#i want to say sof but it's not just that either

[lunaetis]

[ my muses are in a particular mood & i don't even know how to describe it ... ]

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

COLLEGE STUDENT!reader x PROFESSOR!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, Mr. Chavez notices that his most intelligent student has been falling asleep and receiving poor grades in class. After class, he decides to check on her, which escalates to something else.

A/N, if you don’t feel comfortable reading this then don’t!! i didn’t proof read this so there might be some mistakes. if so, let me know!! have fun reading, angels.

WARNINGS, smuttyyy

Mr. Chavez adjusted his glasses, scanning the room as he wrapped up his lecture. His students, usually attentive, were scribbling furiously, hanging onto every word. Well, most of them were. One, in particular, sat slumped in the back row, her head resting against her arm, eyes half-closed. This wasn’t like her. She was his brightest student—sharp, focused, always the first to raise her hand, challenge ideas, and submit assignments that left him impressed. But lately, she’d been different. She’d started falling asleep in class, her energy waning, assignments either late or missing altogether.

As the class packed up and filtered out of the lecture hall, Nicholas kept his eye on her. When she made a move to leave, he cleared his throat, voice gentle but firm.

“can you stay for a moment? I need to talk to you.”

She froze in place, her hand still on her bag strap. She hesitated for a second before nodding and walking up to his desk. The other students trickled out, their chatter fading in the hallway, leaving an awkward silence behind.

Nicholas leaned against his desk, arms crossed. His expression softened as he looked at her, the concern clear in his eyes.

“I’m worried about you. You’ve been distracted, your work isn’t where it used to be, and your most recent work was very.. inappropriate. I know something is up and i’m here to talk about it. Whatever you say stays between us.”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, and the urge to speak was overwhelming. But something inside her pulled back, a voice in her head telling her this wasn’t something she could say out loud. Not to him. Not to her professor.

“I—” she started, then shook her head, her words catching in her throat. “I can’t. It’s… complicated.”

Nicholas leaned forward slightly, his expression softening. “I understand that it might feel complicated, but I’m here to help. You’ve always been an outstanding student, and I can see something’s changed. You don’t have to carry this alone. Whatever’s distracting you, I want to help you work through it.”

She bit her lip, her mind racing. She couldn’t tell him. She wasn’t allowed to, not even by her own sense of self-control. But the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, made it hard to keep it all bottled up. She looked at him for a long moment before sighing, dropping her head.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, almost more to herself than to him.

Nicholas gave her a reassuring look, his voice calm and steady. “Try me.”

She glanced around the empty classroom, the quiet space making it feel like the world had shrunk to just the two of them. She hesitated, then whispered, "What if it's something I shouldn't be feeling? Something I can't talk about?"

Nicholas’ brow furrowed slightly, sensing the weight behind her words. “whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s been distracting you—it’s okay. This is a safe space. It’s just between us. No one else needs to know, and I’m not here to judge you. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

She nodded, feeling both a sense of relief and a lingering uncertainty. She wasn’t sure what would come next, but for now, at least, the burden of silence had been lifted. She shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for something difficult. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“It’s you,” she said softly.

Nicholas blinked, thrown off by the unexpected response. “Me?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled slowly, shaking her head slightly, as if struggling to find the right words. “I can’t focus because… you’re distracting me. I think about you all the time, and when I’m in class, I can’t pay attention. I try to keep up, but everything just… spirals. And you we’re in my head while i was writing the assignment.”

Her confession hung in the air between them, the weight of it settling in as Nicholas processed her words. He looked at her, his mind racing.

No. She's a student.

A professor and student should never have a romantic relationship. But Nicholas would have her hands chained and her ass marked with his belt if they were living in a lawless society. For the benefit of the two of them, this had to end. "I will be direct with you. I understand why some students enroll in my course. You are a youthful college student. We live in a confusing and evolving period. You're discovering who you are away from home. However, that does not imply that you would make up a filthy story about me.”

Nicholas's mind faltered. The level of tension in the room was increasing to a level that neither she nor he could handle. Something perplexing, thrilling, and erotic. At last, Nicholas said, "I'll give you an A," closing the discussion and putting her paper in a drawer.

"I... thank you, professor. I really appreciate it."

"Anything else?"

She remained silent, as Nicholas wanted. Before he lost all control, he had to get the student out of there.

However, she did respond at last. "Why do you study what you do?" It was a risky response from the professor. For this reason, he evaded the topic altogether. “It's getting late. I think you should leave."

"But -"

"Whatever you think you want from me, you don't get, Miss. I've never indulged with a student this much. Don’t tempt me.” It made her feel attracted to him. And it was something she despised. She was extremely frustrated because she hated herself for being so deeply attracted to the professor.

"Or what." bringing the two closer together as they stood on either sides of the desk. They were aware of one other's heated bodies and labored breaths. teasing. Her subsequent remarks served as the final spark. "You would never lay a hand on a student."

When her palms struck the hard surface of his desk, Nicholas pushed her onto it and allowed her to steady herself. He pushed Her down until she was only supported by her elbows, one hand on her back. She made a small arching of her back in an attempt to tease the professor in a desperate manner. "Professor, please..."

"quiet." She felt Nicholas's presence behind her, and her act was answered with a hard slap across her ass.

"Is this what you want?" With his voice hardly more than a whisper. She, on the other hand, made the decision without pausing. "Yes." Nicholas fisted a hold of her hair, very aggressively. Her lips were pursed to contain a cry that leaked out as a high-pitched whine.

"You will address me as 'sir'. If you don't, you will be punished”

"I understand, sir."

In one smooth motion, he unbuckled his belt, leaving her speechless with the sound of leather and metal. While she was thinking about how she was going to walk the following morning, Nicholas hastily covered himself with a condom that she had not seen him take out. "sir...professor, it's been a while - I don't think..."

The professor, really delighted by her response, gently clasped her jaw and ran his thumb over her lower lip. "Shhh... take it like a good girl."

She was so engrossed in his remarks and intense stare that she failed to notice Nicholas pulling her panties to the side and pushing up her dress. He wasted no more time in doing so. He had developed a painfully throbbing and stiffened cock.

The moment Nicholas felt her warm arousal covering his length, he pushed forward a little and groaned. She sensed the mouthwatering sound vibrating from his chest to hers.

With all of his remaining strength, Nicholas whispered in her ear, "Relax, baby, don't tense up," intending to spare the girl from a ruthless fuck.

When he finally gave her a full thrust, she flung back her head and let out a sound that was somewhere between a yell and a groan through parted lips. Nicholas was unable to hear her at all. He could only concentrate on the sensation of her walls pressing just the right amount of pressure against his cock.

Nicholas pulled away, then pushed forward once more, widening her entrance and losing himself in her presence. As Nicholas touched a portion of her that no man had ever touched before, she gasped. In response, she felt every muscle and bone in her body contract, like a bundle of hypervigorated nerves. "I'm not holding back." Nicholas warning was precisely what she wanted to hear.

Nicholas picked up speed, every move intentional and purposeful. With every stroke, she felt herself rise higher and higher, closer to an unfathomable release. She had never felt anything so erotically pleasant as the tension and sense that Nicholas was using her so forcefully. All she needed was one more edge. She was still engrossed in the rhythmic pleasure as Nicholas's fingers crept up on her neck.

As he pressed against her airways, Nicholas felt his cock pulse inside her, his release getting closer as he saw her fight to breathe. Her senses faltered as she focused on Nicholas's relentless thrusts and her own shallow, labored breathing. Her hand automatically reached out to remove the pressure on her neck, but Nicholas's grip tightened and she was forced closer to the edge.

He moaned, "Don't come," reaching even farther down and causing her to cry out, which was like music to Nicholas. “Tell me who you now belong to."

Nicholas used his other hand to cover her lips and stifle a scream as he simultaneously took his hand off her neck to yank her hair back and pushed deeply from a different angle. "Come on, baby. "I know you want to," Nicholas teased, opening her mouth to speak freely. "You're my little whore, tell me."

Her desperate gasps came her raspy voice. "I belong to you. I’m your little whore. please, please, fuck." He continued at his rapid speed, allowing her to collapse several times.

Her eyes were nearly full with tears, and she felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure all over her body. The sensation, noise, and visual of her amazing release was sufficient to set off Nicholas's own. He declared her his, and more than a student, with a last thrust and groan.

The two stopped, gasping for air, realizing what they had done was wrong. Their bodies were drenched in sweat and sensual ecstasy, and their heartbeats and respiration slowed. The professor and the student couldn't help but look at each other, witnessing their reflected feelings. Feelings they were unable to comprehend.

[seozii]

──── ❝ LETTERS ❞ 💌

After years of sending anonymous letters, Riki finally decided to be bold enough and end the letter with his actual name.

၇୧ ׄ ִ Fluff, not so slow burn, lil bit rushed at the ending. 1K WC,𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑

With shaky hands Riki placed the nice designed envelope into your locker. Slamming the metal material when he heard footsteps getting closer.

He’s sprinted away almost immediately practically crawling on the floor to get over to where his friends stood. Which was just a few centimeters from the Locker.

“So….who are you proms going to be?” You conversed with you friends about the upcoming prom in three days.

Riki watched wishing that he could one day be bold enough to strike up a conversation with you. Even if it was about the most random things.

One could say that Riki wasn’t a very shy person but when it comes to y/n he can deny that statement with his whole heart.

“Oh I’m already going with Cha sunghoon you know the one in class B” her friend Danielle responds with a beaming smile.

“Ooo I didn’t know you could pull” you teased turning to open your locker.

The moment you pulled the handle, a pink letter slipped out. The way the person wrapped it made it look so appealing to the eyes, you felt a sudden urge to unwrap the letter.

“How about you— hey what’s that ?” Minji asked staring at the paper lying on the floor.

Bending down to pick up the letter, you sighed. “It’s another letter”

“What do you mean ANOTHER so you’ve had a few?!” Hanni asked her face written with nothing but amazement.

“Not a few, yeah alot. But the thing is, I’m tired of these letters. It’s just the person I have in mind is…..” you paused taking a look around almost making eye contact with Riki until he diverted his gaze from your direction.

“Is who?” Danielle asked with anticipation.

Bending down to pick up the letter, you analyzed it before unwrapping it. “Dear y/n I know we’ve never actually talked. But if you’ve noticed the handwriting. Yes it’s me, secret admirer ;). I’m going to reveal my name at the end of the letter but all I want to ask you is if you’d go to the prom with me. It’s okay if you’ll say no. I completely understand since you probably don’t even know me but I would highly appreciate one chance. Your secret admirer, Nishimura Riki” Hanni and minji read out loud earning a side eye from you.

“Bro who even is Nishimura Riki? I’ve never heard of them”

“I don’t know either y/n but what I do know for sure is that this person is in this school” Hanni shrugged.

“That’s a very useful information” you sarcastically responded rolling your eyes after.

“Y/nnnn~ you didn’t complete your previous statement” Danielle sang in your ears.

“What previous statement?”

Minji scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “The one about you having someone in mind”

“Ohhhhh that!” You recollected. “Yeah what about it?”

“You dummy! Who’s the person you have in mind???” Danielle yelled in your ears causing you to push her away.

“I DON’T KNOW HIS NAME!! Ugh you’re gonna burst my eardrum. He’s just this one dude that sits at the back of my class. He just has this intimidating aura that’s pulling me even closer ugh” you bit your lower lips seductively.

“Ew”

“Shut up! It’s not my fault no one has asked you yet”

—

The bell rang indicating the end of the day.

You held onto a piece of paper rushing out of the class before the teacher even declared the assignment.

“Hey! So sorry to bother you. But do you know anyone named Nishimura Riki?” You asked stopping a fellow student.

“Nishimura Riki?” They repeated followed by a well detail description.

“Thanks!” You smiled now on a haunt to find the said boy.

“Riki?” You whispered softly in the empty corridors. Almost everyone were gone by this time. You doubt you’d even find the ‘riki’.

“Ah YN…” Riki answered turning to face you. His eyes darted everywhere but your eyes. His chest was feeling a sudden burst of emotions. While his cheeks were a light shade of pink.

“So you’re the Riki?” You spoke softly realizing it was the intimidating boy who sat at the back of your classroom.

“Y-yes” he answered trying to hold back a mere smile. He felt the sudden urge to look at her face. But his shy demeanor around her would never make him have the courage to.

“Could you look at me…” he choked on air. No way he was going to meets eyes with you. “Please?” You pleaded quietly. An imagination of you pouting crept into his mind making it harder to resist.

With a sigh he slowly turned his head to face you. “Yay!!” You beamed happily.

“Sooooo you’re actually secret admirer?” You asked just for confirmation.

Riki nodded shyly feeling a bit embarrassed. “I accept” you blurted out unexpectedly.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Accept what?”

“You asked to go to the prom with me right? Yeah I accept” you said slowly.

“REALLY?!” He yelled excitedly. Calming down after realizing how eager he sounded. “I mean. That’s really cool. It makes me so happy right now” he squealed.

You giggled at his reaction. “By the way, I’m heading home now. Wanna come with me?” You requested tilting your head to the side.

“why not? I’m also planning on going home anyways”

With clear hesitation, Riki stretched out his hand for you to take. Hoping you’ll get the hint.

You stared at his hand in confusion. “Ohhh” you joined hands with him after realization came in.

Your hands felt so soft and warm.

He often glanced back at you as the both of you walked through the empty dark streets. It was only the street lights and your smile that lighten up the environment.

the moment he would never forget when you bid goodbye to him in front of your house,placing a soft kiss on his lips. His body felt numb the moment your soft lips made contact with his.

The smell of your intoxicating perfume lingered in his Brian.

“See you tomorrow, boyfriend! Or wait! We’re together right?” You paused waiting for his response.

Riki didn’t even think twice, nodding his head to your question.

“That’s awesome!” You smiled widely running into your house, closing the door behind you.

Who knew you had eyes on him this whole time.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: pervy choso, implied chubby reader, you wearing a bikini/swimsuit,

despite how cranky you can get because of the hot weather, you do love summer more than you can admit. something about the sun beaming down on you, cold water tickling your toes, the laughter that is seemingly never endless during this time, makes you feel content.

you and your friends visit the beach on one of the hottest days of the year. its a spacious place, not filled with as many people as you were expecting there to be, but it's another group of guys there that mirrors your own group. they're all entirely too handsome for their own good, sweet and flirtatious as they offer a round of volleyball with your friends.

you stay back though, offering to watch everybody's stuff as you sit under the sun. its calm there; the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, your friends raucous laughter, their screams of fun. you lay back on your beach towel, your forearm resting over your eyes when you remember that you hadn't put on any sunscreen.

lazily, you reach over into your bag, digging around until you can find what you're looking for, squeezing some out on your hand as you lather your arms, stomach, and legs up. when its time for your back, you go to call one of your friends but hesitate. you don't want to interrupt their fun for something so small, so you snap your mouth shut as you try to scan the near area for someone to—

oh. is he apart of the guys' group? you think to yourself as you suddenly lock eyes with a very handsome, toned man. he's paler than ever, his dark hair wrapped up in two cute little buns on the top of his head, his eyes dark, his mouth pulled tight as he suddenly freezes when he realizes he's been caught.

"can you help me?" you ask kindly when the man finally blinks. you hold up the sunscreen in his direction with a smile and a tilt of your head, friendly. he only stands there for a few seconds before clearing his throat, crossing the few feet between you two as he stands before you.

"you're with that group, right?" you ask him, nodding your head over to where everyone plays volleyball. the man looks, his eyes wide, a little unnerving, before he turns back to you, nodding.

"yeah," he says plainly, sticking his hand out to shake yours. "here with my brother and some friends. I'm Choso."

you give him your name as well, before you hand off the sunscreen, flipping over onto your stomach without preamble. Choso hesitates for just a second, hopes you don't have eyes in the back of your head at how he ogles you. you're just so pretty, with your sweet smile and round ass, cellulite dimpling your skin, makes him have to adjust his hardening cock in his swim trunks.

he'd been watching you ever since you and your friends came on the beach. watched how they linked up with Yuuji and his friends, how you stayed behind, how pretty and soft your stomach looked with every breath you take. he can't believe he's so close to you now, he thinks, as he kneels over you, his knees on either side of your soft looking hips.

Choso's hands shake as he squirts the sunscreen into his palm, rubbing them together, breath heavy as he nears your skin. if he were to sink any lower, you'd be able to feel how his cock strains against the fabric, feel it rest over the curve of your ass. he restrains himself though, splaying his hands over your upper back as he slowly starts to massage the cream in. without thinking, he blurts out,

"your skin is very soft." he regrets it almost immediately, freezing in his spot over you, wonders if you'll start throwing a fit and push him off of you. but instead, you laugh, your eyes closed as you rest your cheeks on your crossed arms.

"thank you! I try to exfoliate often." you smile, eyes still shut as you sigh softly when he resumes rubbing the sunscreen on you. his palms are big and rough, as they massage it in, working over a knot you've had in your shoulder blade for entirely too long. you sigh when he kneads it out softly, body a pile of goo as Choso breathes entirely too heavy above you.

if he closes his eyes, he can imagine himself sinking right inside of you. your breathy little sigh of contentment as his tip kisses your womb, his hips snug against the curve of your ass. he can already see the way you'll look at him from over your shoulder, all low and seductive, pretty, smiling at him with a look that tells him to devour you whole.

"your hands are so nice." your voice brings him out of his fantasy, makes his jolt in place from surprise. "you ever think about becoming a masseuse?" Choso grumbles under his breath at the thought, hands toying with the back of your bathing suit as he tells himself to bite the bullet.

"never considered it. can I untie this?" he says it all in one breath, afraid that if he doesn't spit it out now, he'd lose the courage to do so. you still from under him, suddenly getting the feeling of being watched entirely too closely, of baring your jugular to a predator in the wild. but you agree nonetheless.

"uh, yeah, go ahead." you tell him quietly, barely getting the words out when he pulls the string undone. you swear you hear him sigh, goosebumps raising on your skin at the way he squirts entirely too much sunscreen on your back, the quiet groan under his breath when he rubs it in down your flank too, too close to your tits beneath you.

Choso inches further and further down, his hands gripping your waist as he kneads your skin. his cock hangs low with its hardness, barely skimming your ass, makes your eyes bolt open in surprise. but you don't say anything, just look over your shoulder at the man, whose focus is solely, solely, on working the sunscreen into the divot of your lower back, inching closer and closer to the top of your ass—

"hey, bro, come join us for a game!" a deep voice similar to Choso's rings out, suddenly pulling you both out of the trance you've fallen into. Choso's eyes snap up to yours guiltily, both of you stuck, unsure of what to do next. he's sure that you're definitely going to kick him off now, especially when you glance down and find his cock straining to get out of his swim trunks.

but instead, you signal for him to tie your top back up, licking your lips once as he shakily ties it up for you. "meet me in the unisex bathroom in a few minutes, okay? I wanna thank you for putting the sunscreen on my back."

and something tells Choso, that you'd like to do more than just thank him.

[ghostofwriting]

In London: this is when the feeling sinks in

Rafe x Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating. Unedited.

Note: oh no!! She's back and ready to make Rafe cry. This is part of the In London universe.

Word Count: 1,204

“Hey!” It’s Sofia. She sounds way too cheery for the time of night. He turns to look at her and gives her a half smile. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on maid of honour duties?” She laughs, leaning over the bar to look at him. 

“Well, it’s 1:00 AM, the wedding party rests.” 

“Except for you.” he stares down at his drink and swirls it around in the glass. 

“Yeah, because a little birdie told me you needed to be picked up before your tears flooded the place.” She’s trying to play it off but he sees the worry for him on her face.

“Rob told on me? Narc.” He looks over at Rob who just shrugs his shoulders. 

Sofia puts a hand on his back, tapping him. 

“Let’s get you home.” The idea of going home, falling asleep, and waking up in the morning to her officially gone makes him feel sick. 

“I can’t be on this island.” She looks at him inquisitively, lifting a perfectly shaped brow. 

“Knowing that she’s getting married? I’m suffocating.” She frowns at him, she crosses her arms and takes a step back. 

“Get on a boat. I don’t care. Just don’t make a scene.”

“Don’t be mean. I’m not hurting anyone here.”

“Rafe, I love you. You are my best friend. But she is too. As much as she denies it, I know it hurts her. The way you’re acting isn’t good for either of you. Get it together. Let her go.”

He bristles at her words. Some friend she is. Sofia never told him she was engaged. Never told him she was getting married. He had to find out from her, the weekend of her wedding. 

He had called both Sofia and Topper to yell at them for not telling him and they had come up with some bullshit excuse about not knowing how to tell him. Not wanting to hurt him.

 Sarah told him that she wanted him to find out from the invitation. That she thought somehow it would hurt less finding out from the love of his life instead of his sister or his friends. 

An invitation he never received because he didn’t permanently stay at Tannyhill and Sarah lived with John B now. 

He looks at Sofia again and then back down. Silence fills the space between them. He feels like he’s going to cry. All he’s been doing since he found out about the wedding is crying. All he’s been doing since he ruined the best thing that ever happened to him is cry. 

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to love anyone else?” Sofia softens a little. 

“If you let yourself.” He looks at her, confused.

“You still think there’s hope, I’m here to tell you that there is none. She’s getting married. It’s over. It’s done.”

“Sof-” she interrupts him. 

“She’s happy.” He wants to scream that he doesn’t care. That she should be happy with him. He wants to yell at Sofia, at his sister, at the universe that after all these years he’s still in love with her and he deserves to be happy too. 

But the bigger, more mature part of him tells him to let go, to finally move on, to let her be happy because he loves her and she deserves that after all he did to hurt her. 

He wants to go back in time and shake that stupid scared little boy and tell him that throwing this relationship away is not worth it. It’s not worth the pain it’ll cause her. The pain that it’ll cause him for years to come. He hates him. 

How could he have been so stupid? Didn’t he know that she would never forgive him and he would lose everything that he ever cared about?

“Come tomorrow.” He scoffs. 

“You know I can’t.” He blinks away the tears threatening to spill over.

“Where will you be?”

“Here. Tannyhill, the condo, wherever the alcohol is.”

‘“No drugs?” There’s a concern in her voice. Scared that he’ll go back to using. He’s been clean for six years. He’s fine.

“No. Not since-” He doesn’t say it. Sofia fills in the blanks. 

“Since Kie.” he nods. 

“Is she-” he pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat, “is she invited?”

“Absolutely not. She was always on the blacklist.”

Kiara’s not invited to the wedding.

 She didn’t invite Kie to the wedding? She invited him but not her? That had to mean something, right? Why wouldn’t she invite Kie but invite him? Does that mean she forgives him? 

She forgave him and not Kiara. 

She forgave him.

He grabs his wallet and slaps a hundred on the bar top. He moves so fast that the chair he’s sitting on makes the most awful noise as it scratches the floor, drawing the attention of the lingering patrons.

“What’s that face? What are you doing?” Sofia follows, hot on his heels.

“Going home.” Maybe this is his drunk brain or maybe it’s the fact that his heart still beats for her. 

He’s pacing outside her parent’s house. Trying to find the right words to say. Trying to figure out if he’s out of his mind for being here. 

He swings his body in the direction of the door as it opens. 

“What are you doing here? You woke my parents up.”

“I needed to see you.”

“Rafe, it’s 3 am. I have to be up early. My parents are pissed. Please just go.”

“I know. Can you give me 5 minutes?”  She looks beautiful. Her face illuminated by the hue of the Moon. She’s in a sweater and tiny shorts that barely peek out from underneath it. Her hair’s flowing freely, a little messy but framing her face perfectly. 

He wishes she had to be up early for him tomorrow. He wants to be the one that she walks towards and the one she spends the rest of her life with.

“Please.” His voice cracks. 

She motions for him to go ahead. 

“Ever since I was 13 I have loved you. The day we got together was the happiest day of my life. I have never known love like what we had. Not before you and not after you. I was a stupid kid. I was so scared and overwhelmed I didn’t know how to deal with all my feelings. I could stand here and give you excuses like what my dad said or how I was drugged up but the truth is that I betrayed you. I hurt you and I will never forgive myself for it.” His eyes never leave hers. He wants her to know that he means every word.

“I could also stand here and tell you how much I’ve changed but I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me because what I’m doing is selfish and so reminiscent of who I used to be.” She smiles a little at that and it eases his nerves. 

“I love you. I always will.” His voice cracks again, this time he doesn’t try to hide it. 

She’s looking at him, her lips slightly parted. She’s playing with her engagement ring and her eyes are glossy. 

“Please don’t marry him.”

[storywriter007]

(Part 2) Part 1 - Why Are You so Mean? - Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n walks in on rafe looking a little to intimate with his girl best friend

warnings: cursing, girl bestie, mention of drugs and drinking, toxic behavior

genre: angst

word count: 1k

-> outerbanks masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

the party music blared across the beach house. to be frank, y/n wasn't big into the party scene. she loved parties: the ones where you danced until your feet gave out, the ones where you sang your heart out to a song by kesha, and the ones where it was all about smiles and singing. not these parties: where everyone judged one another, where everyone couldn't talk without slurring their words, where everyone needed a drink, and where people upstairs were snorting lines of cocaine.

y/n was out on the balcony, looking at the beach. a beach like this, and people still just wanted to snort coke in a beach house. lame, she thought. but she was here too.

she remembered when she first met her boyfriend; rafe cameron. it was karaoke night at a local beach party. y/n and her best friend were up and they were singing "22" by the one and only, taylor swift. it was just a fun song in a fun night with fun people. y/n recalled how her hair had gotten screwed up from all the dancing she did, how her make up had all been lost, and how she smelled of seawater and vanilla perfume. she'd heard all about rafe; how he was bad news. ironically, she was singing "you look like bad news, i gotta have you" right when she made eye-contact with the snarky blonde. he winked at her and she smiled back. after that song, they took a long walk across the beach, and soon after they talked a little more, they began dating. it'd been six months now.

snapping out of her daze, y/n decided to go upstairs and rejoin rafe. she'd left, wanting to get away from the strong smell of alcohol and cocaine that tainted the house. as she opened the door to the room she'd left a few minutes earlier, she felt a punch in her gut.

there was rafe, sitting on the couch. his arm was around another girl next to him. her brown hair draped over her shoulder as rafe used his other hand to toy with her locks. sofia. his best friend, of course. y/n hadn't liked her since the minute they'd met and she'd made some sly remarks.

"you're rafe's girlfriend?" she laughed in front of you. "rebound?" she mouthed.

bitch y/n thought, recalling the memory.

topper, kelce, rafe, and sofia laughed, like y/n wasn't even there.

"rafe? no lines today?" topper laughed.

"nah, sof's convinced me to get clean." he said.

i always tell you to get clean y/n thought.

"sorry for interrupting guys. i'm just going to be leaving now." y/n finally said. "by the way, you two make a really cute couple." she fake smiled, her entire dialogue painted with obvious sarcasm and anger.

"y/n-" rafe said, moving from sofia and make his way towards her.

"no i get it. that y/n girl is such a bitch, right? she's always on your ass about getting clean and other bullshit. i wouldn't want anything to do with her either." y/n continued.

"i didn't say that-"

sofia rolled her eyes.

"have fun gentlemen." y/n smiled. "and uh, whatever you are."

y/n walked out of the house, rafe calling after her.

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

y/n stormed off to the beach. it looked beautiful in the dark. the waves crashing against the shore and the salty breeze. she took a seat on the cold sand.

she'd told rafe so many times to get clean; that it was bad for him and it was stupid. did he listen no? but leave it to sofia to say it, and he's all ears. she'd always wanted to watch dirty dancing with rafe, but did he every make the time for it? no. but did he watch the movie a week later with sofia. yes. she'd asked rafe to sing with her at karaoke night, did he? no. but as soon as y/n went to the bathroom and came back, he was singing "you belong with me" with sofia.

her train of thought was interrupted when she heard rafe calling. she blinked the tears away.

"y/n! what the hell, i've been looking all over for you!"

"you started looking for me when you couldn't occupy yourself with sofia anymore." y/n spat back. "you didn't give a single fuck about where i was. you never do, especially when sofia's there."

"that's not true-"

"karaoke night? dirty dancing? rafe, i've told you a thousand times to get clean, but you listen when sofia tells you!"

he sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

"i'm sorry sweetheart, we've just been friends-"

y/n pushed his arm off of her.

"you've been friends with her forever. i've heard the excuse a thousand fucking times."

she could see the annoyance in his eyes.

"what, you annoyed? would you be annoyed if i was sofia?"

he took a deep breath and looked at the sea. of course the mention of sofia bothered him.

"i don't remember you being this fucking annoying when we met."

"why are you so mean?" she asked, voice breaking.

"no, no, no, don't go crying now. you started this."

"you just called me 'fucking annoying.' of course i'm going to cry. and you did this by climbing all over another girl."

from a distance, y/n heard someone calling out for rafe. it was that bitch, it just had to be her. "rafe! c'mon, you're missing out. topper and kelce are so fucked up right now, it's hilarious!"

she waved to him, stopping about 20 feet away. he waved back. he looked at y/n as they both got up.

she knew he wanted to leave.

"you can go." y/n said. "but if you do so, we're over."

"what the fuck y/n! that isn't fair."

"i've got this sneaking feeling: that i'm worth half than whatever she is to you. and if you, you'll confirm what i feel like i already know." y/n spoke softly, turning to meet his blue eyes.

"whatever." he scoffed, getting up and reuniting with sofia.

he glared at y/n as he embraced sofia. y/n walked past them both, tears spilling from her eyes as soon as she'd passed them.

why was he so mean?

[alanos2409]

Treehouse Confession

Larry Johnson x fem!Reader

The sky above was a soft gradient of purples and pinks, the last traces of daylight fading into the horizon. You and Larry sat side by side on the roof of his treehouse, legs dangling over the edge. It had become a tradition of sorts, the two of you sneaking up here when the world felt too heavy. Tonight, though, something was different. The air between you buzzed with a quiet, unspoken tension—one you’d both been avoiding for longer than either of you cared to admit.

You stole a glance at Larry, his face half-hidden in the dim light, the soft breeze tousling his long hair. He was sketching absentmindedly in a battered notebook, his fingers smudged with charcoal. But he wasn’t really focused on the drawing—you could tell by the way his leg bounced nervously and how his eyes kept flicking in your direction.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Larry looked up at you, his hazel eyes catching the fading light. He hesitated for a moment, then closed his notebook, setting it aside with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine… just got a lot on my mind.”

You nodded, knowing that “a lot” was an understatement when it came to Larry. But tonight, you felt there was something more, something he wasn’t saying. You wanted to ask, to push him to open up, but at the same time, you were nervous too—nervous about what might happen if the words you were both too scared to say finally came out.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” Larry said suddenly, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Us?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I mean… we’ve been friends for a while now, and I—" He paused, his brow furrowing as if he was mentally kicking himself. “Look, I suck at this kind of stuff, but… you mean a lot to me. More than I think I ever let myself admit.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a warmth spreading through you at his words. The confession was so unlike Larry, who usually hid behind sarcasm and jokes, that it caught you off guard. But now, looking at him—his nervousness, the way his hands fidgeted—you knew he was being completely real with you.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Larry trailed off, his gaze dropping to his lap. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.”

For a second, everything seemed to stop. The weight of his words hung in the air between you, and your breath caught in your throat. Larry loved you. You’d dreamed of hearing those words, but now that they were out there, you weren’t sure what to do. So you did the only thing that felt right.

You reached over, gently taking Larry’s hand in yours. His eyes shot up to meet yours, wide and uncertain, as if he was bracing himself for rejection. But when he saw the soft smile on your face, the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

“I love you too, Larry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”

The relief that washed over his face was immediate. His hand tightened around yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You just sat there, letting the reality of it sink in. The night felt lighter, the world quieter, as if it was just the two of you under the endless expanse of stars.

Larry shifted closer, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was so gentle, so full of affection, that your heart melted on the spot. “I can’t believe I waited this long to tell you,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. “I was scared of messing up what we have.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” you replied, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “This feels right.”

He smiled, that crooked, boyish smile you’d always loved, and leaned in just a little, as if testing the waters. Your heart raced as his face inched closer, his breath warm against your skin. And then, before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft, slow, as if neither of you wanted to rush the moment. Larry’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His lips were warm, a little unsure at first, but as you leaned into him, you felt him relax, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

It was the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world disappear—the kind that felt like everything you’d ever wanted and more. The stars above seemed to blur, the night air cool against your skin, but all you could focus on was Larry—his touch, his warmth, the way he made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you smiled at each other. Larry let out a soft laugh, the sound full of relief and joy. “So, I guess this means we’re official now?”

You chuckled, your heart still racing. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

Larry kissed you again, this time with more confidence, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. And in that moment, under the stars, you realized that this was it—the beginning of something beautiful, something real. And with Larry by your side, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

[boobabietch]

Chapter II: "A Rookie’s Obsession, A Legend’s Indifference: Is Diana Taurasi ready for Victoria O’Hara?” | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: fight fight fight!! And a tad bit narcissistic Diana

A/N: I’m having a shitload of fun writing this lmao, so here’s another chapter I hope you like. As always English is not my first language so if you find something wrong tell me so I can change it asap, I can’t wait for y’all to read this and the next chapters I’m so excited. Likes, comments (!!!) and reblogs are highly appreciated and my ask box is always open. Love Sof :))

Making headlines masterlist

There’s a funny thing about being the best in women’s sports. People either love you or wait for you to fall. But when you’ve been around long enough, it doesn’t matter what they think. You know your place. And you protect it.

That’s what I’ve been doing since my debut in the WNBA. Owning the court. Owning the pressure. Every game, every season, everyone expects the same thing from me: perfection. Winning is never enough because when your name is Diana Taurasi, nothing is ever enough.

Then, she showed up.

Victoria O’Hara. The rookie everyone wouldn’t shut up about. Reminded me of me, hungry, talented, a little too much attitude for her own good. The first time I saw her was just before our game against San Antonio. I’d heard her name, knew she had something. But there’s a difference between hype and reality.

May 19, 2017

Game day. I could feel her eyes on me during warm-ups, it was cute honestly, I could see the gears working hard on her mind, probably wondering what it’s like to be me, to dominate the way I have. They all wonder. But what she didn’t know yet is that being good in college doesn’t mean shit here. Welcome to the W, kid.

I didn’t give her a second glance. What was there to say? Another rookie trying to prove something. I’ve seen it all. I’ve been that girl. But this one, this woman, had something extra in her. I could see it the minute the game started. Every time she took a shot, it was like she was aiming at me, if I didn’t know she wanted to rip my throat out I’d say she was in love. Every drive, every step, was a challenge.

I could hear the yelling in the crowd, I’d hear her teammates tell her to relax, feel the energy shift. People loved watching us, golden veteran vs. golden rookie. A fucking classic. O’Hara wanted to make a statement. I could tell she was on the edge, burning herself out just to prove she belonged. And every time, I’d remind her, I’ve been there. I’ve fought harder battles. If she wanted to be the next big thing, she was going to have to earn it. She was good, but I wasn’t worried. I’ve dealt with players like her before. They rise fast, burn out faster. But this one... she kept pushing.

Every game we played after that, it was like she had a personal vendetta. I couldn’t walk on the court without feeling her eyes drilling into me. She was obsessed. It was funny, really. This kid was trying so hard to beat me, to make me see her.

I saw her. I always see them coming.

July 7, 2017

We were in San Antonio. Close game. O’Hara played her heart out, I’ll give her that. But we still won. After the game, I found her slumped on the bench, wiped out. I should’ve just left her there. But something in me couldn’t resist. The kid had fire. I respected that.

“Not bad, O’Hara. Keep it up, and you might actually be a challenge someday.”

Her face said it all. She was rattled, but she had that spark. I liked seeing it. She looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was serious. I was. Kinda. Then, she shot back:

“Someday? I’m already a problem for you.”

I almost laughed. Her confidence was impressive, misplaced, but impressive. I glanced down, smirked. Let her have that moment.

“Of course you are,” I said, walking off.

Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I never said that, lucky for everyone I did.

July 30, 2017

Maybe I overestimated how in control I am of everything; the game, the rookie, and my body.

We were playing again, tensions running high. It was bound to happen. O’Hara wanted her moment, wanted to prove herself. And me? I wasn’t giving her an inch. Then, somewhere in the third quarter, it happened.

I saw her coming, her eyes locked on me with a mix of defiance and determination. She made a quick drive, cutting to the basket with an intensity that almost made me respect her. But I wasn’t about to let a rookie get one over on me. I slammed into her, blocking her path with enough force to knock her off balance. She hit the floor hard, her elbows scraping against the court. The whistle blew, and for a moment, I watched her lay there, her frustration almost palpable.

“Get up,” I muttered, standing over her. “You’re gonna need more than that to take me down, rook”

I saw the anger in her eyes as she pushed herself up, pressing her chest on mine. Damn, was she this tall the whole time? The way she glared at me, it was almost as if she was daring me to push her further. “You think you’re untouchable? Just fucking wait.”

My smirk didn’t waver. I’d seen that fire in rookies before, puffed up, ready to prove themselves. “I don’t think, O’Hara. I know.” I said with the most arrogant tone I owned.

“Oh you’re just a fucking bitch, aren’t you?” Before I could react further, she shoved me hard. Everyone erupted into chaos. I felt the rush of adrenaline as I moved to shove her back, but the moment I lunged, my teammates were already there, hands gripping my arms and holding me back.

O’Hara wasn’t any better off. Many of her teammates were swarming around her, trying to pull her away from me. I could see the frustration in her eyes as she struggled against their hold, her fists clenched and ready to throw.

Fun fact about fights: when you need the strength of 4 pro basketball players to hold you back, it makes you look really fucking dangerous.

We both tried to break through the human barriers restraining us. I could almost feel the impact of our fists connecting, the unfinished fight burning in my veins. But with every struggle, every strained push against the hands holding us back, the reality set in: we were not going to get to finish this here.

I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the cameras, the refs, or the impending technical. All I cared about was feeling that fire she was throwing at me. I wanted her to know what it felt like to face me, to try and break through the wall I’d built around myself.

Eventually, the refs managed to get us both under control, leading us to opposite sides of the court. As I was pulled away, I couldn’t help but glance back at O’Hara, her eyes still blazing with that same fire. Despite the chaos, a small part of me felt a twisted respect for her, a rookie who was not just willing to challenge me, but was ready to throw down if necessary.

The arena buzzed with excitement and disbelief as we were separated, but the fight between us was far from over.

That was the moment I knew this kid wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe, just maybe, I’d finally met someone who could keep up.

Little did I know.

Fucking Victoria.

"Rivalry Ignites: O’Hara and Taurasi Get into Fiery Altercation During Friday Game"

"San Antonio Stars Victoria O’Hara Adidas Grey and Black Edition Player Jersey | SOLD OUT"

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

[inthehouseoffinwe]

I feel like the whole "Elwing jumping out with the silmaril due to trauma" explanation doesn't really answer the question about why she and Earendil seemed to just "turn the page" with their kids when they got to Valinor. It's strange to me that when meeting with the Valar and giving them something very important like the silmaril, they didn't try to leverage their position and secure/negotate something for their kids (at least verifying if they're dead or alive, getting an affirmation they'll be safe, or trying to retrieve them) from the gods. It's like they just decided there's nothing more to do here, got immortality, and never looked back since beating Morgoth is the only important issue now. Maybe this is just a narrative hole resulting from Tolkein trying to keep things brief, but it gives me the striking impression that they chose ultimately chose each other over their own kids.

Hey! Thanks for sending this!

I’ll admit, I’m not totally clear with what happened post arrival to Valinor but I do agree. It could explain the initial jump but everything after? Ehhh.

I know they were worried about the twins. But their actions don’t really… show that.

I guess my only thought is they didn’t expect to never come back (a bit of a weak argument imo, it’s pretty clear Valinor is a one way trip) and barely got the Valar to agree to do something in Beleriand. I won’t get into how messed up it is the Valar waited for a stolen silmaril before even considering to help, but maybe because of that they didn’t want to push their luck?

But I also know 99.9% of parents still… would. Or they’d at least ensure their kids were safe. If Elwing’s so traumatised by the SoF, you’d think this is the first thing she does. It took time for the Valar to decide, long enough to get over the initial stress and start demanding, even if it was done through Eärendil.

Even if we say they only thought of Morgoth. I’d think to say ‘hey I got you this thing, now make sure my kids survive your war against our enemy.’

I don’t think it was Tolkien’s intention, and this is partly because he’s brushing over large swathes of plot. But the way things went and nothing really mentioning they thought of their children or regretted what happened to their people doesn’t do any favours. It also follows a very Beren and Luthien trend of ‘choosing each other against the world’ (and dooming everyone else in the process.) Which doesn’t help either.

And this leads to my issues with Eärendil x Elwing in general.

They remind me of every single couple who weren’t ready for marriage, rushing into it with this romanticised idea, and having no idea what to do after. Add kids to the mix and it’s a recipe for disaster. They love them, yes, but they don’t know what to do with them when things go wrong.

Especially in this case where Elwing should be expected to rule when her husband’s away, considering he’s gone so often and for so long. If she was so traumatised and young, why let her get into a marriage which would result in so many responsibilities?

The whole ‘but they were in love!’ thing has always annoyed me across every fandom I’ve been in 😂 It seems so selfish to condemn an entire people to an unfit ruler because you’re in love. It’s selfish to bring in a weak leader when there’s war constantly at your doorstep. This goes for both Eärendil and Elwing.

Ok sure. This case it was the sons of Fëanor. But what would she have done if Morgoth launched an attack? Can anyone honestly tell me she’d know how to direct and lead people to relative safety? It’s a pretty basic demand from a ruler in as bad a situation as they were in.

You don’t bring a traumatised woman, or even ignoring that, you don’t bring a young inexperienced woman, who won’t be able to think clearly or make good decisions when put under pressure.

And if you know you’re traumatised and/or inexperienced you don’t agree to the position.

[the-ace-with-spades]

A tiny little scene from way further in my trans! Bradley fic - chapter 14/15 o (sometimes I feel) like a monkey pilot, we're currently on chapter 5 - featuring Uncle Slider

For context, Bradley came out after a mental breakdown and reunited with Mav and Ice less than two months before this scene. tw: slight misgendering (one slip-up)

*

March 2013

It was a big day — Bradley had been asked by Maria to meet someone else from the family as his therapy homework and Uncle Slider was selected as the one to fulfill that assignment. Out of the whole family, it was just him and aunt Sarah that lived in San Diego, and only the two of them knew that, well, that Bradley wanted to be called Bradley now and that he’d come out in the worst circumstances possible.

At least Ice said he did know — he was the one to tell Slider when Bradley moved in with them and he hadn’t said more than he was a little confused but he’s okay when Bradley asked how it went. He still didn’t know if Ice didn’t tell him more because he wanted to protect him or if it was truly all the reaction he had from Slider. He hadn't talked to many people since he came out and even the people he did talk to were strangers who Bradley would usually either never see again or could avoid seeing again. Family seemed like an entirely different category, one that made him freeze and tense with dread.

Hopefully, by the end of the day, he’d still be Bradley’s uncle.

He and Mav had just finished kneading the dough for the ravioli they were making when the front door bell rang. Ice, who was just watching them from the other side of the kitchen island, let his book fall down next to the fruit bowl and walked to the foyer.

Ice and Slider talked in the foyer for a minute, tones too quiet to hear the words, before Bradley heard their footsteps and Slider's voice broke through the door to the corridor, “So, where’s the wayward son?”

Ice sounded a bit exasperated when he replied but Bradley could still hear lightness to his tone as he said, “In the kitchen with Mav."

He tried not to worry. Tried to take it as a good sign and not to have the worst case scenarios flash before his eyes.

He turned away, back to the kitchen island and the entrance, looking at his hands, still covered flour from the dough. He saw Mav's concerned gaze in the corner of his eye, but he only shrugged, trying not to worry him.

It all should be fine. Even if Slider didn't react well to actually seeing Bradley as Bradley, it wasn't going to be the end of the world.

Mav pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh that could be only directed at Uncle Slider leaving his mouth. Bradley turned around.

First thing that caught his eye was a giant baby blue balloon, floating around Slider's head, the It’s A Boy! text in a darker shade of blue in semi-cursive.

Slider himself didn't look much different than the last time Bradley saw him in 2006, right before he retired from the Navy. He already had grating hair back then, now they were almost completely gray, there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes and he seemed to have lost some muscle from around his shoulders but he still mostly just looked like Bradley's Uncle Slider.

“Hey, kid,” he said, like he had always been. “I didn’t want to come empty handed but Shay is at a conference in LA and she’s the one who chooses gifts usually so… There was a shop next to the girls' school and I thought it would be, you know, fitting.”

Bradley hadn't been in contact with them when Slider and Sarah's second daughter was born — he had only heard about her from Ice, a couple of weeks ago when they tried to catch up on all the family matters he had missed in the years he was away.

“The youngest is six now, isn’t she? Sof, right?”

“Almost seven,” Slider replied, sounding quite proud. “Tells us to call her Sofia now, because she is too big for Sof. Well, unless you’re her Uncle Mav, then you can still call her Sof.”

“What can I say? Kids love me,” Mav quipped, right from behind Bradley.

“That’s because you’re a big kid yourself,” Ice supplied, rolling his eyes.

Now that he wasn't standing right behind Slider, watching him for any wrong moves or words toward Bradley, he had moved back towards the high chair on the other side of the kitchen island.

“He’s as big as a kid you mean,” Slider said, one hand making a little measurement gesture, cutting the air right below his shoulder, where the top of Mav's head would reach.

Bradley couldn't help it — he snorted.

Slider used the moment to step closer, pulling on the balloon's string, and handing it off to Bradley.

“Thanks,” he said. When Slider opened his arms, the same way he used to do whenever he wanted a hug from Bradley, his voice cracked as he added, “I’m covered in flour.”

“Come here anyway,” he told him and Bradley did, stepping into his arms. It had been a while but it also didn't feel any different — Slider was still the only person from their nearby family who was taller than Bradley, still would just wrap his long arms around his back and bring him close enough that he'd be sinking into his chest, put Bradley's face in the crook of his neck and say into the curls behind his ear, “You gave your folks quite a scare.”

“I know,” he whispered into Slider's shoulder.

“Good to have you here with us, buddy, really good,” he said and Bradley tried to soak in the moment, but at the same time not to put his dirty hands on Slider's nice black polo.

“Now, is any of you going to roll the dough for me or are you just going to stand there?”

Bradley let go of Slider, still not completely sure this day wouldn't become a disaster, but a bit more relaxed.

“I thought you finally bought him that pasta machine,” Slider said, mainly toward Ice as he took a step back toward the kitchen island.

“Oh, I did,” Ice said, with an accusatory tone to his voice. “Put it in the back of the cupboard right away and never used it.”

“My mamma didn’t need a fancy pasta cutter, I don’t need it either,” Mav said and it sounded like they'd had that discussion at least a couple of times. “Baby, can you roll the stuffing for me?”

“Yeah, just let me wash my hands again,” he replied, giving Slider one last glance over his shoulder as he moved to the sink.

Mav, satisfied now that Bradley was within his reach, turned to Slider with a glare. “What? If you’re not going to be useful, get out of my kitchen.”

Slider raised his arms and backed out, sitting down next to Ice at the other side of the island. Bradley could feel his eyes on him, following him all the way inside the kitchen but not adding anything.

Mav stepped next to him, bumping their shoulders — or his shoulder and Bradley's elbow, really — and asked close to his face, “You doing okay, baby?”

He turned on the tap, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, I just—”

“I can still kick him out if you want,” Mav offered, way too eager. “In fact, I’ll take great joy in kicking him out.”

“You invited him,” he reminded.

“No, we invited him,” Mav corrected. “If it’s too soon—”

“I can’t live behind closed door forever, as much as I want to,” he noted because that was the truth. The past almost two months now, Bradley'd been seeing his parents and the healthcare professionals that were taking care of him and then almost no one else. At some point, he had to start living again, even if it was scary, being in the world and out and not in the safety of his parents house. Most of the time, he still felt a bit like a fraud, calling himself Bradley, telling people to use he and him when talking about, that he was guy — almost like he didn't deserve it until he looked the way people expected him to look.

“I know,” Mav said and he didn't seem any happier about it than Bradley, his eyebrows creasing as his hand reached to caress Bradley's cheek gently — he had flour on his hands, too. “I wish I could make the world a better place for you.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Promise I’ll kick him out if he says anything,” Mav added, giving his cheekbone a last swap with his thumb and then putting his hands under the running tap.

“I’m pretty sure that if he does, Pops is going to be the one who’d kick him out,” he noted.

They were both standing around, watching their interactions like guard dogs, ready to bite at any slide of hand, and Bradley felt almost okay with it.

Bradley washed his hands and dried it off on the nearby towel. Mav sent him a wink before stepping away, bending down to find the rolling pin somewhere in the mess of their corner cabinet.

Slider called out, louder than he'd been talking to Ice. “Hey, is there a chance you made enough that I won’t have to think what to make for dinner for the kids?”

Ice sounded exasperated again, shaking his head at him and Bradley smiled as he said, “You just came here to steal our food again, didn’t you?”

“Told you a hundred times, brother, cooking well is his only good quality, I might as well milk it.”

Bradley shook his head at the familiarity of the whole moment and said, “You’re in luck this time — we’ve already frozen the first batch.”

“Don’t let him win, buddy,” Ice quipped.

Bradley pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie, taking out the bowl with the spinach and ricotta filling out of the fridge. As he carried it to the counter, the free space on the shelf below the kitchen island, right next to the ravioli dough, he felt watched again. He tried not to pay attention to it, but Slider was suspiciously silent, eyes scrolling over Bradley's mostly flat chest, clad in a binder invisible under his hoodie, and going up to Bradley's military-regulation short hair. He'd been looking like that the past few weeks every day but suddenly, it felt inadequate.

“Since when do you like Dallas Cowboys, kid?”

Bradley didn't have to look down to remember what he was wearing — the blue Dallas Cowboys hoodie he stole from Jake when he left Lemoore. Bradley didn't know shit about football but he used to go to NFL games with Jake whenever Dallas Cowboys were playing and they were in the area, it was Jake's team and Bradley would always wear one of his t-shirt or sweatshirts to blend in with the crowd and, well, because Jake liked when Bradley wore his clothes and Bradley like to wear his clothes. The past four months, the hoodie had been a source of comfort in the situations that made him nervous, used almost as often as the blanket hoodie Mav bought him in high school.

He wasn't about to tell them he missed Jake or who Jake was or anything else. "Can't I just like football?"

“I thought you were a basketball kinda girl—boy—guy—Shit.” It was clumsy but Bradley would give him points for trying. When Ice elbowed Slider into his side, he added sheepishly, “Sorry, Brad.”

“Please don’t call me Brad.”

“Sorry,” Slider repeated, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought it was Bradley now.”

“It is,” he said. “I’m just trying to avoid all the Brad Brad jokes that will come with it.”

“Yeah, you did make your life harder with that name change,” he said and just as he finished the sentence Mav and Ice turned toward him again, glaring. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant, relax,” Bradley told him, somehow feeling the tension oozing out of him now that the first slip had been made. “Mav said my parents had it chosen for a boy, so…”

“That does sound like something Goose would choose,” Slider said, slowly, and Bradley almost laughed at how hard he was trying to avoid his usual speak-before-think mode. “You can always go by your second name. Plenty of people do.”

Yeah, that was not happening. “I think I will just stick with Bradley.”

“By the way, Ron would make a great middle name,” he added. Ice elbowed him again but he didn't seem to mind too much and honestly, Bradley didn't mind the turn conversation had taken — it was all good-natured and so casual that it had almost calmed down most of his nerves. "Simple, traditional, can't be confused with a female name, what's not to like?"

Mav huffed. “Kerner, don’t even try—”

“What? He had a second name before,” Slider cut in.

“The paperwork is done already, anyway, so you’re a bit late,” Ice pointed out.

Mac turned to him this time, frowning. “It is?”

“Ice took me to the courthouse this week, after—after the session,” he admitted. Ice went with him inside and did most of the talking with the court clerk when Bradley couldn't reply to the simple what is the petition you need for question without spilling his whole life history. “I filed the petition.”

“I don’t think we chose a middle name, did we? Did you put one down?”

“I did,” he admitted, not elaborating and hoping they would leave it at that.

He concentrated on taking out the ravioli filling and scooping it into balls

“What is then?”

He only glanced at Ice shortly but that was enough for them to realize.

“Oh,” Uncle Slider only said before his typical shit-eating grin made its place on his face.

Mav didn’t say anything but he stepped closer toward Bradley, his close presence more than words.

Ice didn’t move even a millimeter. He bit down on lip, blinking the wetness out of his eyes and asked quietly, “You went with—with Tom?”

“Thomas,” he corrected, just barely hearable. "It's Bradley Thomas Bradshaw now. Or will, when the petition goes through."

"It's a good one, baby," Mav said, giving his shoulder an approving rub, eyes a bit watery. 

“Not as good of a choice as Ron, but I supposed you can live with it,” Slider said and just like that, Mav turned to him and tried to hit him with the rag he was holding — he dodged last minute and Mav tried to hit him again, basically crawling over the kitchen island, until Bradley started laughing at them.

Ice was still looking at him, though, still speechless but with the corners of his lips quivering now.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

YAY can u write a prompt for protective bucky (with buck of course) 😁😁

After the war, when Bucky goes to Buck in Wyoming, there's a knock on the door.

Bucky answers because Buck's in the shower. There's a man on the porch wearing a threadbare suit and an oversized shirt and a tie with a good knot, but it's too long on his torso.

"I'm looking for Gale Cleven," the man says.

And it's only at hearing the voice that Buck realizes who he is looking at. This is Buck's father. He's a bit shorter, shoulders curled forward to boot, and he looks sickly in a way that Bucky realizes is likely from drinking, though he doesn't smell like it right this moment.

"Not sure he's here," Bucky says. "Let me check." He closes the door in the man's face because he only knows the one story. The story Buck told as they stood at the air raid shelter. Of a drunk, gambling father who clearly did not teach his son that there's time for fun and time for serious behavior. A man who left Buck in a headspace that a man is black and white. Either drunk or sober. Either a gambler or good with money.

Bucky still isn't sure what about him made Buck take a chance that must have felt like shoving a mountain into the sea, but he's glad every fucking day Buck took that chance and stood by it. That he saw gray and decided he liked it.

He walks into the bathroom. Buck's in a towel, mixing up soap for his shave.

Bucky doesn't know how to say what he needs to carefully, so he plucks the mug with soap and brush from Buck and waits for the question in his raised eyebrows. "Pretty sure your dad's at the door," he says. "He seems sober."

Buck shudders from head to toe, and Bucky wants to hand Buck back his shaving supplies and go kick Mr. Cleven all the way up his ass.

"Does his suit fit?" Buck asks. And, oh, how Bucky's heart breaks at everything that tells him.

"Nope," he says. "Not even a little bit."

Buck takes back his shaving brush and cup with the soap. He checks the froth of the soap, then turns on the hot water. "I'm not here," he says.

Bucky kisses Buck's shoulder because it's the closest thing to touch. "Any other message?" he asks because he can't quite help himself. He knows his vices.

Buck turns his head and kisses the side of Bucky's forehead. "You could never be him, John. Not on the very worst day you could imagine."

That feels hard to believe, but that's true on John's worst days anyway, so he takes as the honesty it is. He drags his nose along Buck's shoulder in an easy caress, and then he leaves Buck to his shave.

He opens the door and looks at Mr. Cleven, who is standing where he'd been left. "Missed him," he says. "Not sure when he left."

"Well, thank you," Mr. Cleven replies.

And Bucky feels no discomfort at what he's said because it's true. Mr. Cleven had time to catch Buck. Years and years. It's not a lie to say he's missed him.

It's not a bad thing to be the one Buck saw with similar vices and marked as different than this man leaving their porch, shoulders still rolled and suit ill-fitting, and as Bucky watches, slipping a tiny bottle out of his pocket. Bucky's mom loves to bake. It looks like vanilla extract.

Bucky goes back to Buck in the bathroom, who is halfway through his shave. He wraps his arms around Buck's waist and presses his cheek against Buck's shoulder. "He's gone," he says.

Buck continues his shave for three, steady strokes. "Did he smell like vanilla?" he asks, and his hand trembles just the tiniest bit.

Bucky waits for him to drop the razor into the basin to rinse it. "No, but I saw him drink from a little bottle," he says because he won't lie to Buck, but he won't choose the softest answer when the true one is more accurate.

Buck sighs and finishes his shave. He rubs in aftershave and drains the basin, then turns in Bucky's arms. "Thank you," he says. He presses their foreheads together and cups Bucky's head in both hands.

"I love you," Bucky says. "And you're not him," he adds. Buck relaxes after that, going soft and sweet in Bucky's arms, and Bucky believes without question what Bucky always tells him. He's not Bucky's father. But in this moment, Bucky knows another truth: Buck believes him when he says he's not, either.

[la-imp]

Paint me like one of your Blu Boys - Part I.

Lyle Wainfleet x Reader(Human/Avatar) drabbles.

Summary: I wrote this because, literally, no one asked for it. This little drabble is a self-indulgent fic I wanted to do because I felt it would be in Wainfleet's character to actually do something like this. And of course, he finds someone (naive enough) to oblige his antics. Lately, he has grown on me - I love that himbo sdm.

Man, this turned out much longer than I anticipated... So I am gonna split it up in two parts. The next one will be a bit spicier.

Minors DNI! - 18+

Suggestive themes are included.

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

Lyle would be that one member in every group to concoct various shenanigans to pass time whenever he is off duty. When he was revived as a Recom soldier, this behavior only increased.

After going through a bit of an existential crisis, he came to terms with his new body and identity, despite the fact he would never be the original Lyle Wainfleet. However, that didn't mean he couldn't have his share of fun. Especially after he learned to appreciate everything a lot more, given that he was offered a second shot at life.

Safe to say, 'growing' into your body gained a whole new meaning, including the extra appendages, blue complexion, swiveling ears, and the additional Na'vi instincts. But unlike some Recoms, he quickly fell in love with his new physique, especially the pleasant upgrade downstairs.

The ladies certainly loved him. Yes, he would unquestionably indulge in some 'entertainment' or 'relief' after returning from a long mission out in the field. The RDA made sure to cover every one of their needs. Service Comfort, as they'd call it. Safe to say, being a Recom and a member of the Deja Blu unit had its perks.

He was often walked in on by either Z-Dog or Prager, when he was sprawled out on his oversized bed, the sheets barely covering his dignity with three human women snuggled up to him, hairs tousled and peppered with multiple hickeys. "Hey Wainfleet, you need to be at the medical bay for your annual checkup. Be there sharp in- HOLY SHIT!"

Lyle's expression remained unperturbed as he replied, "For Christ's sake Prager, ever heard of knocking?" He snapped before tossing a pillow at Prager’s general direction. Fortunately, the Recom had already slammed the door shut with an expression akin to as if he'd just seen the devil. Before Prager quickly departed, he sighed anxiously, sensing the itching desire to bleach his eyes in order to forget what he’d just witnessed.

Wainfleet dismissed the ladies before getting himself ready, making sure he didn't smell like he had five hours of non-stop action in the sheets. After all, he had something, or rather, someone to look forward to. You.

A cute medical assistant, aka nurse who specialized in Na'vi physiology and psychology. He remembered your presence the first time he opened his yellow irises and gained consciousness as a Recom. When you came to his side to soothe or instruct him, he thought you as an angel. Maybe it was also due to the fact that he first laid eyes on you with the bright, artificial light shining behind you like a halo.

Nonetheless, he was whipped. Smitten.

But that wasn't enough to prevent you from his teasing and typical Wainfleet-esque fashion treatment. He would often drop in unannounced and kick the door against the adjacent wall while you were at the lab, doing your research. As a result of the explosive entrance and the loud noise, you would often shriek. "Hey (y/n)! I found that weird purple star-shaped plant and I figured you could use it for medicinal purposes or do somethin- why are you screaming?" You would jump from your chair and 'courteously' ask him to stop kicking the door open. Since then your door had to be replaced three times. He had taken a keen likening towards you through means that cannot be explained.

His excitement could barely be contained, wearing that shit-eating grin whenever you graced him with your feather-soft touches, which were at its core, just simple physicals like testing his motor skills and bone density, muscle tissue development - the whole nine yards. Of course, he would squirm a bit in his seat, grunting or mumbling something like having 'an itch' that needs to be scratched, and you would politely remind him it was not your damn job to give him massages. His ears would droop a little after you denied him.

But he was quick to bounce back. After some time, his visits would grow more frequent, using every trick in the book to either feign an illness or even purposefully injure himself (which are minor compared to your usual patients) for you to patch up. Eventually, Wainfleet ate up most of your time, leaving little to no room for scheduling with the others.

Your colleagues would often poke fun at you and send Wainfleet into your care when they felt they didn't want to deal with his horseshit. Having no choice, you caved and leaned into the fact of having him as your 'regular' patient. "Fine Mr. Wainfleet, take a seat," you would sigh, but with a slight smile. Wainfleet saw it as an excuse to spend some quality time with you and have you baby him after every mission. After all, it was hard fucking work. Didn't he at least deserve a reward or some form of compensation?

"Oh, you're taking such good care of me Miss (y/n)," he said as he batted his eyes at you. Of course, he would also 'reward' ' (cough)  you for being such a great nurse. He would endow you with little trophies or trinkets. Sometimes even a piece of jewelry he 'confiscated' from one of these Na'vi savages. According to him at least. Sometimes he has his tail swish a bit more than usual, hitting your backside like a fuzzy whip. You would yelp and turn to catch the culprit, only to find the corporal was long gone. Damn his long legs.

It wasn't like you didn't enjoy his company. Quite the contrary. At times you were even looking forward to his visits and enjoyed your little exchanges... even when he often made lewd or suggestive comments at you. "Are you going to take my temperature? Oh, I already know what you're gonna say. Too hot to handle!" - "I am so glad I got you as my nurse. So tell me, are you usually naughty or nice towards your patients?" - "Hey, I managed to smuggle this in from the botanic garden," you would look at what he had brought you, only to gasp when you saw it being the Pandorian equivalent to cannabis. You quickly shooed him out. "Aww, you're no fun!"

Lyle would tug on your lab coat to get your attention... or that one time when he suddenly 'spotted' a cut on your leg on the day you wore a skirt for the first time. Save to say, this was a mistake on your part. You would dismiss his claims but he remained persistent, so much so, that he boldly leaned forward and have his sizable palm completely wrap around the crook of your lower thigh, startling you with the sudden hot skin-to-skin contact.

"Doc, I think you got a cut there - lemme help you for a change," his cheeks lifted, forcing his eyes to narrow into crescent moons. He thought he was being slick with his ever-more audacious flirting. To the point where he deliberately had his hands latch onto you. "Oh, that doesn't look too good, you got a boo-boo right 'ere, Dr. (y/n)." he cooed with a pouting lip.

"Wha- what are you doing, Wainfleet?" He then teasingly lifted your skirt, inch by inch, saying that he saw the injury somewhere, the rough pads of his fingers skimming up your warm flesh. He seemed so certain of it as well - that was until you smacked your clipboard against his bald head, snapping his attention. "Yeouch!"

Startled he jolted and quickly retracted as you scolded him, your cheeks puffed red with fury. "Get out now, before I have your blue ass escorted out of the medical bay!" After the inappropriate encounter, you dismissed him and you watch him leave your office with slumped shoulders and a low-hanging tail. You didn't see him for two weeks after the 'incident'.

That was until he had returned - this time, however, battered and bruised. Like he'd just survived a sinking Titanic. He was a bit more cordial, less intrusive or cheeky this time around. You would measure his blood pressure, and vitals, clean his wounds, and blood, and stitch a few lacerations before giving him his prescribed pills. Meanwhile, his eyes began to wander a bit. Eventually, they connected with various drawings and sketches hanging on the wall.  

"Well I'll be damned, those are pretty good. Did you draw this?" he would genuinely ask, drawing your attention to him, his gaze fixated on the various art studies. You reared your head before giving him a nod, surprised at his sudden interest in your work. "Yes, we often have to learn the inner workings of bodily functions and anatomy. I mostly do it to memorize it better... but also to pass the time," he nodded and stood up, walking over with a certain swagger in his gait. Luckily the ceilings were adjusted to accommodate the sizes of the Avatars, allowing him to stand up straight. "Really impressive," he noted, zooming in on them. You couldn't help but smile brightly at him and strike up a conversation, finding he was not a complete airhead after all.

After a while, you would agree to have him pose as your next anatomy model for your studies. You didn't know how he actually managed to get you to agree. But you couldn't deny him. Maybe you were just being polite... or maybe you cracked when he gave you that look. Those large, yellow puppy dog eyes. In his case, rather, feline eyes.

When you got off work, you both had scheduled a meeting at his dorms. Maybe this was a mistake, you thought to yourself. But then again, you would blush at the thought of having such a tall, athletic man pose for your 'scientific' studies.

Ah, it couldn't be that bad, could it?

Wrong.

When you entered, you spotted a bed placated in the center of the room, duvets and sheets elegantly folded with a few rose petals strewn across the mattress and floor.

Oh hell no. This was a whole misunder- "Well hello there, doc. Didn't think you'd come. Like to show up late for the party, huh?" his deep voice resonated from behind you, eliciting you to nearly jump out of your skin. You spun on your heel as you caught him standing before you, weight resting on one of his legs, hand relaxed on one of his slender hips as merely a towel covered his dignity. He looked cleansed and exuded a certain musk, an aromatic mixture of pine trees, spices, and a subtle hint of expensive cologne. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower. One brow quirked at your flustered response, prompting that signature smirk to grow on his face. "Wainfleet,.... uh... what is-"

"Oh doll, don't worry 'bout it. I got everything prepared for your study," and with that he would strut over to the bed, hips swaying suggestively before he removed the garment, taking his position as he now sprawled out, elbow propped against the side with his cheeks resting on it, his other arm just scarcely covering his manhood. Not that it mattered since you caught a glimpse of this 'endowment' (which was almost as long as your damn forearm) anyways.

"What? You said you did this before and wanted to do anatomical studies.... so... here I am. Gotta show all of it if you want to do it properly," he insisted as you sucked in a breath, brows scrunched together. You couldn't imagine how you must've looked, with how much blood had rushed to your head, or the twisting cramp inside your stomach, or the clamminess of your palms as you clutched the drawing pad tighter against you. "Jesus, Marine..." you eventually would say, exhaling through your nostrils.

Taking a seat on one of the way too large, recom sized office chairs, you adjusted a few times before getting your pencils ready. "Alright... ready when you are, Lyle," you bit out, accentuating his name with a bit more edge. To your surprise, the corporal approved of your tone as you addressed him by his first name for the first time, his tail flicking excitedly, ears folding forward. He shot you a boyish wink before giving his dry lips a subtle lick, "I'm ready, doc. Have at it."

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Racing Hearts - Part 3 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Charles have your first date. And the first encounter with his life in the public eye.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: Uhh, you guys make me so happy! And I personally really love this chapter, because is so SWEET!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe, @faithm120601, @needtokeepfeelingsincheck, @bbygrllllllll

Morning sunlight streamed into the room as you stirred awake. You rubbed your eyes, still feeling a bit dazed by the events of the previous night. As you sat up, Sofia barged into your room, her eyes sparkling excitedly.

"Y/N! Oh my gosh, spill the tea! What happened after Charles drove you home last night?" Sofia jumped onto your bed, eager to hear all the details.

You blushed, feeling a bit hesitant to share everything, but you knew Sofia wouldn't let it go. "Well, we went up to this hill with a stunning view of the city," you began, a shy smile on your face. "We talked, and he was so sweet, Sofia. I've never felt this way before."

Sofia squealed, "That's amazing! I knew there was something special between you two!" Then she wiggled her eyebrows. "Did you kiss?"

You blushed and averted your gaze. "We did!"

Sofia squeaked and clapped her hands together. "OMG! This is so good! I knew this would work out!"

"Yeah," you nodded, "but I also told him about my past relationship and how I'm not really looking for anything serious right now. I didn't want to lead him on."

Sofia's excitement softened into concern, "Oh, Y/N, are you sure about that? I mean, Charles seems really into you. Maybe you should give it a chance?"

"I don't know, Sof," you replied, your uncertainty evident. "I don't want to get hurt again, and I don't want to hurt him either."

Just as you were deep in conversation, your phone chimed with a message notification. You picked it up, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was from Charles. Sofia leaned in, her eyes widening with curiosity.

"Well, are you going to open it or not?" Sofia urged.

You hesitated for a moment, then opened the text.

Charles had sent you a simple but sweet message: "I had an incredible time with you last night. I can't stop thinking about you, and I would love to see you again soon if you're up for it. 😊"

Sofia's eyes lit up, "Oh my gosh, that's adorbs! What are you going to say?"

You blushed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I don't know, Sofia. I really like him, but I'm scared."

Sofia placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "It's okay to be scared, you. Just follow your heart and take things one step at a time. If you like him and enjoy his company, maybe it's worth exploring. You don't have to rush into anything serious right away."

You nodded, grateful for Sofia's support. "You're right. I'll reply and let him know I had a great time, too, and that I'd love to see him again."

"That's the spirit!" Sofia grinned, giving her friend a tight hug. "Just be honest with him, and everything will work out."

With newfound confidence, you replied to Charles's message, expressing your own feelings and agreeing to meet up again. As you hit send, you felt a sense of excitement about the possibilities ahead.

Sofia beamed, "See? It's going to be great! I can't wait to hear all about your next date!"

You laughed, "You're unbelievable, Sof. But thanks for being here for me."

"That's what best friends are for!" Sofia winked, "Now, let's get some breakfast and start planning your fabulous next rendezvous with Charles!"

As the morning sun painted the streets of Monaco with a warm glow, Charles and Pierre set off on their regular morning jog. It was a cherished ritual for the two friends when Pierre is in Monaco, providing a chance to catch up and share their thoughts.

"And then what happened?" Pierre asked as they jogged up the hill. Both athletes were slightly out of breath.

Charles couldn't contain his excitement, and as they settled into their pace, he began to spill the beans to Pierre about the incredible night he had with you.

"Mate, you won't believe it," Charles began, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Pierre matched his friend's enthusiasm, "Tell me everything!"

"Well," Charles began, "after we left the club, I took her to this hill overlooking the city. We talked for hours, and it was just so easy to connect with her. She's amazing, Pierre, and I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Pierre chuckled, teasingly nudging Charles, "You're smitten, mate."

"I think I am," Charles replied with a laugh. "But there's more. She told me about her past relationship and how she's not looking for anything serious right now. I understand where she's coming from, but I can't help but feel a strong connection with her."

Pierre nodded, understanding his friend's dilemma. "Well, take it slow, Charles. If she's worth it, she'll come around in her own time."

"You're right," Charles sighed, "I just don't want to mess this up. She's different, and I don't want to lose her."

Pierre smiled reassuringly, "I can see how much she means to you. Just be patient, my friend. Everything will work out."

As they continued their jog, Charles's phone buzzed with a notification. He slowed his pace for a moment to check the message. It was from you, and he felt a rush of anticipation as he opened it.

His face lit up as he read your response, and he couldn't help but share the news with Pierre. "She said she had a great time too, and she'd love to see me again!" Charles beamed.

"That's fantastic, frérot!" Pierre cheered. "Looks like things are heading in the right direction."

Charles nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "I can't wait to see her again. She's really something special."

Pierre patted his friend on the back, "Just take it one step at a time, Charles. You'll figure it out together."

Charles and Pierre finally settled on some stones at the peak of the hill, both catching their breath after the vigorous climb. Charles took a big sip from his water bottle before turning to his best friend.

"What should I do with her? What would you do?" Charles asked, seeking Pierre's advice.

Pierre pondered for a moment before responding, "Well, based on what I observed yesterday, she seems like a quite reserved person. I noticed her glancing around a few times, probably aware of all the curious vultures lurking nearby," he said, referring to the paparazzi. "It's clear she's not used to the public being so involved in her life, so you should keep that in mind."

Charles nodded, deep in thought. He was accustomed to living in the public eye, but he knew he had to be considerate of your feelings and protect you from any undue stress.

"You're right," Charles admitted. "I don't want to overwhelm her with all the attention. How about... how about I invite her over for dinner? We could cook something together."

Pierre burst into laughter at the suggestion. "Seriously, mate? You know you're a terrible cook!"

Charles grinned mischievously. "Exactly! But Y/N doesn't know that," he teased.

Pierre continued laughing, "Oh, this could be interesting. Go for it! And if the cooking turns out disastrous and she still stays, you know she's a keeper."

Charles chuckled, appreciating Pierre's support and humor.

Feeling confident in his plan, he picked up his phone and sent a message to you: "I want to see you again soon. Do you like cooking? How about a nice dinner at my place? :)" He hit send and eagerly awaited your response while he and Pierre continued to chat about their day and future plans.

Your phone buzzed, and a bright smile spread across your face as you read Charles's message. "A dinner date at his place? That sounds amazing," you thought to yourself. But as excitement welled up, so did your apprehensions about past relationships that left you hurt. You couldn't afford to let your guard down again, even if Charles seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Sofia's voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see your best friend's concerned expression.

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "Yeah, I'm fine. Charles invited me over for dinner, and I don't know if I should go."

Sofia raised an eyebrow, "Why not? It sounds like a lovely idea."

Your vulnerability surfaced as you confessed, "I just don't want to get hurt again. Every time I let my guard down, I end up getting hurt."

Sofia's hand gently squeezed your shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I get it. But Charles seems like a genuine person, and if he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have invited you over for dinner. Besides, you won't know if it's worth it if you don't take the risk."

Taking Sofia's words to heart, you took a deep breath, realizing that you couldn't let your past experiences hold you back from the possibility of something beautiful with Charles.

After some contemplation, you picked up your phone and mustered the courage to text him back: "Sure, I'd love to. I love cooking. Just tell me what to bring."

Sofia beamed beside you, knowing you couldn't resist such an invitation, especially from someone you genuinely liked.

As expected, Charles's reply came swiftly, assuring you that he would handle everything and pick you up at 5 pm.

"That's perfect. We have enough time," Sofia exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. Your playful frown appeared as you muttered, "Please don't say for shopping," knowing that Sofia was always enthusiastic about retail therapy.

But Sofia was already on her feet, determined to make the most of your time. "Enough time to go shopping!" she declared, leading you out of the room.

As you ventured from one store to another, Sofia's enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help but try on various outfits. By the time you returned home, you were laden with shopping bags.

After a quick shower, you found Sofia had prepared some outfit options for you on the bed. Sofia always had a knack for fashion, and you trusted your friend's choices.

Trying on the outfits, you finally settled on a black two-piece that accentuated your curves paired with a boho-style cardigan. Strappy sandals and simple jewelry completed the look. You stood before the mirror, your wavy hair cascading down your back, feeling confident and beautiful.

Sofia peeked into the room, grinning widely at the sight. "You look stunning, Y/N!"

You smiled back, grateful to have such a supportive friend by your side. "Thanks, Sofia. You always know what works best."

With the perfect outfit and newfound confidence, you were ready for the dinner date that awaited you with Charles. Excitement and nervousness intertwined within you, but you knew you had to embrace the possibility of happiness, even if it meant taking a risk.

"You look perfect," Sofia complimented, gazing at you with admiration. "But now go!"

"Thanks, Sof!" you replied, stepping out the door.

Exactly at 5 pm, Charles arrived to pick you up. His breath caught in his throat when he saw you; you looked absolutely stunning in your two-piece outfit, and he felt incredibly fortunate to spend the evening with you.

"Wow, you look amazing," Charles said, walking over to you and planting a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Blushing, you felt a flutter in your stomach at his sweet gesture. "Thank you," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Charles courteously opened the car door for you, and you drove to his apartment, chatting about your day, sharing laughter, and discovering common music interests. Upon arrival, Charles carried the grocery bags to the kitchen, and you admired his modern and tastefully furnished apartment.

"I hope you're okay with chicken and veggies," Charles said, showing you the fresh ingredients he had bought earlier.

"Sure, that sounds perfect," you replied, placing your bag on the floor and taking off your cardigan.

You admired the apartment's interior, with dark wood furniture and vibrant area rugs in the living room, sleek couches, and a cozy armchair. The kitchen boasted stainless steel appliances and a beautiful marble countertop. In the bedroom, a plush king-sized bed adorned with crisp white linens exuded comfort. Charles's passion for sports was evident from the trophies on display, particularly the wall with helmets in his other room. She also notices the white piano in the corridor.

"Thank you. I like your apartment," you expressed your appreciation as you made your way to the kitchen.

"Thanks," Charles called back with a smile, and you joined him in the kitchen.

"You're welcome. Can I help?" you offered, pulling your hair up with a scrunchy.

Charles found himself mesmerized by your natural beauty. You were absolutely stunning, and he caught himself momentarily lost in admiration before snapping back to reality.

"If you'd like," Charles replied, trying to hide his flustered state.

As you stood side by side in the kitchen, Charles admitted, "I have to confess, I'm not the best cook, but I promise I'll do my best," chuckling.

You playfully laughed, "No worries, Charles. It's all about having fun and trying something new together. We'll make it work!"

You settled on preparing a simple pasta dish with a homemade sauce. You took the lead, guiding Charles through the steps while playfully teasing him about his occasional kitchen mishaps. Charles found your laughter infectious and felt his nerves dissipate as you cooked together.

Amidst chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce, you exchanged lighthearted banter and shared stories from their past. The kitchen was filled with the delightful aroma of the sauce, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. As Charles watched you expertly work your way through his kitchen, he couldn't help but appreciate how easily and naturally you appeared.

"Do you want some white wine?" Charles asked, and you nodded.

"That would be perfect. I need some of it later for deglazing," you replied.

He fetched a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured them each a glass. Placing the bottle next to you, you smiled at him, but he noticed tears glistening in your eyes.

Concerned, he was about to ask what was wrong when he felt a burning sensation in his own eyes. As he glanced down, he saw the onions you were cutting, and you both burst into heartfelt laughter.

Wiping away your tears, you placed the sliced onions into a small bowl. Charles handed you the glass, and you toasted to each other.

After a bit of trial and error, you finally plated your creation – a delicious-looking pasta dish topped with freshly grated cheese and herbs. It might not have been a gourmet masterpiece, but you were both proud of your joint effort.

As you sat down at the table, Charles couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. He looked at you, your eyes filled with excitement, and he realized that it wasn't about being a master chef; it was about the shared experience and connection you were building.

"Bon appétit!" Charles said, raising his glass.

"Bon appétit!" you echoed, clinking your glass against his.

You savored your meal, exchanging smiles and laughter over their culinary adventure. Charles may not have been the best cook, but in that moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was the genuine connection he was forming with you and the joy you found in each other's company.

"That was delicious," he said after they finished, and you smiled.

"It was," you replied softly, taking another sip of your wine.

Then Charles leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers. "So I was thinking. How about a little walk? I could show you some of my favorite spots."

"I'd love that," you replied with a smile.

Charles's grin widened, and he got up from his chair, taking the dishes into the kitchen. You stood up as well and helped him clean everything up.

Then the two of you put on your shoes and then got out of the building.

As Charles and you strolled through the picturesque streets of Monaco, the glitz and glamour of the city surrounded you. The sun sparkled on the azure waters, and the gentle breeze carried an air of excitement. As you laughed and shared stories, you couldn't help but feel captivated by the charm of the famous Formula 1 driver by your side.

Little did you know that your carefree moment was about to be interrupted. Suddenly, a group of paparazzi appeared, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward, eager to capture every moment of Charles's life. It was a scene straight out of a movie, but you quickly realized that this was the reality of being in the spotlight.

Charles glanced at you with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this," he said softly, trying to shield you from the invasive attention.

You gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I understand. Just a part of being you, I guess?"

Still, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as the paparazzi pressed in closer, bombarding you with questions and requests for photographs. It was clear that Charles was used to handling such situations, but you were taken aback by the intensity of it all.

Thinking quickly, Charles grabbed your hand and led you through a maze of streets, trying to shake off the paparazzi. You ducked into an alley and found a hidden path that led down to the harbor. Charles knew he had to act fast to give you some privacy.

"Follow me," Charles whispered, excitement twinkling in his eyes.

Curious and slightly bewildered, you followed him, your heart pounding with anticipation.

As you reached the harbor, he walked passed the guard, who just nodded at you and led you onto the jetty. You looked back and could see that the paparazzi weren't able to get across the guard.

When Charles stopped before a yacht, you looked at him.

"Is that... yours?" you asked, astonished.

Charles grinned, pleased by her reaction. "Yes, it is. My little escape when I need some time away from the limelight."

You couldn't believe your eyes. She had heard about the extravagant lifestyles of celebrities, but being invited to escape with Charles to his private yacht felt like a dream and also so out of place.

A harbor worker warmly greeted Charles and assisted him in untying the ropes. Stepping onto the yacht, Charles extended his hand to help you aboard.

"Thank you," you said, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the luxurious yacht.

Charles climbed on top and started the yacht. You hesitantly followed him up the stairs, and as he began driving forward, you bumped into him. In a swift move, Charles caught you, holding you close against his chest.

Your eyes locked, and there was a moment of connection before you cleared your throat, gently pulling away from him.

With a grin on his face, Charles steered you out of the harbor.

"Where are we going?" you asked as she settled down next to him.

"You'll see," Charles replied mysteriously.

Without further words, he navigated the yacht out to sea before making a left turn towards a secluded cove. Gradually, he slowed down and finally stopped the yacht altogether. The vessel was now pointed towards the mainland, with the open sea behind them. Charles lowered the anchor and turned off the engine.

"Come," Charles invited, extending his hand to you.

You took his hand, and he led you down, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses from the refrigerator. Then, he guided you forward to the cushions on the front deck. You sat down, and he pointed towards the majestic mountains.

"The sunset is unfortunately not over the sea here, but if you can watch it like this... It's also really, really nice," he explained.

Astonished, you gazed at the mountains, understanding what he meant. "It's beautiful," she whispered, appreciating the stunning scenery and the thoughtful gesture.

As the yacht gently glided over the calm waters of the Mediterranean, Charles turned to you with a sincere expression on his face. "I'm really sorry about the paparazzi back there," he said, genuine remorse in his voice.

You smiled, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Charles, you don't need to apologize. I understand that it comes with the territory of being a public figure."

"I know, but I wish it didn't have to impact our time together like that," Charles replied, a touch of frustration evident in his tone.

"It's okay, really," you assured him. "It's all part of your world, and I'm here because I want to get to know the real you, not just the famous F1 driver."

Charles's eyes softened, appreciating her understanding. "Thank you for being so understanding. It means a lot to me."

The sun had set by now, and the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink. You found the moment enchanting, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events.

"This yacht is incredible," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood. "How often do you escape to this private oasis?"

Charles chuckled, happy to shift the focus away from the paparazzi encounter. "I try to get away here whenever I can, especially during breaks in the racing season. It's my sanctuary, a place where I can unwind and be myself."

You shifted your gaze, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle in your heart. "Talking about that... When... Uh, when is your next race?" you asked, knowing that Charles's racing career would undoubtedly consume a significant part of his time. It was one of the reasons why you were hesitant about him, considering he'd be away for most of the year.

Charles let out a sigh. "Well, we're just about to get into Monaco Race Week next week. That's why I'm here already. I try to be at home as often as possible, but when it's Monaco Grand Prix, I can stay here longer." He paused, the two of you sitting together on the cushions. "There's actually something I wanted to give you," he continued and got up.

You observed him as he walked to the back of the yacht and returned with two envelopes in his hand.

"These are VIP passes for the race. If you want, you and Sofia could come and watch the race in the Ferrari Garage," he offered, handing her the passes. "Only if you want, of course. I would totally understand if you don't..."

You looked at the passes and then back at Charles with a smile. "I would love to see you race, Charles," you said, and his face lit up with delight.

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, I have absolutely no clue when it comes to Formula 1, but I won't mind supporting you," you smiled, and Charles took your hand in his.

"You have no idea how happy this makes me," he confessed.

He looked at you intently, and then he gently placed a hand on your cheek. Charles' touch was warm and tender as your lips softly met. Your kiss was filled with affection and admiration, lingering on your lips before you parted. You felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you kissed him back passionately.

"You make me happy, Y/N," he whispered against your lips, and you smiled into the next kiss.

You could have never imagined finding someone who brought you such happiness in Monaco, especially when you weren't actively seeking it.

[pamsimmerstories]

Johnny wants to be with her, no matter what.

transcription

[when he arrived at her condo, he was about to knock on her door when he saw her at the pool] [johnny]: hey, sof! [sofia]: whispers johnny… [sofia]: you have some nerve to come here after that [johnny]: calm down, babe. [sofia]: ‘babe’ my ass! [johnny]: sofia, please. just hear me out? [sofia]: you can go to hell starts to cry [johnny]: hey… please, don’t cry. i’m here now. [sofia]: i’m not crying. just go away. [johnny]: i’m so sorry, sofia. i didn’t mean to say no. okay? [sofia]: you did. [johnny]: c’mere, sof. i’m so so sorry. i’m here to make things right. i love you. i can’t live without you. [johnny]: my answer is yes. [sofia]: this is not funny, johnny. [johnny]: i’m not joking. in fact, i won’t be a comedian anymore. i’m back to my family business. i-- i want to give you the best life, the life you deserve, sof. [sofia]: i don’t want you giving up things for me. [johnny]: i know. i… i wasn’t happy either way. too stressed and feeling like a failure. that’s why i said no that day. i’m sorry. i want you, i was just afraid to fail you, our marriage. [sofia]: oh johnny… you’re not. [johnny]: will you forgive me? [sofia]: i will. [johnny]: good. because i need to do this the right way. kneels will you marry me, sofia? [johnny]: i love you… just marry me [sofia]: gasps johnny! are you serious? [johnny]: of course i am. i know i don’t deserve this after what happened… but i really love you and i wanna grow old with you [sofia]: yes, yes, yes. of course! i love you, too. [johnny]: thank you, babe. thank you for everything! you’re wonderful. [sofia]: i know i am. [johnny]: i’ll always be grateful. [sofia]: i can’t believe this is happening. [johnny]: but you should believe, babe. because it is. and you can pick the date… any day. [sofia]: thank you, johnny. [sofia]: this ring is so beautiful! [johnny]: i’m glad you liked it!

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Thirteen

my thesis advisor watching me write for hours and none of it is my thesis

Chapter Warnings: canon death

Series Masterlist

“Sofia!”

The sound of your sneakers striking the linoleum tile seemed to echo through the halls, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You had been doing some cleaning around your apartment when Sofia called you sobbing, saying something about Natasha and Bob in the hospital. You promised her that you would be there as soon as possible and raced out the door.

Jake met you at the gate and climbed into the passenger seat of your car, using his military ID to let you get past the gates once they scanned your vehicle. His face was drawn, brows pinched and lips pursed in thought.

Your hand settled in his and he squeezed once, assuring you that he was fine.

“Sof,” you called once you spotted the brunette. She stood from the chair she was hunched over in and opened her arms just in time for you to collide with her. Rooster stood from where he sat next to her and watched as the two of you embraced.

“She’s okay. They both are. Winded and sore, but she’s okay,” Sofia whispered. Tears poured down her cheek and you raised your hand to cradle the back of her head. “Oh god, she’s got these bruises on her chest that makes me want to throw up.”

“She’s okay,” you repeated. “Nat would look the Grim Reaper in the eye and tell that motherfucker that she has to get home to her wife.”

Sofia let out a wet laugh as she pulled away. You used the sleeves of your shirt to wipe her tears away and then tugged her to sit back down. Bradley motioned for you to take his seat and he went to join the other aviators crowding the waiting room.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” she hiccuped through another sob. “I just needed…I needed someone who knew what it feels like. “Hey, no apologizing,” you chastised. You knew what she meant, though. Someone who wasn’t in the military, who wasn’t up in the air. Someone whose feet were firmly planted on the ground, one ear tuned for the phone in case they got bad news.

“And they’ve got this stupid fucking mission they’re being sent out on which is basically a suicide mission,” Sofia continued. “She nearly died in training and she’s the best so how the fuck is she going to live through the real thing?”

The assurances died in your throat as her words sunk in. This is why the aviators were here, you realized. You instinctively looked over to the group of pilots and found Rooster watching you carefully. How long had he known? Hangman?

Focus. Sofia needed you.

“They’re setting up a cot in her room for me because they’re keeping me for the night,” she said. You nodded along and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling your friend into a hug.

“What can I do for you? Have you eaten recently?”

Sofia considered the question for a moment before sighing. “I haven’t eaten since this morning and now that you mention it, I could eat.”

Pulling away from her, you stood and winked. “I’ll run by the cafeteria and see if I can get you something edible.”

Like moths to a flame, Hangman and Rooster stepped away from the group and followed you as you made your way down the hall. You pointedly ignored the two men as you followed the directions a nurse gave you to the cafeteria.

“Sweetheart,” Bradley called as he jogged to catch up with you. “It was a bird strike, but Sofia said it herself, they’re both fine. It happens. Phoenix trains for this stuff for a reason.”

“It’s not that, Bradley Bradshaw,” you spat as you whirled around to face him. Your finger jabbed into his chest and you glared up at him. Jake joined him, concern painted on his features as he took in your anger.

“When were either of you going to tell me that you’re training for a suicide mission? Huh? Did you really think I wouldn’t care?”

Bradley’s face fell and raised his hands like you were some scared animal and he was calming you down. You shoved his hands away from you and kept walking down the hall. You couldn’t deal with this right now. You needed to get Sofia something to eat and you needed to call Penny and let her know that you might be a bit late and-

Your phone rang and, as if summoned, you spied your boss’s name on your screen. You pressed the answer button and raised your phone to your ear, ignoring the two men speaking to one another behind you.

“Hey Pen, I was just about to call you. I might be a bit late tonight, but I’ll only be an hour max.”

“Honey. Sarah just called me.” That tone. That damn tone. You froze, your heart sinking at the sound of her strained voice. Chairs lined the hallway and you shuffled over to one before sinking down onto the thin cushion.

“But I just saw him.” Your voice came out as a whimper, or maybe more of a whine. The white walls of the hospital blurred in on you, shrinking and compacting and collapsing until you were trapped.

“I’m so sorry,” Penny said. Admiral Kazansky had been her friend too. You pressed the palm of your hand against your eyes in hopes that it would stop the burning tears that threatened to push to the surface.

“I’m sorry too, Pen.”

“I’m not going to open tonight. Sarah’s going to need help planning the funeral. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.” You looked up into the blinding lights above you. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Hug Sarah for me, okay? And text if you need anything. I’m here with Sofia, but I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Okay. Take care, hon.”

You let your phone fall into your lap and stared at the chipping screen protector. What came next? Everyone always talks about the lead up to death and they discuss the grief that comes after, but what about the in between? What do you do when the body is half-warm and not laid to rest?

A warm hand settled on your knee and you looked up to find blue eyes studying your face. Bradley stood behind Jake, his large form shielding the both of you from any onlookers.

“What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”

You considered speaking the words that scratched and clawed at your teeth and tongue, desperate to escape the cage you had forced them into. Looking into Jake’s eyes, you were violently reminded of your anger that existed before the call.

Here you were, seated in a hospital because your friend needed you after her wife had to eject from a plane and landed in the hospital, sitting before two men who consumed you yet would be setting out for a suicide mission in god knows how many days, and the only father figure you had in your life was now gone.

“Nothing,” you finally said. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed a moment.”

You pulled away from Jake, physically and mentally. You locked it all down, packed your heart into a box, and stored it on the shelves of the iron-clad rationality of your mind. People needed you. They didn’t have time for you to be emotional.

Keep going, your mom would order. I don’t have time for tears.

Keep going, you scolded yourself. Others need you to be calm.

And then at the funeral, after you laid a small red checker piece on the surface of the coffin and watched as dirt sprinkled across the smooth mahogany, Sarah embraced you tightly and told you the words you had been waiting to hear your whole life.

“He loved you like a daughter and you gave him such peace. Thank you, sweetheart, for being in our lives. You’re stuck with us now.” A small, pain-filled smile flickered across her face and you kissed her cheek, as a daughter does to a mother. 

At what point, you asked yourself, does the grief swallow you whole?

Tag List: @mizzzpink​ @xoxabs88xox​ @dreaminglandsworld​ @khaylin27​ @loveforaugust​ @phoenixssugarbaby​ @atarmychick007​ @mak-32​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @krismdavis​ @emma8895eb​ @startrekfangirl​

[the-feels-assassin]

A Pern/Avengers Crossover (That No One Asked for)

So I was reading a recent popular book involving dragons and dragonriders, and thinking how much I like the Dragonriders of Pern better (lol), and of course my brain did it's thing. So here you have it. My definitive opinion on what sorts of people the Avengers would be in the world of Pern.

We're gonna start with Steve/Peggy/Bucky because I HAVE THOUGHTS:

Of course this is during a Pass, because Steve/Peggy/Bucky have to be during a time of War and a Pass is the closet we have to War in the Dragonrider sof Pern.

Steve Rogers: oh, Steve. Poor, tiny, sickly Steve. He and Bucky are fosters at a Weyr, but no one expects/wants Steve to bond a dragon because no one is confident this sickly kid is going to live through the night at any given time. So either they keep him off the sands during a hatching or he's up in the bleachers. But Steve, being Steve, we get a Jaxom or Keevan scenario. No one means Steve to Impress a dragon, but of course you can't communicate that to freshly hatched dragons. And so of course between the sheer determination of Steve pulling himself out of the infirmary (ala Keevan in The Smallest Dragon Boy) and the stubbornness of the dragon refusing everyone on the sands (ala Ruth looking for Jaxom), we get tiny Steve Rogers bonded to what will be the biggest, most powerful Bronze Dragon the Weyr has ever seen. Steve becomes a Wingleader and everyone expect he'll be Weyrleader one day when Peggy becomes head Weyrwoman. Which leads us to Peggy Carter

Peggy Carter: Peggy is a rider of a gold dragon, of course she is. She was fostered in a different Weyr from Steve and Bucky (hence the different accent), but due to injuries and deaths during the passes, she gets redistributed to another Weyr that is lean on Golds and their leading Gold and Weyrwoman are aging. Peggy will be the next Weyrwoman. She is Peggy Carter in every way, fierce and determined, and like Lessa she fights the leadership of her time to enable Gold dragons to fight. Because Peggy Carter is all about sticking it to the patriarchy.

Bucky Barnes: Bucky Barnes is solid and reliable and dependable. He Impressed one of those Brown dragons that's as big as a Bronze (ala F'nor and Canth). He is Steve's Wing-Second. And then something happens while they are fighting Thread. Bucky is hit. Thread takes his left arm and sears most of his dragon on the left side. His dragon jumps Between and never comes back. Everyone assumes Bucky went with him, dead.

Everyone, of course, assumes wrong.

So what happens to Steve?

Steve just fought Thread, the battle is over and he's beat, and he's just doing a sweep to make sure nothing got through. It's time to go home; he goes to jump Between. He accidentally jumps time. He envisioned something off--something in the stars, maybe it was a night jump?--and suddenly he's in the future. He has no idea how to get back. Steve Rogers is a bit of a legend. His arrival sends both the Weyr into chaos, but also no one really believes it's him. They need the Harpers to verify, since the Harpers hold the history of Pern.

Which of course...brings us to SHIELD.

Because we all know the Harpers are the Spies of Pern, and the Masterharper of Pern is the most powerful man on Pern (search your feelings, you know it to be true) so of course I'm saying that:

Nick Fury: Nick Fury is the mother-loving Masterharper of Pern. Look, I don't care if he doesn't sing or play an instrument that we know of in the Marvel movies. In the Pern novels, Robinton has his fingers in EVERYTHING. He is the puppet master. Nick Fury is the Masterharper of Pern. I will brook no argument on this. Which of course means all of our SHIELD agents are harpers. Yes. It's wonderful.

Clint Barton: I mean how could Clint Barton NOT be a harper? He grew up Holdless. He picked up his acrobatic, juggling, and archery skills as a Holdless kid. But a Harper (probably Fury) saw his talent and potential and recruited him to be a Harper. Sure the kid is partially deaf, but he's a natural with an instrument and a born-entertainer. He's also so darn personable. Everyone immediately likes him and trusts him and tells him things. So of course, of course he's a perfect Harper, a perfect person to collect information and brook trust with the Holdless, Holds, and Weyrs alike.

Natasha Romanoff: There isn't really an equivalent of the Soviet Union in Pern. Natasha grows up in the Southern Continent, maybe the child of an Oldtimer exiled there. I think like Menolly, Natasha naturally Impressed a whole little flight of fire lizards, because she is like that. While Natasha is raised in an environment where all those in the Northern Continent are the enemy, eventually she meets Clint Barton and is recruited to Harper Hall and to the cause of ridding Pern of thread forever (the Ultimate Goal).

Phil Coulson: Look he makes Harper Hall run. He mostly stays in Harper Hall while Fury is out doing God knows what, and it's Coulson who is keeping tabs and getting reports from Barton and Romanoff.

Okay but what about Tony and Bruce? They are the last two Main Avengers left.

Tony Stark: Obviously the youngest Master ever at Smithcraft Hall. Could be on track to be the next Mastersmith BUT you know Tony. He likes to work on what he wants to work on. He's a genius and we love him, but staying within an authority matrix or running one isn't his strong suit. Eventually he becomes the head of Computer craft, when he meets....

JARVIS: Obviously the AIVAS analog. Tony is just bitter he didn't invent JARVIS himself. In this AU, I think it's Natasha who discovers AIVAS, while messing around on the Southern continent, doing her undercover recon thing. She sends her queen firelizard (the only one with two brain cells, obviously) to report back to Fury, who immediately gets Tony down there via Dragon. And of course that Dragonrider is none other than Tony's best friend.

James Rhodes: Rhodey was raised in Smithcraft Hall, went to be fostered at a Weyr for a short period of time, mainly to learn more about the Weyr's needs and how Smithcraft Hall could better plug in and whoops, impressed a dragon. Tony is still mad his best friend "abandoned him" for a "giant lizard" (which really Tony is just incredibly jealous. Who doesn't want to be a dragonrider?).

Bruce Banner: Bruce is basically the opposite of Rhodey. He was a dragonrider and he lost his dragon fighting Thread. This has left Bruce teetering between suicidal depression and complete rage. He's found new purpose in Smithcraft Hall and has become friends with Tony, but there is just a pain in him that is indescribable and everyone who interacts with him can feel it. In this AU, General Ross is the Weyrleader of the Weyr that Bruce was in--Betty is still his daughter and a gold rider. But since Bruce's bronze dragon is dead, well, there is just really no future for him and Betty.

Okay that's it for now. I have no idea what happened to Bucky (how does he come back? What is a Winter Soldier equivalent in Pern??), and I have no intention of writing a story in this AU, but inexplicably this keeps coming to me.