#laughing because she had figured it all out

[pearlymel]

Sylus remembers clearly the day he found out you were both having twins. Twins, as in two babies as yours and his first children.

How you almost passed out when the doctor delivered the news, but he was quick to tell you that everything would be okay.

He's going to be the best husband for you, and for the twins..?

they sure were going to be a handful.

“Sylus!” Sylus' head snapped towards the kitchen, where your voice had come from, “come get your son before i cook him!”

He knew that you were joking. Probably.

the kitchen, one hand holding his little girl's hand guiding her along. "Now, now," he called out as he entered the kitchen, "No cooking the children, sweetie.”

You let out a sigh when you watch the boy run away while letting out giggles, his face and hands full of white flour.

Seeing this, Sylus let out an exasperated sigh as well, his gaze shifting from his running figure to the mess of flour on the floor. "Sorry about the mess he made," he muttered before looking over at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Go to your brother,” he urges the girl next to him, she nods slowly before running off to him.

“I'll feed him to the ducks one day.” You say with determination, still focused on trying to make this dinner a success after the mess.

But Sylus chuckled at your threat, knowing all too well that you were only half-serious. He could see the twitching in your eyes, but he also knew that you loved both of your children dearly, even if they could be a handful sometimes.

”Though I suspect he would probably find a way to befriend them and make a mess with them.”

“.. why are you right?”

“because i know my children,” he says proudly, then makes slow steps from behind you to not alert you so suddenly, his arms snaking around your waste with his chin resting on your shoulder, “what are you making?”

You smile, “dinner.”

"Smartass," he teased, "I meant what kind of dinner are you making?” he whispers calmly, a soft conversation between you two, with his thumb rubbing ideally on you.

“hm, i could be dinner… but oh well.” you sigh dramatically and he laughs quietly.

You couldn't even continue because you hear a faint “ewwww.” Coming from the corner.

You both glance back at the two heads peeking out from the wall, and you roll your eyes.

"and here I was, having a moment with your mother," he said to them, his voice still low yet amused. "You two really have a knack for interrupting, don't you?”

Your little girl was the first to speak, “it was his idea.” She started quietly, her fingers fidgeting together, but her brother only gasped, “she's lying!”

"Oh, really now?" he’s skeptical, and he approaches both of them with his arms crossed, “Hmm, it's always the innocent ones who lie, isn't it?”

“but I'm not—”

“liar.” The little one huffs and looks away with annoyance, but the minute he could hear his sister im the verge of tears, he knew he messed up.

Sylus was quick to notice her distraught demeanor, his heart clenching slightly at the sight of her on the verge of tears.

"you," Sylus pointed out at the other twin, his voice firmer and authoritative, "did you cause the mess?”

…

Sylus let out a deep sigh, his stern expression softening slightly. He knew he was just being a mischievous little boy, but he also had to nip such behavior in the bud.

"You know better than to blame others for your pranks,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Apologize to your sister.”

The girl sniffled, the threat of tears subsiding as she accepted her brother's apology. She wiped away her stray tears with the back of her hand, a small smile forming on her face.

Sylus nodded approvingly, he patted both of them on their head gently. "There we go, now go back and play together.”

This whole time you were watching the scene with the biggest smile on your face, and Sylus was already prepared for your upcoming teasing words.

“and the father of the year goes to.. you.” ... except he didn't expect this rare sweet statement of yours. He's reminded of why he put a ring on it in the beginning.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice filled with pride. "I have a talent for handling troublemakers." He placed both of his arms on the counter to your sides, boxing you in, "though, to be fair, they get their mischievous streaks from their mother," he added, and you gasp before turning around. burnt dinner it is.

[sugarushwriting]

cherry popper

heeseung x reader

getting your cherry popped by popular f-boy, lee heeseung

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

requests are open

tonight, you were on a mission. on a mission to get rid of your virginity! maybe a frat party wasn’t the best place to lose your virginity, but you knew who you wanted to take it.

lee heeseung.

except you didn’t know if he cherry popped girls or wanted them already experienced.

you couldn’t blame him or any guys though if they preferred not to be the one to take a girl’s virginity. there was a bad stigma around girls who had sex for the first time.

they became attached. needed rose petals and slow sex. needed to cuddle afterwards.

well, not you. at your age, you just wanted it out of the way. the term “virginity” was stupid anyway.

you’ve heard the good things about lee heeseung when it comes to his bed activities. so why not lose your virginity to a guy who was 99% sure to make you come your first time?

there’s nothing more depressing than having your first time be with a guy who is terrible in bed.

your friend knocked on your forehead with a laugh. “you okay?”

you nodded with a smile. “still on the hunt.”

“he’ll be here any minute. just remember, don’t pounce on him. you have to seem mysterious. he’s never seen you here before, so just seem uninterested. he’ll come to you.”

“got it!” you nodded and took a small sip of your cup. you didn’t want to be drunk or even tipsy, but just wanted enough to calm your nerves.

you’ve heard how alcohol ruins some people’s sex drives. even heard the term, ‘whiskey dick,’ so you’re hoping heeseung doesn’t suffer from that.

forty minutes passed, and you still hadn’t seen heeseung, giving up to even look for him. you sighed and looked at your friend.

“i’m going to the bathroom.”

“need me?”

you shook your head. “i’ll be fine.”

you made your way up the stairs, following your friends directions to the bathroom upstairs. your pink miniskirt for sure was covering nothing of your behind, but your friend convinced you to show more skin than usual. your baby tee was tight and short, perfectly flaunting your chest.

once you finished in the bathroom, you quickly gave yourself a once over look in the mirror and opened the door, only to run into a tall figure.

well if that wasn’t perfect timing and a coincidence by the universe.

“hmp, sorry!” you huffed out looking up to eye heeseung.

“no worries baby. haven’t seen you around here before?” he smiled.

oh damn he was a smooth talker.

“oh yeah—first party, with, um, my friend.” you stuttered out.

there was no need for you to pretend to be all shy around him. his aura made you shy. you still had to force yourself to not outright ask, ‘hey heeseung, can you take my virginity?’

all heeseung was doing was smiling at you and you felt intimated. how the fuck were you gonna get this man in bed?

heeseung proved to be easy.

his eyes flipped from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes, suddenly wanting a taste of the girl who’s never been to a party before. who he has never seen before.

his thumb traced your bottom lip, his own bottom lip being caught between his teeth. “i saw you downstairs with your friend, and thought to myself, ‘damn she’s hot as fuck.’” heeseung whispered out to you.

“re—really?” you asked surprised.

how long has he been here? eyeing you? why hadn’t you seen him walk in?

he nodded, “i knew i had to have you.” he said leaning down to kiss your lips with a peck, leaving you wanting more.

yeah, he wanted you for sure because yes, you were cute, but also, fresh-meat at this party. he couldn’t let his friends get to the cute new girl first.

from observation, he could tell you were the shy type, and he was allured even more by you because of that.

the peck left you wanting more. his lips were just so soft. you’ve kissed boys before, but his lips were the softest.

“mhm, wanna make out?”

“are you twelve?” you teased at the way he asked you.

heeseung chuckled. “just trying to be polite.”

you nodded. he grabbed your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. heeseung pulled you to a bedroom at the end of the hall.

surprisingly the room was clean and neat. you’ve seen the horror pictures and movies and videos of frat houses.

your friend had told you, the upstairs was completely off limits and they reinforced it. but if you had to use the bathroom (the clean one) sneak upstairs. she had distracted the guy blocking the stairs.

you stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, after heeseung let go of your hand, walking towards the bed.

he smirked. “no need to be shy.” he patted his lap. “you can come sit.”

he wants you to sit on his lap?

you slowly walked towards him, slowly resting on his lap. your knees on either side of his hips. his own hands went to rest on your hips.

bringing your lips down to meet his, you both started making out like a bunch of horny teens. heeseung took it slow with you at first, before his kisses became more desperate and longing. wanting more from you.

his hands squeezed your hips, catching you off guard, and he took the opportunity to poke his tongue in your mouth.

your hands wrapped around his neck, your lower half beginning to feel a bit wet. heeseungs own lower half was starting to get hard, you able to feel him through his jeans and your short skirt.

you rubbed your lower half against him, heeseung letting out a low gritted moan. “keeping doing that and i will come in my pants.” he gripped your ass from under your skirt.

you smiled against his kisses. “again, what are you? a teenage boy?”

heeseung actually loved the teasing. he squeezed your hips tighter, tickling lightly, causing you to squeal.

he flipped you on your back on the bed so he was hovering over you. his lips never leaving yours, he lifted your skirt up more, pulling your underwear to the side.

his middle finger rubbed circles around your clit and the hole of your cunt, teasing you to get you worked up, slick, and ready for him.

his finger teased at your entrance, he could feel the tightness of you.

although you’ve pleasured yourself a few times, your fingers were in no comparison to heeseung.

heeseungs finger slowly entered you, his lips still not leaving their spot from you, and as he slowly inched deeper, you whined into his mouth at the feeling.

slight sting but feeling good. heeseung slowly added another finger and began pumping his fingers in and out of you, his lips moving to suck on a sweet spot on your neck.

an odd sensation came, you riding heeseungs fingers, feeling your stomach feel tight, your cunt becoming needier.

“ride my fingers, there you go.” heeseung said to you.

you bit your lower lip and an over pleasuring sensation came over you.

did you just come? you thought it’d be more intense than that.

you felt good, and when he went to rub his fingers against your clit, you did feel over sensitive.

you didn’t realize heeseung had left a hickey on your neck.

heeseung removed his fingers from you, standing up to unbutton his belt and pants pulling them and his boxers down.

leaning on your elbows, your eyes widened at his length. aw shit.

heeseung pumped his own length a few times, “mhm, open your mouth.”

“can you be a little nicer?” you asked with a smile.

“please open your mouth?”

you nodded and scooted towards the end of the bed where you sat comfortably while heeseung stood.

you licked his tip, swirling your tongue around the head before slowly taking just the head in between your lips giving it a suck.

“please don’t tease.” heeseung sighed. your mouth just felt too good.

you smiled with his dick in your mouth, opening a bit wider to take his length in as much as you could. your hand stimulating whatever was left over and his balls.

you did have a gag reflex, and you weren’t about to test it now.

“fuck, so good. please come to these parties more often.” heeseung sighed out as your head pumped back and forth against him.

you sucked, your tongue swirling against the underside, your hand putting small pressure on his balls, squeezing just right for him.

heeseungs hand went to the back of your head, and when he pushed a bit for more than you could take, you choked, your gag reflex kicking in.

you pulled away, needing to breathe, a line of your spit between his tip and your lips.

“fuck that was hot. i love a girl with a gag reflex honestly.” heeseung moaned. he took your jaw back in between his hands, his thumb tapping your lower lip to open.

you followed, and he stuffed his dick back into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat, you gagging once again.

heeseung had to control himself to not lose control and just fuck your face.

as you bobbed your head, heeseung also moved his hips back and forth. “mhm, mouth feels so good, i’m gonna come.”

you used your hand to help stimulate what your mouth couldn’t. heeseungs moans became lower and more messy.

“fuck, can i come in your mouth?”

you nodded, and that’s all he needed before hot spurts of his come entered your throat. heeseung let out strings of curse words in pleasure.

“fuck that was hot.” he mumbled, catching his breath.

with your skirt still flipped up, heeseung undressed your lower half completely, and he finished taking off his clothing, grabbing a condom from the pocket of his jeans.

most girls would probably be like, ‘return the favor!’ but if you came one more time without his dick, you wouldn’t have the stanima to go a third round on his dick. tonight, you were okay with giving a blowjob and not getting your pussy ate.

heeseung kissed you, tasting himself, biting your lower lip, all while slipping on the condom.

you hadn’t realized how fast and skilled he was until you felt his head prodding your hole.

“oh fuck!” you whispered. your eyes squeezed shut, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other the bed covers.

“mhm so tight, like no one’s ever fucked this pussy.” heeseung mumbled out.

he slowly eased into you, feeling the warmth and resistance but thought nothing much of it. heeseung thought maybe you just hadn’t been with a guy of his size.

you bit down on your lower lip, the stinging sensation back, you fighting off the feeling of the pain trying to focus on the pleasure.

breathing deeply through your nose, you tried your best to relax, heeseungs eyebrows knitted in confusion and focus.

he slowly moved his length back and forth, feeling your hand tighten on his shoulder.

that’s when it hit him. the tightness and resistance. your eyebrows knitted, eyes closed. your hand having a death grip on him and the bed.

“are you fucking serious?” he said out loud, taking you off guard, you opened your eyes, “are you a virgin?” he narrowed his eyes at you.

a tear dropped down your cheek, you sniffling your nose. “please don’t be mad.” you sighed out a little sob.

heeseung shook his head. “it’s not that im mad, im just—i don’t know.”

regardless, heeseung didn’t pull out, but he didn’t move further. he stayed still inside of you.

you sniffled again. “it’s just—i—i was tired of being a virgin, and i heard about your reputation of being with a lot of girls and being able to please them. i didn’t want my first time to suck, and i debated on telling you, but i didn’t know if you were the type to get an ick when it came to virgins!”

heeseung lowered his head in shame. he couldn’t believe someone who sucked dick so good was a virgin.

“you suck dick too good for a virgin.” he said then raised his eyebrow at you.

you smiled shyly, “i uh, never did that either.”

“fuck! what have you done that i wasn’t your first?”

“i’ve used my own fingers, but of course that doesn’t compare to yours. and yes, i have kissed others before.”

heeseung sighed, “this is bad,”

before he could finish you cut him off, “no! it doesn’t have to be okay? i promise i won’t get attached, i am not expecting anything from you after this okay? i don’t need roses or cuddles either. i know what i’m getting myself into, heeseung.”

“you know my name, but i don’t even know yours. can i at least have the name of the girl’s virginity i took?”

you told him your name. “i’m really sorry, i didn’t mean to undermine you.”

heeseung laughed, “yes you did and it’s honestly okay and kind of refreshing. usually im the one undermining girls.”

all while this conversation went on, heeseung was still hard and sat still in you.

“i’m surprised you’re still hard.”

“my dick is in a tight pussy. a virgin pussy. must have a virginity or corruption kink, i guess.”

“i’m okay. can we please continue, heeseung?”

heeseung nodded slowly. “only if i can be the first one to eat that pussy too.”

you chuckled, “as you wish.”

heeseung began to move, his pace slow. he finished bottoming out, a loud moan leaving your lips, but you tapped his shoulder with two fingers, to let him know to keep going.

heeseung pulled out to his tip, before he bottomed out once again. although you were a virgin, he wasn’t going to be too gentle with you, and you were okay with that.

after a few thrusts it began to feel better. “mhm, feels better heeseung.” you groaned, your head resting to the side.

you wrapped your legs around heeseung, locking him in, your hand resting on his cheek, bringing him down for a kiss.

“can’t believe you let me fuck this pussy first. chose me.” heeseung moaned. “so happy you let me fuck you first. going to ruin you for anyone else. not going to want anyone’s cock but mine.”

heeseung began his spew of dirty talk, which just made you wetter by each statement.

who knew dirty talk would turn you on so much.

“looks like my cherry likes dirty talk.” heeseung laughed as his pace sped up just a bit.

heeseung sat up on his knees, taking you at a different angle so he could reach deeper, and closer to your cervix.

you looked down, able to see the outline of him inside of you. you moaned at the sight.

“look at you. taking me so well. so tiny underneath me. too big for you baby.”

heeseung slightly put pressure on your lower stomach, your legs wrapping tighter, as you lifted your hips.

“gonna make you come on your first cock, cherry.”

“please make me come, hee.” you begged, your mind going blank, your vision blurry with tears of pleasure.

spews of groans, moans, random words leaving your mouth, mixed with heeseungs name.

oh yes, this was the intense orgasm people talked about. what your friends talked about, and gloated about.

heeseungs finger went to rub circles on your clit, adding pressure which tipped you over the edge.

his dick thrusting in and out. the angle of his dick hitting somewhere within you so good. his thumb on your clit. his palm pressing down on your stomach. his dirty talk and praises.

you were overwhelmed with pleasure. and in no time, with one last scream and cry, heeseungs name leaving your lips, you came around his dick.

heeseung helped you ride out your orgasm while he reached his, stilling inside you, emptying into the condom.

heeseung collapsed above you, nose to nose, and he gave you a peck on your lips, then moved his face to the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss there.

he pulled out, your lower half fluttering at the loss of him, both of you moaning from loss of each other.

heeseung rolled on his back, and took off the condom, noting a little blood. when he looked down, no blood was on him, but he was worried about you.

he looked over to you, no blood on the sheets.

“what?” you asked sitting up, feeling a bit of an ache already settling in.

“let’s get you to the bathroom. there was a bit of blood on the condom.”

your face felt hot in embarrassment. “i’m sorry.” you mumbled.

heeseung kissed your forehead. “no need to be embarrassed. it’s normal and it happens.”

heeseung got up and you followed him to the bathroom.

you made sure to empty your bladder, just tiny spotting. you groaned. “i can’t ruin my underwear.” you sighed. this was so embarrassing.

heeseung opened the cabinet, you looked over seeing pads and liners. looking back at him with a glaring expression.

“this is jays bathroom. he’s a romantic, always making sure whatever girl he’s with at the time is covered.” heeseung explained, scratching the back of his head.

“maybe i should have had jay take my virginity then.” you joked.

heeseung didn’t laugh. “absolutely not. you’re off limits to him and any of my friends now.”

crossing your arms, you stared into his eyes, “now who’s the clingy one after taking someone’s virginity?”

“get used to it cherry.”

“cherry?”

“yeah, cause i popped your cherry.”

you pushed his shoulder. “you are so—!”

“sexy? handsome? amazing in bed? i know.”

you both laughed easing any tension or doubts between one another.

heeseung left you to finish your business in the bathroom and get dressed, as he got back dressed in the bedroom.

you felt guilty allowing him to take your virginity—have sex—in his friend’s bed.

when you came out the bathroom you said, “should we offer to wash his bed sheets?”

“don’t worry, he’ll make me wash his sheets, cleanse his room, perform an exorcism.”

you both chuckled opening the door, jay leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, not a happy smile.

“i lock my door for a reason! you’re damn right you’ll be washing my bedding AND performing that exorcism.”

poor jay.

[fluoneia]

“this is dumb.” jinx mumbled. you grin, taking her hand in yours.

“it’s not!” you exclaim, dragging her into the open space. classical music played through the speaker, although buffered and a little distorted, still able to make out it was a slow song.

“i’m not.. slow dancing!” jinx huffs, crossing her arms on her chest. “i don’t even know how!”

“this is a staple in date night. couples slow dance!”

“not this couple.” jinx makes a hmph! sound, tilting her head up. “i don’t dance.”

“come on, i’ve seen you dance when you’re creating your little gadgets.”

“they’re not gadgets, they’re bombs. that kill people?”

“gadgets, bombs, whatever.” you say with a tut of your tongue. “come on! it’s just us. i’m not gonna judge you.”

“but you’ll make fun of me!”

“teasing you is just what i do.” you’d shrug. jinx groans in annoyance, moving to stomp away, before you grab her wrist. “come. i’ll teach you.”

jinx narrows her eyes at you.

“come on.. for me?”

she is silent for a second. then she makes a dramatic groan of fake frustration and saunters back to you.

those stupid eyes of yours could make her do anything.

“this is not out of my own volition.”

“you’re here, aren’t you?”

jinx deadpans. “whatever.” she makes a tch sound with her lips. “how do i do this stupid dance?”

“there’s no right way,” you say simply. you guide her hands onto your waist, your arms sliding onto her shoulders, hooking them behind her neck.

“wha—!”

“just relax.” you say softly, soothingly. with an annoyed huff, she tightens her hands on your waist.

“follow what i do.” you say. without another word, you take a step to the side, hand grabbing onto her torso to guide her to do the same. “don’t overthink it.”

“well, i am. this is so stupid.”

“it’s romantic.” you tease, raising a brow. jinx frowns. “just follow me. alright?”

“yeah, yeah.” she says quietly.

slowly, but surely, she finds the rythm as you both take steps around the open space. and slowly, she begins to smile. enjoy it, as she figures out the steps as you and the music continue on.

she lets out a sigh of relief.

her arms slide over your waist, her arms wrapping around you.

“this is.. actually kind of nice.” jinx whispers.

“see?” you beam up at her. “told you.”

“you don’t have to ruin it by being a smartass.” she grumbled.

you both find silence after a while. you treasured moments like this with her— where she was truly herself, and not some made up persona zaun believes her to be.

she was soft in her heart. and she was yours. yours to hold, to dance to songs like this in eachothers solitude like nothing else mattered.

because nothing else did matter with her.

.. but, she was still jinx, after all.

she yelped as she stepped on the end of her own braid, stumbling to the side.

and, therefore, caused a series of events. she dragged you down with her as she fell, crashing into a box where her work-in-progress smoke bombs that still had a sensitive trigger.

your eyes widen.

“oh, shi—“

BOOM!

you coughed as smoke filled the room, the sounds of the smoke bombs exploding beside the both of you deafening out the music.

“i told you this was dumb!” jinx waves her hand in the air, coughing.

slowly, the smoke dissipated, and the music started to become louder once more.

you turn over, seeing jinx with powdered ash all over her face, exclaiming in frustration as she brushed off her clothes. her gaze turns to you with a huff.

“that’s it. we’re never dancing again.”

you’re silent for a second.

then, you laugh. and you keep laughing till your stomach hurts.

“what the hell are you laughing at, huh?!”

“oh..” you wipe your fake tears, “oh, just, i fucking love you so much.”

jinx feels her eyes widen. her breath catches in her throat.

“whatever, dumbass!” and her voice crack is just so damn cute as she pushes herself off the floor, stomping away from the scene. “this was dumb! i’m never doing any cheesy romantic stuff with you again!”

“hey, date night isn’t over!”

jinx pauses. she turns, blinking. “where the hell do you think i’m going right now? i’m getting our stupid damn food.”

and you laugh again.

“stop laughing! ugh!” she slaps her hands on her thighs as she storms back toward the kitchen. “stupid dancing! stupid music!”

she kicks the record player to stop.

oh, date night couldn’t have gone any better then you imagined.

for @16spades omg this request was so cute i couldn’t help myself

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

yandere!young justice x magician and sorcerer!reader

BUUUUUUUUUT,the readed is a part of the team,however,shows no interest in them,and it just there because she kinda just has to,and no matter how much they try to get her attention,she never gives them any of it.

(I love your writing btw😼)

Yandere! Young Justice x magician! Reader

The Cave was quiet, as it always was at night, the hum of machines and distant murmurs of the world outside barely touching the stillness that clung to the mountain like a second skin. In this isolated hollow, surrounded by the cool stone walls, you could hear your own thoughts—the whisper of spells, the pulse of magic, the unspoken words you chose not to say.

You never had to explain yourself here, never had to wear the mask of pleasantries or pretend you cared about anything more than the mission. The others, they didn’t understand. They couldn’t, not really. You weren’t like them, never had been. You didn’t need the comfort of their companionship. You didn’t want their attention, their curiosity, or their pity.

And yet, they tried.

Conner was always watching. A silent presence, brooding and intense, always lingering in the background, his eyes following your every movement. He never asked questions—no, that wasn’t his style. Instead, he observed, the way a predator watches its prey, calculating, waiting. He never made an effort to speak, not in the way Wally did with his incessant jokes or M'gann with her quiet warmth. Conner was patient, cold, waiting for something to crack, for something to change.

His silence was a constant reminder. He didn’t need to speak; you could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, always at the edge of your vision, always waiting.

It was unsettling, but you never let it show.

Wally was a different story altogether. His energy was like a crackling fire, unpredictable, always bouncing from one thing to the next. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t leave you be. "Come on," he would say, leaning over your shoulder as you worked on a spell, his grin wide and carefree. "Show me something cool. You know you’ve got some crazy magic tricks up your sleeve."

His insistence was always accompanied by that grin of his, mischievous and bright, as though his charm could draw you out of your shell. But you never did. You never gave him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, never let him see you as more than just another teammate. It wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to make the team feel more like a family. But you didn’t care about family. You didn’t care about any of them.

“I’m busy,” you’d say, dismissing him with a flick of your hand, returning to your spell. And Wally, ever the optimist, would laugh and zip away, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he left you to your silence.

But it wasn’t enough for him, no. His persistence was a thing of legend. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you, his gaze fixed, a question burning in his eyes. "Why are you always like this?" he seemed to ask with every look. But he never voiced it. Instead, he’d turn away, hoping that somehow, eventually, you’d change your mind.

Then there was Robin. The dark and silent watcher. He knew how to stay in the shadows, how to be everywhere without being seen. His presence was like the night itself—always there, always watching, never truly gone. Robin was the most subtle of them all. He never asked outright; instead, he would drop little comments, observations that always felt like a puzzle, like he was trying to figure you out, piece by piece.

"You know, you could talk to us more," he’d say, casually leaning against the wall as he watched you work. His tone was light, almost playful, but you could sense the undercurrent of something more—something deeper. “We don’t bite, you know.”

You didn’t respond. Of course, you didn’t. The only response he got was the steady flick of your fingers over the spellbook, the quiet hum of magic filling the space between you. He didn’t try to get too close, not like Wally or M'gann, but his eyes never stopped tracking you, always measuring, always calculating. Robin was patient, the kind of person who knew that some things took time, that some people had walls that needed to be broken down slowly.

And you? You weren’t going to let him.

M'gann was the opposite. Her presence was always warm, soft, inviting. She would sit beside you, her legs tucked under her, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You know," she would say with that gentle voice of hers, "I could help you with your spells. I can be a good study partner, if you ever need one."

Her kindness wasn’t forced, never had been. It was natural for her, as natural as breathing. She wasn’t like the others who were driven by some sense of duty or curiosity. No, M'gann’s attention was genuine, a quiet offer of companionship. She was the one who tried to reach you without asking, without expecting anything in return.

But you didn’t need help. You didn’t need her to reach you. And so, you’d quietly decline, giving her nothing more than a polite smile before returning to the words in your book, the pages filled with symbols that had no need for her warmth.

And then there was Artemis. The sharp, straightforward one. She didn’t waste time on subtlety. Her approach was always direct, blunt, like a sharp blade that never hesitated. "You don’t have to be so closed off, you know," she’d say, her voice a mix of irritation and something else. It was hard to tell with Artemis—her eyes were always guarded, her emotions always hidden behind a wall of indifference. "We’re all in this together."

She had a point, of course. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about being “in it together.” You had your own path to follow, and they weren’t a part of it. You didn’t need to explain that to her, or to anyone. So, you’d give her a nod, a brief acknowledgment that wasn’t really an acknowledgment, and move on with your work.

Kaldur was the calm one, the quiet one. His respect for you was obvious, but it never crossed the line into anything more. He would offer you a nod as he passed, his gaze soft, his presence steady like the water he controlled. He didn’t push you the way the others did. He didn’t try to break down your walls. He simply respected them, kept his distance, and allowed you to be as you were.

But even Kaldur had moments when his gaze would linger on you, just a second too long, like he was waiting for you to finally open up, to let him see more than the cold silence you kept locked behind your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for you to feel the weight of their gaze, the quiet pressure of their attention. They thought they understood you. They thought that if they just tried enough, kept reaching out, eventually, you’d let them in.

But you wouldn’t.

In the midst of their attempts, you kept your distance, always lost in the pages of your spells, your incantations, the quiet hum of power that thrummed beneath your fingertips. They were drawn to you, like moths to a flame, their fascination burning just beneath the surface of their words, their glances, their actions.

But you would remain untouched. You would keep your secrets locked away, your magic a barrier between you and the world they wanted to draw you into.

They didn’t understand it, not really. They couldn’t. You were not like them. You didn’t need what they offered. You didn’t need to be a part of their team, their family, their world. You were the silent watcher, the one who kept their distance while they reached out, always hoping that something would change.

But it wouldn’t.

You weren’t there for them. You were there because you had a purpose, one that had nothing to do with them, nothing to do with the team, and nothing to do with any of their quiet, unspoken obsessions. You would remain distant, and they would keep trying, never understanding why you remained so cold, so unreachable.

And that, for now, was enough.

(A/n: thank you kind fellow fur🤭😽)

[planetpedri]

All in good time, — Franco Colapinto.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a college student meets her polar opposite in Franco Colapinto, she instantly disliked him. But, Franco was enamored with her and he would get her to like him, all in good time.

Word count: 1.65k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a hockey!au

A/N: this is for @purinfelix and jet only! though i love each and every one of you who choses to read it.. this was. this was ass girl shit i’m sorry i didn’t know where i was going toward the end… i may do another hockey player!franco fic tho but its going to be far more centered around the actual hockey

Franco Colapinto was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, you’d gotten tangled into his life. When your dorm was being renovated and you needed a place to stay, your roommate suggested her friend’s house—that friend being Franco. A notorious hockey player for the Golden Knights.

He was, in simple terms, agitating. Your two and a half weeks staying in his basement was something close to hell on earth. He held parties, big ones! Ones that interrupted your studying, which he’d half ass apologize for the next morning while nursing a raging hangover, right before asking you to make your signature hangover recipe while he showered.

That was your payment for staying there. You nursed his hangovers and helped him come up with various excuses as to why he was late to practice, even going as far as to go out of your way to tell his coach you’d gotten terribly sick and he had to bring you to the hospital.

Two pea���s in a lying pod. That’s what you were.

In the first week, he’d convinced you to go to the rink to help him practice. You—only ever using figure skates—had a difficult time keeping up with him. You nearly broke a tailbone trying to catch up with him.

Franco held a lopsided grin when he stopped, ice shavings flying as he turned to face you. Though, you saw the concern flash across his face as he skated back in your direction, leaning down to help you up.

“I need an ice pack—“ Your lips formed a thin line, “actually, I need wine and an excuse to get out of this hell.”

The curly haired man laughed, pulling your hand over his shoulder as his free arm looped around your waist. Holding you up, he assisted you back to the bench, setting you down carefully.

Once you shifted to get comfortable, wincing in pain, you untie the laces on your skates. “How do you do this for a living? I’m fucking miserable and we’ve done this once.”

Franco shrugs, leaning his head against the tempered glass that separated the rink from the benches. “Maybe I will just have to put you to work.” His lips threaten a smirk, “if it helps, I do prefer practicing with you than my teammates.”

That wasn’t even particularly a lie. He tried to find ways to get to know you, but you were a tough nut to crack. He tried so hard to find ways to get in your good graces, and forcing you to hang out with him was the only way he could get you to spend quality time with him.

His flirting was what annoyed you the most. You couldn’t stand it, only because it made a weird feeling erupt in your stomach. “First of all, don’t let them hear that. Second of all, I will never do this again. Ever.”

Franco was a convincer. He was good at getting people to do things, and you were unfortunately, not exempt from that. Even when you were back in your dorms, he’d convinced you to join him at the rinks.

You rarely ever practiced with him, simply opting to watch from the stands. You hated to admit it, but you’d grown to enjoy the time spent with him. When he took breaks, he’d explain the rules to you, different tactics they used, various things.

When you’d get so engrossed in conversation, he’d slip in a question about you, that you’d answer without thinking. He was good at getting to know people, but you were a difficult case. He’d found a way eventually, only getting you to talk about yourself when you were so distracted you couldn’t think long enough to stop it.

“Hockey pucks are actually frozen before games to make them move faster and glide smoothly on the ice, so they don’t bounce a lot.” Franco was rambling about different facts, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip in a question he’d been waiting to ask for weeks.

“Seriously? So they don’t just stay rubbery and lukewarm?” The last part was only slightly sarcastic, but the fact had actually surprised you.

“So.. are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” You pause, wait—what? You don’t get an opportunity to ask any further questions because he was already onto the next fact. “Franco!” You snap, interjecting his next rant.

Francos eyebrows raise slightly, “yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, licking your lips. “You just asked if I was seeing someone. Then—you know what. That doesn’t matter, what does though, is that you just slipped in a question that was not like the others you’ve slipped in.” His face contorts and you laugh, “i’m going to law school, I notice tactics like that.”

The hockey players mouth quirks, he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. “Oh, I love how smart you are.” He hums, “I was just curious. If you were, thank the lord you aren’t, but, he wouldn’t like you hanging out with me.”

“Thank the lord? Seriously?” Your eyes roll dramatically. The wooden bench beneath you feels stiff and uncomfortable the more he watched you with his stupidly smug face.

Franco nods, “hey—“ He begins untying his laces, “you should come to my game tomorrow. You haven’t come in a while.”

The topic switch was noticeable, but you ignore it. “I have a lecture late tomorrow. I’ll probably be tired.” But when Franco’s face changes into that familiar doe-eyed expression, you cave. “Fine! I’ll come! Quit looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are”

“No i’m not.”

“Are too!”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“Are—what?” Your brain stops working, words failing your tongue. Excuse you? “Wait a fucking minute—“

Franco watches you carefully. “Is that a no?”

“No! I mean—“ You were still a stumbling mess. Your mouth opening and clamping shut. “It’s a-well, I mean, It’s a yes! Yes, I will! Jesus, Franco. You couldn’t have asked any smoother?”

He’s smiling, finding your stammering all too amusing… and adorable. It was very cute. “It felt fitting to me.” He shrugs casually, slipping off his skates. “After the game and a shower, the diner you like a few blocks from your dorm?”

That was most definitely something he learned during his not-so-secret questionnaires.

“That sounds perfect.” You huff, “now, can you bring me home? I think i’m developing hypothermia.”

After changing into his regular shoes, he stands, offering you his hand. You take it, though it was with an eye roll. Franco smirks at your reaction, not commenting on it as he helps you to your feet.

“Does your body not ache every time you finish?” You ask as the two of you exit the arena, making your way through the dark parking lot.

You regretted your choice of words the second they left your lips. “Don’t even—“

“I have incredible stamina, actually.” Franco cheeses, slinging his arm around you. You allow it, even leaning into his side.

“You are insufferable.” You scoff, but the twitch of your lips betrayed your feigned annoyance.

The laugh that emits from Francos mouth has a smile growing on your lips, it was a sound you’d grown to enjoy.

Franco opens the passenger door for you, which had you suppressing a smile. It was a gesture he made every trip to the arena, in fact—Franco was very much a gentleman, despite boy boyish he could be.

Only when he was the drivers seat with the engine going and heater ablaze, does Franco finally grow serious. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, I know you’re sort of a people pleaser.”

Okay, ouch?

Franco’s eyes widen, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says quickly, stumbling for a way to fix what he said.

You’d never seen Franco have to search for words to say. He was always so smooth and, well, he was never one to falter.

“I know what you meant, and you’re right. But, when have I ever gone out of my way to people please you.” You reassure him, a gentle look on your face. “I want this.”

The rest was history. You want Franco had been going steady for months. Whenever you had enough time in your busy college schedule, you went to his games, you were his number one cheerleader and support system.

Hockey had easily become your favorite sport, you knew everything about it due to Franco’s inability to ever stop talking. Thats probably what made the two of you such a perfect pair. You were quiet, he wasn’t. He was your polar opposite, the yin to your yang. And thats what made it work.

When you didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t there to fill the silence. When he didn’t want to talk, you enjoyed each other’s silence.

You had never thought in a million years, the man who annoyed you oh so much, was the same man you would grow to love.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future franco posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @purinfelix @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

[felassan]

David Gaider on Morrigan, under a cut for length:

"Morrigan began, waaaay back, as a bit of Morgan le Fey (hence the Dark Ritual) mixed with Delirium from Sandman. The Delirium elements subsided into more of a weird cadence of speech as my idea of Morrigan solidified - more cynical, wanting to connect but unable to. Originally, we were looking for a Middle Eastern actress to play her, as Shoreh Aghdashloo was slated to play Flemeth and we wanted a similar sounding voice -- but it was a real struggle, and then Shoreh unfortunately had to drop out to do a movie. So suddenly we had nobody for either character! Then, one day, Caroline (our VO Director) comes in with a recording sent by a rep for Claudia Black - who hadn't done game VO back then but wanted to get into it. And it was Claudia doing a slow *beat poet* rendition of Baby Got Back. I kid you not. I was already a fan, so I lost my goddamn mind. (Yes, I still have the recording. No, you cannot have it.) Naturally, we jumped on that immediately. As I recall, this was met with resistance from higher up - they had this image of Morrigan as young, like 18 years old (no idea where this came from) and complained that Claudia sounded "too old". Them: "She sounds like she smokes three packs a day!" Me: "That's what I like about her!" Caroline and I were determined, so we pushed ahead. We had to agree to get Claudia to sound "younger", which I was dubious about. The first two sessions we asked her to pitch her voice up and it was AWFUL. Claudia had to focus on sounding "right" instead of acting. So Caroline and I did the sneaky thing, and on the third session we asked her to just... act. Use her natural voice. We loved her performance so much we had the feeling that the team would love it too and forget their nonsense. They did. My best memory of Claudia was when we first met. I'd been flown down to LA for the initial sessions to help the major DAO actors find the character "voice" and, boy, was I nervous. It didn't help that I was a huge fanboy of Claudia's and she was going to be the *first* of all the actors I'd talk to. Caroline gave me a list of rules for "how to talk to a celebrity" - top of the list: DO NOT COMPARE THEM TO OTHER ACTORS. So I meet Claudia, and I'm sweating. I think: I'll start from the beginning, right? "Well, when I started writing Morrigan, the voice in my head was Helena Bonham Carter..." Claudia gives me a look and tilts her head. "So what you're saying is... I'm a very cheap version of Helena Bonham Carter." I'm mortified. I melt. I gasp and stutter and she lets me implode for maybe 30 seconds before she throws her head back and LAUGHS. So wicked. I love her instantly and forever. For the next several days, whenever she's in the booth and I make a comment to Caroline - which she can't hear, because the booth is sound-proof - she'd say "Oh, does he want it more like Helena?" And I'd melt into the desk in renewed mortification and she'd LAUGH. This is Claudia in a nutshell. Morrigan became a real touchstone for me, the heart of DAO. Way beyond her initial inspirations. Some said "she's just an ice queen" like some I'd written (Viconia, Bastila, etc.) but such categories are very reductive, I find. She had a voice I could instantly slip into, every time, without fail. The problem, after DAO was said and done, was with how we were going to honour the Dark Ritual going forward... or, more to the point, how we *weren't* going to honour it. I wasn't willing to let her go, however, so I had to figure it out. BUT... that's a story for another day. CORRECTION: A friend reminds me that the beat poet recording Claudia did was "Smack That" and NOT "Baby Got Back", and now I need to go give it another listen just because I can."

[source thread]

David Gaider: "Actually, when Shoreh's movie wrapped she came back and asked if the role was still available - her grandkids were VERY excited for her to be in a game. It wasn't, but as I recall Caroline was all "well, we have this role in ANOTHER game we're making..." Hence why she ended up in ME2." [source]

David Gaider: "Tali's accent was purely created by the actress - which made it a bit of an Issue when the time came to have more Quarians in ME2. "Do we get the actors to all try and mimic... whatever she's doing?" I'm certain Caroline could write a book about how THAT all went down." [source]

User: "I also never knew that Delerium was part of the inspiration for her (atleast in the beginning)." David Gaider: "It'd be difficult to see that now. The very first drafts were a lot more eccentric - more like Flemeth, I'd say, but times ten. The feedback I got was that she's a bit too LALALULU and I had to agree (and my idea of her was changing anyhow). So that slowly got weeded out." [source]

User: "What had you seen Claudia in that made you such a big fan already? (was it pitch black?)" David Gaider: "Originally? Farscape. Then Pitch Black, yes. I tried watching Stargate just for her, but coming in so late I kinda bounced off it." [source]

User: "My only complaint is, and has always been, why is she the straight romance when everything about her screams lesbian?" David Gaider: "I would have written it, if it’d been allowed (remember this was VERY new back then), but after all was said and done I’m kind of glad I didn’t. The friendship path I wrote for Morrigan with a female Warden is perhaps my favourite but of writing I did from back then." [source]

User: "Morrigant to me was such a fantastic character because of the way she sounded! Her introduction in DAO is iconic to me "Well, Well, what have we here?"" David Gaider: "You have NO IDEA how many takes that took. 😳" [source]

User: "Claudia Black did an amazing job with every line in every game." David Gaider: "She absolutely did. It took some time for her to get her bearings, but by the end of our first few sessions I actually went back and re-wrote a bunch of lines to match Claudia's voice. She informed so much of who Morrigan became." [source]

User: "are YOU the reason we see so much morrigan after dao? (positively, she is one of my all time favourite characters)" David Gaider: "Yes and no. She was always considered, by both me and the team, to be a "face" of Dragon Age. I'd have put her in DA2 if there'd been room, but thankfully that limitation is what allowed Flemeth to grow into her own." [source]

User: "were Morrigan and Flemeth always supposed to be Chasind, and/or did the Chasind have any ties to northern Thedas in earlier drafts of the character? The Chasind are universally depicted with dark skin except for Morrigan and Flemeth." David Gaider: "I don't think we had a very clear idea of the Chasind in general back then - they kind of got abandoned as a concept once we cut the Human Barbarian origin for DAO, and were only picked up again later." [source]

[wandaslovey]

𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹?

➺ pastors!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.8k

a/n: part 2 of my “when two wrongs make a right” series. it’s based around their first time meeting. fair warning my lovey’s - this part of the series may seem a little slow in the beginning. i really wanted to build a little background for both the reader and wanda. let me know what sort of things you’d like to see from these two cuties and i’ll try and incorporate them in the coming parts :)

*not proofread*

cw: mentions of an unspecified religion, religious homophobia as well as a bit of internalized homophobia, light undertones of infidelity/cheating, specified age gap (r=20, w=32), smoking cigarettes, reader being a bit of a stalker, wanda being a massive, shameless flirt and bold with a capital B.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

it had been over a month since you moved with your parents to a small town in georgia. they said it was on account of a “fresh start” but you had a gut feeling it was really just because your mother wanted to officially separate your father from mrs. stacey—your old neighbor. your dad never came clean about his affair, but it didn’t matter because your mom wasn’t stupid. mrs. stacey and your father weren’t exactly good at keeping things secretive. whatever. you didn’t care. as far as you were concerned, neither of your parents truly cared about much, including their marriage and including you. they were obsessed with their image, wanting to be the perfect cookie cutter, church-going family. it was all about pretenses. it didn’t matter what was going on behind the mirror because the perfectly angled reflection was all people saw of them.

you had planned for things to be different for yourself once you moved here. for one thing, you didn’t want to be a “church-going girl” anymore. after all, everything that was said only made you have more questions. on top of that, you were supposedly a sinner on account of not being attracted to boys. why would you wanna be some place where people wouldn’t accept you if they knew?

your plans turned to squash when the first sunday you tried to tell your parents, it ended up being an enormous deal—your mom sobbing crying that you were trying to “sever your relationship with god.” you tried to console her for a few minutes, but the more you pushed not to go to the church service, the more upset the both of your parents became. to keep the peace and to quit hearing your mother’s nonsense, you bit the bullet and decided to go.

the whole way to the chapel, you planned in your head exactly what you would say the next time this conversation came up. you were 20 years old. you weren’t going to let your parents dictate whether you wanted to participate in religion or not.

as the three of you arrived to the church, you filed in with the rest of the congregation. you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. it wasn’t until the pastor began his sermon and invited his wife onto the stand that the fake conversation going on with your parents in your head came to an abrupt stop.

holy sh— you thought to yourself.

you see her for the first time. mrs. maximoff. wanda. you’d learned her name once she’d announced it over the pulpit. she radiated an air of confidence and a surety in herself. you tried to commit every detail of her to memory. her southern accent, the way she spoke, her laugh, her hair, her eyes, her lips, her pretty figure, her well-manicured hands that you could see even from your spot down in the congregation..

from then on, you were infatuated with the pastors wife. there was something about her. something that went beyond her stunning outward appearance. you couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you didn’t mind observing her for however long was necessary to figure it out. you had a penchant for observation after all.

•

five weeks had gone by, this sunday being the sixth time you get to obsess over wanda in person. your thoughts about the pastors wife had you feeling a little nervous, your tummy filling with butterflies as you think about her. technically, it was wrong to think of another woman this way—right? that’s what you’ve been told your whole life. and on top of that, she was married.

oh to hell with it. it’s not like anything would come of it.

as you stand in the mirror, fussing with your sunday dress, you can’t help but look over yourself once, twice, three times before you finally turn away from your own reflection. the longer you looked, the more flaws seemed to appear, so instead, you take a cigarette out of its hiding place—under the floorboards at the end of your bed—and begin your typical “smoking secretly out the window” ritual.

you needed something to help calm your nerves before you headed to church. especially because today they were doing something called a “linger longer” after the service. it was meant for people to take the opportunity to socialize and eat some finger food after being “spiritually fed.” you didn’t know what that meant, but all you cared about was getting more time to observe the beautiful mrs. maximoff. you very quickly noticed she was quite popular within the church community. she talked with everyone. she was always so spritely and positive—you wondered if it was as genuine as it seemed. not that you would know any time soon. you always left before she could make the rounds to talk to you.

you quickly put your cigarette out in the ash tray and stow it back in its hiding place before looking yourself over one more time and then heading to the church service.

•

wanda noticed you the very first sunday you sat in the pews. she never missed a new couple or family coming in to join their congregation. it was her duty as the pastors wife to get to know everyone. she didn’t mind it either. like a true extrovert, she thrived off of interacting with other people—so to say she was a tad disappointed when she noticed you duck out right after the service before she could introduce herself to you—was an understatement. she met your parents of course who seemed nice enough, but she wanted to meet the pretty girl whom she caught staring at her quite a few times.

every sunday from then on was much the same, she’d catch you staring at her off and on throughout the service. each time she couldn’t help but smirk to herself, wondering what you were thinking in that head of yours. she was instantly intrigued by your behavior and even more so intrigued by the draw she seemed to have to you. without meaning to, she started trying to draw a picture in her head of what type of woman you might be. you seemed reserved yet polite, sweet yet stubborn and bold yet sometimes bashful, especially when she caught you looking at her. you were deliciously difficult for her to figure out and that’s why this sunday, she had made up her mind she was going to pin you down at the linger longer.

•

today was the first time you listened to a sermon and wished it stretched on a little longer. mrs. maximoff was speaking, preaching about the importance of charity. you didn’t disagree with her of course, but it wasn’t so much what she was saying, it was how she said it. you quickly became partial with how she spoke. it was like her tone indicated that everything she said was factual and not up for debate. you admired that quality in her—her ability to speak so profoundly.

she wrapped up her speech and then took her place to sing in the choir for the closing song. your eyes remained on her the whole time. while you couldn’t exactly pick out her individual voice from the bunch, you were sure her singing was the best.

as people filed out of the chapel and out onto the vast lawn that surrounded the church building, you take a moment to admire your surroundings. georgia really was beautiful—very humid, but still beautiful. the lawn was littered with white folding chairs and circular tables with some pink, orange and yellow wildflowers as the center pieces. the colors contrasted beautifully against the long, overgrown green grass and the brilliant blue sky above.

you quickly made your way over to the long rectangle table with food. if there was one thing you learned from being an observant person, it’s that you looked less awkward not socializing if you had a small plate of food in your hand. it wasn’t that you were necessarily anti-social or hated interacting with others, you just didn’t like talking with people who were typically on their moral high-horses.

you exchange pleasantries with a small family who, like you, made a beeline for the food table. you don’t pay much attention to what you put on your flimsy paper plate; some sort of meat kabob, fresh fruit and boiled peanuts. you’d never had boiled peanuts before, but apparently it was one of the food staples of georgia.

turning away from the table, you scan the small groups of people and notice how a lot of them don’t even bother to take a seat at the tables. most people choose to stand in the more open part of the field and chat. you didn’t have to look through the herds of people for long before your eyes land on wanda. she had her head thrown back, laughing at something one of the ladies from the choir had said. her laughter carried through the light breeze that was currently blowing. the sound instantly became one of your favorites to hear.

god, what was wrong with you? you had never become so quickly obsessed with someone before. not even close. the closest thing you could think of was that massive crush you had on sally miller in the 9th grade. still.. that didn’t compare to this.

you begin walking through the cluster of tables, your eyes glancing from her to looking at where you’re walking and then back to her again.

the next 30 minutes was much the same. you briefly sat down at a table, but once more people came to sit with you, you quickly offered your seat up to the last member of a larger family so nobody had to be separated.

no matter where you sat, stood, or walked, your eyes never strayed far from wanda. that was until a kind, middle aged woman came over to talk with you. she was kind enough, asking questions about you and your parents. she seemed genuinely interested in your life, and for that you were happy to talk with her. you learned she had been married for 10 years and her and her husband had been trying for a baby for awhile now, but had run into so many complications. you sympathized with her, understanding that it must be very difficult for something you want so badly to be so painstaking to achieve.

it wasn’t until you exchanged farewells and she moved onto the next person to talk to, that you noticed wanda no longer stood where she was before. in fact, she wasn’t anywhere in the several crowds of people you skimmed through. did she leave? you squint your eyes, focusing in on any short blonde hair you could see in front of you from the place you stood.

“hi there.” you hear drawled out from behind you.

oh my god.

you slowly turn, your eyes falling on none other than mrs. maximoff. you quickly compose the brief surprise that passed over your face.

“mrs. maximoff.” you swallow and tuck some hair behind your ear, offering her a polite smile to mask the squinty expression you had before. had she realized you were looking for her? you hope not..

“oh please, calling me mrs. maximoff makes me feel so old! call me wanda.” she outstretches her arm to shake your hand which you take only after a moments hesitance.

“wanda,” you repeat, your smile growing as you feel her gently squeeze your hand before letting go.

“this is usually the part where you tell me your name, honey.” she smiles amusedly, already thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“i’m… (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“lovely to finally meet you, miss (y/n).” she appraises you, looking you up and down in your cute floral patterned dress. your stomach flutters as you notice her eyes lingering on your figure.

“i met your parents a few weeks ago, but i never got the chance to say hi to you. anyway, i’m real glad we’re finally getting to talk now.” her eyes subtly scan over your features, taking in your pretty eyes, cute nose and full pouty lips. she even noticed the light spackle of freckles across your cheeks and bridge of your nose. she wondered if those freckles were there year round or just for the summer.

“yeah, i um.. i’m not usually one for socializing.” you admit, clasping your hands together in front of you. one of your fingers fiddle with the ring on your left thumb, twisting it around.

“so, (y/n), i have a confession to make.” she blurts, the implication behind her pronouncement making your more on alert. she runs her hand through her perfectly kempt hair before resting it on her hip, trying to appear more casual—though this conversation was rapidly feeling less so.

“oh?” you ask curiously.

“well, it’s just that i’ve noticed you looking at me a fair amount on sunday’s—when i’m at the microphone, singing in the choir, sitting in the pews…but then you never come and talk to me. am i so frightenin’?”

your eyes widen in surprise. you knew you weren’t exactly subtle with your spared “glances,” but was it that obvious?

“what? no, no, no, it’s not that. not that at all. it’s just—well i..” the way she asks has you stumbling over your words. you never meant to offend her. it wasn’t that she was frightening, you just had no idea what to say to her.

she makes an attempt to mask her amusement but can’t help it with your stuttered response. a smile eventually breaks across her face and she chuckles lightly at your trying to explain, finding it endearing.

“oh, i’m just messing with you, sweet thing. no need to get all tongue tied.” her smile was amused and her eyes twinkle with playfulness as she reaches out to touch your shoulder. the action was meant to be placating, but it did nothing more than make you feel more flustered.

“tell me more about yourself.” she says it more as a command than a question, changing the subject and sparing you further embarrassment. you’re grateful for the change in tone regardless of its abruptness.

you shrug, unsure where to begin exactly, but you quickly found yourself wanting to tell this woman everything about you. “well, what would you like to know?”

“what does a cute thing like you get up to?what’re some of your hobbies?” her what appeared to be shameless flirting, surprised you. you mentally kick yourself, thinking she couldn’t possibly be flirting. it was probably just a southern thing they did here…

it was against “god’s plan” to have same sex relations of any kind. that included flirting, didn’t it? and she was married to the pastor for christ’s sake.

although.. at church you did notice that the two of them never seemed to be near to each other at all.. no. you were reading into things. this was just her being polite.

“umm, well, i guess i like to read? mostly fantasy. i’m kind of a closet nerd. i like doing things that are creative, so i’ve been teaching myself to paint and i also make string bracelets or anklets sometimes.. you know, it terms of creative things, um..” you trail off, your hand rubbing the back of your head as you draw a blank. why couldn’t you remember your own hobbies? you weren’t normally so easily flustered or stuttering over your words, but wanda’s confidence and boldness brought out a bashfulness in you that you didn’t even know existed.

she listens intently to your response, nodding encouragingly and she remains silent in your pause to find your words. she wanted to know you better and she could be as patient as was necessary.

“i also like to write.. poetry mostly. i don’t often sit down to do it, but i always enjoy when i do. um, i also love going on walks, listening to music… oh! i love rollercoasters. rollercoasters are probably one of my favorites things.” the longer you talked about what you enjoyed, the looser, less nervous you felt. wanda could see your soft shyness dissipating the more you shared. you light up in a way when you speak, your passion for your interests shining through with your facial expressions and hand movements.

“oh my—rollercoasters? you’re just a little adrenaline junkie, aren’t you?” she teases with a warm smile, her nose scrunching in the most adorable way.

“i wouldn’t go that far, but i do enjoy a good thrill,” you keep your tone light-hearted, mirroring her tone and her smile. her gentle teasing and close attention to you was beginning to make you feel light headed with giddiness.

“what about you, wanda? what do you like to do?” you take a step closer to her, your arm reaching across your chest to grab the other as you continue to feel at ease in her presence.

“anything, really. i like to change things up, keep life interesting. if there’s something new i want to partake in, i seldom hold back from trying it out.” her eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on. you couldn’t help but feel there might be a double meaning to her words, but you could also just be reading into things again. hard to know for sure as you notice her eyes flick up and down your body for the second time since this conversation started.

the two of you continue talking for what only felt like minutes. you barely notice the other people around beginning to clean up food, tables and chairs. it wasn’t until most things had been cleared away that you realize just how long you’ve been standing here talking—nearly a half hour.

“well, i guess i should be letting you get back to the rest of your day,” she sighs, her shoulder raising and lowering with the action. you frown slightly, not wanting your time with her to come to an end. wanda notices of course because just like you were with her, she was paying an awful lot of attention to you.

“yeah.. yeah i guess so.” you nod in agreement, but feel anything but a desire to part from her in this moment.

“hey,” her hand reaches up and gently squeezes your shoulder, her hand lingering there. you feel your heart begin to beat faster, a warmth spreading in your chest.

“can you sing?” she asks randomly. you clear your throat, the sudden question taking you off guard.

“umm.. i’m sorry?” you ask stupidly.

“sing - can you sing?” she reiterates.

“well.. yeah a little, but w-“ she cuts you off.

“perfect! it’s settled then. you’ll join our choir!” her voice is cheery sounding, but the suggestion she made to join didn’t leave much room for discussion.

“i will?” you look at her in slight disbelief, though a smile was also tugging at the corner of your lips.

“mhmm, i don’t see why not. you want to spend more time with me, don’t you?” her boldness was astonishing. you couldn’t decide if you found it endearing, intimidating or sexy.. possibly a combo of the three. she had to be flirting. you finally decided.

“if i say yes, then..?” you trail off, neither confirming nor denying her claim.

“if you say yes then you’ll be nothin’ but honest, and you wanna be honest with me, don’t you (y/n)?” she raises her brows inquisitively, the hand that was still lingering at your upper arm squeezing again.

“that’s very bold of you to assume.” you challenge, your normal wit finally coming out to play. you couldn’t help it. her insistence on being so unabashed and teasing was rubbing off on you.

“well i have eyes, don’t i? believe it or not, i put ‘em to good use.” she drops her hand from your arm and crosses her arms over her chest.

“i noticed.” you purse your lips, your eyes dancing with playfulness as you hint at the fact you’ve caught her looking you up and down a couple times.

she smiles wide at your matching her energy, but she couldn’t help but want the upper hand back, no matter how much she was enjoying this new side of yourself.

“i won’t apologize for gawking at a pretty, young thing like you.” she smiles triumphantly when she notices your dignified posture slump slightly, the most delicate blush coloring your cheeks.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, your words surprising you as you say them aloud instead of just in your mind. you look down and off to the side, wanting to hide the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“well we should both get goin’, but choir practice is every tuesday and thursday at 7pm. i wanna see you there, (y/n).” she reaches up presses her palm against your cheek so you’re looking at her again. she locks eyes with you with an edge of what appears to be sternness.

you nod slowly, captivating in her stare. she smiles, pleased and then drops her hand from your face.

“great, i’ll see you then, sweetheart.” she taps your nose affectionately, before turning on her heel and walking away. you watch her figure retreat to the parking lot, your head spinning a bit as your interaction played through your head.

•

as you arrive home late that afternoon, you can’t fight the smile that kept spreading across your face or the butterflies that never seemed to stop fluttering around in your stomach.

when you lay in bed at night to go to sleep, your conversation with wanda kept going through your head. you wondered what it all meant. she had to be flirting—but it was that very fact that had you confused. didn’t she herself subscribe to the belief that being gay was a sin? did she feel it was as wrong as the people in the church say it is? what would her husband think? what would he do if he found out about your conversation today?

the more you thought about it, the more unsettled you felt. before you could truly start to spiral though, you remember wanda’s smile and her contagious laughter. you think to yourself how good it felt to be with her, how warm you felt inside and how at ease she made you feel after a short while.

how could something something so bad, feel so good?

[beanarie]

of course 3/3

1/3

2/3

in which tommy finally admits he should maybe see a therapist.

thanks again to @mooshkat for the original concept

(tw: heart problems, hospitalization, self loathing)

~

Bobby is the next to show up.

"Hi," he says, disconcertingly tall as he stands over Tommy's bed with a small tupperware. "I figured you can't have anything we would normally bring for someone stuck here, but there's this recipe I liked after my heart attack. It's just chickpeas tossed with olive oil and a bit of curry powder."

"That's very thoughtful," Tommy says, touched and confused. He starts tucking in immediately. The food here could be worse, but he never has much appetite when he's unwell. Maybe eating something will make the nurses frown less often. They're very frowny in this unit. Makes sense, as they probably have the highest proportion of deaths in the building, but it's shit for patient morale.

Bobby's still standing, so Tommy tilts his head at the chair and continues eating.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, once Tommy has left the now half-empty container on his tray table.

"Fine? Tired, mostly." Which is probably for the best when the only change of scenery he gets is the regular trips to imaging. All the napping doesn't leave time to develop cabin fever. "You?"

"I'm good. A little concerned."

Shit. So he's just jumping right in. Tommy works on his breathing. "Oh?"

Bobby nods. "Buck is getting released in the next few hours. He'll probably be up here as soon as they hand over the discharge summary."

Tommy doesn't eye the monitors, but he has a brief fantasy about ripping the leads out and smashing everything on the ground. It's been a long time since he's felt this exposed for this long. "That's good."

Bobby puts his hands on the armrests of the chair. "Hen seems to think you don't want to see him, which is interesting since Buck is behaving like you're pretty much back together."

Keep him away. Do it so I don't have to see his face. "I- I'm-"

Bobby looks at him like he's a spooked horse. "I'm not just here for him, okay? I wanna help you get clarity on what you're actually looking for before it blows up in both your faces again."

It's such a brazen offer Tommy can't help but laugh. "You're welcome to try?"

Bobby smiles a little. "Kid's got a heart the size of Alaska, but--or maybe because of it--he's like the La Brea tar pits. Once you're in, that's all she wrote. It's fine, though, great even. If that's your choice."

Tommy tilts his head, reconciling this man with the friendly, new in town captain who had a veil behind his eyes. In the last eight years, everyone at the 118 figured out how to open a vein for each other, and here's Tommy. Out, flying, and only able to meet his own eyes in the mirror half the time. "What if I'm a bomb," he asks. "Or... whatever destroys tar."

"Is that how you want it to be?" Bobby presses gently.

Tommy rubs at the side of his neck. "I'd be a monster and an idiot if I said yes, wouldn't I?"

Bobby spreads his hands. "There's no relationship jail, Tommy. Doesn't matter to me if you're either or both those things. All I ask is that you keep it away from people I care about."

"No. It's-" Tommy shifts his gaze, his vision blurring. "It's not- That's not what I want. But it's not that easy, Bobby."

"Didn't say easy. Didn't even imply it." Bobby moves a box of tissues from the nightstand to the tray table. "You're no stranger to tackling something hard because you thought it would be worth the effort. Maybe give yourself a little credit."

There are oval-shaped bruises in a roughly circular pattern on Evan's forearm, resembling a school of fish. Those weren't there after the crash. Tommy flexes his right hand, which has been stiff and sore for no apparent reason. "I did that," he says.

"Yeah?" Evan frowns in confusion. "You were suffocating. It wasn't on purpose."

It can be an omen if Tommy lets it.

"Tommy?" Evan says.

Omens are stupid. "Hm?"

Evan fidgets with his free hand, pulling at the edge of his sling. "You said of course you love me, like it was easy. Like it was a given. People don't- haven't said it like that."

"How did they say it?"

"Like they were surprised. Like it was the last thing they could've expected."

"I knew it was a possibility the first time I kissed you," Tommy says, tired of choosing between truths.

He looks up. "You did?"

"Evan," Tommy sighs, "you're the fucking sun."

His beautiful eyes widen and get wet at the corners. "I didn't want the first time I said it to be when- when you were dying in my arms." A shadow passes over his features and Tommy's fingers curl, gathering a handful of his blanket. "I wanted- needed to believe that I'd get another chance. I love you, too, Tommy."

Tommy is so grateful this conversation is taking place today, when he's recovered enough to not cause an international incident every time he does anything more stressful than looking at the color green. The specter of the alarm still looms, but he's done okay so far. "I might not have heard you, if you had said it then." Tommy gestures at his chest. "The wheezing, it was very loud."

"You heard some things, though? It felt like you- you were reacting."

"Yes, Evan. You kept me going."

Evan beams. Tommy aches from the inside like someone sprinkled salt in his IV bag.

"I need," he warns, "so much therapy."

Evan shifts forward in his seat, grunting softly in pain. "I can get you some recommendations."

"Of course you can." Tommy smiles.

Evan is inches away, practically falling out of the chair. "Can I touch you?"

"Do you have the slightest idea how many medications I'm on right now?"

He ducks his head and laughs. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh, well, show me what you m-"

Evan lays his free hand on the side of Tommy's face. He leans forward and presses their foreheads together. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "I asked you not to run, and you stayed."

Right after the alarm goes off, Tommy pulls away just far enough to capture Evan's mouth with his own.

[mintmatcha]

I so understand this would be so far off, but I’m imagining reader’s son being 13 and a couple months old, he’s cordial with Shinsou, for his mum, but he’s trying to come to terms with why his mum didn’t stay with his dad. Until monoma doesn’t show up for something and maybe one of his friends is like ‘hey, I’m really sorry your dad is always doing that. It must really suck’

‘My dad always shows up usually, just later. He’s busy.’ And the look of pity from his friend and it just CLICKS

Has to call his mum to pick him up and shinsou picks him up because maybe it’s late at night, and shinsou has always respected that he shouldn’t talk shit about monoma in front of your son, but when your son starts asking about things, about the lies and twisted truths monoma has told, shinsou won’t lie to him. Just gives him yes and no answers.

Monoma doesn’t understand why all of a sudden his son isn’t responding to his messages or answering his phone calls, and there’s no way he’s calling you to reveal to you that he’s no longer the golden father figure in your son’s eyes

I LOVE THIS IDEA AAA

I think, leading up to that, the more your son is angry at monoma, the more he's disrespectful of you. it's displaced, but he just can't bring himself to think that his dad is the problem.

the only time shinso has ever REALLY yelled at him was after school one day. monoma was supposed to come for his weekend, but it's shinso standing at the curb waiting for him.

"Whoa, that's your dad?" a friend asks. oh, he had been bragging all day that his pro hero dad was coming to take him on vacation and now he's face to face with the realization that he's not going anywhere.

"He is not my dad." There's so much angst and anger building up in his gut. you must have done something to piss his real dad off- it's always your fault when he doesn't arrive- "he's just some guy my mom whores around with."

Shinso's jaw flexes so tightly that he can see it from all the way from across the street. He uses his whole name, biting out every syllable with a barely restrained anger. your son trudges across the street with his pack dragging on the ground.

"Say that again." It's been years since he's thought Shinso was scary, but the cold grind of his voice makes him freeze. "Say it right here, to my face."

They both know he can't. He doesn't have the guts. Shinso bends over just a bit, bringing himself face to face.

"You do not have to respect me. You don't even have to like me." Shinso's voice breaks with the sheer volume he's using. your son looks back at his friends, who look equally horrified. "But you will not talk about your mother that way."

The man jabs a finger towards the school bag.

"And pick up your fucking bag." He's never cursed at your son before. "Your mom worked extra shifts to pay for that."

He had begged for this bag, the full leather one. it was expensive. too expensive to ask you for. It came as a holiday present with no name, so he had always assumed his dad was the one who bought it. Monoma is the one with money-- you're just a waitress. The scuffed bottom suddenly feels embarrassing.

Shinso hasn't stopped his ranting. "All she has ever done is loved you. Your whole life! All she's ever done! And I will not let you treat her the way your father treats her, got it?"

Your son doesn't reply.

"I said- did you fucking get that?"

His real dad never yells. No, he just laughs when he says things like that. Your son sniffs and slugs his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah. Whatever."

"And if you ever say that to your mother's face-" he can't finish the sentence. "Get walking."

[therealcocoshady]

Hey! Can you please write marshall's reaction when doctor tells him that his wife is pregnant with TRIPLETS and all of them are BOYS?

Boy dad 🩵

A/N : I find it absolutely hilarious that you sent this request right after I mention I had a soft spot for writing Eminem as the ultimate girl dad 😅. You’re challenging me and I like that 👀. Also… I had SO MUCH FUN writing this request. I don’t think I have written anything this fast ! I hope you enjoy it ✨.

CW : Mention of infertility diagnosis - surprise pregnancy - triplet - mention of abortive measures - angst - fluff

I imagine that he’d react differently to all these news, this pregnancy definitely bringing him on some type of emotional rollercoaster.

He absolutely did not expect you to tell him you were pregnant. You’d been together for a while and, early on in the relationship, you’d told him that you had endometriosis, and that the rather advanced stage of the condition affected your fertility. He didn’t mind it one bit, though. He already had daughters and did not necessarily want any more kids. If you had mentioned that being a mom was important to you, he would have done everything in his power to make your dreams come true, whether it was by doing IVF or adopting. But you didn’t. You’d known about the condition for more than a decade and, though it hadn’t been easy at first, you were at peace with the idea of not raising kids. As long as you had the love of your life by your side, you knew you’d be happy. The two of you went on to get married and enjoy life together. For years, you enjoyed marital bliss and a childfree home, his daughters being all grown up and out of the house. Never in a million years did you expect to get pregnant. The absence of period didn’t exactly tip you off, since your cycle had always been very irregular. And you almost laughed in the face of your GP when she suggested you get some bloodwork done and do a pregnancy test. Sure, you’d booked a consultation because of fatigue and nausea, but there was no way in your mind that the symptoms could be pregnancy-related. After all, the doctors had evaluated your chances of conceiving as « slim to none ». The only reason you agreed to the pregnancy test was because the bloodwork prescription also included other things, so you figured your GP would actually find the cause, probably anemia, and prescribe you some supplements.

You nearly fell from your chair when she called you about the result, and you had her confirm several times that there was no confusion, or that it was not a prank. When the call ended, you burst in a fit of nervous laughter, still in disbelief. Your laugh echoed throughout the house, causing Marshall to come to your office. You realized you probably sounded manic and demented when you saw your husband’s concerned expression. « Are you… alright? » he asked with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t even think twice abut breaking the news to him. « The doctor called. She had my results », you said, struggling to form a complete sentence. He looked at you, nervosity creeping up on him. When it came to you, he seemed to have the ability to get paranoid over nothing. And if it had you sounding this insane, he figured bad news weren’t exactly out of the question, especially with how sick you had been in the past few weeks. He kneeled by your side, holding your hand in his. « So… Is there anything wrong? » he asked in a concerned tone. « I’m pregnant, » you cackled, sounding like a hyena. « Fifteen years ago, they said I was infertile. I did three years of therapy after that and now… pregnant », you hysterically guffawed. You had tears streaming on your cheeks and you struggled to catch your breathing, the nervous laughter taking over your body. So much so that you didn’t even register Marshall’s reaction, or lack thereof. But, minutes after you said the word, you slowly realized he’d remained silent. He was still in the same position, staring at you without so much as blinking. For a spare second, you thought he’d turned into a wax statue and you suddenly understood why some people had described his stare as « creepy ». As your mind became clearer and the silence settled, you started freaking out. « Marshall…? » you asked. He slowly started blinking, looking at you as if he were a deer in headlights. « P-pregnant? » he whispered. « You’re… pregnant? ». You gently squeezed your hand and nodded, the news dawning on you in a different way. « I am » you confirmed. « And, uh… eight weeks along, approximately ». He let out a sigh, visibly surprised. Then, he took both of your hands and kissed them profusely.

« But you’re alright? » he asked, and you nodded again. « Fuck, babe, you scared me. I wasn’t sure if you were dying, or demented, or both » he let out with a chuckle. « Nope… Just… Pregnant », you giggled, still in disbelief over the word. « That’s wonderful » he said emotionally, a smile appearing on your face. You looked at him, scanning his face, just to be sure. « You really think so? » you asked. « Because I know it wasn’t planned, and… ». He gently pressed his finger to your lips and shook his head. « It wasn’t. Fuck. It really wasn’t. But if you’re happy about it… Wait. Are you? » he asked carefully. You gave him a nod and a smile. « I am. I just… I can’t believe it ». He cupped your face and smiled at you tenderly. « If you are happy about it, so am I. That’s great news, Y/N. We made a baby » he said. You couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear, happy tears welling in your eyes. « I thought I’d never be a mom » you whispered, waves of emotions crashing over you as you remembered the first time you were told you couldn’t conceive. « Apparently, you thought wrong » he said, happiness radiating on his face. « And I know our baby already has the best mama » he added emotionally, bringing you into a tight, heartfelt embrace.

The following couple of weeks was emotional but happy. The two of you were ecstatic, determined to welcome this baby as the most beautiful blessing ever. You were still sick and exhausted, but the perspective of welcoming a bundle of joy that was the product of your love certainly made it easier to bear, as did your husband’s gentle care. He seemed determined to make your life easier and give you the most beautiful pregnancy experience, constantly dotting on you and spoiling you. You thought he’d given you the princess treatment in your early courting days but apparently, he was able to take it to another level. You didn’t need the numerous bouquets of flowers (in fact, the smell made you nauseous but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that), nor the many presents, but you enjoyed them nonetheless. Most of all, you loved seeing his excitement and devotion for the baby, whom both of you had yet to see.

Both of you felt a sense of childlike excitement, going for the ultrasound appointment. The closest thing you could compare it to was your niece’s first trip to Disneyland, preparing to meet her favorite princesses. You were a little nervous, praying that the baby was healthy. You’d asked Marshall about the gender, and whether he’d rather have a boy or a girl, but both of you were in agreement that, as long as the baby was healthy, it did not matter. « You know, I always thought being a girl dad was what made me so soft, but I know the baby will have me wrapped around their finger, even if they’re a boy » he said. You knew that it was too early to know the gender anyway, but you couldn’t help it. You kept on trying to imagine what that baby would look like. Marshall held your hand in his as the doctor put the probe on your stomach, squeezing tighter as both of you noticed the furrowing of her eyebrows, looking at the screen. « Alright », she said. « It looks like I made a little mistake while interpreting the hormone rate results » she said, turning to you. You turned to Marshall, a sense of nervosity taking over, unsure what the implications were. Did she mean that there was no baby ? Or that there was some health issues? You felt a lump form in your throat, unable to talk. « What mistake? » Marshall nearly barked, nerves taking over his usual politeness. « Well, you see, we usually use the hormone rates to give an estimate, of how far along the pregnancy is » she explained. « However, we tend to assume that it’s a singleton ». Both of you opened wide eyes and you held two fingers up. « Twins? » you asked in a throaty voice. « Triplets » she announced with a smile. « You’re not as far along as I thought. About six weeks. But all three babies are healthy ».

Part of you wanted to sigh in relief, over the news that the pregnancy was healthy but learning that you were carrying not one, not two, but three babies sent both you and Marshall into a spiral. As you drove home, pictures in hand, none of you knew how to feel, and you both remained rather quiet, exchanging banalities, visibly in shock and in need of some time to process. Not so long ago, you were sure you’d never have kids and now, you had to wrap your head around the fact that you were carrying three. In a way, it was a blessing, for sure. But you’d spent so many years envisioning your life without kids of your own that even the perspective of raising one was overwhelming. Multiplying it by three left you speechless and terrified. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do this. And you weren’t sure how your husband felt either. That would make him a dad to… Six kids. You spent the night in your bed, trying to get some rest and emotional clarity. You took to Google, typing vague and stupid requests such as « pregnant with triplets and freaking out ». You were hoping for some support, some testimonies of parents who had shared your concerns but made it work. Instead, you were met with hundreds of resources about selective fetal reduction procedures. You read a couple of them but, soon enough, you ended up bawling. You couldn’t bring yourself to consider it. You weren’t really churchy or religious by any means, but part of you wanted to believe that life had given you triplets for a reason, and there was no way you would get rid of one of your babies. They were there, and you already loved them so much, even if the perspective of running after three toddlers was nerve-wracking.

When Marshall walked into your shared bedroom and found you crying, he immediately engulfed you into a hug. « Babe, what’s wrong? » he asked softly. « I’m so scared. Three babies is a lot » you hiccuped. « But I don’t want to kill any of them ». He stepped back and looked at you in shock. « Woah, woah, woah. Calm down. Who said we needed to kill babies? » he asked. « I learned that there’s this surgery, that you… I don’t know. Apparently, people do that when they’re carrying too many babies » you tentatively explained in a shaky voice. « I’m freaking out, Marshall. And I know you are, too ». He hummed and nodded, not denying it. « Of course I am » he said gently. « I mean, I wasn’t prepared for a new baby. And now, knowing there’s three of them… It’s a lot. But we can do it. It’ll just take… a lot of logistics. And diapers, I guess. ». His tone was reassuring, though you could tell he was definitely stressed out. « But how are we going to do? With work and all? And do you think we’ll get any sleep at all? » you asked nervously. He shrugged and pressed a kiss to your forehead. « I don’t know » he admitted. « But we’re lucky enough that we can afford anything we need. If you want to quit your job, you can. Or we can get nannies, or a chef, or whatever. Or I can quit my job. But we’ll manage, I know it ». You let out a sigh and let your head roll on his shoulder. « It’s going to change everything » you said. « Yeah, it is. But we’re doing this together. » he replied. « So… You don’t want to get rid of two of them? » you nervously asked. « No. If you think you can’t handle three kids and you want to have that surgery, I’ll support you. But other than that, it’s not up to me to decide. It’s your body and your pregnancy. And whether we have one, three, or seven babies, I will love and support all of you ».

In the months that followed, Marshall continued to dot on you, trying to provide comfort and reassurance, but you could feel each other’s nervousness. This wasn’t help by the reaction to your pregnancy announcement. Your friends and family, though they were happy for you, were not exactly tactful about the huge change the triplets would bring in their life, sometimes making little jokes about Marshall being « too old for this shit ». They also seemed concerned about the impact on his career, though he made it clear that family would remain his priority, as it had been in the past, and that he would put his career on hold if need be. He reiterated the sentiment when you confronted him about it. « You don’t have to do this, you know? I know your career is important to you, and that you had so many plans in mind. The last thing I want is for the pregnancy to ruin it for you » you told him one night. « I know I don’t have to » he assured you. « But you’re my wife. You became my family the day I put a ring on your finger. We vowed to support each other and you held your part of the deal all these years. You supported me in everything. I want to be here for you and our babies. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to sacrifice more than you have » he said. You nodded, swallowing dryly. You had felt his tension and nervousness in the past weeks. He remained loving and caring, but you knew he was trying to anticipate everything. «Look, I’ve already talked to Paul. We cleared the schedule for a while. Two months before your due date, and six months after that. Then, we’ll reevaluate. But it’s not just all the career, you know? We’re welcoming three babies, everything is going to change and, some of it is going to be hard, but it’s also going to be happy. I don’t want to miss any milestone. The first time they smile, the crawling, the first steps… I want to be there. So, really, you giving me three amazing, beautiful, healthy kids is not ruining anything ».

As the pregnancy progressed, however, the nervousness remained. The two of you certainly had a few cold sweats when you tried to prepare for the birth, overwhelmed by the amount of baby stuff. Cribs, diapers, bottles, car seats… Everything was to be multiplied by three. In true dad fashion, he decided to buy a new car to accommodate the needs of your growing family, but you could see his frustration. « I think I’ll just end up repurposing a tour bus » he sighed. « The amount of stuff we’ll be driving around is insane ! Have you seen the space we’ll need, just to fit the stroller and diaper bags?! ». The more you tried to prepare, the less joyful it became. The two of you were still happy, determined to welcome the babies and love them, but you were both overwhelmed, especially Marshall. Carrying the babies, feeling them growing inside of you was your main source of comfort and reassurance but, even though your husband was involved, he didn’t have that bond. For him, it still felt distant and logistical. Until the gender reveal.

Prior to learning you were having triplets, the two of you had toyed with the idea of waiting until the birth to find out the gender. But now that the planning was overwhelming, it felt like knowing the gender would make things easier. You also suspected that it might help Marshall feel a little closer to your little ones, since he would be able to at least picture it a little better. However, you opted out of turning it into a huge event. Carrying triplets was exhausting and you were in no mood to be social for a whole afternoon. Instead, you decided to enjoy the moment, just the two of you. The doctor had given you an envelope with the gender of the triplets, which you have to the owner of your favorite bakery. You ended up with a three-layered cake, the color of each layer representing the gender of one baby. « Are you ready? » you asked as you opened the box, revealing an elegant cake, coated in white frosting. « Ready » he said with a smile. « Still no preference for the gender? » you asked teasingly. « I’m hoping for at least one son, » he admitted. « I love being a girl dad, but six daughters and a wife would feel… A little lonely » he chuckled before crouching in front of you and placing a loving kiss on your belly. « But I love y’all anyway » he whispered. You took a deep breath and cut the cake, careful not to look before he could. « I can’t do it! » you said. « I can’t look! You have a look and tell me! ». He chuckled as you closed your eyes. You heard the cluttering of cutlery, followed by a « HOLY SHIT!!! ». You immediately opened your eyes and saw all blue layers inside of the piece of cake on the plate.

Marshall was covering in mouth, in absolute disbelief. « Boys! All boys! » he said. « Looks like your wish came true » you whispered. He took your hands and kissed you lovingly. « You’re going to be a boy mom » he stated with a smile, knowing full-well you’d always said the boy moms were the most annoying of the species. You giggled and pressed your forehead to his. « Hopefully, I don’t become too annoying » you chuckled. « Do whatever you want, I’m definitely going to be an annoying boy dad » he grinned. «After we eat that cake, I’m ordering Lions jerseys for them. And Jordans. Oh my God, I’m having sons ». You watched lovingly as he rambled about how great it would be to introduce them to football, how much fun they’d have bonding over sports. His joy, which had seemed quieted by the logistical concerns, was overwhelming and he was positively beaming. « I’m quitting » he finally said. « You’re what?! » you asked. « Babe, picture this: you give birth to these three, and you do it twice more. Maybe just twins for the last pregnancy. We only need 11 players for the Mathers football team! ». You rolled your eyes at him and patted his chest. « We’ll see how you feel about it after the first night home from the hospital » you said. He rolled his eyes back at you and placed a kiss on your lips. « I can’t wait to meet these guys ».

[tthoroughfare]

crush (part 2) // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: i owe you a black eye and two kisses. tell me when you wanna come and get 'em. abby finally confronts her feelings in the spur of the moment, then gets scared and runs away. it all works out in the end, though.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: nsfw. nothing too crazy just some yearny sesbian lex using hands. light injury description and abby being a horrible communicator

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.9k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

i hope you enjoy the second part! i'm so down to write more of this so lmk if anyone wants it

abby keeps it all to herself. she enjoys having you as a friend, and reasons that it’s better not to mess it all up. just because you like her whole entire gender doesn’t mean you like her. plus, she’s not even sure about what she’s feeling. figures that if she actually wasn’t straight, she’d surely have already known by now. but then again, she didn’t know you back then. didn’t feel what she feels around you.

then, one night, you’ve been around at hers, drinking and watching a movie with manny. she’d accidentally overindulged, possibly (definitely) out of nerves. you’d had to drag the chair and beanbag over in front of the TV, you and abby both piling onto the beanbag, chair not big enough to hold the two of you.

there was still barely enough room, and you were pressed up against her. at first, you were awkwardly perched, body rigid; but then, as the film went on and you had a little more to drink, you found yourself sinking into the seat, further into her.

by the end of it, your head is comfortably on her shoulder, laughing and chatting freely — she can smell your hair, feel the heat of your body against her, and she truly thinks she might combust.

once it’s gotten late, you say you’d better be heading back to your own place. abby tipsily insists on walking you back, even though it’s really not necessary. like, at all.

you jovially chat and giggle on the way back through the stadium, and all you can remember thinking is how glad you are that you met her. how rare it is for you to know someone who you feel so connected to, who everything feels so easy with almost instantaneously.

when you get to your door, she lingers around, keeping the conversation going even after you say goodnight — like she wants something from you, wants to say something but can’t. there’s a moment where it drops quiet, and she’s just looking at you. studying your face, maintaining eye contact for probably longer than she ever has. that’s when you realize she’s automatically drifted closer.

and then, liquid courage coursing through her veins and affirmed by you leaning on her earlier, she kisses you.

it’s quick, and you don’t return it. not because you don’t want to, but out of pure shock — never in a million years would you have seen it coming. you’d fully shelved your crush on her, under the impression it was never going to happen.

before you have a real chance to react, she pulls back, cheeks tinged red.

you speak at the same time: her blurting out, "sorry, fuck"; you simply shaking your head a little, stuttering, “a-abby, i…”

a beat passes, you slightly open-mouthed, abby’s hands anxiously fiddling with themselves at her sides. immediately, she’s sober. “fuck, i-i’m sorry. that was stupid.”

“no, abby, it’s just—“ before you can finish your sentence, she mutters something inaudible and turns, beginning to stride off down the hall, feeling like a fucking idiot. of course you didn’t like her, and she’d just drunkenly ruined it all for nothing.

your call of her name, followed by a, ‘wait!’ falls on deaf ears, and she turns the corner, gone. you’re left stunned, frozen outside your door, trying to process what just happened.

you want to go after her, have her allow you to explain yourself, but decide against it. you don’t know if she really meant it, you don’t know what her reasons were for running off; you don’t know what the fuck to do. so, despite every ounce of yourself begging you not to, you simply go inside and try your best to sleep. you can’t, though, mind whirring for hours on end until you finally pass out.

the next morning, you pray you run into her. usually, you always saw her at some point, but it was like she was avoiding everywhere you might be.

you see manny in the canteen later in the day, catching up to him and asking him where she is; he just shrugs, saying that she’d picked up an extra assignment and headed out that morning. might not be back for a day or two.

you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms. you knew it was on purpose. all over a kiss. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he gives you a funny look. “you two have a fight or something? she was… quiet when she came back.”

rolling your eyes, you shake your head after a moment. basically the opposite. “no… no, we didn’t.”

“right.” he quirks an eyebrow slightly, taking a breath. “you want me to talk to her when i see her?”

you shake your head vehemently, furrowing your brow. “nah, nah, don’t. just… let me know when she gets back, please?”

he nods once, tapping the side of your arm. “you got it.”

you utter out a thanks, and with that you’re off.

you don’t want to be mad at her, but you are. you don’t know why she’s running away from you, quite literally putting her life on the line just so she doesn’t have to face you. what makes it so much worse is she didn’t even give you a chance. if she’d have just heard you out instead of storming off, there wouldn’t even be an issue in the first place.

the next morning arrives, and abby’s still not back. the whole day, you fight the urge to walk over to her apartment and knock on the door every five minutes. you know manny said a day or two, but you can’t help but anxiously await her return the moment it’s plausible.

you try to keep yourself busy with work, but all your mind does is wander back to her. thinking about what she’s doing, if she’s okay, what you’re going to say to her when she gets back. you replay the kiss over and over in your head, scrutinizing every millisecond of it. what if the reason she freaked out was that she only did it because she was drunk, immediately realized she regretted it, and that’s why she’s avoiding you?

her absence just gives you too much time to worry, conjure up every worst case scenario. by the end of it, you’re essentially convinced she doesn’t like you, that it was a mistake, and now your friendship will never be the same.

finally, around noon the day after, manny collars you in the hallway and lets you know abby’s back. you let out a half relieved, half nervous sigh, nodding and thanking him. you can’t go talk to her right away — you’re too swamped with work, on your way back from the shortest lunch break known to man, but you know the second you’ve called it a day, you’re finding her.

it’s not until almost eight that you finally get to a place where you can break off, leaning back in your chair and running your hands over your face. you pack a few items away hurriedly, heart beating in your chest as you make your way over to abby’s.

it’s not her who answers the door, though — it’s manny. you blow air out of your nose at the fact you’re seeing more of him than her at this point.

“where is she?” you question gently, as if he doesn’t already know what you want.

the corners of his mouth quirk. “guess.”

“library?”

he clicks his tongue in affirmation, and you roll your eyes fondly before telling him you’ll see him later, turning to make your way down there.

standing outside the door, you realize how nervous you are. you’ve wanted nothing more than to see abby since it happened, but now the moment’s here you can’t help but feel hesitant about all the ways the conversation could go.

after a beat of psyching yourself up, you gingerly crack the door open, spotting her on the ottoman before gently wrapping your knuckles as you peer in. “knock, knock.”

she looks up, an unreadable expression on her face.

“can i come in?”

she pauses, sitting up properly and placing her book to the side. “uh… sure.”

you smile gratefully, picking your way in and softly closing the door behind you. you make your way over, taking a seat next to her with your hands folded in your lap, avoiding eye contact. “so…”

you can see her fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt in your peripheral vision. “so…?”

looking up at her, you go to say your rehearsed spiel, then the words get caught in your throat when you notice the injuries littering her face. a couple of gashes are set into her forehead and chin, purple blossoming over her cheekbone.

“what the hell have you done to your face?” it comes out a little more frustrated than the caring tone you intend, but you are frustrated. if she’d have stayed and listened, she wouldn’t have been avoiding you, and in turn wouldn’t have gone off and gotten herself hurt. you pivot your body to face her side, knee bending to rest your left leg sideways.

“it’s not anything.”

you tut, unable to help yourself from reaching out and running your thumb tenderly over the bruising. she pulls away from your touch slightly, to which you shoot her a look. “worse than i ever get.”

“you’re sheltered.”

she says it matter-of-fact, and you know it’s true. you’ve always had it better than her, better than most, never really being required to go into the field. both your parents are still alive, a rarity nowadays, both academics. the last time you were in real danger was simply when you were being moved into the base, going from safe point A to safe point B. 

still, it stings a little.

“yeowch,” you respond as you allow your hand to drop from her skin, only half joking. “there’s no need to be mean, abby.”

she rolls her eyes, still keeping her sight trained firmly ahead. “i’m not being…” she trails off, shaking her head a little and looking down at her hands. she moves to lean forward, forearms resting on her knees.

a pause passes that feels like an eternity, until you finally will yourself to speak. your voice is soft, low. “why did you run off on me the other night?”

she gnaws at her lip, not saying anything for a moment. “can we just forget about that? it was…”

“a mistake, i know. you were… you’d had a few drinks. i know you didn’t mean anything by it.” you finish her sentence for her, and she sighs and shakes her head in annoyance at how wrong you have it.

she swallows thickly in defeat, urging the words to come. she might as well tell you; she’s already basically fucked everything up. what does she have to lose?

“that’s… not it.” her words come out quiet, and she looks at you for the first time since you walked in, hands wringing in her lap.

you automatically shuffle a tiny bit closer, her leg warm against yours. “then what is it?”

“i didn’t… it wasn’t… because i was drunk. it was because i wanted to.” she takes a deep breath, shoulders sinking. “and then… you reacted all… i don’t know. anyway… you don’t see me like that. can we just move on?”

you look at her, mouth opening and closing a little. your brow furrows. “oh my god. are you serious?”

“what?” she replies, a little defensively.

“i reacted like that because i was fucking shocked. as far as i was aware, you didn’t even like girls, never mind me, and then you just kissed me out of nowhere. i didn’t know how to react. and then, you didn’t even give me chance to say anything and just walked off, and then i don’t see you for two days,” you blurt out, floodgates opened.

it’s her turn to be speechless again, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “so… w-what are you saying?”

you don’t even bother to answer, knowing you can show her tenfold better than you can tell. you pull her up to you, hand resting on her jaw, pressing your lips to hers with a gentle urgency. she freezes for a split second before kissing back, one hand leaning on the ottoman behind you, the other coming up to cup your cheek.

you shift further in subconsciously, right leg going over one of hers and your free arm wrapping around her neck.

“jesus christ, abby,” you mumble against her lips between adoring smooches, “i can’t believe you.”

she breathes out a chuckle. “sorry.”

you have sex for the first time that night. you invite her to stay over, not even having those expectations. you just want to be with her, want to feel close to her, wake up side by side.

but then it drops late, and your lights are on low, having spent the evening conversing on your bed with the tv droning in the background. you’re both on your sides facing each other, propped up by an elbow. and you look so pretty in the dim yellow light, she can’t help herself from leaning in and kissing you, dripping with want.

you end up on top of her, fingertips stroking over either side of her face, hers pressing into your hips. all you can hear is your own pulse banging in your head, the labored, rapid breaths the two of you let out into each other’s mouths.

you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything this much. you can feel yourself soaking your underwear, and nothing’s even happened.

abby swallows thickly, pulling back for a moment, knowing where this is all going. “you know i’ve never…” she trails off, implicating the last few words, voice husked with arousal.

you pause to look at her, lidded eyes dragging over her face, a slightly amused smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i know,” you respond, leaning back in to mouth at the corner of hers, before kissing down to her jaw. you continue to speak against her skin, voice low. “you’ll figure it out.”

and she sure does.

you make love to each other. it’s all slow, and testing, but wanting and desperate. a lot of abby asking every two minutes if what she’s doing feels good, you guiding her and showing her how you like it. when you first flip her on top of you, tenderly taking her hair out from its braid and running your fingers through it, leading her hand under your waistband and showing her how wet you’ve gotten for her, she truly doesn’t know how the fuck she was ever, ever uncertain about her feelings.

you take your shirt off, baring yourself to her, then hers, needing to feel your skin flush against one another. her hands automatically move to make quick work of the lower half of your clothing, gaining confidence. and then you’re naked, spread out underneath her, all flushed and open mouthed, hips shifting into hers desperately — and it’s just like something takes over her.

she kisses over your chest languidly, exploring, needing to taste your skin. you gently take her wrist, moving her hand back between your legs, and your head falls back when she runs a finger through your folds. it’s a little clumsy, a little anxious, but abby’s a quick learner. she finds a rhythm, circling your clit as her mouth attaches to your nipple.

“abby, fuck…” you moan shakily, one hand tightening around her wrist, keeping her where it feels good, the other gripping lightly at her hair.

“is that okay?” she asks. she’s looking up at you reverently, desperate to impress, and the sight sends even more heat pooling in your lower belly.

you nod hungrily and your hand moves from her wrist to her waistband, voice coming out a lot more needy than you intend. “take these off.”

she obeys you without a word, and your free hand immediately goes to touch her, spreading her apart and toying with her clit, reveling in the noises it draws.

you make each other cum like that, touching each other at the same time, all needy and yearning. you’re first, abby’s nerves getting the best of her, you unable to help yourself. it all builds and builds until it hits you hard, breathy, high pitched moans and whines of her name tumbling out against her shoulder. hearing you, seeing you like that sends her absolutely reeling, and it’s not long until she’s there too. you pull her face level to yours with your free hand, threading your fingers through her hair, needing to look at her as she cums.

she looks so pretty, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn, parted lips rosy as she pants her way through her orgasm, unable to help the string of mmphs and low, strangled moans that escape her.

you work her through it, slowing your movements gradually, stroking at her face as she comes down. it’s quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the forgotten movie across the room and both of you attempting to regain your breathing.

“okay?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

she nods, eyes still closed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. then, her mouth twitches, corners forming a small smile. “yeah. fuck.”

you mirror her, a tiny smile of your own tugging at your lips. “good.”

kissing her nose lightly, you shift your hand away from her pussy and pop your messy fingers in your mouth, cleaning her off you, relishing in her taste.

she watches through hazy eyes, committing the sight to memory.

yeah. she’s never looking back.

[livelaughloveluffy]

Hi! I really enjoy your works!

Is there any way I could request a modern Ace x platonic younger sister? I guess modern or not doesn't matter too much. But basically his usually sweet, anxious younger sister hasn't been doing great with depression/anxiety, and he's noticed a little bit, silently keeping an eye on it, but doesn't think it's TOO too serious. But he's wrong because late one night he finds her hitting rock bottom. What that looks like is up to you. He gets scared, but wordlessly just kind of hugs her, holds her tight, she automatically clings to him and apolologizes, and he lets her know how much he and Sabo and Luffy and Dadan love her.

Self projecting the need for a comforting older brother figure like Ace.

Please don't write this one if you don't feel comfortable or don't want to! Have a good day 🩷

we need you here - portgas d. ace

a/n: i'm so glad you enjoy my writing!! thank you so much for your request!! i absolutely adore ace as a big brother, hopefully this is sort of what you had in mind!!

a/n: i was listening to my yearning playlist to write this and literally a more perfect song to go with this fic started playing and now i have to share it with you guys too because it works way too well. here's the song

tw - depression/mentions of self-harm

there's some hurt and some comfort here...

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some days we're better than others.. but most of the time you could barely keep your head above water. the constant onslaught battle of depression is pretty crippling, and it takes everything in you to just get through the day. not that most would be able to notice.

it's not like you were born depressed, how you long for the days were the world felt lighter, when the breeze blowing through the leaves of a tree was a wonder to revel in, rather than being so caught up in your own head, you can barely hold a conversation. while this change had come to your realization like a freight train, your brothers hadn't really picked up on it.

it's not because they didn't love you, you know they did, it's just that they were busy training to leave goa kingdom and conquer the sea. so to them, over the years you had just gotten more reserved. sure you didn't smile as much as you used to, or the way you used to, but it was hard for them to tell considering that they weren't even home for dinner half the time anyways.

•♡•

ace hadn't really noticed how bad it was until dadan had approached him one day before he, sabo, and luffy were going to their hideout, resting her hand on his shoulder, leaning down to softly whisper in his ear "can you ask your sister if she wants to join you guys? i'm a bit worried about her.. she hasn't come out of her room for a couple of days... she could use some sunlight.."

the freckled boy turned to dadan with his typical wide smile "yeah! i'll go ask her!"

•♡•

the voices were getting bad again. they were so loud, constantly taunting and jeering, laughing at your existence, reminding you of all you failures, faults, ugly personality traits, everything you hate about your body. it was suffocating. tears began to well up in your eyes. your skin started to itch for pain.

then a quite knock sounds against your door, then you hear ace's voice, warm and gently asking "we're going to head to our hideout, wanna going us angel?"

you muster all your strength to reply above a whisper "maybe another day, ace. i'm pretty tired."

and with that, you can barely hear the sound of his footsteps retreating before the voices are back, stronger than before.

•♡•

you had no idea how long you had been crying now. your eyes were swollen and sore from all your tears, fingernails bloody from constantly digging and itching at your skin, scratching it raw in various spots on your arms.

the voices in your head felt as if they were never-ending. the brief flashes of pain eased them... for minutes maybe, but they would still come back. they always came back.

•♡•

ace had just walked into the front door to dadan's eyes on him. "where is she?"

it took him a minute to realize that dadan was asking about you, "oh, she said she was tired and she didn't want to go today." and as he watched dadan's face sink, instantly filled with dread and worry, he knew he had to do something to ease her worries. "did she come out for dinner yet?" dadan lowered her head, softly shaking it side to side. "i'll go eat dinner with her in her room, okay?"

dadan could only muster a soft sigh before slowly nodding. ace had a way of making everything better somehow, she just had to trust that he would know what to do.

•♡•

you couldn't stop the tears from flowing in the same way that you couldn't stop the voices you heard. and the utter frustration at your own helplessness just made you even more upset, driving you to sob even more. breathing was now a struggle, as the tears also took all the air from your lungs with them. your hands were buried into your hair, gripping it tightly, as if ripping it out would give you some sort of silence.

you didn't hear ace's knock this time. didn't hear his soft voice call your nickname "angel? can i come in?". didn't hear his footsteps as he crossed the space of your room at record speed. you didn't even notice his presence until his arms were wrapped tightly around your body. dinner plates for the two of you, forgotten on the floor in front of your opened door. you didn't even hear them shatter.

even with his strong warm arms around your body, you couldn't will yourself to stop crying. in fact, it almost made the sobs worse. your face was sticky with sweat, snot, and tears. hair sticking to your face. ace didn't seem to mind though. he pulled your face close into his bare chest, it is only then that you hear his voice whispering in your ear "i'm so sorry. i'm sorry i didn't notice. i'm sorry i haven't been home. i'm here now, angel. i'm not going anywhere without you. we need you here, angel."

the desperation in his voice finally allowed you to move your body, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. the tears still flowed, but they had slowed just a little, enough for you to choke out "ace.. i don't... i don't know what's wrong with me.. i don't want to be like this.. i hate this.."

his soft voice and the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears "i'm here for you, always. i'm not going anywhere. i love you no matter what, and we'll get through this together. i love you so much."

your eyes were heavy now that the crying had finally stopped, and you no longer had the energy to keep them open. the only thing you could hear as the sleep finally came to claim you was ace's voice in your ear, a constant stream of whispers of "i love you, i love you, i love you so much." on repeat.

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tags ♡: @3v37773 @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99; want to join the taglist? click here!!

a/n: i lowkey had to hold back some tears writing this one 😭😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[static-radio-ao3]

i’m not a man with too many enemies (i’m just a rodeo clown)

October 31st, 1981, as told by Peter Pettigrew. (cw: death)

for @sugarsnappeases, co-creator of this specific peter <3

James’ eyes are dull. Not quite lifeless, but nearly there.

They’d been wide and bright only moments ago, a startled smile on his face when he saw Peter at the door. But then someone stepped out from behind Peter, an elegant hand on his shoulder, and James’ smile dropped.

Peter had never seen fear take over James’ face like that.

It was almost laughable. The way his face went pale and his mouth dropped open, the echo of a scream still humming in the air. The way his pupils trembled and his eyebrows rose. A caricature of himself.

Peter had laughed. Just a little. Because it was funny.

Because James is the bravest of them all. James had thrown himself into the line of fire again and again and again. Had rescued Snape when he really didn’t deserve rescuing — it was a prank, it had been funny. Had done perhaps the bravest thing of all and offered up his heart to Lily, unsure if she would offer hers in exchange.

It’s funny. Peter never imagined that James Potter could ever look anything but larger than life.

James’ laugh had always been booming, and Peter still swore he could feel it all the way into his bones. But James is not laughing now.

He lies there, empty-handed and hollow-eyed. James always did that. Sprawl out. He takes up half the couch during Muggle movie night. Peter has heard Lily complain about how much space James takes up in bed.

Even in death, James is sprawled out. His limbs all stretched to take up as much space as possible in the empty corridor.

Peter can almost pretend that he fell asleep on the floor of their dorms. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He remembers one night, in the dorms, the four of them giggling over something Peter can’t recall now when all of a sudden, Remus asked if there was a wizard version of Heaven. Of course, he had to explain the Muggle concept of Heaven first.

A place where good people go after they die, he’d said.

They’d spent the rest of the night discussing what wizard Heaven might be like. And maybe none of them really knew it at the time, but their next class reunion would be Heaven’s Gates.

It’s funny. Peter never imagined he’d see his own life flash before his eyes when someone else died. Or well, it’s not quite his own life. Just the one he shared with James.

The first day of school, both of them knock-kneed and nervous. The first full moon with Moony, excited and proud and better than everyone else because they figured it out. The first fight they had, James and Sirius on one side and Remus on the other, Peter a noble neutral. The first meeting with the order, endless confidence that Peter can’t remember the taste of now.

Someone shoves past him, into the house. Steps over James’ sprawled out limbs without a care. Peter half-expects James to reach out and grab Voldemort’s ankle.

C’mon Prongs, stop playing. Time to get up. The words stick to the back of his teeth. Sweet, like honey. Peter feels sick with it.

He isn’t sure what he’d been expecting. A laugh? A wink and a nudge and a good one, Pete?

He’s not sure what he’d been expecting. But for some reason, he hadn’t expected this.

It was supposed to be a surprise. Proof that Peter could still fool them all, even in war. They all needed a laugh, didn’t they? Sirius and Remus are always fighting these days — bad guys or each other. James and Lily are worried sick, a newborn not enough to stave off the fear of war.

They’ve pulled pranks before, even ones in bad taste, and they always came out on the other side.

Peter drops down to his haunches, a laugh still lingering in his lungs, and he tugs James’ eyes closed.

“I’ll see you later,” Peter murmurs. But even if he believed Heaven existed, Peter doesn’t think that’s where he’ll be going when the joke is finally over.

[pr3ttynpiink]

Until I Find You

Prince!Javier Peña x Plus Size!Reader

ꨄ warnings: prince!javi, cinderella au in a way, toxic mothers, plus size reader, if i missed any please let me know!

ꨄ a/n: with all these new gladiator/f4 pics it was giving nothing but prince vibes so i had to. as always if you don't like it don't bite it! and yes- there will be a part 2 🙂‍↕️

Main Masterlist — Javier Peña Masterlist

“Why do we have to go?”

“Because the king and queen are looking for a princess for the prince.” your mother muttered, tightening your dress and pulling a small grunt from your lips. “Told you to lose weight. Who's gonna want a fat princess in the royal family?”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, completely drowning her voice out. She'd been on you for years about your weight but you loved the way you looked- curves and thick thighs, with an ass that was out of this world if you do say so yourself. She kept rambling on but her voice was muffled. You focused on your reflection, admiring how the dress you'd sewn yourself accented your lucious figure.

“Alright.” she muttered, gently patting you on the side and snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Thanks mama!” You grabbed your heels and ran out the back door barefoot, hearing your mother yell to you about not being late to the ceremony. You ran down the pebble sidewalk and into the small forest behind your home, needing a moment before going to the ceremony. What better place to go than into a secluded forest.

—

He sighed, leaning back against a tree as he tucked his sketchbook back into his satchel. He needed a break from it all- the high maintenance from his mother, the castle being swarmed by other royal families he's never seen before- all because he needs to find a princess. As much as he wanted to stay out here, it was only a matter of time before his mother sent out the entire army to look for him.

He stood up, walking back to his horse to head back home when he let out a grunt and fell to the ground.

“Shit.” you grunted, pulling yourself off whoever you just ran into. Your eyes widened in realization, quickly getting off of him- it's the prince. “Prince Javier. I-I'm so so sorry I didn't see you and-”

He let out a small chuckle and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “It's alright. Good thing the ground is soft.” he joked, making you chuckle.

You pulled yourself up to your feet, reaching a hand down to him. He reached up, placing his much bigger hand into yours as he pulled himself up, causing his satchel to fall off his shoulder and his book to fall out. You bent down, picking up his satchel and fallen sketchbook. Your eyes scanned the open page, admiring the detail of his drawing.

“This is beautiful…”

Javier smiled, looking down at the book in your hands. “Thank you. Little hobby of mine.”

“The prince has hobbies?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Believe it or not- yes. Yes I do.”

You looked up at him, getting lost in the sparkle of his deep brown eyes. He admired the soft features of your face, getting lost in your eyes as well. The moment was broken by the sound of the bells echoing through the forest. Javier cleared his throat, gently taking his book from your hands.

“I gotta get going.”

You nodded, watching him as he got back on his horse.

“Hope to see you at the ceremony. Try not to tackle me this time.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks by embarrassment. “No promises.”

—

“Look at you! Your dress is a mess.” your mother pouted as she frantically dusted off the dress. “Ladies don't run off into the forest!”

“Mama-”

“Supposed to be impressing the royal family- not having them think we're poor.”

“Hate to burst your bubble but we are poor mama.” you let out a small hiss at the feel of your mothers hand hitting your bare back.

“We can't have them thinking that.”

You rolled your eyes, slipping on your heels and adjusting the skirt of your dress. “Better?”

She shrugged, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind a bobby pin. “It'll have to do… Remember, smile with your eyes and take that hateful look off your face. And be home before midnight. You know how your father is…”

“Yes mama…” you muttered, turning away from her and walking up the stone pathway that led to the castle. You tried your best to blend into the crowd of girls- all trying to achieve the same result- becoming a princess. You felt a bit out of place from the others. You didn't have perfect skin with sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair. You've always loved the way you looked, but being around others who were the complete opposite kicked your confidence down a few pegs.

The crowd flowed into the ballroom, everyone's eyes going straight to the prize- prince Javier sitting across the room on his chair.

His eyes scanned the room, all the girls looking the same. Some tall, some short, but all with their noses in the air like they're better than anyone here- reminding him of his own mother- which isn't what he wants.

“Javier put it away.” his mother hissed, motioning down to the sketchbook in his lap. He rolled his eyes and closed the book, laying it on the floor behind him.

“You know I'm old enough to do as I please.”

“And until you find yourself a wife- you're doing as I tell you. Now go.” she scolded, pulling a soft sigh from Javier's lips as he got up and walked through the crowd. Everyone greeted him as he walked by, girls practically throwing themselves into his arms trying to get his attention but he politely declined. The closer he got to the doors of the ballroom, the more he could feel his sense of freedom. But then you walked in.

You smiled, giving him a small wave. He smiled back and walked over to you.

“Didn't think to see you here.”

“Thought you could use the company.”

He chuckled, reaching over and grabbing your hand, placing a small kiss on your knuckles. “Happy to see a familiar face.” He looked around and saw his mother was distracted and then looked back at you. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

“What do you have in mind?”

—

You sat in the garden, laughing and talking with Javier for hours and hours. He was the opposite of what you'd thought a prince would be. He made you laugh, made you smile, made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

“I kept you from your ceremony.”

He shrugged, “Better out here then in there with all of them.”

“Saying I made your night?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Definitely.” His eyes trailed down to your lips, slowly leaning in closer. You caught on to what he was wanting to do and you started to lean in, hoping to meet in the middle. Suddenly the bells of the castle rang, pulling your attention to the big clock on the bell tower. Midnight.

“Damnit.” you gasped, quickly getting up and grabbing your heels. “I-I gotta go.”

“Wait-”

“Javi, I'm so sorry, I have to.” you quickly ran out of the garden and down the massive staircase that led to the castle. You'd been so focused on making it home before your father found out that one of your heels slipped out of your grip and landed on the staircase. Javi reached down and picked it up, watching as you disappeared into the night, hoping he'd find you again soon.

credits

ꨄ beta'd: @joelmillerisapunk @80ssong @peepawispunk @half-moon16 💗

[justme315]

New family 2/?

First part:

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Fear, mention of vomit , characters being religious, curse words, mention of sexual assault, mention of dehumanization

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I was double fucked.

There we go again, me cursing for the second time while starting my story. I promise, I'll try my best for it to be the last time I start with that kinda sentence. Really.

It's just, if I though that what happened previously was bad then what happened later that day was literally hell. Well, yeah I can imagine worse (and believe me when I tell you what happened a few days later you will actually see far worse, but I can't spoil my own story) but it was still bad. Really bad.

Okay, some creeps that enjoy the company of giants would disagree that it was bad at all. But if you're not a giant-obsessed creep (sorry for calling some of y'all out) then you'll understand why it was so bad for me. Okay, back to the story.

As you might recall, I fained mare secounds before officially meeting my moms giant fiance and his sons. Yeah, great first impression. Dad would have been proud. He was just as awkward as me but this once I won with him on 'the worst first impression competition'. Well, I hope he saw this from heaven and laughed at me.

I suppose I though I would soon be 'reunited' with him, if you know what I mean.

C'mon, I can't be the only person that doesn't get why a giant would marry a human if they actually don't have any sick intentions! I mean, everything is really outta place, those kind of relationships have basically nothing to offer. I wouldn't say I'm a traditionalist, I'm bisexual myself so that is kinda impossible, but I'm not there for "mixed-sized" marriages if you know what I mean. They weren't legal (untill like 5 years previously to the story I'm telling you) for a reason!

Shoot, I'm talking about all those things again and you'll consider me a specist. Let's get back to what happened after I fainted.

I don't really know what happened mid-time, my mind was blank after I fainted all the way to the moment I have awoken. It was probably the first time I was actually so unconscious that I can't recall anything.

When I awoken, or more likely started to regain consciousness all I remember is the feeling of warmth. It was really, really warm.

It wasn't too good for me because I had puked what, like 10 minutes before that? Yeah, throwing up again wouldn't have turned out very well for me back then.

Once I finally opened my eyes I still felt dizzy. The whole world around me was moving and I promise you I heard my heart beating so loud that I though I was dying. Well, it wasn't exactly my heartbeat, I later found out.

For a few secounds I couldn't remember what I was doing before I fainted and I couldn't understand where was I. Everything was moving, like I was in a car, but far more.. enourmous.

Crap.

I forgot about those damn giants.

I tried to figure out where I was as I sat up. Whatever I was sitting on was squishy and warm. I tried to get my balance back as my eyes started to unblur. I heard my mom's voice.

"Zack! You're awake!" she yelled out with relief.

Oh yeah. Me and my mom were together. We were going to meet up with her boyfriend and his sons. Why did I forget about that? How did I?

I touched my head, feeling it hurt. What the hell was actually happening?

"Ethan, honey can you get me closer to Zack, please?" I heard my momma's voice once again, though it now wasn't directed to me.

Wait. Ethan? I know that name from somewhere... Oh, fuck.

"Sure, auntie, whatever you ask for" I heard a manly voice echo around me. It was so low and loud that it sounded like it was coming from some concert speakers rather than a real person. I was literally drowning in this voice that seemed to sound from every direction around me. As if I were somehow surrounded by it. Was this even possible?

"Just be careful Van, don't move too suddenly, Ethan is still learning how to manage an overly trusting human" I heard another manly, yet softer voice that somehow felt even more surreal. I was starting to understand what was happening. We were with the giants. Probably in a car. I was..

The same voice that spoke less than a secound ago let out a chuckle and I swear that once I started processing the words he had said I was about to freak out again when I found another reason to.

"Dad don't say that!" the voice around me echoed louder, making me feel my heart skip a beat. My head was spinning again "Auntie, don't listen to him. I work with human kids, I know just how to handle your kind, no need to worry"

The rest of the short conversation seemed blurred out to me. I was more concerned on a discovery I made. I finally figured out my surroundings.

I was half-sitting on the lap of a giant.

Ethan, specifically.

My eyes widden, my head screamed at me to freaking run away as far as possible, my legs felt groggy, my breathing fasten as I slowly raised my eyes, first looking at a enourmous stomach covered by a white comfy hoodie, then at a neck with visible veins (which creeped the heck out of me) and finally at a face of a gigantic beast named Ethan.

His hand was reaching out to Andrew, who was driving and my mom casually walked into his opened palm from the shoulder of her 'fiance'.

My teeth bit into my lower lip before I could let out a yelp at noticing how easily the freaking 60-ish foot tall dude handled my mama, my only treasure, only family.

My mom was soon lowered in my direction and believe me when I tell you, catching eye contact with a giant was the worse ever feeling for me back then.

Ethan smiled at me with those freaking fangs of a killer and I felt my whole stomach rushing up my throat.

If it wasn't for the fact that earlier I have literally vomited everything that was inside my body I would have surely puked at that moment.

I felt my freaking soul leaving my body as the gigantic dude-beast smiled at me and eyed me up and down.

"Hey, kid. I'm Ethan"

And I was back down.

Yep, I fainted again. I know shitty thing but damn, that's freaking terrifying! You wouldn't be much better facing a giant, I assure you!

Well, they didn't let me be unconscious (or dead at that point) for long enough, my mom rushed to me and shoke me awake.

"Sweetie! You fainted again!"

Yeah, no shit mom, I was on the lap of my probable future murderer that could literally do anything to me, I had nothing to be afraid of.

"I did..?" I mumbled, rubbing my face.

Don't call me a coward, I just wouldn't say something that rude to my mama, even if it was the truth. If you were raised properly by your mother you would know not to talk like that to her (unless she's a bitch, then go ahead).

"Maybe we should actually go to the hospital" said Andrew, looking at me for a secound and then back onto the road.

"No baby, I think he is just tired. Let's get him home and give him some time to rest and then we'll decide" my mom answered.

Ethan looked down at me with now a concerned expression but didn't say anything. He seemed conflicted. I don't know what was him problem but I appreciated that he didn't touch me nor say anything to me again directly.

Even though I appreciated not being touched, it didn't take my fear away, my body was still trembling and all I wanted was to hide from his gaze.

My mom worried sick and spoke some stuff to me for the rest of the ride, but if I'm being honest, I couldn't understand even a single word she said, I was too focused on the fact that I was on the lap of this enourmous young man and his eyes never left my body.

I actually felt a little sad (don't kill me mama) that I didn't just die at the airport. I wouldn't have had to be so close to giants.

Ethan had a conflicted and even sad look on his face but I couldn't actually figure out why. Maybe it was because he couldn't kill me in front of my mom? Would that even matter to him? Or was it his father or brother? I don't think they would've minded it. I was not actually sure why me and my mom were still alive but I was grateful to God that we were. I also prayed that my mom would escape somehow, with me preferably but my hope about her realizing we were in danger was long gone.

Before I knew how many miles we had traveled, the car stopped.

"And we're home" Andrew announced happily.

Ryan left the car, not saying a word, slamming the door so hard that not only me but also (surprisingly) my mom flinched.

Ethan turned his head around to face his brother but the two never made eye contact. That was weried. What was happening between those two? Okay, I was hella scared but drama is drama! As long as I'm not a part of it I'm a fan.

Andrew signed.

"He'll be over it soon, honey" the oldest giant said, looking at my mom, making a small, reassuring smile. Even though I was terrified of the giant and his voice made my head spin unpleasantly I felt some pity inside of my heart. Andrew was a tired dad with visibly some issues with Ryan. Yeah, he was my probable future murderer but I could still pity him a little.. right?

"I'm sure he will. He just needs some time to adjust, that's all" my mom answered her fiance. I was curious what was all of this about. I got so involved in trying to figure out the situation that for a secound I forgot that those were actually giants I was thinking about and being within their reach (do not remind me that I was on Ethan's lap, please, it was as scary as it could).

"I'll talk to him auntie, he can't be this rude to you both" Ethan added into the conversation. I didn't like how he called my mom 'auntie'. It sounded as if they had a relationship. And as if it was sincere. I hated it very much. I didn't like how they tricked my mom into believing that they had no sick intentions. She was my mom. Not their "auntie" nor "Van" (it's a nickname for Vanessa if you wanna know).

"We all need to adjust. It's not easy for neither of us. Sure, for me, your dad and you Ethan it might be easier but it's still hard to change our whole lives" my mom tried to sound assuring, petting the giants hand. I flinched as I realized what she was doing but I didn't say a word, I just held my trembling hands together with more pressure.

Ethan's eyes landed on me again. I swear he looked right into my soul. He didn't seem angry, more likely sad and surprised. What was he surprised about?

"We should be heading back home." Andrew spoke again, trying to look more positive, even though it was visible it was forced. That somehow made my heart ache. If he was a human I would have felt bad for him. But he wasn't a human.

Andrew opened his door. I realized that I couldn't get out of the car on my own. I paled again. My mom noticed and came closer to me, grabbing my arm for support as I stood up. Cold sweat flew down my spine. I didn't want to be touched by either of those giants. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

I closed my eyes tightly, expecting Ethan's enormous hands to grab me forcefully and carry me home as if I were a toy. My heart was beating faster, my breathing became shallower, my legs were barely able to keep my balance.

I felt a terrible pressure in my chest, that stinging feeling you feel when you're extremely anxious, as if something was crushing you from the inside.

I waited for a second, two, ten, but the grip never came.

All that happened was my mom speaking to me:

"Why are your eyes closed? Are you feeling worse again?"

I immediately opened my eyes and looked at her confused yet worried expression. My eyes then landed on Ethan who was now even more visibly shocked and sadden. What the hell was his problem exactly? Did I look this pitiful that even a giant pitied me? Dang.

"No mama, I'm f-fine.." my voice shook way more that I intended to reveal in front of the giant. I nervously moved form one leg to the other. I realized it was the first time I spoke in front of a giant in my normal volume voice. That one sentence mumbled before that was basically a whisper.

Ethan's gaze never left me as Andrew exited the car. My mom's as well, but her gaze was less intimidating.

I still don't really know how Ethan knew but I'm sure as hell he knew way more than my mom that I was scared. She acted as if I was just sick while he.. seemed to notice.

"Would it be okay if I took you in my open palm and took you back home?" the giant man spoke in a softer, slower and more quiet voice, his hands never moving an inch in our direction. It felt surreal.. was he really asking us about consent to being held? He could just grab us. He could do anything. He didn't need our consent. Even if we said 'no' he could still do anything he wanted. But somehow.. somehow the fact that he did ask was not only shocking but also.. slightly calming.

"Ethan, honey, what a silly question, of course you can!" My mom chuckled a little, smiling at the beast ahead of us.

"Sorry auntie, but I wasn't talking to you" he smiled softly at her, showing those fangs of his a little (which surprisingly didn't scare my mom but made me take a tiny step back) and then his eyes met mine and I felt uneasy, trapped even, my body stiffen "Zack, will you allow me to get you back home on my open palm? No pressure, kid"

My heart literally stopped for a moment. I was shocked he asked me that. I knew there was pressure - my mom, the giants, no other way into the house - but he pretended to care. To actually mind how I felt about that. He also never used the words 'hold' or 'grab' and he kept emphasizing that his hand would be open. I didn't know what game was he playing but he was doing it really well since I felt a little more easy about the whole situation.

I didn't want to be touched though. I hated that idea. I hated physical touch in general but being on a giants hand, totally dependent on him was even a thousand times worse. But what I was supposed to do? He would stop pretending to be polite once I said 'no'. Also, my mom would be mad. I didn't want my last memory of her to be anger.

"Zack, sweetie, Ethan asked you a question. Answer him, so we can get back home" my mom rushed me, though the giants eyes landed on her with dissaproval (though at first I mistaken it with anger, i must confess (I might have been a tiny little bit paranoid)).

"Y-Yeah.." I mumbled, or more likely yelped at Ethan's eyes returning to me. I could barely speak with him being this close.

He didn't seem convinced and wanted to say something but we heard Andrew calling from outside the car: "Are you coming or not?"

The giants eyes scanned me up and down again and then he slowly moved his right hand and lowered it onto his lower thigh, still leaving about 6 meters between himself and me. My mom rushed to get on him palm, while I stood there, biting my lower lip. The feeling in my chest returned. I looked up for support in my mom but her eyes didn't even meet mine. But Ethan's did.

"It's alright Zack, I promise I won't drop you, I know to handle humans" he spoke softly and quietly as if trying to calm down a startled animal. Was this what I was to him? A scared kitten? Humiliating.

My mom's eyes landed on me and she then looked as if she finally realized what was actually stopping me from getting on that palm. But it was as clear as day she would not reveal that I was scared of Ethan. I don't know why, wasn't it obvious?

"Ethan, honey he is just scared he will fall, that's all. Zack don't be silly and come here" she chuckled nervously as if trying to hide a secret. Good job mom, totally not suspicious and totally not making me look like a coward. Good job.

I took a deep breath and a unsteady step ahead. It was the first time in my life that my legs didn't obey to my will. Well, it wasn't exactly my will but I tried to actually pretend like I wasn't afraid.

I looked up and Ethan looked at me with those enourmous hazel eyes full of pity and emphaty.

I finally figured out why I and my mom were still alive.

They must have viewed us as pets.

I gulped at that though. I remembered how gentle and polite I was to my first hamster - exactly like Ethan was to me now. Great, I was going to be dehumanized for the rest of my supposably short life. Lovely.

"It's alright" he cooed again, as if talking to a baby animal. It really pissed me off. I am clearly not an animal! Like damn, I am an average (maybe even a little handsome) guy, not a pet.

I actually enjoyed the fact that I was more annoyed than scared at that moment, this emotion didn't stop my legs from moving at last.

It took me a moment but I actually did get on the giants hand. The fear returned to my body. I was pretty much petrified. This was freaking unnatural. I was standing on something so squishy, warm, unsteady, so alive. I hated being held by a giant. His long fingers creeped me out the most. They twitched from time to time.

The enourmous guy spoke again "Hang on, we're heading out".

He soon stood up and exited the car. I gulped, feeling all my organs moving. Saying I was uptight was an understatement. It was like an extreme rollercoaster, only without any protection, while standing up and with an unpredictable route. I couldn't help but let out another yelp as he started walking. I couldn't really keep my balance well, but my mom held me in place.

The ground was so far away that I knew if I fell down I would 100% die. My mom somehow wasn't bothered by that. Like, we get it mom, you're a crazy, giant-obsessed, old woman but freaking have some decency and don't be elated by being in danger! (Please don't let my mom find this blog, she will kill me).

My heart was pounding faster than it physically could. I promise you, I have had a heart attack. I tried not to move, just to ensure myself that I wouldn't die falling down.

It didn't help that Ethan's eyes LITERALLY never left me. Like, how creepy can you be?

Oh.

What if I was supposed to be HIS pet?

This would have made sense. Andrew would take mom, Ethan me and Ryan was pissed off at both of them because he didn't get a pet. It sounded realistic.

My mouth went dry at that though. What would he do to me? I have heard stories of humans being dehumanized and held as pets by giants. Some kept them in cages. Some forced them to be nude in those. They would feed them trash. They would force them not to speak. They would punish any disobedience very, very harshly.

My eyes became glossy, tears began to built in them.

What would be Ethan's punishment towards me?

This question made me almost break down. What would he do to me? Would he be the "nice owner" that treats pets with care? Or would he be cruel?

I remembered my friends story, when we were back in my school. He told us about his cousin who was kidnapped by a giant. I think I told you this story before. What if my fate was similar?

What if I would be abused mentally, physically and sexually?

Oh my dearest Lord God what if that was it? What if both of them were sexually deprived creeps? What if Andrew was 'dating' my mom, becouse that was what was in his mind? Was I about to become a victim of that? Would anyone even believe me? Would anyone save me? Would anyone save my mama?

I muffled my sob. I was fucking terrified.

Lord God, please hear my prayers and save us - I prayed - Please God, don't let them harm my mom. I don't care anymore what tortures I'll go through but please save mommy.

Before my mind could take me any further we entered the house - my new prison.

It was freaking enormous but I have to admit, it was also pretty. Those dudes were freaking affluent. I wiped my eyes, trying to hide my fear. My mom's eyes now met mine.

"Is everything okay sweetie?" My mom petted my shoulder. I smiled sadly at her. We were about to die but we were together. We were a team. As long as I was with her it was okay.

"Yeah" I mumbled, hugging her, fearing it would be the last time.

"Welcome to your new home!" Andrew announced.

Welcome to hell.

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Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it 🥰 Can't wait for y'all's questions and theories!