extreme trust issues due to boththe 'tidm and his background, the brocade immortal incident took his neutral trust in Heaven and sunk it down to hell.

so he doesn't trust heaven with ANY of the magic items he is offered or that he finds, to the point where he actually just seals them into a cave labeled DO NOT TOUCH.

xie lian LOVES cursed objects and weird magic. when he finds this cave, his natural instinct is "oh i simply must possess this!" and so he takes it.

and when quan yizhen comes back snd finds his curse cave empty, he naturally tracks the qi trail back to white gold's gilded forest, and then immediately fights xie lian for the stuff.

quan yizhen loses, but he does manage to stab xie lian's leg; xie lian had so much fun so he's like "why'd you attack me!? :D"

quan yizhen tells him, assuming the ghost is going to kill him, that he can't just let those artifacts be floating around, they could hurt someone or cause problems!! and xie lian looks at him and says "im doing the same thing!"

so xie lian takes this feral god around his laur and shows him all his stuff and explains how uts guarded and tracked, and that he's got a whole catalogue detailing each item and how its cursed and what the curse does, and quan yizhen only follows at first bc obvs white gold is going to kill him, but then they get to the part thats mostly bespelled weapons and qyz completely forgets about that part.

they spend three days yelling excitedly back and forth about different weapons and fighting styles from certain kingdoms and empires and different centuries and why one part of a style continued while another was discarded-

until ling wen contacts him asking where tf he went bc hes been gone for two weeks, please come back.

anyway, xie lian gives him an open invitation to return whenever and quan yizhen and xie lian becomes friends after a few years. qyz goes to xie lian with any cursed objects that he comes across and they'll have a short (4 day long) sparring session, and xie lian teaches him about obscure magics while qyz updates him on whatever heaven is up to and where not to go when it comes to curse collecting.

now quan yizhen has a natural talent for identiying people*, regardless of what skin they're wearing, but will only reffer to them with the name they used at introduction. so when xie lian ascends for the third time, quan yizhen already knows thats his friend, the calamity white gold gathers. but xie lian told him to call him by name. so even when he's wearing his human disguise, qyz knows that thats xie lian.

this is very confusing to everyone, actually, bc why tf does general qi ying know the disgraced plague god of xianle? neither of them will explain even if directly asked.

jun wu isnt aware of this freindship either, bc xie lian doesnt bring it up, ling wen doesnt think its important, and quan yizhen just doesnt show up to court; its not worth the rffort to send two other martial gods to drag him in when he wont listen and will activrly talk over someone else, even jun wu himself.

*this talent for identifying people also works on both shi qingxuan and ming yi. quan yizhen is known for calling many, many, junior officials and low-middle class deities "ming yi". he was already known for being weird at this point so no one thought anything of it. this also means that were he to see bwx qyz would adress him as jw. this is bc he has a weird form of qi synesthesia that lets him identify individual people, but becomes overwhelming in a crowd. This is partially why he finds xie lian's domain so relaxing; other than the curses its just one signature, everywhere.

this entire relationship is s parralel to yin yu and hua cheng bc i find it really cute!

anyway quan yizhen's vacation home in the gilded forest is his actual house, his palace in heaven is basically just an empty shell. he has a small shrine for yin yu, and even prays to him.

[potatobugz]

is anybody else, like, disappointed about cassandra's introduction in season 3? forgive me if im missing something but in s2 cassandra went by they/them and was written and implied to be nonbinary, only for them to retcon that in the next season.

like dont get me wrong its their character and they can write them however they choose but still... it kinda sucks :(

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

a/n: part 2. idk

summary: natasha romanoff x married!reader; nat and you used to be in love. now, years later, you're married to a wealthy man and have a daughter with him. will running into natasha change everything?

warnings: none

word count: 6.4k

part 1, part 2, part 3, …

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— COOKIES AND CONVERSATIONS —

"Natasha?"

Her eyes lock with yours as she slowly straightens up, making Nina let go of her sleeve in the process. You pull your daughter closer, staring at Natasha incredulously.

"Y/N", she finally says, a tad too coolly for your liking.

"What are you doing here?", you ask, still wary. Nina has grabbed your hand, a bit confused by how icy and distant the interaction between you two seems. You both said you're friends, after all. She's too young to grasp just how complex your relationship actually is.

'Friends' is far from the truth.

Natasha looks around the lobby, noticing the stares she's getting from strangers.

Yes, she specifically. You're a familiar face around here, probably visiting every week with your daughter in tow. She, however? She's unfamiliar. A face that stands out, someone who doesn't fit in. Her traitorous brain remarks that she should be used to that feeling by now. But she isn't.

"Can we maybe move this outside?", she asks quietly, her eyes flitting back to meet yours. You frown, unsure whether you should agree to her request.

But then again, Natasha is safe. Despite the breakup, despite the years of distance — you trust her. Part of you also realizes that your conversation is being overheard, which you don't like. Too many people know too much about you already, so there's no need to give them more stuff to talk about.

"Fine." You reluctantly follow her, making sure you're holding on to your daughter. No way is she running off again. That'd be the second time within less than a week.

You look at her as soon as you're outside, standing by your car. Natasha pushes her hands into the pockets of her coat, observing you out of the corner of her eye. She still can't shake that habit, it seems — always on the lookout, always studying you. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

"So?", you eventually say, your thumb rubbing Nina's fingers. You're trying to calm yourself down. Or keep yourself calm. Either of those. "Answer me."

Natasha's gaze briefly sweeps over your surroundings. Traffic, an empty sidewalk, that gigantic building you just exited. Nobody in vicinity, which is a relief.

"I wanted to see you", she says. A half-lie. She did want to see you, in some way at least, but that's not what she's here for. She came her to find evidence, to gather intel about your precious husband.

Can she tell you that, though?

No. Not yet.

Your expression falters for a moment, the mask of indifference crumbling and vanishing. A variety of emotions flickers across your face, unreadable yet obvious. Natasha can see every single one, making her chest feel tight with guilt.

"You've got great timing", you say weakly, feeling the early autumn breeze brush over your cheeks. "It's been seven years."

"It's been a little more than five days", Natasha corrects you, still stoic.

"You know what I mean", you say sharply. "That thing at the art gallery? Doesn't count. Besides: if you wanted to see me, why'd you come to my husband's office?"

"I didn't know this was his office", she immediately replies, which — to you — is even more ridiculous than her claiming she wanted to see you. She's a spy, for god's sake. She doesn't do anything without a purpose, especially not something like this.

"So this is a coincidence?" You let out a hollow laugh. "Natasha-"

"Okay", she says, stepping closer. You quickly look at her, feeling the urge to take a step back. You can't get close to her again. "Maybe I did know he works here. But how else was I supposed to find you?"

"Not at all would've been a start."

"Charming", she says drily, her attempt at concealing the hurt in her voice failing. "Nice to see you too."

"Oh, come on." You sigh. "I'm sorry, but this...it's odd. I didn't think you'd be the one to seek me out first after, you know...", you trail off. She smiles bitterly, averting her eyes.

"Not all of us hold grudges", she says, softer this time. "I guess you're just harder to forget than I thought."

There's a teasing lilt to her voice, something that's meant to protect you both. It doesn't work, but you appreciate the effort. Plus, it manages to elicit a small smile from you. That's more than enough for Natasha.

Nina, ever the restless one, lets go of you to grab Natasha's hand again. The woman looks down at her, a smile appearing on her lips. The child is staring at her as if she's some kind of superhero, which is pretty much spot on.

"Looks like I've been replaced", you comment, the smile on your face turning more genuine now.

Nina is sociable. She loves people of pretty much all ages and is guaranteed to talk their ears off. Still, this kind of immediate fascination is something you haven't seen before. Like mother like daughter, it seems. When you first met Natasha, you felt this kind of enchantment as well. It's a spell that's hard to break.

"I am very likable", Natasha boasts playfully, grinning at your daughter. The little one turns to look at you, pleased that she made the pretty lady smile at her.

"Mommy, she's nice", she pipes up. "Can we get cookies? You promised."

"I did promise cookies", you sigh, shooting her an affectionate look. Then you glance at Natasha. "We were supposed to pick up a snack on our way home", you say sheepishly. "Care to join us?"

"Change of heart?", the redhead teases.

"Yeah, well..." You crack a smile. You're aware you went from pissed off to mildly flustered, all within the span of mere minutes. It'd throw her off guard if she wasn't still familiar with it. "It's always been difficult to stay mad at you."

Natasha hums, looking at Nina again. The girl smiles as if on cue, bouncing on the spot.

"Please?"

"Will I get a cookie, too?", Natasha asks, raising her eyebrows.

Nina nods. "You can have one", she says, her tone generous yet slightly self-important. You and Natasha exchange an amused look — it's a kind and genuine offer, but the way she's saying it makes it sound like the cookies are hers to give away. You're starting to see why your parents have called your daughter spoiled before.

"Looks like the boss has spoken. So, you're joining us?"

"I can't say no to Miss Nina here", Natasha confirms, squeezing Nina's hand.

"Nobody can", you huff, smiling, and take Nina's free hand. "There's a café down the block. We can walk there."

To say that this is weird would be more than just an understatement.

You haven't seen her in years. Haven't talked to her, haven't texted her, nothing. Refusal to reach out from both sides resulted in complete radio silence. And now?

Now you're walking down the street together, both of you holding onto Nina as she walks between you. You're not talking — thankfully, your daughter has decided to do that for you. She's chattering nonstop, her little voice ringing through the air.

It's warm inside the café, with the scent of pumpkin spice wafting right into your faces. Nina instantly lets go of you both, running up to the counter to inspect the pastries. She clasps her hands together in front of her, as if to prevent herself from touching the glass that's separating her from the sweet treats.

"She's a good kid", Natasha says quietly as you catch up to the girl. "She must get that from you."

You smile slightly, glancing at the woman next to you. Your gaze gets stuck, lingers, traces her features. You never could've forgotten what she looks like — not in a million years — but she's even more beautiful than you remembered.

Natasha notices you staring. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, subtly tilting her head. "What?", she asks softly.

"Nothing", you respond in a low murmur, quickly digging through your purse. "It's just weird seeing you here."

She manages a faint smile, silently agreeing with your words. Her eyes zero in on your wallet as you reach for a few dollar bills and her hand comes up to gently stop you.

"I got this", she says, reaching for her own money.

"No, hey-"

"Hush", she says firmly, then gives the barista a polite smile. She lets Nina order her own cookie (the rainbow one, of course), then she lists off everything else. Chocolate chip cookies — a classic —, an espresso and your favorite beverage.

You hide your smile, trying to get over the fact that she still remembers.

You find a quiet, secluded corner of the café, and sit down there. The sky is littered with clouds, covering the sun and allowing the soft lights of the café to be the star of the show.

Nina is tucked into the corner seat between you, her little hands breaking the cookie in two. Her excitement over something so mundane is serving as a buffer between you and Natasha, helping you through initial awkward silences.

"It's a nice place", Natasha comments, taking a sip of her espresso. "Much better than that place in D.C. with the squeaky chairs."

"And the bitter coffee", you add, looking at her. You reach out, tapping the frame of the glasses she's wearing. Those are definitely new. "Didn't know you need glasses now."

"I don't", Natasha says, quickly sliding the glasses off her face. Her eyes meet yours, deep green and softened. "They just help me be recognized less, believe it or not."

"I recognized you", you counter, stirring the hot drink in front of you before taking a tentative sip.

"Yes, you did", she says pointedly, glancing at Nina as she holds out a piece of her cookie. The girl has her head tilted sweetly.

"Trade?"

"Sure, honey", Natasha says, handing her a piece of her own cookie in exchange. Then she focuses on you again. "Now let's hope the rest of Manhattan isn't as sharp-eyed as you."

You roll your eyes, an amused sound escaping you. "Well, don't look at me. I don't think a pair of glasses could ever make you blend in." You pause, a thought crossing your mind. "What are you hiding from, anyways?"

Natasha looks at you, her brain — again — settling on a half-truth. "You know me. From the rest of Manhattan, pretty much."

"Right", you say, smiling faintly. "Always on the run."

"Old habits die hard", she says wryly, leaning back with her arms crossed. Irony — her very own way of suppressing the guilt that's starting to rear its head. She's lying to you pretty much constantly, keeping secrets and finding excuses.

Natasha has reasons for that. She can't just tell you what's going on, not until she knows for sure. Until then, you might be of use.

Telling herself that is easier than admitting why she's actually sitting here with you.

"Funny. I thought you'd have found some peace by now." You tilt your head pointedly. "Or at least a better disguise."

"Me and peace in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day", she says, finishing her espresso. "And the disguise? It's low-maintenance."

You let out a sound that's between a laugh and a scoff, wiping a few cookie crumbs off Nina's face absently. She rubs her eyes tiredly and you place a soothing hand on her back. "You were never low-maintenance."

"I thought I was charmingly uncomplicated", she smiles, briefly glancing at Nina to check on her. The girl looks sleepy, so it must be nap time for her soon.

"Yes, sure. If that's what you'd call having three passports in the glove compartment whenever you drove me anywhere."

The sole purpose of the smirk on Natasha's face is to hide a wince. It wasn't just the passports — it was everything that came with being with her. Switching cars while driving in the middle of the night, being prepared to run at any given moment. Making sure she could up and go whenever she wanted. Never entirely grounded, one foot always in the shadows.

Her existence was unpredictable, untethered. A stark contrast to the safe but stifling life you lead now, filled with monotony and routines.

Being with her allowed you to soar, even if it sometimes meant crashing down.

"Touché", Natasha says, watching you smooth down Nina's hair. Yet another new mannerism you've picked up — an endearing one at that. "Makes me wonder why you didn't run."

"Maybe I liked the thrill", you reply, looking at her again. Nina's head droops onto your arm for a moment. She's definitely ready for her nap. "Or maybe I liked the person behind the passports."

"That person hasn't changed as much as you may think."

"I think we've both changed."

Natasha watches you scoop the yawning child into your lap. Nina nestles against you, her eyes closing.

She never thought she'd see you like this: all motherly and nurturing, quietly soothing a child — your child. So maybe you have a point. Maybe you did change.

"Maybe", she admits, giving a small smile. "Some things don't, though."

"Like what?", you ask quietly, a hint of challenge in your voice.

Natasha leans forward, her gaze holding yours. The café, the people around you, the noises and smells — it all disappears. At least for a moment, it does.

"Like the way I recognized you, too."

. . .

— THE WEB UNFOLDS —

Her office is small but efficient, filled with the tools of her trade. Screens glowing with data, paperwork and open files scattered across her desk, a steaming mug of tea. She toys with a pen as she scans the financial documents she retrieved once more, one name standing out: Durant Enterprises.

Multiple transfers to and from said company, the amounts large and the descriptions vague. It's the frequency that makes her pause. This isn't just routine business — it's deliberate.

Natasha feels on edge as she puts her pen aside, now pulling up a secondary window on her screen. She cross-references the company with known entities in her database and starts to dig.

At first, Durant Enterprises doesn't raise alarms. Everything seems ordinary until more troubling details surface.

Natasha pauses, her hands stilling. She stares at the screen, feeling a chill run down her spine.

Ties to overseas operations, suspiciously under-the-radar accounts — and, most notably, an association with human trafficking syndicates.

She swallows, her fingers continuing to move over the keyboard in a rapid pace. A list of contacts connected to Ethan catches her eye, several names matching aliases from SHIELD's database of traffickers and corrupt officials. A few of the numbers that are listed appear to be burner phones, heightening her suspicions.

Natasha plugs in the USB stick and runs a deep scan of the files on Ethan's computer. A dense folder of corporate documents, mostly financial data — endless spreadsheets, balance sheets, transaction records. But, nestled among them, an invoice marked for 'freight services' from a shipping company she's never heard of.

It's not an innocent transaction — the total is unsettlingly large.

She pulls up the details, her eyes narrowing as she connects the dots to previous intel. And there it is again: an obscure company, linked to the same shadowy network she's seen before.

Dammit, Bailey, she thinks, taking a hasty sip of tea. What are you dragging them into?

As expected, her thoughts have drifted back to you. To you and Nina, completely oblivious to what Ethan — the man who's supposed to protect you and care for you — is doing.

And then there's Natasha — about to tear this entire network down, about to expose him to his family and countless others. She knows you'll have to find out eventually; it's only fair, after all. You deserve to know the full truth, even if it'll add yet another weight to your shoulders.

Part of her wonders whether you'll forgive her. She's been lying to you ever since that night at the art gallery, and she continues lying to you constantly. It's what she has to do to protect you and Nina.

Lingering affection wars with duty. Shield you from all of this or tell you the truth, let you live in this little bubble you've created for yourself or make it burst. Natasha shouldn't let her feelings get in the way, especially not when this entire mess concerns you and your daughter as well.

Every part of her being is trying to stop her from getting you involved in this. You don't deserve to be a part of this — but here you are.

And she's certain she'll do everything in her power to protect you, even if it means losing you once and for all.

Natasha sets the tea aside and grabs her phone. Her finger hovers above the call button for an excruciatingly long moment, then she decides against it. She leans back in her chair, starting to massage her temples. A dull ache has started to form behind her eyes.

It's a realization, a resolve, that hurts.

She'll have to use you somehow.

. . .

— MOMENTS IN FOCUS —

The sunlight filtering through the windows has a richness to it, making everything appear softer and more vibrant. Leaves dance in front of the floor to ceiling windows, shades of amber and russet that make the scenery outside look like the perfect October morning.

You look up from the ingredients in front of you — bananas, berries, a handful of spinach, all ready to be thrown into the blender — when you hear footsteps approach. Ethan pauses at your side, briefly glancing up from his phone to press a short kiss to your cheek. 

"Good morning", he says, looking like the epitome of effortlessness. Hair wet and slicked back, a crisp white robe tied loosely around his waist. Nina doesn't even notice him; she's too engrossed in the picture in front of her, her tongue sticking out as she focuses on coloring within the lines of the butterfly. "What's on the menu?"

"Smoothies, scrambled eggs, yogurt with granola", you list off, turning on the blender. It hums softly as the colors swirl together, creating a nice pinkish shade.

"Hear that, Nina?", he asks, leaning against the counter next to you. She barely looks at him before going back to coloring, now choosing a purple crayon. "Jesus. We've really got to make sure she pays more attention. This is rude behavior."

"She's tired", you defend her, pouring the smoothie into two glasses and one plastic cup. "Also, it's 7 in the morning. You can't expect her to function properly at this hour, Ethan."

"Why not?", he counters, reaching around you to grab one of the smoothies. He takes a few big gulps, already sitting down at the breakfast table and reaching for the newspaper. "She's almost four. It's time she learns some manners."

"She has manners", you retort, crouching down in front of your daughter. She stops coloring, her eyes meeting yours expectantly as she waits for you to say something. "Breakfast is ready, sweetheart. Are you hungry?"

"No", Nina says, but gets up anyway. You smile and swiftly lift her into the air, then sit her down on the chair with her booster seat. She reaches for her cup, holding it with both hands as she takes a sip. "That's yummy."

"Thank you, baby." A kiss is planted on the top of her head, then you join them at the table.

Ethan looks up from the newspaper, casually drumming his fingers on the surface of the table. "Do you have anything planned for today?"

"Not that I know, no", you say, glancing at him. "Why? Did something come up?"

"Oh, yeah. This magazine — Art & Culture Monthly, you probably know them — called this morning. They want to feature the gallery's grand opening in their upcoming issue. It's a pretty big deal, you know? Anyway, they'll interview me and also feature our family."

You can hear the excitement in his voice, causing you to smile faintly. Of course — another thing he can add to his long list of achievements. You can't believe you thought he'd ask if you wanted to do something normal. Go to a pumpkin patch, maybe visit a park. Simple, ordinary things.

"Whatever. They want to take a few pictures of us later today — you, me, the kid. It'll be great for the gallery's reputation, and it'll really solidify our place in the art scene."

Your smile fades a bit. A photo shoot. You've done a couple of those before, but they were always for private usage. You don't want Nina's face to be printed in some magazine everyone can buy, even if basically no one would recognize her anyway.

"I don't know", you say hesitantly, handing Nina a napkin. She has some of the smoothie smeared across her chin and cheeks. "It's a bit unexpected. Plus, Nina is too young for that. She won't be able to sit still for that long."

"Hey, it's okay", he says, brushing off your concerns. "You'll be fine, Nina. Won't you? Anyways-" He turns to you without waiting for an answer, "it's a huge opportunity for us — for me, really. They want to showcase the perfect family, and we're pretty much spot on."

The perfect family — husband, wife, cute little daughter. Well-off but still relatable, at least in a way. Always happy, always fitting society's expectations. You're tired of being pushed into this mold.

You sigh, glancing at your daughter. She looks at you, not understanding too much. "Photos?", she asks curiously.

"Yeah, photos. A photo shoot", you say, feeling uneasy. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Come on", your husband pushes impatiently. "It won't take too long. Besides — it's not like you have anything to do, do you? You'd spend the entire day sitting around. At least you'll make yourself useful."

You roll your eyes. Yes, that's definitely the case. It's not like you have a toddler to take care of, right? And even if you do — it can't be as hard as what Ethan does, obviously.

"When do we have to be there?"

"Two hours", he says happily, eating a bite of his scrambled eggs. "By the way, did you put chives in this? You know I don't like chives."

. . .

It's an upscale studio, bustling with assistants, lights and backdrops. Ethan is just as polished as the space you're in, immediately stepping up to the photographer — an older man, balding, with tiny glasses and a sweater vest — and staff to charm them. You keep your daughter close, feeling out of place.

As much as you hate this — you have to admit that Nina looks impossibly cute in her outfit. A white cabled fisherman sweater, matching yours, paired with denim jeans in a light wash. A pastel yellow headband is keeping her hair out of her face, making her cheeks look even rosier than usually.

"Mommy, this is itchy", she whispers, tugging at the front of her sweater. You grimace, quietly sympathizing with your daughter. The fabric doesn't exactly feel nice on your skin.

"I know, honey", you reply in a hushed voice, making sure the assistants and photographer don't hear you.

"And it's bright", she adds, squinting as she accidentally looks at one of the lights. You snort in amusement, gently making her turn away so she doesn't let the brightness fry her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be over soon, alright?"

"You ready?", one of the assistants says, waving you over. You nod and gently nudge Nina along.

The photographer positions you in various poses — Nina perched on Ethan's knee, Ethan with his arm around you, you holding Nina. It feels rehearsed, like they know exactly what they want to sell. Which, realistically speaking, is probably the case here.

Picture after picture, pose after pose. You're not the only one who starts to get restless. You spot Nina fidgeting more than once, subtly reaching into her pockets to make sure her crayons are still there — crayons she brought along secretly.

"Stop that, please", the photographer's voice cuts through the air. You don't like the irritated tone with which he's speaking one bit, but you decide to ignore him.

Nina stops, quickly pulling her hand out of her pocket.

"Yes, perfect. Ideal!", he gushes, continuing to snap pictures of you. You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You silently wonder whether anyone will look at the pictures and realize that you'd rather be anywhere else. Ethan won't, that's for sure — he's beaming, oblivious to your discomfort.

"Mommy?", Nina whispers as you pick her up, already clutching her crayons in her smaller hand. You're finally done after what feels like an eternity of posing and smiling stiffly. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, we're going home", you nod, letting her nestle into you. "Let's just finish up here, okay?"

"Okay", she mumbles, her crayons pressed against the clean fabric of your sweater. They'll most likely leave stains, but you couldn't care less about that. You're just relieved you're done with this.

The drive home isn't silent, to your dismay. Ethan keeps going on and on and on about how great the photos are and how important this is and how it'll certainly elevate his public image. He's talking so much you're surprised Nina managed to doze off in her seat, her chin resting on her chest.

You don't bother responding — instead, you just stare out the window, your mind drifting. You wonder whether Natasha would've laughed at how absurd this whole thing is. You wonder what's she's doing, whether she's thinking about you.

In that moment, you get a text message.

Natasha: Hey, Y/N. This is a bit random, but does Ethan know a few guys in the whole arts world?

I'm looking into something for Tony. — 2.17 pm

You: Hey! I can ask him for a few of his

contacts and send you a list, maybe? — 2.17 pm

Natasha: That's perfect, thank you. — 2.18 pm

You look to your left when Nina stirs. She looks at your phone, rubbing one of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Who is that?"

"That's Natasha", you say. Ethan doesn't even notice. He's now telling your chauffeur about the feature, again rambling about the interview and the art gallery. Part of you is thankful for that.

"Natasha?" Nina suddenly doesn't seem so sleepy anymore as her eyes light up. "Say hi!"

You smile at your daughter's enthusiasm. Seems like she's really starting to adore the redhead.

You: By the way, Nina says hi. She's all smiley. — 2.19pm

Natasha: Right back at her :) — 2.20pm

Natasha: Are you guys in town next week? There's this park near

the old tower, I think she'd love it. (I promise I won't hog the cookies

this time.) — 2.21pm

You glance at Nina. She looks at you, wide-eyed and practically buzzing with excitement.

"Natasha's asking if we want to go to a park with her", you say, reaching out to adjust her seatbelt. "What do you say, NeeNee?"

Your daughter immediately nods. "Yes, I want to go! Can we go?"

You smile faintly. "Sure, we'll go."

You text Natasha back, confirming the day and time. Then you slip your phone into your pocket.

You let out a small breath, your lips curving into a smile before you even realize it. The weight of your lousy day lingers, but it seems lighter now.

The idea of seeing Natasha tugs at your chest in a way you weren't prepared to unpack. It's almost absurd, how a simple text exchange could bring you such warmth. There's a faint flutter beneath your ribs, caused by a mix of excitement and a wary kind of anticipation.

It's been years, yet you still don't know what it is about Natasha Romanoff that can do this to you with such little effort.

. . .

It's a nice day — the October sun is warm but not overbearing, the chatter of children is echoing through the open space. You get out of the car and scoop the squirming child out of her booster seat, her hand tightly clutching her favorite stuffed bear. You set her on the ground, making sure she doesn't just run off.

"Mommy, can we go there first?", she asks, pointing at the swings. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let's find Natasha first, sweetheart. Then maybe she can push you."

Your suggestion earns a gleeful nod. With her hand clasped in yours, you start making your way down the winding path leading into the park. The late-afternoon light dapples the ground through the trees, creating a peaceful but slightly surreal atmosphere — though maybe that's just your nerves.

You spot Natasha near a quiet corner of the park, leaning casually against the wooden fence by the playground. Her pose is relaxed, but her sharp eyes are scanning the area around her.

Once she sees you, her face softens.

"Natasha!", Nina yells, voice bubbling with excitement, and frees herself from your gentle grip to dart forward.

Natasha crouches down just in time to catch the girl in a gentle hug, her expression warm. "Hey, Tiny!"

You ignore the nickname and the way it sends butterflies through your stomach. Instead you approach her, your steps hesitant but steady. She straightens up, her eyes meeting yours, and the park fades into the background.

You feel a small rush of warmth — one that leaves you confused.

"Hi", you say, your voice quieter than intended.

"Hi", she responds, her tone equally soft. But her gaze lingers, taking you in, and the curve of her lips hints at something deeper. "Should we sit? Or does Nina have a playground mission I should know about?"

Nina tugs at Natasha's hand, a grin on her face. "Swings first!"

The little girl manages to slightly break the tension. You let out a laugh, shooting your daughter a fond look. "Looks like you've got your orders."

"Please", Nina adds, remembering the magic word. She keeps pulling at Natasha's hand, who plays along easily. She follows Nina to the playground, all while exchanging a brief look with you — a silent 'Is this okay?'

"Go ahead", you say, nodding, and follow them to the swings.

Leaves crunch beneath the soles of your shoes, the air having a slight bite to it already. A boy, slightly older than Nina, runs past with his father chasing after him. Laughter and voices carry through the air, allowing you to relax a little.

Natasha makes sure Nina's holding on tight before she takes the lead in pushing her. You stand next to them, arms loosely crossed over your chest to preserve some warmth.

"Higher!", Nina promptly demands, trying to glance at Natasha over the thick fabric of her scarf.

"Higher? What are you, a little daredevil in training? You're going to give your mom a heart attack!"

"She's already started", you say, mildly exasperated. "You should've seen her last week, when she tried to climb the bookshelf."

"Huh." Natasha smiles, her eyes briefly meeting yours. There it is again, that annoying tug of warmth. "Sounds like someone I used to know."

You huff, but you can't deny the truth behind her words. You shrug, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat.

"You never complained."

"I didn't", she agrees, gently stopping the swing when Nina starts to talk about the merry-go-round. "Doesn't mean you didn't make my nerves fray, though."

"Please." You start walking to the merry-go-round, watching Nina speed ahead. "If anyone's nerves were frayed, it's mine. I watched you leave for missions on a weekly basis. I can't even count how many times I stitched you up afterwards."

"You make it sound like I was some kind of wrecking ball", she smirks.

"You didn't need to be." You let out an amused chuckle, your eyes glued to Nina as she sits down on the circular bench of the merry-go-round. "You were a force of nature, and I spent most of my time just trying to hold it together while you ran off into the chaos."

"You always did", she agrees, her voice quieter now. You stop when you reach the merry-go-round, watching Nina as she starts to spin around. "You were good at it, though. At stitching me up, I mean. Better than I deserved most days."

"Very true", you say, trying to keep it light. "I think I deserved a medal for keeping up with you."

"You mean for putting up with me?", Natasha corrects you, her hand briefly touching the handle of the merry-go-round to make sure it doesn't spin too fast.

A faint smile forms on your face. She's not entirely wrong — some of the time, it really was 'putting up with her'. Rolling with it, with her lifestyle, with the way every day seemed to be pure chaos.

You know it's not her fault. It's who she is, it's the life she ended up choosing for herself after never getting to have a choice. You were patient, too — you understood why she had to do all those things. Why she could never just rest.

"I'm just saying: most people would've thrown their hands up after the third emergency stitch job", you say mock seriously, earning a quiet laugh.

"Good thing you're not most people", she says, her smirk letting some tenderness shimmer through.

"Yeah", you agree, watching her. She's looking at Nina again, making sure she isn't spinning too fast or getting dizzy. Again and again you realize the same thing: only days later, Natasha fits in perfectly. Maybe that's what scares you the most. "Real good."

. . .

With Nina playing in a sandbox, you and Natasha get to be alone for a moment. You never take your eyes off your daughter to make sure she stays right where she is, but most of your attention is on the woman sitting next to you.

"I never knew how fast things could change", you speak softly, your words lingering in the chilly air. "I mean — one moment, I was making all these big plans. And now?"

"...now, you're a mom", Natasha says, smiling faintly as Nina smushes down her sandcastle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"You found a calmer life", she says, half to herself. It's bittersweet — she's glad you made it to a place where you don't have to worry about her or the dangers that come with the territory anymore. Now, your days are filled with cartoons and picture books and colorful bandaids. No more midnight missions, no more bloodies bandages. "A safer one."

"Calm and safe, sure", you mumble absently. "But I'm not so sure about...better."

Natasha turns to look at you, frowning slightly. What you said is odd enough, but the way you said it really threw her off. She scoots closer, her voice lowered.

"What are you talking about?"

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can say anything, Nina calls out to you. She's running, one hand clutching her teddybear. "I'm thirsty, mommy."

"Come here, honey." You grab a juice box from your backpack and hand it to her. She struggles with the straw for a moment, then she manages to poke it through the hole. The straw is now covered in grains of sand, making you grimace — but, of course, your daughter doesn't care about that.

She empties the juice box in record time, then she tosses it into the trash can. Off she goes again, her eyes locking onto the pony spring-rider. Natasha watches her with increasing fondness, silently wondering whether, in some other, faraway universe, this is what her life looks like.

"Always on the go", you say quietly, watching her. "So full of energy, I swear."

"I guess that's why I like her so much", Natasha says, glancing at you. You smile.

"She reminds you of yourself, huh?"

Natasha laughs under her breath, shrugging. "Maybe. Though I hope not too much."

You look down at your lap, at your hands that are resting there, and subtly toy with the ring on your finger. Your gaze shifts back to Natasha, a small, wistful smile on your face.

"I disagree. I wouldn't mind if she was a bit...wilder." You bite your lip, then add: "Like you. I mean, you were the one always pushing me out of my comfort zone. It was part of the deal: I tried to rein you in — unsuccessfully —, and you kept pushing."

Natasha smiles, her hand briefly reaching out to squeeze yours. You exhale softly at the simple touch — you haven't felt her skin against yours in years, but it's still the same.

"Did I ever do it right?", she ponders. "Push you the way you needed?"

"Maybe not always", you admit. "But you made me feel alive. Even when it was complicated."

. . .

"For you!", Nina says, handing a flower — a chrysanthemum — to Natasha. The redhead smiles, taking the small plant and twirling it between her fingers.

"A flower? For me? I'm honored!" Natasha turns to look at you, a teasing look on her face. "See? She already likes me better than most people."

You chuckle, lifting Nina into your arms. "I wouldn't be so sure", you say, smiling back just as teasingly. "She gave the mailman a flower last week, too."

"Oh really? And here I thought I was special."

You hum, adjusting your hold on your daughter. "You are special", you say, this time completely sincerely. You can't remember the last time Ethan spent the whole day with you like this — simply existing, doing things that aren't work-related, making sure Nina has fun. This was Natasha's idea, too — not yours. For the first time in a while, you don't feel isolated.

You clear your throat, giving a quick nod. "Well, uhm...thank you. For this. She really had fun."

Natasha hesitates, her gaze flickering from the flower to your face. "I didn't just come for her", she eventually speaks, the words hanging in the air as you exchange a look. You swallow, managing a faint smile.

"Let's not get too sentimental", you say, trying to sound lighthearted. You nudge Nina to distract yourself. "Say bye, honey."

Nina waves at Natasha. A few hours of playing outside in the fresh air have turned her cheeks rosy. "Bye, Natasha!"

"Bye, Tiny."

Another quick glance at each other, then you part ways. Natasha goes in one direction, you go in the other. Years linger between you, years that were spent together and that keep you close. There's a pull that's close to magnetic, and you're not sure how you managed to resist it for such a long time.

Both of you wonder whether you were ever able to truly leave your past behind — or if, somehow, you're still tangled in it, just waiting for the right moment to unravel.

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

🌙 tagged (as per request): @fxckmiup

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

9: OPERATION SURPRISE PARTY

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Summary: Sam and Torres do some light social media snooping on Bucky’s mysterious girl, but what they find raises unexpected concerns. Meanwhile, you receive a surprise DM from none other than Captain America himself, roping you into planning a birthday party for Bucky.

Warnings: Light social media snooping, mentions of Bucky’s past struggles with identity and belonging, emotional vulnerability, a surprise (and possibly confusing) kiss

Word Count: 2653

“FED ALPINE. YOU’RE WELCOME. 💖”

“THANKS. SHE LIKES YOU BETTER THAN ME NOW.”

Sam sighed. He hated waiting. He was a patient man, but he hated waiting. But it came with the new territory. He pushed aside his third cup of coffee and picked up his phone. Torres flopped down in the chair beside him. 

“Nothing man, I got nothing,” Sam sighed impatiently. “Guess we keep waiting.”

“Hey Cap?” Joaquin asked. “Why'd you invite me? Barnes too busy brooding to help you out?”

“Actually Barnes said he was busy with a hot date.”

“Barnes dates?” Joaquin asked incredulously.

“He has a girl.”

“No way! I gotta say, I'm real curious to see what kinda girl has managed to soften that man's heart.”

A smirk crept across Sam's face and he held up his phone. “You know, we could always do a little sleuthin’.”

Torres laughed, but leaned in. “He'd kill us.”

“Come on, are you scared of that big ole softie?” Sam joked, tapping on Instagram and typing in your handle, the one Bucky had shared with him.

@JewelsByY/N

Your feed was a beautiful array of photographed jewelry pieces, close ups of intricate designs and the occasional shot of your workbench which you tagged #wherethemagichappens.

Torres leaned back looking unimpressed. “This is all boring jewelry posts. Where's the juicy stuff?”

“Give me a minute,” Sam scolded. He swiped across to the mentions and scrolled down until he found what he was looking for— a tagged photo of you and your personal Instagram account: @CharmedByNature. Immediately, the screen displayed a full, unfiltered glimpse into your life.

Sam laughed. “Jackpot!”

The screen was now filled with snapshots of your life, painting a clearer picture of who you were.

You, Aditi and Hanna from the bachelorette party, wearing coveralls and holding your guns in the classic Charlie's Angels pose.

A photo of you smearing birthday cake over Hanna's face. 

A snap in front of the Rockerfeller Christmas tree while you try to balance on ice skates.

A candid shot of you on the beach, lost in thought while you stared out at the sea.

The shot of Bucky in the wolf enclosure.

A selfie of you and Bucky in Central Park.

They scrolled down, chuckling at your antics when a particular photo caught Torres’ attention. 

He grabbed Sam’s arm. “Woah, hang on a minute. Go back up one.”

“What?” Sam asked, swiping back up. 

Torres pointed at a man in the background of one of your photos. It had been taken at the Sharma house at Thanksgiving and Aditi's family could be seen in the background. 

“Is that who I think it is?”

Sam's amused demeanor vanished in an instant, his expression tightening. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Do you think Bucky knows?” Torres asked.

“I'm not sure, but we're going to have to get some more intel before we say anything.” Sam sighed. He closed the app and slid his phone onto his pocket, his mind already racing through the implications of their findings. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before letting silence fall between them.

Even though a few days had passed since the bachelorette party, Camille’s Instagram post still lingered in your mind. You had avoided looking at it again, but Hanna and Aditi’s teasing hadn’t let up. They had been thrilled to even catch a glimpse of your secret hunk and had declared that he had behaved like the perfect gentleman.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since that night and there had been no further communication with him. You wondered what he was thinking. Probably that he had passed the first test and no further contact was required until the wedding. You sighed, scrolling mindlessly through your feed. Just when you were officially bored out of your mind, a notification popped up on your official instagram.

New Message Request: @CapsGotWings

You frowned. Was it spam? A prank? But curiosity got the best of you, and you tapped on the notification. The message read:

2:23 PM - Sam: Hey, it’s Sam Wilson. Don’t freak out, but I got your Instagram handle from Bucky. I need your help.

You stared at the screen. Bucky must have given Sam your Instagram. This was it, it was your turn in the spotlight. Before you could overthink the development, another message popped up.

2:24 PM - Sam: Planning a surprise birthday party for Bucky. You in?

Your eyes were as good as popping out of your skull and you were glad Bucky wasn’t around to witness this moment. Answer the message! Your star struck brain told you. He would be able to see that you’d read the messages. You typed back:

2.24 PM - You: Hi… are you actually Sam Wilson? Because this feels almost like a catfish situation.

Seconds later your phone was ringing. You hesitated, smoothing out your hair and checking your face before you answered the video call.

“H-hi?” you stuttered.

“Hey there, gorgeous. Is this proof enough for you? Sam Wilson, in the flesh… well, on your screen. New, charming Captain America. Happy that this isn’t a catfish?”

You blushed and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Sam flashed a dazzling grin, leaning slightly closer to the camera. “Pleasure's all mine. So, what d’you think? You ready to help me give Barnes the best birthday of his life?”

You blinked, still processing the surreal moment of Captain America himself casually chatting with you via video call. "Wait, does Bucky even like birthday parties?" you asked skeptically.

Sam chuckled. “Nope, he will hate this. But that’s what makes it fun!”

You laughed nervously. “Are you sure, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable?”

“Wow, you really do like him. Don’t worry,” Sam held up his hand, “I solemnly swear to take full responsibility for any… outbursts which may arise from this. You just gotta bring your A-game and keep the grumpiness at bay.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble. He does this weird little smile thing when anyone mentions your name.”

Bucky smiled when he thought about you? You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. “He does not,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he absolutely does. It’s subtle— you gotta know him— but it’s there. Trust me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Captain. What's the plan for this party?”

“Glad you asked,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair. “We’re keeping it small— a few friends. I thought since you’re into the whole design thing, you could come up with some decorations… I dunno, maybe something 40’s related, low-key. How does that sound?”

“Sounds manageable.”

“Good, cause that guy deserves something good in his life for once.”

Your face fell slightly at Sam’s words, and you thought back to the vulnerable moments you’d had with him, the ones he tried so hard to hide. “Yeah,” you whispered. “He does.”

Sam’s expression softened temporarily, but then the mischievous smirk was back. “And who better to brighten his birthday than the girl who makes him actually smile.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the flush on your cheeks refused to fade. “I see what Bucky means, you’re impossible.”

“Part of my charm, darlin’,” Sam grinned. “I’ll DM you the details… Oh, and don’t mention this to him. If he finds out, I’ll know it was you.” Sam pointed a finger at the camera of his phone.

You laughed. “Noted. Thanks for the heads-up, Cap.”

“Anytime,” Sam said with a wink before ending the call.

You sat cross legged on your couch, tablet balanced in your lap as your stylus danced across the screen. The afternoon sunlight filtered through your slightly dusty windows and radiated its winter warmth into your living room. Your phone vibrated on the coffee table, but you didn’t pick it up, choosing to claim this rare moment of peace where inspiration flowed through you.

The design on your screen was simple but elegant, a bracelet with etchings that resembled the pattern on Bucky’s vibranium arm. It was sleek and modern and on the inside you planned to have his name engraved. He had told you that the dogtags he wore had belonged to Steve Rogers, a gift from his best friend. He had admitted that he had lost his years ago when he had lost his identity to HYDRA. You wanted him to have something that would remind him of who he was.

You smiled to yourself, imagining his reaction. Would he like it? Would he even wear it?

A sharp rap of knuckles on your front door brought you out of your reverie. You dropped your tablet onto the couch and padded to the door, opening it to find one Bucky Barnes standing outside your apartment.

“Hey, Princess,” he said, looking down at you, his hands behind his back.

“Bucky!” you gasped, surprised to see him. You stepped aside so he could come in. “What’s up?”

He shrugged. “I thought… we haven’t… just checking that you’re still honoring our contract.”

“Don’t worry, I drew up an iron clad agreement. You’d need legal advice to get out of your boyfriend duties.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

You waved at the couch, motioning for him to take a seat, darting past him to grab your tablet and tossing it into the armchair.

“Working on some new designs?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Anything I'd be interested in?”

“Maybe,” you said shyly. “But can I show you when it's finished?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“So…” you started.

“So?” he prompted. 

You needed to tell him. Communication was key to a successful fake relationship. 

“Samsplanningapartyforyou,” you blurted out in a rushed mumble.

“Doll, I have no idea what you just said, and I have enhanced hearing.”

“Sam’s planning a surprise birthday party for you.”

Bucky groaned and ran his hand over his face. “Of course he is. I told him under no circumstances that he could do that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to go with it, because he’s roped me into helping.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky looked at you, eyes wide with surprise. “He contacted you? How?”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at his expression. “Instagram. He slid into my DMs.”

His face was a mix of horror and betrayal. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t worry,” you said quickly, holding up a hand. “It’s not that bad. Low key, small venue, a few people… and cake— most important thing!”

“Still…” He scratched his beard, looking genuinely uncomfortable.

“You can't! You have to pretend to be surprised!”

“Why?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Look, all I’m asking is that you pretend to be surprised when the time comes. Please? For me? I don’t want to look like a total narc.”

Bucky let out a resigned sigh, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Fine. But if Sam makes me wear a party hat, I'm out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No hats, got it. Just some friends and lots of cake. Don't sweat it Bucky, it will be over before you know it and you can go back to being a grumpy cat.”

Bucky gave a small grunt of acknowledgement, leaning back into the couch, his arms resting on the sides. He stared out of the window, the sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes.

“So… why did you really come over, Bucky?” you asked softly, wondering if there was more to his visit.

Bucky looked down at his hands, jaw tensing as he considered his words carefully. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice gruff. “I just… couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side, watching his face closely. “Bad day?”

He shrugged, looking out of the window again. “Had a few of those lately,” he said, quietly. 

You set the tablet down on the coffee table and shifted to face him, giving him your full attention. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Talking doesn’t usually help.”

“Maybe not, but sometimes it might. Sometimes, it’s not about the talking— it’s about having someone who's willing to listen… to share the burden.”

He turned to look at you, expression somewhat guarded but he gave you a long calculating look. Eventually he spoke. “Do you ever feel like you're… always trying to catch up?”

You tilted your head in an inquisitive manner.

“The world moved on without me. Everyone did. Steve… even Sam. They all found their place. And me?” He paused, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “I’m just… stuck.”

Your heart ached for him, but you stayed silent, letting him continue at his own pace.

“And I've tried… I swear, I've tried. But I don’t know how. Every time I try to pull myself out of this, something goes wrong and I find myself in the same place. Just… stuck. I don't fit… anywhere.”

It took a second for you to get over the wave of pain that seemed to wash over you. But you got up out of the armchair and went to sit by his side. You laid your hand on his hand. “You fit here.” 

It was such a simple answer. And it was the truth. He did fit. There was nothing more to it. You continued, leaning closer towards him. “And maybe you don't have to catch up with anyone. It's okay to find your own pace, your direction.”

“I feel like everything I do is… wrong. Everyone keeps encouraging me to be part of the world, like Sam and this birthday party. But I don't feel like I'm a part of this world.”

“Bucky, you are a part of this world. You should live in it how you want, not how other people want you to.”

Bucky sat in silence, contemplating your words.

“You know, if you don't want a party, I can help you skip it.”

“No, it's fine. I'll go,” Bucky sighed.

“You don't have to do this alone.” You squeezed his hand, looking into his face. 

Bucky’s gaze dropped to where your hand rested on his. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re not broken.”

“You’re not broken, Bucky,” you said, your voice full of conviction. “You’re just… figuring it out. And that’s okay.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, tracing a slow path from your eyes to your lips and back again. The space between you seemed to shrink, the air charged with something… more. It felt as though the invisible barrier that always kept him just out of reach had dissolved, leaving nothing but the two of you.

You didn’t plan it; you didn’t think. It was instinct, a pull you couldn’t resist. Before you knew it, you leaned in, closing the small gap, your lips brushing his in a tentative, delicate kiss.

For a moment, Bucky froze, his body going rigid with surprise. The realization hit you like a wave of cold water, and you pulled away, your heart hammering in panic. But before you could fully retreat or apologize, his hand curled around the back of your neck, holding you close.

“Wait,” he murmured. “We should practice. You know, for Sam. He’ll expect us to look convincing.” 

Your breath caught as he leaned forward this time, brushing his lips against yours with a softness that belied the power in his hand. It was over so fast. And when he pulled back, his expression was unreadable.

“Yeah,” he said, standing abruptly. “That’s probably convincing enough.”

Before you could say anything, he was at the door, his back to you. “See you later, Princess.”

And then he was gone, leaving you to wonder what the hell had just happened.

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No tag list. Follow me on @skittles-archive for notifications.

Posting schedule will be Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays around 2.30pm EST / 11.30am PST / 7.30pm BST

[sku-nk]

I've been inspired Skunk. Do you lnow that TikTok trend where it's like "When they're all up on my girl in public but she thinks they're just being friendly" and it's that audio that's like COME HERE.

Can I request that.

Come Here.

Synopsis: Some guy's getting a little too close for comfort. Unfortunately for Sam, you're oblivious to it.

Warnings: Language, jealous Sam, Not really controlling but bossy Sam, Just funny shit

A/n: i got your other ask clarifying who u wanted :))

Nothing is ever simple. Never.

Actually, there are a few things that are simple. A lot even. Things that are exactly as they're supposed to be, things that never have any extra complications.

With you nothing is ever simple. there has to be at least billion things that actually prove themselves to be what they should be, yet anything regarding you just can't be one of those things.

Like shopping.

It was supposed to be a boring little shopping trip. It was supposed to be quick. Pick up some things you need around the house, stuff you've ran out of and stuff you've suddenly realized you need. Maybe convince Sam to take you to Victoria's Secret and leave a dent in her wallet.

Honestly, Sam would prefer that to what's going on instead. She'd prefer anything over this. Like sleeping in, or watching a movie, or maybe punching that dude who's got his hand on your back.

What's worse is that you don't even seem to realize what he's doing. You've clearly been standing there for a while now, speaking to some stupid guy with a stupid chain and an even stupider fake deep voice.

At first Sam didn't even know where you were, you'd just wandered off. She'd assumed you were going to get something else on the list. When she caught up to you, finding you at the other end of the baking isle, she wished she'd followed you.

"Just need to start looking right, you know?" This guy says, standing much too close for comfort. "Pull a ten, maybe."

You nod, smiling. "I'm sure you will, Ryan," you say politely.

Sam can see the way his eyes rake over you, the look on his face so clearly filled with want it's actually ridiculous you're oblivious to it. Then again, you always have been. That's how you were with her.

"Shit, if I was like you, I wouldn't need to do all this. But you're just mad pretty," Ryan says, laughing for whatever reason. You're smiling kindly but Sam's got what's probably the dirtiest of looks on her face.

"Oh, thank you," you smile. Sam rolls her eyes. This dude's not your friend.

"Y/n," she says, making her presence known. Your eyes widen and an even bigger smile graces your face, head whipping in the direction you heard the voice. Ryan looks too, though his face is more curious than anything.

"Sammy," you say, as Ryan's hand drops from your back. Sam feels herself let out a breath despite the fact that you're still a little too close to this guy.

"Come here," she says, arms crossing.

"Hold on, this is Ry-" you begin, pointing at the guy who's now a good two and a half feet away, though you don't get the chance to finish.

"Come here." Sam points at the ground in front of her.

You tilt your head, glancing between Ryan and Sam, but you don't protest. You make a face, something between confusion and annoyance. Sam doesn't notice, or else she doesn't care.

"Now," she says, something in her voice possessing an odd sort of finality. You let out an exaggerated sigh and glance at Ryan, who seems to be just as confused as you.

"Sorry, Ryan," you say as you speed up. For some reason, this causes Sam to sigh and roll her eyes again.

She's irritable all of a sudden, you think. She shoots the not so poor guy a look, a look that has him stepping back even further.

"Let's go," she says impatiently as her eyes land on you, urging you to hurry up. You give her a look of your own.

"Why'd you do that?" you ask, despite the fact that you're doing exactly as she's told you to, glancing back like that dude's actually stupid enough to still be standing there. Sam grabs your sleeve and pulls you little closer even though it really doesn't benefit her in the slightest (besides making her feel better) and leans onto the cart.

" 'Cause I did. When you're shopping, you're shopping with me," she tells you, tone suggesting that you doing otherwise is an insult or something alike. "Not some weird ass dude."

"Ryan's not weird-"

"He's weird!" Sam cuts in, throwing a hand up. "Weird and wants you. You're with me, you're shopping with me."

You almost laugh. It's funny. What is she even talking about? Ryan wants you? That guy you just met? Sam notices your little smile out of the corner of her eye and scoffs.

"It's funny 'till he wants a smooch," she says, dead serious.

That does it.

You can't hold it any longer. You burst into a fit of giggles, smacking Sam on the arm. "He was being nice, relax," you laugh, as Sam rolls her eyes for the millionth time.

"He doesn't need to, he's being a little too nice."

"It's not that deep, I promise!" you tell her, grin unwavering.

"It's always that deep! Everybody wants you! All the time! I do!" Sam shoots back, instinctively straightening up as you grab the cart, shaking your head and beginning to push it down the isle. She nearly pulls her hair out when you start fully laughing at her again.

"Made me forget what I was over here for," you say to yourself as Sam follows behind you, saying something about the elderly crossing guard across the street checking you out.

"So you need to stay with me all the time!"

I dunno how to end this guys

[yan-randomfandom]

First of all, I REALLY LOVE YOUR YANDERE WRITING (especially Yandere gravity falls),I would like to make a request (if I don't order from you), could you make a Stanley Yandere headcanon with more details? 🥹, I really love this old scammer

Stanley Pines x Wealthy!Reader

warnings: bizzare body thoughts at the end!!

a/n: I finally wrote a short story for Stan... Here's a quick one before I get ready for college (I'm already late) Enjoy!! supposed to be Mullet Stan, or js younger [Words: 1201]

💰

Somehow, Stanley Pines managed to get an extremely rich partner. The highest class of the higher class in the social system.

It only took him two dates. The fact that you agreed to a second date was disturbing, especially considering how disastrous the first one had been. He fully expected you to ditch him just for laughs. You didn't, and actually showed up.

Stan seriously wondered if there was something wrong with you. Were you that desperately lonely? Willing to date a broke, unemployed man? Pick up the first person you find?

Yet you showered him with gifts he has never had before in his entire life. You gave him unlimited food. You gave him money and a house.

Guess his flirting skills were just that good. He liked you too, to some extent, but he suspected it's mostly because you're rich.

But, strangely enough, after your two dates, you never really gave him attention again. You were almost never home.

Very rarely you gave him affection like a significant other is supposed to do.

That was fine with him; he didn’t really expect the relationship to last like any of his others. The whole situation was weird enough as it is. As long as he got a roof over his head, he really shouldn't be one to complain... Just make sure it's not a car roof.

It's honestly all just confusing, at most.

And so, he wholeheartedly enjoyed your money, trying to double it and invest as much as he could. Hey, it's free stuff! Not like it'd backfire or anything! If you ignore fumbling that one lottery win because he got disqualified...

Then, one day, Stanley got sick.

You stayed home that same day.

He felt his body shivering, wrapping himself around his blanket like his life depended on it. Head pounding, body shaking, skin sweating. Everything was so uncomfortable.

"You're really burning up, Stan," you murmured, clicking your tongue as you read his temperature. Higher than the usual fever.

Grabbing a cup of water, you tapped him over his layer of blanket. "Please sit up and drink this. I'll give you medicine."

It was too hard for him to move. You gently pulled the blanket from him. When it reached his nose, he made eye contact with you. His eyes were glazed and half-lidded from exhaustion.

"Why are you here?" he grunted, sitting up eventually. "Thought ya forgot about me."

You stared as he drank his water. "What?"

He wiped his mouth. "Eh, nothin'. Must be busy being rich."

"..." You quietly passed him his medicine.

After he took it, Stan ignored your silence and laid back on the bed. Once again, he buried himself under his comforter.

You frowned. "After our second date, I didn't expect my schedule to be so filled. I thought I'd make it up to you by giving you gifts."

A deep chuckle rumbled from the blanket. "It's alright, toots, I'm more curious on why you bothered anyway."

"Why?" you parroted, blinking. "...Oh, Stan."

Stan felt his comforter get pulled again, turning to see your expression. It was quite unreadable, to his dismay.

He almost stopped breathing when you put a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Believe it or not, I do like you," you rubbed a thumb across his hot skin, "I'm so sorry. We'll have more bonding time when you get better, okay? I dropped everything today to take care of you, and I promise I'll do it again."

Stan's vision blurred. He quickly blinked away the tears, trying to turn away from you.

"I don't deserve that. You do know I was after your money, right?"

You chuckled. "I knew that. Don't we all?"

He pursed his lips. "Wait, seriously? Then why'd you date me?"

"I don't know," you shrugged, pulling your hand away from him. He missed your touch already. "But I don't regret it."

"What do you even see in me? I sure as hell don't know. Unless..." his eyes widened, "You're trying to—"

Your face heated up immensely with furrowed eyebrows, shaking your head. "Of course not! I would never! Please don't ever mention that again??"

He laughed, yet it sounded throaty and scratchy. You smiled anyway at the fact he got to smile.

...

"...Permission to kiss you?" you asked.

...

You cringed internally. Terrible timing to ask that question.

But Stan had different thoughts... He didn't even know if he loved you like that. Your relationship moved too fast, and now you're here, taking care of him while he's sick. Sure, you're both in a relationship, but he knew this was wrong, because it felt wrong.

But... ah, he can't think straight.

"Yes," he breathed, desperately. Almost starved. Needy.

He reveled in the feeling of both your hands resting on his cheeks, only to feel slightly dejected when you kissed his forehead.

Guess even you're aware of your relationship right now. That's nice to know. Still, he liked the sentiment to the point that a smile is threatening to go out. "You're gonna, uh... steal my fever because of this."

A chuckle left your lips. "Then I'll trust you to take care of me next."

Trust.

Stan had never trusted anyone again after the incident, and no one else had any reason to trust him either.

He raised his hands and placed them over yours, which were still on his cheeks. You watched as he brushed his nose against your hand, giving you soft, ghostly kisses with his lips.

You smiled. "During our first date, I knew you were more than what you let on. Sure, you're charming and funny, but then I saw you staring at that family with kids, and I definitely noticed when you helped that old lady with the door."

Stan stared at you.

"And I really appreciated how hard you tried to make me comfortable," your smile widened. "I think that's the main reason that made me go on a second date with you."

He coughed, looking away. "Hey. I seem to be... in need of a warm body beside me. On the bed. Because I'm sick. And in need of emotional support."

"Sure," you chuckled. "Worth the risk."

He snuggled up to you as soon as you laid beside him, wrapping his arms around your waist. It was cold, yet so warm.

You played with his hair, combing your fingers through it.

The longer you stayed with him, his warm body pressed against yours, the more he became addicted to the feeling.

The feeling of having someone by his side. Someone who actually understands him.

His eyes closed, indulging himself with your presence and warmth, trying to press himself further into you.

The fever made him feel as if he would melt into you, his flesh becoming one with yours, and everything in his body merging beneath your skin.

If he didn't love you just a few minutes ago, then he certainly does now.

And he's never letting you go.

BONUS:

"Noooooo. Please come back. I need you," he sobbed, actual tears leaking from his eyes. Your lips twitched; at least now you knew he has intense mood swings when he's sick.

You twisted the towel you had just soaked in water. "This will be quick. It'll seep the fever out of you."

"Nooo."

[queers-gambit]

Now and at the Hour of His Death

prompt: any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

fandom: The Last Kingdom

word count: 6.1k+

note: fuck you, Netflix.

warnings: you already know - author needs therapy, projects hard, pregnant wife, Lord’s name in vain, Christianity (obviously), and a fuck ton of fucking ANGST because fuck your feelings. hurt NO comfort, drama, oneshot, cursing, canon-typical violence, injury, and blood. character death and spoilers - yeah, i'm giving you THAT scene. requires maturity and caution. good luck.

also please note: NO, i do not age Osferth to be 16 - that's just a reference age for when he eventually runs away from the monastery.

again, you are missing nothing if this upsets or triggers you and you choose to skip. value your wellbeing, my angels. author is not responsible for the media YOU choose consume, but still, as usual, MDNI

"You should not be doing this sort of work," Ingrith's voice scolded you, and when you turned, you saw the blonde woman standing with her hip cocked and a stern expression. "It's bad for your health to be in such filth, we've stable boys for this sort of chore."

"I do not mind," you sniffled in the brisk air, shoveling the horse shit of the stable into a muck bucket to be dumped into the fields later. "It keeps me busy," you grunted lightly, sure to bend your knees when lifting the pitchfork, "keeps me humble," you listed, dumping the waste to grin at your friend, "and keeps me young."

"In what way?"

"Reminds me of my childhood," you eased, continuing your work. "I slept in a stable from the ages of 4 to... Oh, shit, I guess I was about 16 before I left The Loft."

"What?" She breathed in confusion. "Never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, true story," you beamed at her, still shoveling shit. "I slept in the stalls with the horses, sometimes in the grain rooms - basically anywhere I could since my work didn't include official room and board, so, I had to make do with what was available. Then, one day when I was about ten, Old Man Rivers said I could use the hay loft if I cleared it out, fixed the rotten planks. Stayed up there till I was about 16, and after that, I kinda ran away."

"Old Man Rivers?"

You nodded, "My mother lived on his homestead, but she was real sick, you see. So, he kinda took me in without assuming responsibility for me," you cleared your throat, shrugging, "let me stay in his barn if I worked with the horses and livestock for him."

"Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Seems simpler when I look back."

Ingrith sighed, "C'mon, put the pitchfork down. Come help me prepare the rabbits. The scouts say the men aren't too far off, they'll want a hot meal."

You chuckled with ease and set your pitchfork aside, giving a hearty pat to one of the horse's necks as you passed by to exit the stable. Ingrith made sure you washed up before you were both mounting rabbits on the rack to start skinning them.

"Could I ask something?" She wondered after a time.

"Anything you'd like."

"Why'd you run away? From Old Man Rivers?"

You laughed, "I was in love."

"Oh, you and Baby Monk go that far back, huh?"

"Try even farther," you teased. "Our mothers were friends, and when I worked in the stable, he was in the monastery, but when he came to me, saying he couldn't do it any longer, I couldn't let him go alone. Life was supposed to offer more than what we were given, so, we set out to find the legendary barbarian, The Dane Slayer," you teased, both giggling, "our Lord, the legendary, Uhtred of Bebbanburg."

"And all this time...?" She smiled, watching you shuck hide like you've done it your whole life. Ingrith inferred you probably did.

"Yeah," you eased, "all this time, he's been by my side. Kept me close, never left me behind. The others weren't too sure about me on account of being a woman, they told us to piss off a few times - but they came around after Osferth refused to send me away."

"He's a good lad, Osferth," she nodded.

"Arguably one of the best ones," you agreed, nudging her arm gently, "but look who I'm telling, right?"

"Oh!" She giggled, swatting at you loosely before going back to your work for a moment. Suddenly, the townspeople of Rumcofa stirred to life, and over the voices, you heard them announcing their Lord's return - which meant all of your men were home. You both grinned and breathlessly left your post, Ingrith pausing a young lad to ask, "How many return to us?"

"Does it matter? Come, c'mon, let us see ourselves!" You all but squealed, overwhelmed with excitment; eager for your own reunion with the man you've loved since you were a young lass.

"Warn the alehouse!" Finan was heard shouting. "Osferth's thirsty!"

"Jesus," you laughed, dodging around the procession of people waiting to greet their warriors on their return home so you could approach the white gelding your husband rode.

His face was absolutely priceless when he caught sight of you. As Osferth eagerly dismounted, your hands smoothed over the small swell of your belly - purposefully wearing a dress that accentuated your ever-changing figure. "Am I dreaming?" He laughed, a stablehand taking hold of his horse so his hands were free to caress your belly. "Oh, my God, I'm not, 's real, oh, God," he beamed, laughing with you. "You're pregnant? Truly? Yes? I-I am not - I am not being deceived?"

"No, my love, I guess our prayers were finally heard."

"OH-HOOOO!" You heard Finan holler as Osferth finally pulled you in for a sweet kiss; both ignoring the Irishman. "Lord! LORD! Uhtred! Hey! Did you hear!? Baby Monk's got some spunk in 'im afta all!"

"Oh, God," you laughed against Osferth's lips, but he was quick to shush you with another breath-stealing kiss.

"A baby Baby Monk! AHA!" Finan was still laughing, your husband's hands caressing both your cheeks when he pulled back just in time for Finan to descend. You grunted lightly when his heavy arms dropped over both yours and Osferth's shoulders, his laugh still booming as he gave a squeeze and cooed, "Oh, congratulations, yah two love birds! Wasn't sure you had it innyah, boy!"

"Don't be so rough with her, Finan, for God's sake," Osferth scolded, nudging his friend to get out from under his arm.

"What?" Finan looked at you gobsmacked. "Sayin' I gotta treat yah different now or somethin'?"

"I didn't say that," you told him prettily with fluttering lashes, fist quickly balling up to jab him in the weak spot of his armor - making him grunt and wheeze. "Aht-aht!" You warned with a pointed finger when he flinched as if to retaliate, "Can't hit a pregnant woman."

"Oh, yeh li'l shite," Finan laughed, Osferth pushing him towards his wife so he could stand in front of you and command all attention.

Osferth took a moment to simply look at you; thumbs gently tracing over your cheeks in sweeping motions, a slow grin breaking across his lips. "This almost doesn't feel real... But how I have to praise God for this blessing. A baby," he breathed.

"A little you and me," you agreed softly. "Sound okay to you?"

"More than okay," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "sounds like a lifetime together."

"Good by me." His nose nuzzled up yours, the sweet moment broken when he sighed sadly; eyes shut and smile dropping. "What is it? What's wrong, love?" You asked, stepping into his embrace so you were nuzzled into his neck and his arms were wrapped around your form in a vice.

"Uhtred means to move us again," he whispered in your ear. "Brida, she... She's got Father Pyrlig, and - "

"What!?" You snapped, rearing back slightly to pin him under your hardened glare. Pregnancy hormones would surely give Osferth whiplash.

"My love, I did not - "

"Brida's got Pyrlig? Fuck are we standin' here for, let's go!" You reached for his hand, ready to march off.

"Uh, no, no, no, no," he pulled you back to him; anchoring his hands on your hips so you could not escape. "You are not going anywhere. Not now - especially now," he glanced at your still-growing bump. "The men will go, you know we will return, but you have this new responsibility, and that's keeping this little one safe. For us," he smiled at you.

You huffed, "I'm not unfit to do what needs done, Osferth."

"I did not say you were unfit, but look at the timing of it," he frowned. "I should've been here when you learned, but I was not, and I am truly so sorry for it. Look, I do not know how long this venture will be, but you know I will return. We've waited for our family for far too long, I will not jeopardize this - so I will return. If you go with us, and something were to happen," he shook his head, "my angel, I would never forgive myself. So I need you to stay here, stay safe, if for nothing else but for me."

"But Pyrlig - "

"Will be saved," he assured.

"And Brida - "

"Will be dealt with," he eased, chuckling lightly. "My angel, you worry too much about everyone and yet never about yourself."

You pouted, "Well, why is it just me meant to stay back? This is your child, too, Osferth, and should have the right to meet them! You can't always control what happens, accidents are real, what if you don't return - "

"Don't think like that - "

"But it's a real threat to us - "

He agreed, "Of course, but - "

"Yeah, I know," you nodded, cutting him off, "we serve Lord Uhtred. This comes first, and I'm not - "

"I've made a vow to him."

"You made one to me, too, you know."

"Angel, please, don't do this. Do not ask me to choose," he begged with a frown, and you caved.

So, with a sigh, you nuzzled into his embrace and relented, "All right, yes, fine, go after Brida and Pyrlig. And when you find them, tell him I am waiting for his safe return, he is dearly missed. Ideally, I'd have him birth our child."

"Of course," he breathed, finding a small reprieve of relief that you did not fight him further about leaving - about choosing which vow to fulfill: the one to his Lord Uhtred or the one to his wife.

Both made to God.

Luckily, Osferth married his best friend and you were never one to pick fights with him. You liked the harmony you had; the peaceful environment you had both cultivated to preserve the trust and love you built through the years. He was genuinely one of a kind; a man who walked many lines between faith, humanity, right, wrong. He was the voice of reason, constantly striving to do better than he did before, learning all he could as if a rag soaking in water. For all he was, Osferth has always been enough for you, and for that reason alone, you never felt the need to argue.

To fight. To voice contempt.

"Question," you perked up, smirking at him as your pregnancy symptoms ran a little wild, "think we've time to, you know, really give our thanks?"

"Angel - "

"What?" You grinned. "You fucked me on the alter all those weeks ago and look - your seed stuck. We might as well go give thanks in the same manner, just to really show God how thankful we are for this blessing he's given us."

"Think the Devil's gotten into you," he laughed.

"Or your child is ruining my hormones," you countered, his lips meeting yours in another passionate display of his excitement.

"C'mon," he whispered, taking your hand, and leading you to the chapel - thinking you were being sneaky, but your matching giggles made Ingrith and Finan beam at each other.

"He does know she can't get more pregnant, right?" Finan teased, flinching when Ingrith smacked his upper arm.

"WHY!?"

"My angel, please - "

"What the fuck is going on, Osferth!?"

"I'm trying to explain - "

"The Queen? The fucking Queen is dead in our village! How can that possibly be explained!?" When Osferth didn't answer, just sat in the wooden chair before the shared hearth of your humble home, you snapped, "Well!?"

"Are you finished? May I speak now?"

With a huff, you nodded and gestured for him to speak; arms crossing around your swollen tits. He explained to you the reason for Haesten's arrival, the wagon his men toted, and why he brought the Queen's dead body to the settlement of Rumcofa. He told you Haesten wanted to keep the peace when King Edward found out, claiming Uhtred's son-in-law, Stiorra's husband, Sigtryggr, had ordered this death - thinking war would surely roll over his lands.

You never knew Haesten to be a generous man, nor much of an honest one, but it seemed the severity of the situation made everyone eerily on-edge. Uhtred dispatched his men; leaving Finan and Osferth in the village with you, developing a plan that would save both Saxon and Danish life. And yet, it was all futile when evil forces worked against good.

You didn't feel safe in Rumcofa anymore, there was a stench in the air; tension that mounted to embrace all residents with discomfort. Something was about to happen, but nobody knew what. You didn't claim or pretend to know what was happening, but Haesten's abrupt appearance spelled danger for everyone involved. So, as a security measure, you kept a long sword buckled around your swelling waist and a dagger strapped under your skirts. With Lord Uhtred gone, there was no invisible fence protecting Rumcofa - leaving it up to you, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf to pose as guard.

Yet you'd never be enough.

Like the surf over sand, a group of angered men descended on Rumcofa. "Who's men are yah?" Finan asked, you lingering at Osferth's side to watch the interaction from a short distance.

"We come from the King," a burly Saxon replied, your head cocking in interest - swearing you've seen him before. "Dane murderers are hiding here and you must hand them over."

"You're mistaken, sir," you kindly offered, the man's eyes shifting over you, "because we live in peace. Any murderers have surely moved on from here. We do not host them."

The man growled, "Don't think that's true, love."

Finan held a hand back at you, meeting your eyes and nodding simply. He turned back for the man in fur, diverting, "Of course, my men will attend to it."

Finan turned from the group, his eyes connecting with yours as he passed by. There was urgency, a quickened pace he adopted; having no intention to hand anyone over, wanting to remove these men without bloodshed. However, that was a distant thought because Father Benedict tried to assure the Saxon leader that nobody in Rumcofa would murder Queen Aelflaed.

You wanted to step in when the Saxon evidently didn't know about the Queen's demise - getting in Benedict's face and demanding to see what he spoke of.

"No, no, no," you muttered nervously, "he can't see the body, love, no, no, no, this is bad. Very bad."

"We can't stop Father Benedict without altercation," Osferth whispered back, keeping a tight hold of your hand, just watching the group. "If something happens, you need to get yourself safe."

"How do we truly know they're from Edward? What credentials do they have?" When Osferth shook his head, you worried, "Got a bad feeling 'bout this, angel."

Then the violence began.

The strange men took charge when their leader walked away, starting to physically harass the citizens; making both you and Osferth step in to try and diffuse the tension. You pushed men off unarmed women, got in between them and the children, did what you could without drawing a weapon.

When a man shoved you away from him, Finan wrangled him away, sneering, "Get yer hands off of her!" He kept the violent men at bay for a moment, telling you, "You need to go, darling - "

"Not now, Fin, look around us! We need to contain the situation, you'll need all hands you can get," You snapped, the two of you forced to part way.

Osferth panted nervously and looked left and right, turning to meet the Saxon and demand, "Tell your men to stand down!" But then, his eyes squinted when you joined his side to pull him back a step or two, recognizing him just as you did.

"I don't think they're here for the Queen, love," you heaved for breath in warning, still backing him up. "They've planned this."

"Finan!" Osferth barked, "These men have been here before!"

The Saxon roared over the fray, "Danes of Rumcofa have murdered our Queen!" His men jeered in anger, making Finan brandish both swords and for Osferth to push you back further from the attention. "Do your duty and rid the cockles from the wheat!"

You were left no choice. Osferth and you both armed yourselves, starting to fight off the Saxons as their leader demanded Danes and Christians be separated. You were unable to help, engaged in battle, but Young Uhtred gathered the Danes and begged Father Benedict to declare the church a sanctuary - thinking it would save lives.

It was only leading the Danes to slaughter.

The Saxon, Bresal, punched Father Benedict when he tried to stand in the way; his men holding Young Uhtred in the doorway to let their men enter the church the Danes were gathered in. They forced Young Uhtred to watch the massacre - men, women, and Danish children all slaughtered with no escape. No hope. No answer to a single prayer. Nobody to stop this bloody situation.

You fought on, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf doing their best to protect you by keeping you in the middle of their wee group. But you still got plenty of action.

"This is madness!" You cried out, slicing a man's throat open. "We need aid! We need more men!"

"This way!" Finan encouraged, "We must cut a path for Ingrith! Check the docks! Check the docks!"

You and Osferth ran towards the water, Cynleaf not far away. You searched for Ingrith, but you had no time to linger; engaged one-on-one again, forced to protect yourself and unborn baby. Not a minute later, you saw Ingrith on horseback, being stalled by a Saxon and for your husband to rush to her aid. He punched the man away from the horse, you hacking at another enemy, in time to see Osferth engaging with two Saxons - one being the leader, Bresal.

It all happened so fast.

You were already racing towards them when the unexpected. Osferth was battling on two fronts, holding Bresal at bay, fending off the other Saxon, screaming for Ingrith, who only managed a few paces before the Saxon's dogs spooked her horse. The noise was deafening; people screaming, crying, dogs barking, horses whinnying, swords singing as they clashed.

You watched it happen in slow motion.

You sprinted faster than ever before.

"INGRITH!" Osferth bellowed in worry when her horse reared back and dropped her to the dirt. It left an opening for Bresal to stab his dagger into Osferth's lung - freezing time and wrecking your world.

"NO!" You screamed, Bresal smirking at you and yanking his dagger free. Osferth wobbled, eyes wide as he met yours, the Saxon walking away as Osferth dropped to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no, no, you can't take him - not yet! Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," You repeated, sliding on your knees in the dirt to catch him. "No, no, oh, my God, no, Osferth, no, please! Not now, not now, please, no, God, no! Don't do this! Please, please, please," you rambled, readjusting to better hold him, hearing Cynleaf and Finan yell for Baby Monk, too. You raged at God, "You can't take him yet! You can't have him! He's mine!"

But you heard nothing except your husband's labored breathing.

"An-Angel, angel, my angel," Osferth choked, wheezing and crying as he couldn't hold himself up and completely slumped back into your body. He pawed at your arms in an attempt to get closer.

"No, no, no, you're all right, you're okay, you're okay, my sweet love, you're all right," you insisted, hands stained in his blood as it poured from his wound. You knew it was essential to add pressure to a wound, but also, that this was all futile. Yet you needed to try. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me, just look at me, sweetheart, please, only look at me, nothing else matters," you pleaded with him in a rush, the lads sprinting to where you held your husband to your lap.

Nobody interrupted you.

"Where's the wound?" Osferth sobbed, trembling, blood spurting from his mouth; going paler by the minute. "Angel, please, the wound? Where's the wound?"

"No, no, no, don't worry 'bout that, hey? Don't you worry, you just keep looking at me," you sobbed, holding his neck and cradling him to your swollen belly. "Just at me, my love, okay? Just look at me - don't look anywhere else, okay? Nothing else matters."

"H-How bad? How ba-ba-bad-bad is i-it?"

"You're going to be all right," you lied to Osferth for the first time.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Osferth repeated through his tears and fears, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

He held onto you desperately, sobbing, you slowly rocking. "No, you're all right, Osferth, it's okay, just look at me." You caressed his cheek, smearing blood, but locking eyes. "My love," you whispered, "listen to me - "

"I don't wanna die, please, please, angel, my love, please," he coughed, holding your arm tightly as if it would give him life. "Don't let me die," he wheezed, "don't let me die, my love, please, please. Don't let me die, I don't wanna die. I-I wanna meet our baby, please, I want to meet our baby, I want to be a father. Don't let me die, love, please, I-I wanna be your husband longer - "

"You'll never not be my husband and you'll never not be a father, hear me?" You sniffled, trying to smile at him. "Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, you're okay, Osferth. You'll always be my husband, nothing will change that - I swear."

Blood pumped with each beat of his frantic heart, making it gush over your fingers. You didn't even feel it.

"Please," he choked, more blood bubbling from his lips, "don't let me die, I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, please, not now, not when our baby isn't here yet, please, I just wanna meet 'em, be a family, I wanna stay with you, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go, I don't want t'go! Don't let me - "

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here, Osferth, you're not alone, you're never alone. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you, I won't ever let you go. Never."

He sobbed harder. "I don't wanna leave you. Please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be without you - " But the words choked him, a splatter spraying across your face when he coughed; you didn't even flinch.

"Listen to me," you begged, "I commend you, my dear, sweet husband, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator."

Finan was heard behind you, retching jarring sobs as you read Osferth his death rite prayer. "Don't let me die," Osferth begged still, as if you held that power.

He had always looked at you as if you hung the sun and stars, and now, as if you were his very reason for living. You hated God in that moment for forcing you two through this.

"May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels," now, you choked on your words, emotion clawing your throat, but still continued, "and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace." You sobbed, "May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of His flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen. Amen. Please, please, say amen, Osferth, say it, please!"

"A-Amen - Amen!" He coughed, trying to get closer to you, nestling into your warmth as he felt impossibly cold. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be alone. I can't go without you, please, don't let me go - don't let me die, angel, please, I can't go without you. I-I’ve never been without you my whole life, I don’t wish to start now. I love you. I-I love you, please, don't let me go, I love you. I need you."

"You'll never be without me," you promised, face coated in blood, grime, dirt, and ash; all streaked with your tear tracks. "You will always be my husband, hey? Hear me? You're always gonna be with me, I will never be apart from you. I'll love you forever, Osferth, I won't ever stop." You felt your chest cave in as you sobbed, "Please, don't you leave me - "

But Osferth was wheezing and panting, only staring up at you. "I only need you," he whimpered, "I've only ever needed you, I can't do this without you. Please, I can't - I can't go without you. I don't want to leave you, I can't leave you, please!'

"So don't leave me," you sobbed, him still clawing at you in desperation. "I love you more than life, Osferth, please, don't leave me, okay? Don't go. I love you so much. Being loved by you was my greatest pleasure in this life, I want our child to know your love, too, Osferth, please, don't go."

"I-I wanna meet our baby, I wanna hold 'em, love 'em," he repeated. "Please, this can't be the end, don't let this be the end. W-We have so much more - we were supposed to have eternity together, my love, my angel, please! This isn't the end, I can't - I can't go without you!"

"You're okay," you soothed uselessly, rocking more prominently. "Just stay with me, my love, okay? Stay with me. Don't go. Only look at me, all right? You hear me?" You sniffled, caressing his cheek. "You're the best thing in my life, Osferth, yeah? Understand me? Where you're going, y-you'll be welcomed a hero, with open arms. You'll be my own angel. My real angel. The reason I keep going for our child. An-And you'll stay there just for a little while until I join you, okay? You'll watch over us, me and the baby, right? Our own angel? Hey? 'Cause you'll never be part from us - you'll never be apart from me. You and I are a forever sorta thing, we'll never be apart, we'll always be part of each other no matter what."

Osferth lost his words, eyes widening and pulling you closer.

You just soothed, "I'm here with you, my love. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone, I'm right here, I have you. I've got you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Osferth, okay? I love you more than anything, you're my everything. I love you," you sniffled, breaking down in worse sobs, repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't faster, I love you, this shouldn't be happening. I'm so sorry, I should've come faster! I love you, I'm so sorry."

With his last breath, Osferth choked, "L-Love y-y-you."

"I love you," you hushed, bending at the waist to rest your forehead on his, "I love you so much. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be all right, you'll be safe - where you're going, you'll be safe. I'm so sorry, my love... I'm so sorry."

You felt him go still. You felt the last of his breath exhale, his body deflate. You felt his soul detach from his body.

You froze.

"Oh, my God," you breathed, pulling back to look down at his petrified features. "Oh, my God, no, no, no. God, please, please, give him back," you sobbed, "give him back to me! Do not take him! It's not his time, you selfish cunt! Give him back! It wasn't supposed to end like this! Give him back to me, please! Please! This isn't how this was supposed to happen! We promised eternity together, please! Let us have that! Let us be together, give him back to me! I need him!"

Your shrill hysterics were heard all over Rumcofa.

Finan sobbed into his wife's arms behind you, Cynleaf knelt to slowly extend his hand onto your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he offered, but you pushed him away harshly; knocking him into the dirt.

"No! I don't want your fucking condolences!" You snapped, holding Osferth tighter, "I want my husband! I want my husband back! Can you give him to me? Can you, Cynleaf? Can you give him back to me!?"

"No - "

"Then you have nothing to offer me! I want nothing else, nothing from you! I only want him!" You looked away from the young lad, finding Osferth's wide open eyes staring up at you. You whimpered, "I only need him, so, please. Please, give him back to me. Please. I need him, I need him, I can't do this without him, please, God, don't do this. You take so many lives, why add him to the mix!? Give him back! C'mon," you begged the cooling body, "c'mon, love, get up. Get up for me, please, just wake up. Come back to me, get up... Get up, Osferth, get up! Please! WAKE UP!"

But Osferth never moved. Never blinked. Never drew breath. And God never answered your pleas. Your dress was saturated in your husband's blood; a pooling puddle seeping into your knees, bodice drenched, his baby moving in your belly. You wailed into the still air, holding your husband tight to your chest; mouth agape to release the terrible screams of anguish, tears never ending, rocking on your knees. You didn't know what to feel... But devastation was prominent.

You wept until your throat went raw, jaw tender from your open mouth. "I'm so sorry!" You repeated, "I should've been quicker! I should've been at your side! You shouldn't have been alone! This is my fault! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have been away from you. I should've been with you, you did not deserve this end. Please! Forgive me, wherever you are, forgive me, I did not intend for this, I shouldn't have left you, I should've been at your side, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"No," Ingrith whispered, "no, do not say this is your fault, you did nothing - "

"Exactly!" You snapped at her, eyes ablaze, her husband silent. "I did nothing, I wasn't with him! I wasn't where I was supposed to be! And he was stabbed because of you!"

Finan whispered your name in reprimand.

"No! How many times have you rode a fucking horse, Ingrith!? And now, today, the time it truly matters, you fall; you posed distraction," you sobbed, crumpling in on yourself. "He was distracted by your fall... This shouldn't've happened, this is all wrong!"

The trio just watched you, knowing your emotions were raw and unwavering, that your words did not have meaning because your husband had just died in your arms. Hours passed, you did not move. Hours passed, your husband did not return. Hours passed, and your heart shattered with each passing breath you selfishly drew.

Because living felt selfish now without Osferth.

"Sweet one," Finan whispered, the sun setting, "we should move him. Bring him to the church so Benedict can pray."

Your head shook, "No."

"Darlin', we have to - "

"No," you whimpered, "because if you take him to Benedict, it's real. If we move, he's truly gone... He can't be gone, Finan," you sobbed, meeting your friend's eyes. "If you move him, he's gone, I'm not ready to say goodbye, please. Please, don't take him from me."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "but he should be laid to rest."

"Don't take him from me," you begged, a new wave of tears starting. "I just - we were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have this baby, and now, it's just me? This cannot be, so please, don't take him from me, I only need him back. Give him back to me, Finan, please, I can't be without him."

"I know," he nodded, gently encouraging you into his embrace. It meant you had to let go of Osferth, something you did slowly and gradually, leaning into the Irishman's chest. "All right, I got yah," he whispered, looking to his wife. "C'mon, stand with Ingrith. I'll carry him."

"Be gentle," you sobbed, feeling Ingrith grip your arms to help heave you to your feet; watching Finan scoop Osferth over his shoulder. The change of position made more blood splatter to the dirt, your heart stalling in your chest when you heard the mess.

You felt your soul shriveled and hidden somewhere deep in your chest, following as if in a trance. You watched Finan and Cynleaf slowly lower Osferth to the ground with the other dead Danes, feeling yourself drop to the ground in shock.

Seeing Osferth amongst the dead made it so much more real.

"It's all my fault," you sobbed, Finan moving to your side, "it's all my fault, I got him killed. I should've been quicker. This is my fault, my fault, I did this, 's my fault."

Finan knelt beside you, bringing your foreheads together to hold you tightly and let you sob into his embrace. "You didn't do this," he promised, "you did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. Do not carry this guilt."

You sobbed without reprieve.

Young Uhtred halted Father Benedict from praying over the Danes, telling the older man they had different customs, but looked back at you. He asked your name softly, wondering, "Do you wish for a prayer for... Him?"

Even Young Uhtred couldn't stomach the truth, avoiding using Osferth's name out of sheer disbelief.

"That'd be nice," Finan agreed, turning to sit beside you and hold you under his arm. You leaned into his embrace, head to his shoulder. "She read him his death rites when... It happened."

Young Uhtred nodded, bowing his head, leading, "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Then, you joined from under Finan's heavy arm, sobbing through your words, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Benedict finished, "Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."

Together, you, Ingrith, Young Uhtred, Benedict, Finan, and even Cynleaf ended, "Amen."

Feeling the most level-headed, Ingrith stepped in and directed the men; informing that Young Uhtred should lead the remaining Danes to Daneland, Finan and Cynleaf would meet Uhtred on the road, and she would accompany you to Wessex - where Osferth could be laid to rest at the place of his birth. Then, the people mourned together for their fallen.

Finan disagreed initially, telling his wife you were his responsibility now that Osferth was passed. But there was no way you could continue with the company, not in your pregnant state. Finan didn't like the idea of you being without him, considering you close to a sister; something of a best mate, someone he couldn't turn his back on - no matter the situation. However, he understood the predicament and finally agreed to part ways, but not before he untied Osferth's crucifix and latched it around your neck. At the gates of Rumcofa, before separating, Finan gifted you his rosary; thinking it might bring comfort in his physical absence.

Years from then, you would bring up a single son named Gabriel (a name your husband favored, a name benefitting an Angel) under Lord Uhtred in his birthplace of Bebbanburg. You never remarried. You never even so much as looked after another man with lust. Gabriel would grow into a handsome warrior and a devoted man of God, satisfied on tales about his father; being painted as a man of honor, integrity, and bravery. Osferth, too, was a man of God, a man of the sword, and a man of his word... Until the very end. And when your time came, you were brought back to Wessex to be laid to rest with your husband; your son having a son, naming him Osferth, and knowing, both his parents shined down on him in pride.

It was a comfort for everyone to know, somewhere in the afterlife, in God's warmth, you and Osferth were reunited; looking just as you did the day you parted from one another.

requesting rules and masterlist

[churipu]

hello !! ૮˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ა i really love your writing and your soft scenarios, they bring me so much serotonin and happiness to be honest !

i don’t know if you take requests still, but could you please do a part two of jjk men + short partner with geto? only if you want to of course, i’ll respect your decision either way don’t worry! thank you so much! <3

JJK MEN + SHORT PARTNER

featuring. geto suguru, itadori yuuji, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. reader is a non-sorcerer (geto)

note. hihi nonnieeee <33 thank you so much for saying that, you don't understand how much you saying that makes me so happy :(( i'm so glad that my works can bring you happiness omg. this is part two to the short partner headcanons.

part one.

GETO SUGURU. geto honestly could care less about your height — he finds you so adorable that he sometimes can't help but to pinch your cheeks gently, tugging your flesh and squeezing it lightly out of love; it has turned into a small habit that he does to you.

"sugu, no more, my cheeks are going to swell," you tell him, covering your cheeks with your hands to prevent the male from touching it again.

geto couldn't help but to chuckle at your reaction. you're so cute, so small compared to him that all he wanted to do was to poke fun at you. laying his large, calloused hand on top of your head whenever you both sit side-by-side, softly shifting just to pat you.

he will put you on his lap, playing with your hair as you do your own thing. you know a perk of being a shortie? when you sit on a certain height, you get to swing your legs lightly, letting it just flail above ground — and when you do that, geto stares at you lovingly.

"i'm a little jealous of you," your boyfriend mumbles, leaning his chin on top of the palm of his hand. his eyes gazing to your figure as you swung your legs lightly.

"why?"

"you get to swing your legs like that," he pointed his index finger to your legs and you stopped swinging your legs, "why'd you stop?"

"so you won't feel jealous."

geto easily pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his head into your neck, "keep doing that, 'm enjoying it, you know?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss onto your neck.

he hates non-sorcerers, but when it comes to you? he just can't hate you.

ITADORI YUUJI. ABOSLUTELY LOVES YOUR SHORT HEIGHT. he would and will help you take things that are out of your reach — won't make fun of you, don't worry, I assure you there will never be a scenarios where yuuji makes fun of you. he just thinks you're so perfect, and he gets really sad when you make fun of yourself.

"baby, why would you say that?" he asks you, pulling you close, laying his head on your shoulder.

"yuuji, because it's true," you chuckled, brushing his hair.

"but i like that part of you. your height," he muffles into your clothes, leaning into your touch.

he gets so mushy with you — i'm not even kidding, will grab you, throw you over his shoulders and walk around anywhere. greeting people he know on the way, even gojo or nanami (while you're on his shoulder, also greeting them).

"nanamin, hi!" yuuji greets, walking past the older male as he turned to look at both you and him, you waved at nanami when he turns around to look — and he waves back at you, confused.

yuuji is clingy. but you don't mind — he will latch himself onto you, do you know how parents hold their baby when they're trying to teach them how to walk? yuuji does that with you, even if you're not that much shorter than him; still short, he still does it. because you're his baby, and he won't accept anything else.

"c'mon baby, left and right, left and right." he guides your arms forward, standing behind you.

as you took a step, he takes one too — like teaching a baby how to walk, it's cute really, "yes, just like that," he laughs. god, he's having so much fun with you.

yuuji won't let anyone call you short, even gojo. will fight anyone who makes fun of you, and not even kidding. he will not back down from defending you.

"what do you mean they're too short?" he retorts back, rolling his eyes, "you're too annoying and nobody's saying anything."

SUKUNA RYOMEN. huge. tease. about it. will go on until you cry — but will make it up to you in his own way. he's not one to say how much he loves you, but you do know that he does. he just refuses to say it.

"ryo, stop. it's not funny anymore." you mumble out lowly to him, pushing his chest away.

he chuckles deeply, but when he realizes it was serious; he stops, turns away for a bit before glancing back at you. sukuna isn't much of a crier, so he doesn't know what to do when you cry — he gets a little confused, like, why are you crying because he called you short?

"why are you crying, brat?" he grunted.

"you're being mean to me."

"i called you short." he sighs out loudly, pulling your arm away from your face — revealing your tearful eyes, "stop crying," he thumbs your tears away from the corner of your eyes.

"then stop doing that, you've done that so many times, it's pissing me off." you mumbled at him, sniffling lightly.

the male groans out, rolling his eyes, "are humans this dramatic?" he asks you, wiping your tears away; pulling you onto his lap, burying his face into the crook of your neck — as much as he tries to put up this tough guys demeanor, he feels bad for making you cry.

but will definitely do it again next time.

it's weird; sukuna shows his love by teasing the hell out of you, pissing you off, making you cry — then ends up feeling bad for a few hours before doing the same thing all over again.

"'m sorry, but i'll do it again next time." he murmurs into your neck.

"you're mean."

"i know. but i love you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[sunflower-author]

HI i've been obsessed with akaashi atm so could you do yandere akaashi

he'd be such a sneaky yandere since he's so observant and memorises your little mannerisms and personality. he knows just what to say to you and other people as well to get you all to himself

anyway idm what you do, have fun with it!! hope you have a good day <33

SORRY IK IT IS SUPER LATE, AND I TRULY WANTED TO DO THIS!!

ALSO I WAS RAMBLING A LOT BUT HOPE YOU LIKE IT;)

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

      It's a Friday and school just ended, you go to the usual spot to meet Akaashi before he has to practice. A bench under the tree, on the opposite side of the gym, giving you guys time to talk, before making it to the gym.

After some time you see Akaashi turn the corner, from sitting on the bench you stand up to greet him. Smiling as you make your way toward him. 

"There you are, I was wondering if you ever were gonna come," you say jokingly.

"Sorry, that was my bad I was caught up with some schoolwork," Akaashi says. In reality, he was writing in his notebook about you. He has a notebook, where he keeps specific tabs about you. Your likes and dislikes, also including plans about what he would want in the future, plans like...

.

.

.

"Y/N, I was wondering if after practice today, would you want to come over to my house to study?" Akaashi says walking.

"Sure, our AP test is coming up, and I'll be lucky if I get 3/5," you say shyly, following after him. (Headcanon that Akaashi takes AP classes) *ALSO I SWEAR I'M GONNA FAIL THAT TEST!!!*

"No comment," Akaashi says as he continues to walk.

"Hey why'd you say that?" you ask, confused and a bit offended.

"Well.. what did you think I would say?" Akaashi asks curious.

"I don't know, just not that, maybe something encouraging at least," you say, trying to defend yourself.

"If I say something encouraging either one, you would hype yourself up thinking your gonna do well,  then do just below that, and get all sad and guilty," 

"When have I ever done anything like that?" you ask not believing that you would do anything like that.

 "Remember your Biology finial, you said that you wanted to get at least a 90, I said how you've been studying so your gonna do amazing, but then you got 89. You ended up with a B for that class, you stayed in you room a whole week during summer, all depressed."

"It dropped my perfect GPA," you say defending yourself.

"Or two, you would study all the time till you only do well on that one test and forget about the rest, before you say anything, midterms... Your lucky it was only midterms."

"That only happened once," In your defense you learned never to try that again.

Rolling his eyes he finally says "Or three, if I encourage you right now, you might not take studying seriously and think you can just wing the test, and therefore end up failing."

"Oh yeah.. I do that one a lot don't I," you say embarrassed.

"You have been improvising a lot more than you usually have, now that I think about it, is something wrong?" Akaashi asks concerned.

"Oh.. you've noticed that?" you ask as you stopped walking, looking down ashamed. " I admit that I have not been studying as much as before... I just feel like I'm burning out... or maybe I am burnt out..." 

Akaashi going right in front of you, he just pats your head, it may seem small, but it is your favorite form of affection from him. 

"You know it is normal to be burnt out, the important and most hardest part is overcoming it. I'm always free when you need me. If you want I'll skip practice today, we can just go straight to my house," Akaashi offers.

"That's very sweet of you Keji, but the volleyball team really needs you. You're the only one who can handle Bokuto, and I can't imagine how sad Bokuto would be when he finds out you're not there today." You reassure him.

"You know I care about you, more than I care about volleyball and Bokuto, just say the word and we can go to my house," Akaashi says, persisting.

"Keji, pretty soon is the Spring Nationals, you need to prepare, I'll meet you after your practice," you say as you start to part ways.

Unexpectedly Akaashi follows you grabbing you hand softly.

"Where are you going," he asks. Normally you would wait for him in the gym's girls locker rooms, till his practice is over, since there was air condition inside.

"I thought that today.. I would go stay in class and wait for you, maybe study a bit before.. so that you don't need to catch me up on anything, then we can study faster tonight," you said.

"What are you hiding?" he ask.

"I'm not hiding anything," you said defending yourself.

"You're avoiding eye contact with me, you keep scratching your neck, and your more defensives than normal, I can tell when you are trying to hide something Y/N," he said. After a few more moments of silence you finally confessed.

"Alright fine... one of my friends invited me to join track practice today, I know you don't want to join any sports, but it was just a practice, I'm not going to join," you said admittingly.

"Was that all you were trying to hide?" Akaashi asks, acting surprised. "I'm sorry if you felt like that was something you had to hide from me," his words so soothing, hiding the venom within.

"It was just because whenever I tell you about a club I was going to join you would always turn the idea down, or convince me not to do the club," 

"That is not true-"

"Soft tennis, kyudo, archery, ice skating, and now track and field," you cut him off, apparently Akaashi was not the only one that was keeping tabs on their partner.

"I just don't want you getting hurt, and plus who knows...  what if you get too involved in the sport and fall behind in school, also when you compete would you be willing to do it, all eyes would be on you, I know you get anxious in a crowd, and when you compete your coach, teammates, friends would all be counting on you," Akaashi explains.

"Yeah your right," you say, realizing that you shouldn't have thought about ever joining a sport, there would be no way you would be able to handle the stress and pressure. 

"I just thought I would be cool to have a sport since your in volleyball, I didn't want you to think I was lazy or something," you say timid.

"I would never think that about you, I know how much you study, how much you help your family around the house, I would never think of you as lazy," He says commending. "But just out of curiosity what type of event would you have picked if you were to do track and field?" he ask.

"It would be pole vault," you say. Hearing those words Akaashi was so glad to have convinced you not to. 

Pole vaulter's have upper body strength, and in the emergency of him kidnapping you, with you having some upper body strength it would just be irritating. He would win though. 

"Pole vault?" he asks, hesitantly.

"Is there a problem?" you ask curiously.

"It is just that pole vaulting is one of the most hardest events, and you're just going to jump into trying it," is all he says. 

But that was more than enough. What were you thinking, trying to pole vault, your in your 3rd year. Image trying to practice, how underclassmen will just see how bad you are. They must be way better, the season started 1 month ago. Also there was other events practicing too, image all those eyes on you.

"Yeah your right, it was just a dumb idea, I'm gonna text my friend that I'm busy," you said as you pulled up your phone, and started texting.

As you start to walk towards the gym with Akaashi following behind you.

[graceisslillayy]

Since no one asked, I'mma yap about my au

(idk why I'm putting this here but just in case anyone gets confused: (name) = reader)

pt. 1 pt. 2

pls ignore how bad the pic is 🙏🏾😭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

In this au, it takes place somewhere in the middle/end where the events do happen but there's a twist:

Bee is a whoops baby

(name) and Optimus already have a kid of their own

Elita-1 and (name) have slight beef with each other

And in this post, I'm gonna break this down and explain as best as I can.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I'm gonna start with:

"Who is Striker?"

Striker is the kid of Optimus and (name).

"Why'd you give them a kid?"

To try and make the story sound a little more interesting(???). And as I was making this I thought "hmm, wouldn't it be nice if reader and OP had a sparkling so that way the drama was a little bit more complicated?"

"What is Striker's gender/ what do they look like?"

Well I'm glad you asked! even tho I can't draw, Striker is a femme that took more of (name)'s personality but mostly has Optimus' frame (and colors but Striker has (name)'s optics).

"How'd you come up with the name?"

I came up with it as I was making the picture and after like 30 minutes of thinking "alright, fuck it we calling 'em Striker"

"How old is Striker?"

I would say that Striker is about 4-5 (or 6) during the events while only being one year older than Bee.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"What is the beef between (name) and Elita-1/how did it start?"

After the events in the fic (name) is angry at Elita because:

She never knew one of her closest friends would be in a secret relationship with her supposed lover

(name) believes that its mostly Elita's fault for allowing Optimus to just swoon her into dating him.

On Elita's side of the story:

She really doesn't do anything about it because she knows those things are true and now their relationship is strained because of her actions (same thing with Optimus).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"What is Optimus' relationship with Striker and Bee?"

even though after the whole incident and basically divorcing w/ (name) Optimus decided that even though they split, he still wanted to be part of Striker's life and at least try to be a father figure.

As for Bee, he's mostly there with him more than he is with Striker (but he doesn't realize that because he's trying so hard to be a father figure to the both of them) and it makes (name) really upset making them think that he's only with Bee because it's his and Elita's kid.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Does (name) stay with the Autobots?"

Even though she is angry at Optimus and Elita (name) decided to stay with The Autobots and doesn't join the Deceptions for the sake of Striker.

"Does (name) end up being with someone else?"

Yes and No. After the incident and everything happening, (name) doesn't focus on finding someone else, they focus on Striker and being with The Autobots but they sometimes do get a bit flirty with Ratchet.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑎𝑢!!! 𝑙𝑚𝑘 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘!!! :)

[gay-barbarian]

Haven't written in forever but warriors (specifically swercy) has me in a chokehold so here's a bit of angst for yall!

It had been three months since the night Cyrus got shot. Ajax hadn't come back for prison yet. Fox funerals was held a week after the accident. Rembrandt and Cleon made speeches while Swan stayed far behind everyone, Mercy by her sides.

The first few weeks after the funerals were a bit weird for Swan and Mercy, but the new warrior putted that on grief. She knew Swan considered all the warriors like her family and she didn't want to judge anyone grieving process. It was just hard for her to see the woman she loved hurt and not let her help at all.

Mercy thought this would all get better with time, that Swan would open up and talk to her. But Swan kept running away from her whenever she felt an emotion. She went to anyone other than Mercy, hell she even went to see Ajax in prison to talk with her instead of talking to her girlfriend. And Mercy understood, she didn't really know Fox before everything went down so maybe Swan preferred to talk about it with people that understood exactly how she felt. But Mercy was right there when Swan woke up in the middle of the night screaming Fox's name. Mercy tried helping her, but every time Swan would walk out their room to go God knows where.

Mercy was starting to get a worried. She needed Swan to tell her what was wrong. So, one night, after a good day, Mercy decided to sit down and force Swan to talk.

They were alone in the apartment; Cleon being gone somewhere with Masai to talk about their new plan for peace between the gangs.

"Sooo it's just the two of us tonight, what do you wanna eat?" Swan asked nonchalantly while looking in the fridge. "Doesn't seem to have a lot here, maybe take out? Remind me to go grocery shopping soon." Silence. "Mercy?" She turned her head toward Mercy at the lack of answer.

Mercy was sitting on the couch, her serious face on. "We need to talk."

Swan looked at her, confused. She walked towards Mercy and sat beside her "You know it's okay if you don't want take out right? We can find something else."

"Not about food. We need to talk about you and me and us and how you would rather tell your problems to anyone but me." Mercy was trying her best to not to look too mad, but her face always showed her emotions. That might be why Swan started to look uncomfortable.

Mercy took a calmer voice, took Swan's hand and continued "You need to tell me what's wrong baby... Did I do something?"

"No, of course not, what makes you saw that?" Swan knew why. She knew Mercy noticed her leaving every time Fox or that night was mentioned, but playing dumb was her best card.

"Baby... You know I see you dodging me when bad memories get brought up... You can talk to me Swan. I want you to talk to me. I want to help you." Mercy was looking into Swan's eyes trying to make her understand how serious she was about wanting to help.

"There's nothing to do Mercy. There's things I need to work through alone." Playing dumb didn't work, but Swan thought that maybe being giving half truth could work.

"Alone or with anyone but me? Why ask me to come with you if you can't talk to me about anything more complex than what's for diner? Did you just want me to look pretty at your arm? Do you think I cannot be any help to you other than sex?" Mercy was hurt. Hurt that the person she loved the most in this world didn't want to share her pain with her. Hurt that she was kept away for Swan's true emotions. She knew it wasn't fair to be mad at Swan for feeling bad, but she needed answers.

Swan let go of Mercy's hand and stood up. "Fuck, what do you want me to say? That I need you? Shit, Mercy, every time I look at you, I think of that night. I think of Fox, how I failed her. I think of how I let Ajax get beat up and taken by the fucking cops. I think of how fucked up it was to find the love of my life while all this went down..."

A heavy silence filled the room. Mercy followed Swan's lead and got up. She tried to take her hand, but Swan moved to the other side of the room before she could touch her. Mercy's arm fell to her side has she tried to see her girlfriend's face with no success. Swan was looking everywhere but at Mercy. Her eyes filled with tears. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Look, I asked you to stay, and I meant it, I still mean it, but I need time, okay? I can't shake off this feeling of everything being wrong... don't know if I ever will."

"Swan..." Mercy half whispered not knowing what to do with herself.

Swan walked toward the door not looking back "I will stay at Rembrandt's for a while. You can keep the room."

"I don't want..." Mercy tried but Swan was already gone the door closed behind her "to stay here without you..."

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

I've got one: an Adam that can SEE soulmates. He grins nastily as he takes a GOOD LONG look at Alastor and SMIRKS "Vox, huh? You love him, hmm? I can see it written right on your disgusting soul Al-ass-tor. Annnnd even better he's your soulmate. I kill him, I cause you unimaginable pain and suffering for eternity without touching you." And then he takes off, leaving Lute and his army to take care of the hotel--who HEARD HIM to search for Vox.

The Vees are in full out panic mode, of course. They have no idea what to do. Vox say he can carry both Val and Vel through the electricity but they need a location to go too--abd the vacation home is too far, he doesn't have the juice.

Valentino is pissed at Vox for being Alastor's soulmate, and panicking about the certain death heading their way.

Velvette doesn't care: "Take us as far as you can to the vacation home and we can steal a car!"

Alastor is RAGING. How DARE that pompous f-wit threaten what is HIS?!? (Although he is pleased Adam did announce Vox was his too all of Hell. Now no one would dare try to date Vox after he killed the moth.)

(Feel free to use :3)

Thank you anon because I definitely WILL be taking this.

No really this is good, honestly you anons are helping write the best voxal fanfic with me as well speak. I think after I finish my current writing coms today then I'll start on this story. It honestly sounds really fun and I'm a bit of a slow burn kinda gal with a passion for angst so this is definitely up my alley.

The idea of Adam coming in? Mwah!

Like imagine the way Alastor freezes the moment Adam says that stuff about going after Vox and especially before Vox finds himself having to defend the vees. Bro doesn't even know what's going on at first and that he's basically one of the reasons it's happening. Imagine his shock if Alastor does hunt him down before the angels get there, both confusion AND relief showing on his face just to see Alastor. Though there's also annoyance.

"ugh! I could have handle a few angels Alastor!" He growls after Alastor grabs them after fighting and imagine something like after Alastor saves them he and Vox are having this argument just for Vox to stop when it seems Alastor did in fact take some damage.

"a few isn't tons Vox." Alastor would most like his back while cradling a wound and Vox might as well be the one to help him clean it up, matter of fact he has too because everyone is rather fearful of the pair. Alastor doesn't want anyone to deal with the wound like a stubborn dog unless it's Vox and this could leave them a lot of time just to sit with each other. It's silent as Vox carefully cleans his wounds, gentle and careful not to do anything that would hurt even more and then as he's looking over Alastor's body he'll glare at nothing halfheartedly, brows burrowed in confusion and annoyance.

"why'd you do something so stupid?" He'll ask and I can see Alastor's ear twitching. Vox basically asks him what's his problem. Why'd he go out there to fight so many angels and over HIM of all people? He's both flattered and a bit unnerved.

If Alastor really did all that to help him then maybe he SHOULD go back to the hotel just to keep an eye on Alastor's healing though maybe it's just a way to get closer because though Vox being Alastor's soul mate is life changing on his own, knowing and seeing Alastor after such a fight and touching his wounds really manages to draw Vox in. Like he wants to be with Alastor in the same bed and everything as he heals.

I wanna say Alastor will heal with no issue but imagine a case where he doesn't. Where the angel blades hold off his healing for just long enough to where Vox is actually worried over the other man.

This could be an interesting part to rebuild their connection. Seeing Alastor almost die while showing Hell that Vox BELONGS TO HIM really makes the TV demon flustered and more than he's ever been before. (Vox likes knowing Alastor is possessive enough to literally have a battle of his own with heaven. It makes him feel special and more than he ever has before)

I'd like to say this situation really convinces Vox but with their history he's worried about getting too close even though he wants to.

He's scared of falling in love with Alastor because what it its 'not the right time' again?

Vox is definitely an over thinker in this case, will sit through the healing process for Alastor but maybe he finds Alastor's words to be a fluke? Did he really mean it? Yeah he almost DIED but he couldn't possibly- he definitely means it.

They've had their history but Vox is a runner now and Alastor wants to chase him. After all, who could know him better than his old friend and whether Vox likes it or not no one would DARE (especially after the shocking announcement that they are soulmates) take Alastor's destined spot in his life.

I honestly love these ideas and I have many myself, keep em coming y'all!

- A

[arcvlies]

aizen was a nosy man. he had always been and it never bothered you. ever since you two began dating aizen had always found a way to find out what ever secrets you had. but, today he was extremely nosy.

you had gone out to get a cake since you were craving some good ass red velvet cake. but, this cake you had gotten wasn't soooo normal. it had a very vulgar statement on it.

''nice cock.''

now it isn't that vulgar but you gained a weird look from the woman who prepared and wrote that on the cake. but like always you hadn't given a shit about anyone else. it was for aizen, and luckily it the boxed was close off. no peaks!

yet, nosy aizen as soon as you got home asked 100 million questions about the cake. ''what flavor?'' ''why'd you get it?'' ''is it for me? my birthday isn't for a while and neither is yours.''

just stupid questions about the cake and the only thing you responded with was, ''it's for later. after dinner!'' eventually after minutes of questions and the same answer he would retreat and leave it alone.

until came the specially reserved dessert time.

aizen standing over the concealed cake thinking about what it could be. he knew better than to open anything of yours no matter how badly he wanted to.

atlast, you opened the white box to reveal a white cake, with flower decorations, white lines, and more. he read the words under his breathe. ''nice cock..'' he chuckled about it rubbing his head with two fingers.

''i don't get it? really i don't sweetheart.'' he furrowed his brows confused on why you got it. ''i don't know, thought it'd be funny and i was craving cake.''

''so- real question is.'' aizen crosses his arms over his chest looking down at you. he took a second to eventually get out what he wanted to say. ''do i have a nice cock?''

“fuckkk— daddy is giving you a real treat with this nice cock.” the heat inside you building up as his thick cock continues to punish your cervix sending waves of pleasure through you.

one of his hands are cupping your ass, giving little yet large squeezes as his other hand digs into your hip. his fingernails dragging scratches into your delicate skin. this felt degrading yet exciting.

your loud moans only makes his smirk get larger. his ''ass hand'' moving from your ass to your hips to dig into your cervix more. it was like it was trying to reach your good spot, which he already met.

“yes! y/n- sweetheart keep moaning you slut.” he groans, quicking his pace. your eyes flutter as you notice the change of aizen's expression. now, he eyes soften and his groans slowed like he was going to cum.

“mhmm! aizen! right there pleaseeeee..” tears of frustration and pleasure begin flowing out your pretty lil eyes and onto the already wet sheets. the white sheets were wet from tears, sweat, and other fluids.

aizen buries his head into your shoulder, forcing his pearly whites into your delicate flesh causing blood to draw. his thrusts began getting softer but with more power. your hands begin wrapping around your boyfriends underarm just so your able to keep yourself steady.

finally, aizen unreleases inside of you. your walls squeezing him not letting a inch of his cock inside of you go untouched. “mphm- i've gotcha..” his cock twitches inside of you as your gummy walls tighten around him milking every last drop from him.

“fuckin' hell- your so pretty y/n. i love you so fuckin much.” his hands intertwine with your smaller ones, his hips slowed and his panting grew heaviver.

[lost-girl-2021]

I'm curious, how was the Sully family's reaction and view of your departure?

I'm guessing you mean the Sully's reaction to Spider getting taken in the Adopted Spider AU I had, but if it's something else, please lmk!

Kiri

I think Kiri's reaction would be pretty much the same, maybe a bit more intense.

Like, screaming/crying for her brother, begging her parents to go after him.

Neteyam

Since Neteyam is already all Oldest Child Burdened, I think he'd probably take the blame Spider's capture, even though it wasn't his fault at all.

As a result, I think he'd be overprotective of his (remaining) siblings and anxious whenever they do anything/dissapear for a couple hours.

Lo'ak

I think Lo'ak would want to go after them immediately. Like, once he realizes they've taken his brother, he's already calling for his Ikran and getting ready to go.

He's already a Fight First, Talk Later type of person by nature, so it'd be hard to come up with a plan to get to Spider. And he'd definitely want to be one of the people leading the charge, even if he's denied everytime he brings it up.

Tuk

Tuk would probably be confused at first. Where's Spider? Why'd you let them take him? Is he coming back?

Leaving to seek Uturu makes her think they're also leaving Spider. In the week or so leading up to their move, she'd been leaving trinkets and snacks in all of Spider's hiding spots, waiting there for when he came back. Except, he didn't. And then, they left.

Neytiri

I kinda touched base on this in one of my other posts, but she'd be devastated. In the AU, her and Spider are pretty close. I feel like he'd be a tactile kid and I think Neytiri would be very worried about him, maybe more than her other children. Because, while Spider is strong and smart and quick on his feet, one wrong move and he's suffocating. She barely liked to let him out of her sight when he was younger, only in the past few years allowing him to go out with his siblings. And now? She regrets ever leaving him alone.

I think she'd be pissed off when he's taken. Like, near-crazy with grief, wanting to get him back ASAP. She's torn between comforting her other children and trying to come up with a plan to get her human son back.

Jake

I think Jake would be angry more than anything else. He's pissed that not only did they somehow bring Quaritch back to life, but that monster also took one of his children from him.

He wants to fly after the ship, wants to track the recoms down and kill all of them. But, he also has the rest of his family to think about. And he can't lose anymore children.

He's still the one who suggests they leave. He doesn't want to, but he can't be a leader and a father and a warrior all at the same time. He doesn't tell anyone, but he initially plans to settle his family in with the Metkayina an then leave. Go find Spider, save him or die trying.

He doesn't leave, mostly because it's not as easy to settle in as they originally thought and his family is only operating at, like, 50% because they're so devastated. He's torn up about it, but he talks to the lab guys frequently as they all try to find news of Spider. Find out if he's okay, if he's still . . . alive.

[lyrichi]

This is literally my first post ever but brainrot hit me like a train

Long story short; Obey Me x Cult of the Lamb! MC

Putting on some music so that I can get through this whole thought process

OKAY SO

I was playing cult of the lamb for the past like 3 hrs cause why not and it fucking hit me -- CotL MC and OM MC are both sheep things

So I thought what if they were the same

First off in this little au thing that my brain conjored here are some solid factors;

Barbatos, Diavolo and Lucifer know that mc runs a cult cause files and shit but they didn't share w anyone else who's involved in the program cause they didn't want to cause chaos and/or confusion

Narinder and Lilith are related closely but not the same person - like they're not blood related or anything but basically Lilith's death caused Narinder's "birth" or whatever

MC still has those cult recruitment abilities in the devildom but they don't try anything unless it's on lower level demons (they're tempted to try to recruit one or more of the brothers because of name rep but haven't risked it)

Solomon was apart of MC's cult but was a resenter and left after MC wasn't able to reeducate him (also doesn't tell anyone but vaguely holds it over the dateables' ((- the ones who know)) heads that they know more abt MC than they do)

They see each other for the first time and it's like that one spider man meme

MC is vaguely aware of the other worlds before entering the devildom before being summoned (?) for the program because of Narinder

MC is very good at cleaning/cooking/being the parent cause of the cult so they're basically unfazed by wack shit that happens

yeah ok uh

I have no clue whats gonna happen with this random ass au that I've made so here's some shenanigans;

--

I feel that everyone else would find out abt the cult MC runs at dinner or something. Like, they're a bit tipsy and blurt it out to mammon and he says it a bit to loud (this is w the brothers);

MC downs another shot of whatever human-working alcohol they have and turn to face Mammon again. "So that's how I became a cult leader"

Mammon, obviously shocked, does a spittake on whatever he's drinking and whips his head towards MC. "You're a cult leader?!"

Obviously having said that a bit too loud, that causes all surrounding conversations to pause, possibly with a faint record scratch. MC realises that everyone's looking at them with variations of confusion and shock, and pauses themself. They look at Mammon with confusion in their eyes and answer.

"Yeah?" They look around at the varying stares and ask, "What's so wrong with that?"

A few seconds pass before anyone says anything. Satan clears his throat and starts, "You're the leader of-" but before he could finish anything Asmo pipes in, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. "For who?!"

"Uh.." MC looks away, not knowing how to explain their predicament, despite this new conflict bringing them right back to being sober. Before they could even think of what to say, the table erupts into questions and theories.

After a few minutes Lucifer calms down everyone, and turns to MC to let them continue.

"Not to burst bubbles, but it's for none of you."

They pause before speaking again, "I didn't mean it like that- it's just--"

Asmo sinks into his seat with some sort of defeated noise and Belphie comments; "See, I told you."

MC continues, ignoring them. "I was kind of forced into it.. I'm not being hurt or anything though!" MC waves their hands around in the air a bit trying to collect their thoughts before sighing. "That's why I leave to the human world every day."

MC offers this like it's some kind of grand explanation, but they really have no idea how to explain anything.

Beel, who didn't seem like he was paying any attention in the first place looks up with his mouth full and asks, "Why'd you hide it?"

"I didn't, Lucy did" MC takes a bite of whatever noodles were made with dinner tonight. They outwardly seem to be trying to avert attention from themself.

Satan mutters an "of course he did" before Mammon turns to Lucifer and loudly asks "Why?"

Lucifer composes himself before answering "I don't want to make their time here worse as we got used to having a human here in Devildom"

A few beats of silence go by before everyone starts talking over eachother again. Lucifer tries to quiet everyone down again, but MC interrupts with a simple "If you have any questions, just ask."

Silence falls over the table again, before Levi asks a question that he was almost positive everyone else had. "Why are you so devoted to it?"

MC chews for a second before answering. "My followers can't really take care of themselves, so if I'm not there at least once every two days, one or more of them will get sick, start resenting, or die."

--

Etc etc.....

Yeah idk what else to do I think that night will just go on like that

Um

I feel that the rest of the ppl who don't know find out through the grape vine and it becomes that week's gossip. This is also how people find out which demons are apart of their cult and which aren't. Like with the clothing change and MC interacting with them a lot more

The gossip also kind of expands their cult, which MC is all for.

I feel like the demon bros would want to join but MC wouldn't let them because (after finding out about the cults run by humans for said brothers) they don't want to merge cults because of how close they are with their followers

I feel that the cult might split into two; the human half and the demon half.

The human half is exactly like the CotL cult, how they need to be taken care of basically and need sermons basically every day and what not. While the demon half is kind of just a RAD after school club where they get together every Friday or something and MC just checks up on them to make sure nobody is dying or something

------

Yeah that's it I might add to this in the future

I might also do one of these for the binding of Issac

Love that game

Yeah anyway this is quite literally my first post ever uh

Hydrate y'all <3

[gachawolfiebloom]

Your Pursuit of Perfection

Story and Artwork By: @GachaWolfieBloom

Chapter 6: It's All Your Fault

Summary: A few months after the events of WOTFI 2023, SMG4 starts having really bad dreams about the "Its gotta be perfect" incident. One night however, his fear allows the nightmares to break through and he gets taken to a horrific dimension. He finally meets the tv adware, who manipulates him into returning to his insane ways, intent on claiming much more than the perfect video. Now it's up to his friends to stop this madness and save SMG4. Can they do it in time or will they lose SMG4 forever? (In case you are unaware this is a sequel to the its gotta be perfect movie)

Tags: angst, its gotta be perfect, love confession, luigi, mario, meggy, melony, nightmares, scary, smg3, smg4, smg34, smg3 x smg4, tari, tv adware

The others were walking through the home of this mysterious TV Adware. It was nothing like they had ever seen with dripping walls, sticky floors, and of course most of it was made out of that weird goop. Tari was shaking so Mario tried to cheer her up. "Don't worry Tari! Mario and his friends will be okey dokey! Let's play a game!" Three rolled his eyes and kept walking. "Mario spies with is little eye...something that is...Black!" Tari looked around, but everything just felt creepy to her. It was a realm made of nightmares after all.

"Uh is it that thing that looks like a shadow?"

"Nope!"

Boopkins tried to join in. "I KNOW! I KNOW! ITS-" Three was sick of this stupid game as he grumbled "Every single thing in this place is black idiots." This game seemed pretty stupid when almost everything here was the same color.

Boopkins ignored Three's comment and said "It's that extra dark patch over there in the corner!" Mario jumped up and down saying "You're right! Yippee!" Bob and Three looked dumbfounded on how Boopkins picked that. "BRUH! HOW DID YOU SEE THAT?" Tari tried complimenting Boopkins efforts. "Good job Boopkins! I was so close."

Meggy suddenly stopped and said "Uh hey guys... I think those creatures that Smg1 and Smg2 spoke of know we're here." Melony turned around and asked "How can you tell?" They instantly saw as tentacles and creatures made of goop and eyeballs surrounded them. They all froze and Three whispered to One and Two "Well you're the experts on these things. Now what?"

One and Two were more focused on something in the distance. "Something is coming..." The dark fog came back for round 2. Quickly One shouted "RUN! IT'S THE MIST OF NIGHTMARES! WE DO NOT HAVE ANY POWER OVER IT!" They all bolted off, sprinting as fast as their feet would take them. One and Two followed behind, using their powers to protect them from the creepy creatures.

Luigi then called out "Wait a minute...WHERE'S MY BROTHER!!!" They all looked back to find Mario teasing one of the goopy creatures. "Oh god...Why'd that idiot have to come with us?" Three groaned as he darted for Mario. "THREE NO!!!" yelled Meggy, but Three didn't listen. "IF MARIO DIES THEN WE ALL DIE!!!" Mario was spinning around in circles, making plane sounds. "Ooooo you are very scary. Not to Mario! Mario isn't scared of anything!"

Three rushed up to his avatar and yelled "OI MOVE IT RIGHT NOW!" Mario then noticed the nightmare mist coming straight at him. "NOW MARIO IS SCARED!!!" Three grabbed him as the mist dove on top of them. "THREE! MARIO!" Meggy yelled, but then another wave of mist swept over the others. 

Three woke up to be surrounded by a familiar setting. "I'm...back home?" He was right back where he started, at the Showgrounds. He then saw his friends standing over something. He raced over to them and said "Guys! There you are! Why are we back home!?"

They all turned to him and said "Oh look who decided to show up." Three took a step back, confused. "What?" Saiko stomped her foot hard on the ground and said "SMG3, YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR YOUR FRIENDS! YOU ARE CARELESS AND DANGEROUS!"

Three just stood there speechless as Meggy added on to Saiko's remarks. "You never cared about him, abandoned him when he needed you, and you didn't save him in time. YOU KILLED HIM!" Three finally croaked out words from his stunned mouth. "Killed who?" They all stepped out of the way, but not losing their glares.

When Three saw what they were looking at, his eyes widened and his cheeks went pale. It was a grave for Smg4. His signature hat was on top of it, covered in blood. "NO! FOUR!" He yelled as he ran up to the grave and sadly examined the remains of his dead partner. "No...why...he didn't deserve it..." Tears slowly slid down his face as he collapsed onto the ground. Mario shot back "WHY SMG3! WHY DID YOU KILL MARIO'S BEST FRIEND!!!" Three tried speaking through his sobbing. "I never meant too. I never wanted to lose him." All of his friends began circling him and telling him mean things. Not just any random remark, the thoughts of his guilt.

"You brushed off his nightmares!"

"Why didn't you stay with him!? He needed you!"

"You were so close to saving him and you lost him!"

"You gave him the idea of the perfect video!"

"You could have prevented this if you just admitted how much you needed him!"

Three just sat there crying every ounce of strength out of his body. "I'M A TERRIBLE FRIEND! IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I'M THE ONE WHO DESERVES THIS! NOT HIM!"

Two voices rang out "Smg3 wake up!" He gasped as those voices belonged to One and Two. "Three! Remember it's just a nightmare! We're here to save Smg4!" One added on "You must fight it Three! Use your bravery to tell these nightmares they aren't real!" He breathed heavily as he whispered "But Four is..."

Two tried to remind him of what they were trying to accomplish."Then why would we be here? It's not true Three!" One could see him trying to break through as he continued "It's all fake! The Adware is trying to trap you into your worst fear!"

Three breathes in deeply as he says "Four is not dead..." A shoot of meme energy wards off the mist and he yells "AND MY NIGHTMARES AREN'T REAL!!!" He finds himself back in the dark world, but it's better than being stuck in a world filled with eternal guilt. Two says happily "Glad your back Three! We have to rescue the others from their nightmares before they are trapped in them forever!"

Three pulls his cap tighter onto his head and says "Don't worry I got this." The three of them raced off to go save their friends. No dawdling now. The mist doesn't show any signs of stopping.

Everyone has something they're afraid of...

Chapter 7: You Can't Escape Your Fears