#showed my mom this and she said she wanted to scratch his belly

[7-andahalf-rats]

mooooo

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 3 - The Study Group

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“I…I’m just really nervous.” Jack stammered, dipping his head and rubbing his face as he does any time he’s anxious. 

Marianne used a finger to lift her husband’s chin, looking into his eyes. “I know,” she said, trying to feign confidence, “I am too.”

She gave him a once over, sliding her hands along his shirt that was far too short to cover his belly, straightening it out and picking off any stray lint. 

Jack kept tugging the shirt down. “Can’t I at least wear shorts?” He whimpered. 

Marianne just shrugged, curling her fingers into the waistband of his diaper, gripping and pulling upward so it forced his legs a bit wider. “I don’t really see the point,” she said, tucking the flared edges back into his thighs like she’d been taught, apparently it helps prevent leaks, “they already know you’ll be wearing one, and they’re going to see it eventually. No reason to delay the inevitable.”

He blushed, knowing she was right, but that didn’t keep him from trembling. 

“Hey,” she said, bringing her hand back to his cheek, “you wanted this, remember? There’s no backing out now.” 

That seemed to settle him. He nodded and plopped his hands down to his sides for maybe the hundredth time. Marianne combed him over once more, she found herself uneasy too. There was no reason to be, they were all probably used to it, but Jack was still a reflection of her, and Marianne wanted to show that she was competent in diapering her husband. 

Still, she couldn’t help but gawk at how adorable he looked, like an innocent little one rubbing their eyes and face, tugging on their shirt, and crinkling in their little diaper. She was certainly starting to see the appeal to this whole thing, even if she originally didn’t think it would be her cup of tea when he first presented it to her.

“What time are they getting here?” Jack asked, still a bit flustered. 

Marianne leaned in close for a kiss, which he returned. When they released, she smiled, “they’re already here!”

******

The girls were giddy with excitement when Marianne came back into the living room. They’d been sitting around the couch, chairs, and tables. Notebooks and laptops open, pencils scratching, keys tapping. The sound of Marianne’s footsteps caused them all to stop collectively and look up from their studying. 

“Ladies…” Marianne cleared her throat, voice shaking nervously but trying to feign confidence, “meet…Jack!”

A round of applause broke out, but nothing (and no one) came from the hallway. At least, not for a few seconds. Finally, once the cheers died down, Jack came simpering into the room, hands relentlessly trying to tug down his shirt, only for it to spring back up and further expose the puffy pamper between his legs. “Oh my godd!!” Someone squealed, stomping their feet in hilarity. 

“Awww!! Look at his wittle pampurrs!!”

“Soo cuuute!!”

“Cute? More like ‘pathetic’!!”

The raucous laughter went on for what felt like several minutes. Even Marianne couldn’t help but smile to herself. Though the girls were probably embellishing, it was nice to see them so excited about seeing her husband in diapers. It was validating. 

“Turn around!”

“Give us a little spin!”

“Yea! Show us your diaper butt!”

“Don’t worry about that shirt, it’s not hiding anything. Trust us!”

“Bend over!”

“That’s it! Smack that ass!”

Jack was whimpering over the dull thud of his hand smacking the seat of his diaper. 

“Come here,” Claire said, snapping her fingers and pointing to the ground in front of her, the same carpet she herself used to crawl on when her Mom brought her over as a toddler, “let’s check your diaper.”

Marianne had never seen her husband move so fast. He was trembling all over, but his eyes had this sort of glazy effect to them, like he was in a different world, a different space. He dropped to his knees in front of the beautiful blonde college girl. 

“Make him tell us if he’s wet!” Trinity suggested. 

“Do you do that?” Brooke beckoned, “I always like to guess when I think they’re doing it. The way they try to keep their face from scrunching is so cute!”

“I just check them constantly,” said Valencia, “They get so huffy and puffy when I'm making them spread their legs so I can pinch their pamper every 5 minutes. It almost makes them force it out faster so they don’t have to keep getting all worked up inside of their clitty cage!”

“I like my methods, thank you very much!” Claire giggled. She closed her spiral notebook and set it to the side, tucking her hair behind her ear as she leaned forward to the quivering Jack. “How’s your diaper?” She asked, smacking her gum. “Are you wet?”

Before Jack could form any words that weren’t just stammering baby babble, Claire already had her hand on his diaper. “Hmm…hard to tell…” she said to the room, “What do you think girls? Can you check him?”

Marianne had given them permission to touch Jack and his diaper, as long as they didn’t go in and touch his penis. She wasn’t quite comfortable with that. 

Jack mewed as he went down the line, waddling side to side on his knees so each girl could pinch and squish and poke and prod him. “Hmm…he doesn’t feel wet…but I do feel something small and stiff!” Valencia giggled, tapping him on the hips. “Turn around! Let’s check for poop!”

Jack’s cheeks flushed red as Val used a finger to peel back the waistband of his diaper and peek inside. “Hmm, nope! No poo poo’s…yet! Maybe the little guy’s backed up!  What were the 4 P’s for easing constipation again, girls?”

“Prunes!”

“Pears!”

“Peaches! And…” Savannah flipped through her notes.

“Plums.” Marianne finished, she’d been studying hard the past few days. “I have all of them in the pantry!”

******

“Open wide!!”

“Heeerre comesss the airpwannnne!!!”

“And the Choo-choo train!!”

“Gotta put the car in the garage!! Vroom vroom!!”

Spoonfuls of mush were coming from so many directions that Jack could hardly keep up. Actually, he couldn’t keep up at all. Sweet slop ran down the sides of his stuffed mouth, down his chin, and onto the bib that someone took the liberty of bringing for him.  

“Open! Open!” Savannah encouraged, but didn’t even wait for him to swallow before shoveling another spoonful into his already full mouth. Jack tried to close his lips around it, but some ended up getting pushed out from being over capacity. Savannah deftly caught what dripped down his drooly chin, and brought it back up for a second attempt. 

Jack’s stomach was groaning from the onslaught. The pureed ‘P’s’ were slishing and sloshing, making it full almost to the point of bursting, and the jars still had plenty of food left in them. Did Marianne know she bought such big containers? Maybe she didn’t intend them to all be used at once, but she sure wasn’t doing anything to stop them. In fact, she almost encouraged it. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to eat healthier,” Marianne laughed, “guess I just need to invite pretty girls over in order to get him to eat his fruit and veggies!!”

Jack wriggled helplessly in his high chair. The same one he’d built for himself just a few weeks prior. Marianne didn’t understand why he wanted to add restraints to it until this very moment. The way he was tugging them and whining with all that mush in his mouth made it quite necessary. She couldn’t tell if he was struggling just for show, or if he genuinely was in turmoil, but he didn’t use the safeword, so Marianne assumed all was well one way or another. She had to admit, he did look pretty adorable squirming around in that chair covered in mush. His white shirt was no longer plain.

“Hold still, little one!” Claire cooed, holding his head still from behind the chair while the girls forced even more spoonfuls into his mouth. “It’ll help you feel better! Help get your poo poo’s out!”

When they’d finally exhausted all four jam-sized jars of food and the girls cheered “alll gone!!” Jack was leaning back in his chair, mouth agape, groaning over his bloated belly. Trinity used the bib to mop up his face, Brooke and Savannah removed the restraints from his wrists and ankles, and Val lifted the tabletop. 

“Uh oh, girls!” Claire exclaimed, hand between Jack’s legs. “Feels like we’ve got a wet diaper!!”

******

Jack sat on the floor in his pissy pamper while the girls went over the different types of enemas. 

“Sodium Phosphate, Glycerin, Bisacodyl, Mineral Oil and…” Savannah snapped her fingers over and over, searching for the words, “…and…and…”

“It’s easier than you think,” Val said over her notes, checking off Savannah’s answers. 

“Oh! Tap water!” Savannah exclaimed, smacking her head in her own stupidity. 

“Which one do you use to stimulate colon contractions?”

“Bisacodyl!” She replied immediately with a satisfied smile, “Easy.”

They continued to go through their notes, making sure to cover everything with detail and then some before moving on to a new topic. 

Jack pretended to play with the little blocks and stuffed animals they gave him. It was demeaning and humiliating, but he decided it was better than protesting. He didn’t want to cause a scene or put Marianne in a precarious position where she would be forced to reprimand him, or worse, become too overwhelmed and embarrass herself in front of her peers. He’d asked for all of this, he could deal with it. His diaper was still warm from the piss he added to it a half hour ago. It squished as he shifted, but so did something else. His stomach was churning, doing backflips and giving that noticeable heavy grumble. He thought about asking Marianne if he could excuse himself to the restroom, but she seemed so busy and stressed going through her studies. When he tried to leave the room earlier so they could have their time to study in peace, the girls immediately asked “Where are you going?” and plopped him right back down on the floor where they could “keep an eye on him.” He was stuck in here.

He glanced from side to side, the girls were going over the active ingredients in different suppositories, not paying much attention to him at all. Now was as good of a time as ever. As quietly as he could, he clambered around onto his hands and knees, his heavy diaper drooping between his legs. This wasn’t the first time he’d crawled since they’d been around, (they made him do several laps proclaiming he was a pamper pisser earlier) so they didn’t seem to notice when he slowly crawled over into the corner. 

He just wanted a bit of privacy. It would be weird doing it in front of them. He thought one last time about asking Marianne if he could use the bathroom, but she was so busy with the girls he didn’t want to interrupt, especially to tell them what he needed to do. Plus, he was pretty sure he knew what their answer would be. So, instead, he brought his legs up into a crouch, squatting in the corner and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

“Watcha doin’ over there?” Trinity’s voice called. 

Jack immediately flushed red. 

“Oh! I know that look!”

“Awww!! Is somewon twying to make a pushy??”

“Oh my god! He is!!”

“He’s doing the good ‘ole ‘squatty potty’!!!”

“I love how they think they can get away with it…pooping in the corner like a little tottler.”

Marianne didn’t say anything, just smiled sheepishly at her husband’s antics. She’d never seen her husband so embarrassed before. 

“Get out from over there!” Claire called, snapping her fingers and pointing back at the rug in the center of the room. “If you need to do your business, you will do it right here where we can all see you!”

Jack looked to Marianne for help, his face stricken with horror, but she simply gave a curt nod, the edges of her lips curling upwards. This is what he asked for, she told herself. 

His bottom lip started to quiver, but he tucked it underneath his teeth as he made his way back to the center of the room in front of the gaggle of girls. Jack could feel every set of eyes on him while he crouched in his diaper. It was so wet and plump that it practically reached the floor. The girls giggled and smiled, some covering their grins with their hands so as not to be “rude”. 

“Go on Jack Jack!” Val said, taking charge. 

“Yea!” The other girls said, joining in now. 

“Poop your pampers!”

“Make a pushy!”

“Go on, diaper dumper! Let’s see what you got!”

Jack clamped his eyes shut, hoping to block out all the sights and sounds, but it was futile, their incessant cackling reverberated around the room. 

There was only one thing he could do at this point, he had to get it over with. 

“Oh look! His face is turning red! I think he’s doing it!”

Jack’s face was already red long before from the embarrassment of it all, but now that he was pushing, the veins were popping from his head. He couldn’t hold back a grunt as his muscles clenched, then relaxed. The warmth caught him off guard, he was used to expelling the waste and it dropping through the air and into the water below. Now, it didn’t drop far at all, it just pressed back into him as the mush spread through the inside of his padding. Somehow, the girls noticed, either from the smell, or the much saggier bulge of his diaper. 

“Uh oh!! I think somewon has poo poo’s!!”

“Let’s check him!!”

“Not yet, he’s still going! Let’s let the wittle baby finish his business!”

Jack begrudgingly harrumphed and pushed out the remainder of his excrement. He tried to avoid their giggling gazes, but the eyes boring into him were tangible. Finally, he finished, but he didn’t know what he needed to do to convey the message. 

Thankfully, Marianne stepped in: “All done?” She asked, as if being married to him all this time gave her experience on his bowel movements. 

Jack nodded, still unable to drain the color in his cheeks. Marianne could see he had the strangest mixture of embarrassment, discomfort, and arousal. She found that more than a bit intriguing, not the act of defecating himself, but the fact that he was willing to utterly humiliate himself by doing it in front of all of these attractive people. Had he no shame? Or did he just revel in it? Either way, she found it fascinating.

“Tell us what you did.” Val said, a sadistic grin on her face. “Tell us what you did in your diaper.”

Jack looked side to side for help, but none came, not even from Marianne, who just gave him a curt nod, lips curling into a smile. 

“I…” Jack squeaked in the tiniest of voices, he was so humiliated he brought his hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks and squirming like an embarrassed toddler. “I went poo poo’s…”

“Louder!” Trinity commanded. 

His bottom lip quivered, his eyes got a little misty. “I went poo poo’s!!”

“Where?”

“In…in my diaper…”

“We can’t hear you!”

“I WENT POO POO’S IN MY DIAPER!!” he shouted. 

The girls continued making him humiliate himself. Forcing him to say it like a baby. To turn around and wiggle his droopy diaper for them. To stand up and swish his hips from side to side, causing the load to swing like a wrecking ball. 

“Should we…” Savannah started, “should we make him…?”  

All the girls seemed to know exactly what she meant, all except Marianne, so Claire leaned over and whispered in her ear. 

Marianne’s eyes widened a bit, but she didn’t shake her head. She seemed to be weighing options, keeping her eyes on Jack, considering his well-being. Finally, she shrugged and gave a nod in the affirmative. 

The girls collectively giggled and clapped. 

“Okay loser,” Val said, taking the lead, “Tell us: do you like your dirty diaper?”

Jack shrugged, eyes continuing to dart back and forth searching for help as to what to say. His mouth hung agape, but he didn’t seem to notice, drool leaking down his lips, he was so deep in little space. 

“Y-yes…” he said in a voice way too high-pitched for his age. 

“Say it.”

He hung his head, speaking to the floor. “I…i like my dirty diaper…”

The girls all exchanged glances and giggles. 

“Show us.”

Jack looked up, confused. “Wha?”

“Show us how much you like it.” Claire said. “Right there, on the floor.”

It took Jack only a second to register what she meant. It would have taken Marianne ages if it hadn’t just been explained to her. 

“N-no…” Jack begged, face welling up with crimson again, “please…”

“What?” Val cooed, “does the wittle baybee not want to make cummies in his dirty diapy?”

Jack instinctively grabbed his crotch. Even through the padding, Marianne could tell he was hard. If you would have told her her husband would be getting an erection inside of a poopy diaper while a group of girls laughed and ridiculed him, she would have laughed and ridiculed you. But no matter how red Jack’s face got, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Lay down, Jack Jack.” Savannah commanded, “on your tummy.”

Despite his hesitation, he worked his quaking legs behind him, then lowered himself down on his belly, the mushy diaper crinkling as it was pressed against the floor, he looked up with doe eyes as he awaited further instruction. 

“You know what to do.” Trinity teased over the laughter of the other girls. “Show us what a big boy you are while you hump your dirty diapers!!”

Jack hung his head in shame, but used his arms to pull himself forward, squishing the mess into himself as his diaper ground against the ground. He visibly cringed, groaning as he wriggled his hips back and forth. 

The girls cackled with delight, even Marianne smiled at Jack’s shame. 

“Hump those Huggies, loser!”

“Pump those poopy pampers!”

“Tell us what you’re doing, diaper dumper!”

Jack was sweating in a mixture of shame and exertion, “I'm humping my poopy diapers!” He repeated over and over as he ground his hips even harder. 

They clapped and cheered and teased him with every thrust. 

“He’s really getting after it!”

“So horny and desperate!”

“See? All these little losers are the same!”

The girls had discussed with Marianne beforehand that anything they said was purely for degradation purposes. They didn’t think ill of her husband, or even care for that matter, they were just playing their part. 

“Tell us when you’re going to cum, loser!”

“Ask us for permission!”

It didn’t take long. Less than 10 seconds since they’d given the command, Jack was blubbering in a pitiful puddle on the floor. “Can I cum? Can i cum please??”

“Call us ‘Goddesses’!”

“And it’s ‘goo goo’ to you!”

Jack moaned and mewed, digging his dirty diaper in the rug. “Nnghhh! Can i make a…goo goo…in my… diapy…Goddesses??”

“No.” Val said without the slightest hint of sympathy. “Lift up.”

Whining and whimpering, Jack reluctantly raised his filthy diaper off the floor. 

“Keep humping.” Savannah said. “But don’t touch the ground.”

Jack was on all fours, humping the air like a desperate bitch. Swishing his hips back and forth and making the dirty droopy diaper swing to and fro. The girls found this to be one of the funniest things they’d ever seen. They continued to make him put on this ridiculous display for almost a full minute. 

“Rub it!” They commanded, making him push his hand into his crotch and stroke it through his padding. 

“PLEASE may I cum, Goddesses?” He was desperate, shouting and whimpering with no regard for how pathetic he looked. 

If Marianne had it her way, she would have let him, but instead she decided to let the girls take the reins. 

“Absolutely not.” Trinity barked. “Get back on your belly.”

They let him simmer down for a bit before having him resume his humiliating humping. 

“Suck your thumb.”

“Babble like a baybee!”

Jack was a blubbering mess on the floor while he mushed his mess with his hips. 

“Turn over.”

He flipped on his back. 

“Raise your hips up. Hump the air.”

It seemed to be a never ending string of humiliations, one after the other. With each bout of Jack being brought to the edge, the girls made him stop and get in a different position. 

“Ple-he-hease!!” Jack begged, actual tears leaking down his face. “Can i make goo goo’s and get out of this dirty diapy?”

The girls seemed to show sympathy for the first time, if only slightly.

“On your back.” Trinity said once more. “You’re not making a goo goo. Not yet, anyway. But you can get out of that disgusting diaper.”

Jack sighed, but did as he was told. 

The girls all turned to Marianne. “Are you ready to change him?”

It was Marianne’s turn to flush. She’d never changed a dirty diaper before. Not that she didn’t know how, but because she never thought she was ready to take on such a task. 

Claire placed a comforting hand on hers, sensing Marianne’s trepidation. “It’s okay, we’ll be right here with you.”

Marianne took a long, steady breath, trying to find her courage. This was something her husband had wanted for a long time. She wanted to share that moment with him, even if she didn’t quite feel ready. But when would she ever be ready? It’s hard to get up the nerve to see your husband splayed out in his own filth, much less clean it up yourself. If there was a time to do it, it would be right now when she had her friends—if you could call them that—by her side, helping her through it. She let out a long, hefty sigh, putting on her Mommy voice. 

“Okay sweetheart!” She chimed, managing to keep her cadence from shaking, “it’s time to change your diaper!!”

To Be Continued

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[bitchesuntitled]

This is Halloween

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader Summary: Frankie can't stand zombies but Nora wants to watch a scary movie. Warnings/Tags: Parents to Lovers universe but can be read as a standalone, Nora's a little shit, cussing, zombies, Frankie may be a little paranoid, Frankie hates zombies, scary movies, Goober gets her own Halloween costume, Humor, teensy bit of fluff, I think that's it. If I'm missing anything let me know! A/N: Everyone thank @whocaresstillthelouvre for letting me steal her idea. She unleashed one sentence and my brain went "OMG. NORA AND FRANKIE!" Thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes and for making me a moodboard! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Masterlist||Parents to Lovers||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

Goober perks her head up from your lap, hearing the garage door open.

“Are they home?” You ask her, scratching behind her ears. She gives a soft bark before using your thigh as a backboard to bounce off the couch to the back door, meeting the girls as they enter.

“Mom!” Nora says excitedly, digging into her bag, “Look what we found!” She pulls out a costume, proudly showing it off.

“A zombie?” You ask, “Since when do you want to be a zombie?”

“Since she saw it at the store,” Missy laughs, “She had to convince my dad to buy it.”

Nora having to convince Frankie of something isn’t anything new, but a halloween costume? That’s weird.

“What’d you get, Miss?” You ask, waiting for her to dig into her bag to present you with her costume.

“Beetlejuice!” You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s amazing!”

“Dad’s gonna be Bob!” Missy giggles, admiring her new costume.

“Oh Goober!” Frankie sings, laughing wickedly as he enters the living room, “We got you something!”

Goober wags her tail, listening to Frankie talk, flopping onto her side, showing him her belly.

“Missy wants to be Beetlejuice and then said I should be Bob,” Frankie says, kneeling to scratch Goober’s belly, continuing to talk to her like no one else is in the room, “And then guess what we found, Goob!”

Frankie looks to Missy who pulls out a Lydia dog costume.

“Poor Goober!” You groan, “You’re seriously going to put her in that?”

“Duh,” Frankie snarks, “That’s the whole point of buying it! Speaking of which, you need to think of a costume too!”

“I’ll go as a pregnant lady,” you huff, sticking your tongue out at him, rubbing your hand along the prominent bump of your belly.

“No!” Nora wails, falling to her knees, gripping her costume in both hands, shaking it, “You can’t just go as yourself!”

“Yeah!” Missy agrees, eyes widening with an enthusiastic nod, “You gotta dress up for Halloween!”

“I know!” Nora shouts, scooting towards you on her knees to the couch, “Frankie we should go back to the store and get Mom some of those fake zombie bite things and she could go as a zombie like me!”

“A pregnant zombie!” You laugh as Frankie stiffens beside Goober, “I think I’ve seen some of those costumes online.”

“Please Mom,” Nora begs, clasping her hands together and poking her lower lip out.

“Fine,” you smile, poking her nose, “Just for you, kid.”

—

“What do we wanna watch?” Missy asks, trading Nora the remote for the popcorn.

“What about this?” Nora asks, stopping her scrolling on the tv to some zombie movie.

“What’s up with you and zombies now?” Frankie huffs, laying his arm around behind you on the couch.

“What’s up with you and zombies?” You ask, smirking at his hesitance.

“Nothing.” Frankie quickly protests, shrugging, “I just think they’re dumb.”

“Dumb?!” Nora shrieks, whipping around to glare at him, “You’re dumb!”

“Nora!” You scold, “That’s not nice.”

“Yeah,” Missy scowls at Nora, “My dad’s not dumb.”

Things between Nora and Frankie have been less tense and they’re more civil now but they still have their moments. Nora’s sass and Frankie’s stubbornness like to buttheads every once in a while.

“Sorry,” Nora mutters, gently handing the remote to Frankie, “Here. You pick.”

“Thanks.” Frankie mumbles, taking the remote and scrolling through the selection of movies, “Any suggestions?”

“Maybe we should watch something scary.” Missy comments shyly, “It is close to Halloween.”

Frankie lets out a breath, “Okay.” He scrolls back to the zombie movie that Nora had found. “Do you guys really want to watch this?” He asks, clicking on the title to read the description.

“It’d help me and Nora know how to be zombies,” you nudge him with a small laugh. Nora nods her head looking at Frankie with those big round eyes of hers.

“You’re not gonna get scared?” Frankie asks, tapping against Missy’s shoulder with the remote.

“Nah,” Missy shrugs, “Zombies aren’t real.”

“Alright,” Frankie sighs, pressing play on the movie.

As the movie plays out on the screen, you can’t help but feel Frankie tense up every time a zombie is shown. His leg bounced as the growls and groans of the zombies intensified.

“You okay, babe?” You whisper in his ear, rubbing your hand on his thigh.

“Yeah,” he grunts with a nod of his head, leg stilling instantly, squirming as he watches a zombie bite someone, “Peachy.”

When one of the main characters of the film gets bit, Nora lets out a little cheer.

“That guy was mean!” She explains, when Missy gives her a funny look, “He deserved it,” she adds with a shrug of her shoulders.

—

Frankie jumps awake, breathing heavily. He glances over at you lying peacefully asleep, taking a deep breath. It was just a dream, he thinks, rubbing his palms against his eyes trying to rid himself of the images of you and the girls being torn apart by zombies.

He’s been on several tours fighting alongside his friends in wars he didn’t want any part in, seeing first hand what the government is capable of. His friends think he’s crazy for thinking the possibility of a zombie apocalypse happening is real.

He fucking hates zombies. Unpredictable, terrifying bastards. It’s the worst kind of horror Frankie could imagine. The helplessness on what to do, keeping the girls safe, keeping you safe, the list goes on.

The red numbers on the clock read 12:30am when Frankie glances over. The beating of his heart was not settling anytime soon. Half asleep despite what his heart decides to do he decides to get up and go get some water, making his way to the kitchen, he hears noises. Ticks of the clock on the wall, the breeze outside, Goober snoring from her dog bed, and a weird scratching.

Frankie grabs a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water before leaning against the sink as he takes a drink of the cool liquid. His heart rate starts to settle as he focuses on his breathing and drinking more water.

“Fraaaankie,” he hears a soft growl coming from the dark corner.

“What the fuck?” Frankie murmurs, squinting his eyes to see what’s there, the moon casting shadows in through the window of the kitchen, a lone figure is standing in the corner. His heart rate speeds up again, what the fuck is that. A snarl comes from the creature as it reaches its hand out.

Frankie lets out a high pitched scream, dropping the plastic cup in his hand to grab the towel laying next to the sink, throwing it at the creature. Goober starts barking and howling, hackles raised, with all the commotion in the kitchen. With the towel lying beside the creature on the floor, it starts to let out an ear piercing giggle.

“What the fuck?!” You boom, waddling into the kitchen, flipping on the light, “What the hell is going on?!”

Frankie stands next to the sink trying to catch his breath, while Nora continues to laugh, dressed fully in her zombie costume. Goober looks relieved as she registers it’s Nora, tail between her legs as she walks closer to her sniffing the fabric of the costume.

“Mom,” Nora laughs, “Did you hear his scream?!”

“Nora,” you yawn, trying to catch up on what possibly could have happened, “What did you do?”

“I thought it’d be funny.” She shrugs, taking a breath to try and calm herself, “Didn’t know he’d be such a baby about it.”

“I am not being a baby,” Frankie says, glaring at her. “I was half asleep and you scared the shit out of me, Nora.”

“What’s going on?” Missy mumbles, coming behind you, “I heard someone screaming.”

“I scared Frankie with my costume,” Nora giggles, twirling around so the ripped fabric of her costume flew in the air around her.

Missy starts to laugh, “That was you?!” She asks, looking toward Frankie. His ears and cheeks turning a bright red.

“Alright, everyone to bed,” you announce, ushering the girls out of the kitchen. Goober quickly followed behind.

“I cannot believe that happened,” Frankie admitted with a shake of his head, bending to grab the cup off the floor and swiping the towel over to soak up the water he spilled.

“It’s okay, baby.” You smiled, gently rubbing your hand between his shoulder blades, “Everyone’s scared of something. Yours just happens to be zombies.”

Frankie stood rolling his eyes, “Yeah, fake things that aren’t real.”

“Mmm,” you hum, making a face, grabbing arms to loop around your waist, “I don’t trust it.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, giving you a cautious look.

“You don’t think something like that could happen?!” You ask, flailing your arms.

“You think it could?” Frankie asks under his breath, squeezing your waist.

“Duh,” you laugh, “Anything could happen!”

Frankie smiled, leaning in to pepper kisses along your face as you let out soft giggles, he knew you were the one for him.

Tagging some people who I know like the series if you don't wanna be tagged just let me know!

@jay-zzle @soft-persephone @casa-boiardi @pastelpinkflowerlife @amyispxnk @desuidesu @yxtkiwiyxt @pinkypromisepascal @merz-8

[smittywing]

FicBit 10: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

OH MY GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER. However, there is only one more part and it's already mostly done. Whew.

Red Robin was in Red Hood’s territory, and he was brandishing a greasy paper bag of Big Belly Burger.

“What are you doing on my turf?” Jason demanded, trying to ignore that he could *smell* the onions from two feet away.

“It’s been pointed out to me,” Tim said wryly, “that I may have been a shit to you.”

Jason shrugged because he fucking hated that Tim’s questions had gotten to him and he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“I hear burgers are the going rate for an apology,” Tim added, shaking the bag a little.

“And fries?” Jason asked, relenting. 

“And fries,” Tim confirmed. 

Jason swept the bag out of his hand and dug out the top burger. Loaded with onions. Perfection.  “So let’s hear it,” he mumbled around the first bite.

Tim lifted the lenses on his domino and rolled his eyes. Jason coughed out a laugh around his double beef patties.

“I’m sorry I got all up in your business,” Tim said. “I wanted - I wanted too many things and I tried to make them all work.”

Jason lifted his own lenses to share his side eye. “What the fuck does that mean?” he asked.

Tim scratched the back of his head. “You had me pretty fucked up, with that kiss,” he admitted.”I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I guess I wanted to be part of what you were going through, like…Bernard was for me.”

“No names in the field,” Jason scolded, shoving some fries into his mouth. “And Cannon Fodder is your actual boyfriend. Were you going to be my actual boyfriend?”

“No,” Tim said immediately and blushed. “I just.”

“Help!”

Jason snapped his attention away from Tim. “Hello?” he called. “Do you need help?”

A child, a little boy, maybe seven or eight, ran out of the alley, his hands fisted in his sweatshirt. “It’s my mom,” he said. “She needs help.”

Jason flipped the lenses on his domino back down and tossed the bag to Tim. “Show me where she is,” he directed.

“This way,”the kid said and ran back down the alley. Jason followed, his long strides eating up the distance between himself and the kid, and then he saw a woman huddled over some cardboard boxes. She was protecting her stomach and Jason’s heart pounded as he assumed the worst. 

“Let me see,” he said, kneeling next to her. “Help is here.”

He heard, rather than saw the taser as she fired, and he barely had time to say, “Fuck,” before everything went black.

*

Jason gained consciousness slowly and regretfully.  For starters, he was upside down and his nose was running.  (It seemed like a problem that would solve itself, but no.)  Moving on, he was lashed to Tim, who was also unconscious.  His head was tucked under Jason’s chin, his mouth breathing short puffs of air against Jason’s neck.  At least he was breathing.  Their hands were tied, Jason’s behind his back and Tim’s in front of him, which basically put them right in Jason’s groin.  For fuck’s sake.  As if Jason didn’t have enough problems with wanting Tim, some absolute psycho went and  put Tim’s hands in Jason’s lap and was probably laughing while Jason tried to be cool about it.  Finally, Jason craned his head down to see what they were dangling over.  Acid?  Alligators?  Something that started with the letter B?

Nope.  Concrete.  Great.  He groaned and Tim stirred against him.

“Wake up, Baby Bird,” he said because the jig was up and he might as well have company in immortal humiliation.  “They got us.”

“Temporary situation,” Tim said crisply, even though his voice was muffled by Jason’s skin and his own shirt.  

“Let’s not fall on our heads,” Jason suggested when he realized Tim was picking the ties on his own hands.  Actually, falling on his head sounded pretty good right now, with Tim’s hands shifting and twitching *so fucking close* and his cock aching for those hands to hold it.  Only Jason could get a stiffy while dangling over certain death.

“Just stay really still for a sec,” Tim said, and then he twisted around and wrapped his arms around Jason’s back. Jason tried not to die inside. Tim tucked his head into the small of Jason’s back - it was really weird to get turned on by this, right? - and rotated his body so he was facing upright, his knees hooked around Jason’s shoulders. “You need my pick before I jump?” he asked.

“I have a knife,” Jason replied, choked.

Tim pushed off and somersaulted to the floor. His landing was light, not as soundless as Dick’s, but far less noisy than Jason’s was about to be. Tim had freed Jason’s feet, which had been  tied with his own, so Jason wrapped one leg in the hanging chain before he sliced apart the ropes holding his hand. He grasped the chain and swung himself down, landing beside Tim with a quiet thunk.

“I don’t know what kind of candyass bullshit that was,” he said, rubbing at his chest which still tingled from the taser. “But we need to kick some asses.”

“I got tased by a third grader.” Tim sounded salty. “I’m guessing it’s not my drug ring.”

“We weren’t even in costume when we pissed them off,” Jason pointed out. “It’s gotta be somebody else.”

“Smart enough to use decoys, dumb enough to leave us alone,” Tim added.

Jason tried to remember the woman’s face as he bent over her. “Mind control?” he asked. “Hatter’s still in Arkham, isn’t he?”

Tim tapped his earbud. “Oracle,” he asked. “Is Mad Hatter still in Arkham?” He looked at Jason and shook his head. A metal door screamed open a thousand feet away and about a dozen people marched through the opening. “Oh. That fits. Yeah, Red Hood and I will take care of it.”

“Who is it?” Jason demanded, unholstering his guns. 

“Professor Pyg,” Tim said. “He escaped sometime this afternoon. He probably hasn’t had time to turn anyone into a Dollotron yet but he has some method of mind control.”

“Dammit.” Mind control meant no bullets. Not even rubber ones. “All right, let’s find this guy and put him back where he belongs. You still owe me a burger.”

“I gave you a burger,” Tim protested. “It’s not my fault you got duped into abandoning it.”

“I handed it back to you,” Jason pointed out. “It’s not my fault you got tased by an eight-year-old.”

“Ugh,” Tim said. “There are offices up there, on the catwalk. Pyg’s probably up there. Let’s skip the henchmen and go straight to the source.”

Jason didn’t often use a grapple but Tim was already on his way and there was no way Jason was letting him face Pyg without backup. He grappled up to the catwalk, ducking under the metal guardrail, and took off after Tim. They started clearing offices and had covered the east side of the warehouse when Jason heard a footstep behind him and spun around.

Pyg, brandishing a cleaver, and a syringe, had emerged from the next office down and was trying to rush Jason. Fortunately he was neither fast nor accurate and Jason managed to side-step him and take him down with a judo throw. He kicked the cleaver down the catwalk but Pyg lunged at his with the syringe. It wouldn’t have pierced his armor, but it didn’t matter. Tim was there and he cracked his bo staff across the back of Pyg’s head. Pyg went down and Jason picked up the syringe. “We’re gonna want to analyze this,” he commented.

“Later,” Tim snapped. “We’re getting him back to Arkham before he can do anymore damage.”

Sirens were already wailing. Jason zip-tied Pyg’s wrists and checked the back of his head. “You got him good, baby bird,” he said, finding a sizable goose egg. “Cops are on their way. They can give him a lift back to Arkham.”

“We need to figure out what this is and how to counteract it,” Tim said, nodding at the syringe still in Jason’s hand. “We’ll have to take it back to the Bat-Cave.”

“I’m not going there,” Jason said automatically. “Which office was he using? Are there notes?”

The notes were in the third office they checked. Tim took the notes and the syringe and slipped out of the warehouse to tell some cop he was friendly with how to synthesize an antidote.

Jason grappled to the roof of the next building and watched Tim from a distance as he spoke stridently with a detective. Then, he slipped into the shadows and went home.

[ladylooch]

Oh please can we see that convo of when the last name is decided. Like now as a blurb or in the series xxx

Like does David wish his wife shared his name? Does he feel more strongly about his kids having his name? Maybe he talks to Luc and Connor first. I can see him building up the conversation in his head heaps for Mack to be like 'psssh, they get your name, of course' or is it more of an in-depth question?

Omg Connor and David, besties and dads together 😍

Mack strokes the tip of her pointer finger down the big line in the center of her belly. It’s June in Iowa and she is hot. Out here, the sun beats down on the land and structures that dare to dot the flat, green space. Right now, she is perched on the couch in a pair of small shorts that may as well be underwear, and a sports bra. Her expanding boobs spill off her belly and slightly to the side. Everything about her is big and she still has a month to go. They keep telling her the baby’s measurements and hers are normal, but it doesn’t feel like it with how uncomfortable it is to exist in the summer heat.

The front door opens and Farmer David steps through. He is drenched in sweat, looking wet even from here. His green shirt sticks to the center of his chest and is soaked under his pits. He tosses off his baseball hat, letting it hit the bench followed by his tan work gloves.

“It’s hot out there, mama.” He complains. “Not much shade where I’m working.” Is there shade anywhere in Iowa? Mack doesn’t think so.

“Yeah, you look red. Put some more sunscreen on.”

“Okay.” He assures her, coming to drop a kiss on her lips. They both know he isn’t going to. His hand cups her bare belly, calloused palm scraping at her stretched skin while wetness from his hand makes him sticks to her skin. “Hi baby.” He says, kissing their child. “You being good today?”

“He’s pretty chill today.” Mack acknowledges. “But I haven’t been doing much either.”

“Good. Sit there and look pretty. That’s all you need to do, baby.” David goes to the counter, flipping through the mail he brought in with him during and earlier break this morning. “How does ‘Baby Hischier-Carlson’ already have mail from your parents?” He chuckles showing her the blue mail envelope stamped with several international stamps. “He isn’t here yet.”

“Oh yeah, my mom and dad wanted to send letters to him. Like they did when Lucie was pregnant with the girls. You know, get started on being the best grandparents.” Mack jokes, giving David a slightly sad smile.

“They don’t know there is no competition?” He says lightly.

“Uh, I think the competition is higher. His other grandparents are literal angels.” Mack insists. David chuckles, scratching at his beard. 

“That’s true.” He looks down at the envelope. “Damn that is a hell of a last name.” There is a slight tone that he covers up with a weak cough. Mack pauses her finger where it was still stroking her belly. She glances over her shoulder at him, watching him move across the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“What was that?” She asks him.

“What?”

“There was a tone there when you said last name.” 

“I just mean, like… Never mind.” He trails off. This makes Mack even more curious. David never runs from conflict with her. 

“No, please don’t ‘never mind’ me about our child. What?”

“He is going to have a cool last name. That’s all.” Mack doesn’t believe that is what her husband meant at all.

“What’s his last name going to be?” He stares at her as he gulps down several long sips of water. His tongue slides against his bottom teeth as he lowers the glass.

“You tell me, mama.” His gaze intensifies as Mack slides her eyes away in confusion. 

“Carlson?” 

“Thats it?”

“… Yes…?” She trails off. “Why wouldn’t he have your last name?”

“Because you don’t.”

“Oh.” She pauses, then pushes herself up off the couch. She wiggles her shorts back down her thighs then walks over to him in the kitchen. “Does that bother you now that I’m pregnant?”

“No. And I know better than to tell you even if it did.” He laughs, running a hand behind her back to cup her hip. She settles into his body, looking up at him. 

“You can tell me if it does now. We can talk about it.”

“I don’t care about you having my last name. You’re mine in every sense of the way.” Mack can feel the but hanging at the end of his sentence, even if he doesn’t say it.

“But you want the kids to have it?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugs his big shoulders. 

“Okay. Well they will.” Mack says simply. “I don’t need them to be Hischiers.” David stares down at her, blinking as silence falls over them. 

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” She laughs.

“Do you know how long I’ve been trying to talk to you about this? Like months. I was practicing on Connor before we left New York.”

“Babe!” Mack laughs, slapping his butt as she steps away. “Why?”

“I don’t know! I was worried you were going to get upset and think I was anti-feminism or some shit because I wanted something traditional.” Mack chuckles, grabbing a banana off the counter and starting to peel it.

“So girl dad Connor helped?”

“Yeah… I guess. I don’t know, there was a time where Lucie wavered on changing her name so we kinda talked through the importance of why I wanted this versus don’t need you to be a Carlson.”

“Care to enlighten me?” She asks, taking a bite of her fruit. David tilts his head to the side as he looks at her. His palms press into the counter on either side of his hips, work boots crossed at the ankles. 

“I love you.” He says.

“I know.” She laughs around her bite. “You’re not getting out of this.”

“I… love you. And I respect you. And your need to be independent and free, even with the roots we have put down together.” He speaks slow, measured, like he is having trouble keeping the emotion out of his voice. “ But our baby is ours and when I thought of him being a Hischier, it felt like he would be more a part of you than me. I’ve kinda been left behind in my life a lot. I don’t want to be left behind in this family.” He motions between the two of them. Mack swallows her bite.

“This family doesn’t exist without you, babe.” She whispers back to him. He pops one corner of his lips up in a smile at her. “I love you so much. I’m never going to leave you behind, okay? This is our life.” Tears are blurring her vision and soaking her voice as she speaks. 

“Thank you, honey.” He walks across the kitchen to her, letting her curl into his chest as she begins to sob. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He kisses the top of her head. 

“I can’t help it.” She chokes out. “You’re just so damn sweet. And our baby is so lucky. I’m so lucky.” She hiccups at the end. 

David hides his smile in her hair, beginning to sway them back and forth on the tiled floor he replaced earlier this summer. 

Mack can say whatever she wants but he knows he is the luckiest one here.

[be-a-man-forcemasc]

Marla Matryoshka

Marla Singer attempts to fill the void that Tyler Durden left in her heart. As they spend time apart, she realizes that she doesn't just want to love him, she wants to become him.

Read on Ao3

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Ch. 3: (S)he who fights with monsters.

Late night in the basement of the bar, a crowd gathered in a circle. There were a series of dim lamps in a circle in the center of the crowd. There were so many guys there that Marla Singer could not see or hear what the large man in the center of the circle was saying. She could only hear the chanting of the guys with the shaved heads on the edges of the crowd, closing their eyes and muttering…

…the second rule is don't talk about fight club…

I chanted along with them. I wore my black hoodie with the hood pulled over my freshly shaven head.

…no shirt, no shoes, no weapons…

I chewed on the strings and rocked on my heels.

…the eighth and final rule is that if it's your first time at fight club, you have to fight.

So it begins.

I watched a Filipino and a Mexican guy duke it out. People in the front yelled loudly in Spanish. I couldn't tell who was winning.

As they were cracking open each other's skulls, I noticed that the guy next to me had a tattoo on his forearm that said, “Scratch a liberal and a fascist bleeds.” His forearm was as thick as my neck.

Marla used to faint at the sight of blood.

My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. “You're new. You have to fight.” The young man grinned to reveal missing teeth.

“I've been here before! It's just been a while.” I said.

“You don't look familiar.” He said. “What's your name?”

“I'm Tyler.”

I think those are the words that came out of my mouth that night. I watched myself from afar, like a black and white movie recorded to a VHS tape recorded to another VHS tape.

He chuckled. The crowd giggled too.

“Oh yeah?”

“We've fought before.” I said.

Mom shook her head. Mom says I should have married a doctor.

The large, blonde man who was the host noticed the unruly crowd that had formed around her and decided to take back control.

“LISTEN UP! This is Tyler! Show some respect!” His voice filled the whole room.

The whole crowd went silent. People whispered on the edges of the crowd.

Marla wanted to go out into the ring.

No I don't.

Marla took a step into the ring.

I took a step back where it's safe.

Marla decided to size up someone in the crowd. She felt a nudge from behind but when she looked over her shoulder, no one was touching her.

I rummaged around in my pockets for a cigarette. I couldn't find them.

Mom said I need to quit smoking. Mom said I'm ruining my body.

“I want to fight you, actually.” Someone said. It was me actually.

I pointed at someone. It was the host. He had blonde hair, a big gut and a receding hairline. He was dressed in the Seattle uniform, white shirt with red flannel, blue jeans and hiking boots. He began to slip off his shoes. I think his name was Bob?

I was suddenly taking off my shoes. I felt my heart beating a thousand miles an hour. I realized that I would have to take off my sweatshirt. If they saw what was underneath, they would kick me out for sure. I wouldn't find Tyler. I took off one shoe very slowly.

Bob took off his white shirt and revealed something that looked like a sports bra, but it was made of spandex, like a bathing suit. He grabbed it at the armpits and bent over as he grunted and struggled to pull it over his head. Wolf whistles and chuckles came from the crowd.

When he finally got it off, Marla couldn't look away at what she saw. Marla had decent tits. But Bob? Bob had…

Bazongas.

Tig ole bitties.

Mommy milkers.

They sagged from his chest all the way past his belly button and almost to his belt. You could tell he grew them naturally. Good lord.

I took off my sweatshirt and shirt in the same motion.

Mom said something, but I couldn't hear anything with the blood pumping in my ears. In that moment, it didn't matter what she wanted. I knew what I wanted.

I felt no fear and no pain as Bob's fist. connected with my face. I felt my fists slam into his belly. I didn't even make a dent in him. He grappled me and slammed me on the ground. I tasted blood. My face was wedged between his tits. I don't remember what happened next except for the smell of blood and sweat and dirt on the floor and the sound of the crowd and my head roaring like the crashing waves of an ocean.

[sunnyie-eve]

4 | Heart Wants

Series: No Prince Charming

Paring: Harry Hook x Original female character Princess!

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

The day of the coronation, Evie knocks on Bella's door, "I have a surprised gift for you." She smiles walking in, "Eww, is that what you're wearing?" She eyes Bella's dress.

"I know, It's just a boring pale yellow dress. My mom picked it out." Bella looks at herself in the mirror. "I love your dress." She smiles at her through the mirror.

"Thanks, I made it and Mal's too. Also I think you should try this on." She removes the cover showing Bella the dress she made for her.

"Evie!" Bella spins around to look at it. "This is beautiful!"

"Then put it on!" Evie gives her the dress to go out on so Bella rushes around to go put it on.

"AHHHH! I love it! It fits perfectly!" She rushes out to show Evie.

"You look amazing in that!"

"I'm so wearing this, girl. Thank you." Bella hugs Evie.

Inside for the coronation, Bella stood by Mal to watch. Bella could see Mal look at the wand with a conflicted look, so Mal looks over at her so Bella gives her pleading eyes to do the right thing.

"Mal, what do you want? Not what your mother wants." Bella whispers to her while Fairy Godmother speaks to Ben.

Suddenly Jane grabs the wand and it shoots out since she had no control over it, "If you won't make me beautiful, I'll do it myself!"

Mal takes it from her then tells Ben to back up, "You really want to do this?" Ben asks her.

"We have no choice, Ben! Our parents..."

"Your parents made their choice. Now you make yours. Remember what I said to you. All of you." Bella walks towards her.

"I think I want to be good."

"You are good." Ben tells her.

"How do you know that?" She shouts at him.

"Because... Because I'm listening to my heart. And Bella has been listening to her heart too and you know that." Ben tells her.

"You know I believe in you four. I've made that very clear multiple times." Bella gives her a smile.

"I want to listen to my heart, too. And my heart is telling me that we are not our parents like Bella has stated. And she was right yesterday day about what she said to us. Stealing things don't make you happy. Tourney and victory pizza with the team makes you happy. And you, scratching Dude's belly makes you happy. Who would've thought. And Evie, you do not have to play dumb to get a guy. You are so smart. And I don't want to take over the world with evil. It doesn't make me happy. I want to go to school. And be with Ben. Because Ben makes me really happy." Mal smiles, "Us being friends makes me really happy. Not destroying things. I choose good, you guys." Mal puts her fist in and they join her.

Carlos talks about how mad their parents will be so Ben says they can't reach them here, "Come on you two." Mal looks at Ben and Bella to join in.

"I knew you better." Bella smiles at Mal before her mother shows up.

"I'm back!"

"Go away, mother." Mal tells her.

"She's funny. Oh, I'm so... You're very funny here. Wand me. Chop chop." Mal tossed the wand to Ben to give to the Fairy Godmother but Maleficent, freezes everyone.

"Wow, it even works for that?" Bella looks at her necklace while the five are shocked she wasn't frozen too. "Oh, my necklace, it's anti spell, charms, curses, and stuff so they don't work on me." She explains to them. "I'll just be over here." Bella steps aside knowing this was between Mal and her mom.

Watching Mal tell her mother how she actually felt made Bella tear up as she watched them. She wish she could do the same with her parents in a different way.

"You all will regret this!" Maleficent turns into a dragon.

"Oh my..." Bella runs off with the group till Mal steps in front to face her mother and it works making her mother shrink to the size of her heart.

"How did you not?" Ben asks his sister.

"My necklace is a protection charm. I made it myself years ago when I was bored." Bella laughs.

"You're smart if you know how to do that." Carlos looks at her.

"Duh." She makes the group laugh.

"Hey! Careful. That's my mother." Mal tells the guy who trapped hier mom in glass.

"Let's get this party started!" Jay smiles as they all group up.

"Ohay ohay, hey!" They all sing.

After the coronation, and once it hit night, that's when the celebration really started. "Bro, after you." Bella motions for him to take center stage.

"Kings and Queens, it's our time to rise. Write the book, the story of our lives. This is us taking back the night." Ben puts his hand out towards Mal.

"Break the spell. We were born this way. Be yourself, forget the DNA. Everybody raise your hands and say." She takes his hand.

"Sound the alarm, get on your feet. Let's set it off and rock this beat. Dance till your heart is wild and free. Ooh, oh, oh." Evie comes out.

"Feeling the power, let it all out. Like what you see in the mirror, shout. We got the keys, the kingdom's ours. Ooh, oh, oh. Ohay, ohay hey." Bella joins her.

Let's set it off Oh yeah Start a chain reaction Never let it stop Let's set it off, oh yeah You can make it happen With everything you got Let's set it off Get ready, set it off (Come on) We got to set it off (On the right) Get ready, set it off (To the left) We got to set it off! Ohay ohay hey

"Time to set this thing off. Let's make it happen now. I'mma make my own future, ignore the rumors. Show 'em how passion sounds." Carlos and Jay go to Jane's side to get her join the fun. "They all told me I should back down. Judgin' me cause of my background. Thinkin' 'bout changing my path now. I ain't goin' out like that now."

"Feeling the power, let it all out. Like what you see in the mirror, shout. We got the keys, the kingdom's ours. Ooh *oh oh. Oh yeah." Bella goes over to Jay to be her dance partner.

Let's set it off Oh yeah (Let's set this off!) Start a chain reaction Never let it stop Let's set it off (Let's set this off!) Oh yeah (Let's set this off!) You can make it happen With everything you got Let's set it off Get ready, set it off (Come on) We got to set it off (That's right) Get ready, set it off (To the left) We got to set it off Get ready, set it off We got to set it off Get ready to set it off Come on 3, 2, 1, Uh

Ooh yeah Let's set it off Oh yeah (Let's set this off!) Start a chain reaction Never let it stop Let's set it off (Let's set this off!) Oh yeah (Let's set this off!) You can make it happen With everything you got Let's set it off Get ready, set it off

Come on We got to set it off (To the left) Get ready, set it off (To the right) We got to set it off (What)

"Hey, Evie! I'm gonna need to to start making me clothes!" Bella shouts over the noise as they dance around. "I'll even pay you!"

"I'll be it for free, girl! But also I'll take a tip!" They both laugh.

[swiftfootedachilles]

I love the Ghost Hunters AU and I really want more of Salem. Especially Salem with the Milkovich siblings.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you. ive always wanted a black cat named either princess or salem and i thought it would make sense since its a ghost hunter au (even tho i skipped over all the ghost stuff so my post wasnt a million words long) with terry not around i feel like the milkoviches would love playing with animals. Salem is a very adventurous, people-loving cat! you know, the kind of cat people say were a dog in their past life. of course she loves the gallaghers too! even carl makes a point to be nice to her (after, when she was a kitten, ian beat him up for making a joke) but the milkoviches dont really get to show affection ever, so they love getting to play with her and scratch her lil belly and give her treats they stole from the pet store. they all adore her but ofc after ian and mickey get together and he comes over to the gallaghers a shitton, mickey becomes her 2nd dad. he goes to the top of her favorite people list. nobody else plays with her the way he does! hes not afraid to get a little rough, but he knows whats signs to look out for when a cat is not playing/irritated. shes still young and she loves playing!! imagine toddlers who like getting thrown around because its fun, shes like that. she gets kicked out and put in a different room when they fuck, and she uses this time to get in as much trouble as possible, knock shit over, and annoy anyone else in the house. ALSO she LOVES liam!! they literally grow up together and fiona teaches him how to treat animals so by the time hes like 5, she moves from sleeping with ian to sleeping with liam

i imagined ian and mandy meeting at the same time, so when salem is 2 that would be s3 ish. when he first found her, ian had just started his job and scrounged up every penny he could find to take her to a low cost clinic to get spayed and vaxxed. other than being skinny and dehydrated (and ofc separated from her mom as a kitten) she was in surprisingly good shape! now shes so used to being spoiled by everyone! ian LOVES taking care of others and being of service so he really found a home in Salem, treating her like his kid and giving her the best life possible. i definitely think once he gets diagnosed with BD, he pays (with mostly mickeys money lbr) for her to be his emotional support animal and takes her to as many pet friendly places at possible!

like i said she becomes kinda the mascot of the ghost hunting youtube channel they eventually start. its not something they see as a career or anything, they do it as a hobby, but they gain decent attraction and make extra money on the side from ads and a few brand deals. ofc Salem is the reason everyone watches the channel 🙄 she's in pretty much every video, and they chose her as their icon bc 1. black cat spooky duh 2. she brought them together 🥺 3. she really does show up A LOT in videos, especially when they're not urban exploring/hunting and at home recording the historical backgrounds and debriefings for each location. also yes they do urban exploring as well, thats mainly mickey and mickey and whatever milkovich wants to tag along and graffiti an abandoned building. imagine a combination of The Watcher and Dan Bell (omfg now im imagining them doing Another Dirty Room???? ��� they would be so offended at paying money for rooms worse than their own back in the southside) but with less production value

ok omg i wrote so much im gonna stop now before i go off the rails again. how did i fall in love with this random ass au from a trope generator. reminder that i accidentally deleted the og post so it wont turn up in searches unless youre on my blog or the blog of anyone else who rbed it :)

[casspurrjoybell-24]

My Mate - Chapter 15 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

I think I'm freaking out a little... or a lot.

Tomorrow's my birthday... I'll be eighteen... I'll be able to detect my Mate.

'Why am I freaking out? I've been waiting for this forever.'

Frowning at my naked form in the mirror, I turned from side to side before looking down at my groin.

I'm not very big in that department.

'What if I can't satisfy my mate? What if I'm not attractive to him?'

I mean, everyone has always picked on me because I'm a small blond Omega.

They make it seem like those features are unattractive.

What if my mate thinks the same?

I don't have much body hair, my leg and armpit hair is more of a strawberry blond and can't really be seen unless you're looking closely.

Should I shave my legs like my Mom? Maybe I should shave my pubic hair, it's strawberry blond like the hair on my head.

Shrieking, I shifted into my small wolf and took off out of my room.

While I was running down the stairs to the first floor, I tumbled and ended up falling the rest of the way down.

Landing with a thud, I grunted and laid their unmoving for a moment before pushing myself up.

Mom and Dad were in the living room and I went to Mom whimpering.

She looked up from her Kindle and I jumped up on the couch beside her.

I was unconsciously yipping like a young pup for its Mom as I pressed my head against her side.

Dad was watching curiously but I hid my face.

Mom sighed and started running her fingers through my copper fur which had an immediate effect and calmed me down some.

Like in my Human form, I'm not very big... I'm a runt.

My wolf is about as small as a medium sized dog and my fur is still kind of fluffy like a pups.

I looked like a house pet but at least I could curl up on the couch beside Mom as she scratched behind my ears.

She was reading again and I slowly wiggled until I was laying half on her lap so she could scratch my belly... I liked that the most.

My leg involuntarily kicked as she scratched some spots but I didn't mind, it felt good.

I woke a few hours later alone and to the smell of food that made my tummy grumbled.

Slipping off the couch, I went upstairs to my room knowing Mom would yell if I went into her kitchen with my fur.

Shifting and quickly dressing in pajamas, I went back downstairs and found my parents in the kitchen.

They were talking lowly but stopped and looked at me when I entered.

Looking away embarrassed by how I'd acted, I climbed up onto a barstool.

"Hungry?" Mom asked knowingly and I nodded.

"Good, I'm making your favorite since I can't tomorrow."

I frowned at that and looked up.

My birthdays usually weren't happy days for me... especially after all those years mom made me hand out invitations to my whole class.

I'd spend the day on the couch waiting for at least one classmate to show up... no one ever did.

I finally got the nerve when I was eleven to tell mom I didn't want to celebrate my birthday anymore.

So we compromised and mom decided she'd make me a birthday dinner with only immediate family.

"Don't look at me like that. I have to be at the pack house tomorrow, the Alpha is having guest from another pack for dinner."

"What? Why?" I asked, curious.

The Alpha doesn't just allow anyone on his territory, it'd have to be someone important.

"Who?"

Mom shrugged and I looked at Dad who pretended not to notice.

"It doesn't matter, you're going to stay away," she said, looking up to glare at me.

They must be really important... maybe another Alpha?

"Yes ma'am," I said after realizing she was waiting for a response.

"Now, are you going to tell us what that was about earlier?"

I dropped my head onto the counter and groaned.

"Nothing," I said lowly.

"Sit up and answer your mother."

I did as Dad said and sighed.

"It was nothing. I was just being stupid."

It was stupid of me to worry about my Mate not liking me, even if he doesn't, he's stuck with me for life.

"Just... I was just thinking about tomorrow."

Mom looked up from the noodles she was boiling, a smile stretching across her face.

"Thinking about your Mate weren't you?" she giggled excitedly and I looked at her weirdly.

"Any idea who it could be?"

I shrugged and Dad laughed.

"There's someone you'd like it to be," Dad said knowingly, making my face burn.

Before they could gang up on me, the front door opened and they both sniffed before looking at each other.

Clearly speaking through their bond link.

I didn't smell anything but I heard two sets of footsteps and I dreaded the thought of Robert being with him.

I didn't want to see him at all and was about to get up and run upstairs to hide until Calvin entered the kitchen.

That dark haired female I remembered from the fair following closely behind.

"Calvin," Mom said putting on a fake smile.

"Who's your friend?"

Calvin seemed hesitant before he grabbed the female's hand and pulled her to his side.

My eyes widened in surprise as I got an idea of where this was going.

"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you."

'Oh this was not going to go good... Mom lost her smile as if knowing this too.'

"This is Carmen, my girlfriend."

Calvin looked down at the female and then back to our parents.

"And she's pregnant... with my pup."

[iheartyouyou]

SWEETHEART | Jeremiah Fisher

Summary: After your parents file for a divorce, you’re forced to move in with your mom’s friend until the divorce is finalized. You wished you could stay with your dad and your friends, but when you meet Jeremiah Fisher, that changes. And now you’re wanting to stay in the Cousins. Too bad things don’t last forever.

Word Count: 1.8k

Part: 2

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Authors Note: Thank you everybody for all the love and support on the last chapter! I wrote this chapter today and really had no idea where I was going with it so I’m sorry if it sucks— also not proofread cause im lazy 🙈😚

“It’s just— he’s been acting different. He’s smokes. He fucking smokes!” Belly confesses, sitting on the edge of your the bed. She just finished telling you about how all the boys went to a bonfire without inviting her.

“Maybe it’s because he quit football?” You suggest softly. You didn’t want to push too hard or say the wrong thing. Ever since you got here, Belly hasn’t said a single word to you, she side-eyed you and that’s it. You were really hoping to actually make a friend with the only other girl in the house that was around your age.

“Maybe.” She sighs, leaning back to lay completely on the bed.

You sit next to her. “Why don’t we go to that stupid bonfire? Show him what he’s missing out on?” 

She groans. “It’s 20 minutes away. We need a ride.”

“20 minutes? We can just walk.”

“Walk?”

“Yeah? I’m sure we won’t get kidnapped, if we do… I’m blaming it on you.” You say, giggling. 

She laughs. “I’m gonna give you to the kidnapper as bait so I can run.”

-

The sound of people cheering could be heard from a mile away. You looked at the amount of people talking with their friends, kissing their boyfriends, kissing their hookups. Everybody knew each other.

“Promise me you won’t leave me alone?” You whisper, scratching your arm nervously. You were starting to think that this wasn’t a good idea. What if she left you? What if you were the only person without a friend there? What if people didn’t like you? 

“Promise. You can’t leave me either, though.” She says, her eyes scanning the scene.

You guys walk for a few more minutes, stepping through the grass and making your way onto the sand. 

“Yo, gas station girl!” Was the first thing you heard, catching both yours and Belly’s attention. She sighed, waving at the guy. 

“Where are you coming from?”

She motions behind her. “Uh, a-another party.”

“Sweet. Yeah— here take me beer.” He offers, holding the beer out to her. “No, no, no thanks. I’m okay.”

“What about you?” He says, directing his question towards you. 

“No thanks.” You muttered, wrapping your arms self consciously around yourself. 

“So.. uh.” The guy chuckles, swirling the liquid around in his bottle. “You got a boyfriend back home?”

Belly awkwardly chuckles. Looking at you before turning back to the scene of people dancing and drinking beers. “Steven!” She shouts, noticing her older brother.

Steven stops, letting go of the girl’s hand he was holding. His eyes widened. “What are you doing here? A-and, what are you wearing?” He says, approaching us.

“I invited her. Who the fuck are you?” The guy from earlier asks, getting closer to Belly. 

Steven rolls his eyes, stopping a few feet away from Belly. “I’m her brother. She’s 15, you pedo.”

“I-i’m almost 16.” Belly stutters, glaring at her brother.

The guy slowly backs away, looking between you and Belly. “My bad.”

“Jesus Christ.” Steven says, bewildered. “Belly what are you doing?” He grabs her arm.

She grabs yours, stabilizing herself. “Will you let go of me, please?” She begs, looking at her brother.

He ignores her, pulling her away from you. “You’re embarrassing me!” She screams, reaching out for you.

They get into a screaming match, pushing each other back and forth until Belly trips, landing in front of the very last person she wants to see.

You gasp, running towards her. You quickly help her up, watching as Conrad eyebrows furrow at the sight of you. “What is she do—“

“I thought you hated the Red Sox?” Belly says, referencing the girl that was shoving her tongue down Conrad’s throat, hat.

“Who are you?” The girl asks.

“Who are you?” Belly remarks, disgust evident on her face and in her voice. She folds her arms, looking at you with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Nicole. Conrad and I went to the deb ball last summer.” Nicole spoke. 

“It was after you guys left to take Steven to look at colleges.” Conrad said.

“I thought you said that deb balls were bullshit and all debs are sheep?” 

“I didn’t— you’re such a brat!” Conrad huffs.

“You’re an asshole!” Belly remarks.

“Belly!” Jeremiah shouts, running towards her and giving her a side hug. His eyes land on you, immediately widening with surprise and excitement. “And you brought Y/N! Great. We can all hang out together guys!” He exclaims.

“I’m about to take them home.” Steve says, looking between you and Belly.

“Wha—“ You start.

“Yeah, we’re leaving.” Steven speaks.

“Okay, Steven. Chill out. Come on. Go hang out with Shayla or something.” Jeremiah says.

Shayla takes the hint. “Let’s go. Come on.” She begs him, grabbing his hand.

Steven gives in, giving the both of you a pointed look. “Fine, you two— stay right here and don’t talk to anybody.”

You wanted to slap him so hard. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t your brother. And he wasn’t the boss of you. Why did he treat you like a little kid when you barely met… today? You hardly knew him.

You start pointing your finger at him accusingly, getting rid to jab him in the chest with it. “Okay, you can sh—“ 

Jeremiah grabs your wrist. “Okay. All right, chill.”

Steven sighs, rubbing his face. Shayla grabs his hand, dragging him away before things could escalate. 

“Fuck you!” Both you and Belly scream in unison, her flipping him the bird. The both of you erupt in giggles.

“Wow!” Jeremiah says, stunned. His hand was still latched onto your wrist. “Look for one, I’m really happy you guys are here.” 

“Jeremiah!” A girl shouts from behind him. He looks back, quickly looking at the two of you. “Okay, I will be right back.” He says, letting his hand linger on your wrist before finally letting go and rushing back to the girl.

Your face scrunched up in disgust. Of course he had a girlfriend.

A whole bunch of profanities spill from Belly’s mouth before she grabs your hand, leading you a short distance away from the party.

The both of you sit down. “Well… that was fun.” You say, throwing a rock you found.-1

“That was embarrassing.” Belly groaned, looking back at Conrad. 

You shrug, leaning back to lay on the sand. You knew there would be sand in your hair until you took a shower, but you could care less. 

“You should’ve seen the look on his face. He looked so pissed.” You say, looking up at the dark sky.

Belly doesn’t say anything, instead she stares ahead, bringing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“Flavia?” A guy says, immediately catching her attention. “Hi.” He says, waving.

You looked up at him.

“It’s me, Sextus.”

Belly scoffs. “What did you say to me?”

“No,no,no— it’s sex-tus. From seventh grade Latin convention?” He pauses. “You’re Flavia, right? You placed second in the poem recitation.” 

Belly laughs, the memories flooding her mind. “Yeah!”

They continue to make small talk before he gives you a small wave and plops himself in between you guys, separating you and Belly.

They then started rambling about different things, laughing and giggling. You just ignored them hoping that he would leave, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until he offered Belly his sweater that you felt like an intruder.

You stood up, dusting the sand off your shorts before you mumbled out an excuse, walking towards the party before they got a chance to reply.

You walked around for a bit, trying to pass time. You soon grabbed a beer from a cooler, trying to calm your nerves. You spit it out almost immediately, coughing your guts out.

Jeremiah suddenly appears from behind you, chuckling. and patting your back. “Woah, there.” He hands you a water bottle. You snatch it, opening it before chugging it down, the cool liquid soothing your burning throat.

“Never had beer before?” He asked, squinting his eyes as you drank the rest of the liquid, handing him the empty water bottle.

You wipe your mouth. “I’ve had beer— just, that shit.” You hold up the beer bottle. “Is gross. And it’s warm.”

He smiles, looking around you quickly. “Where’s Belly?” He asked, concern written across his face.

You nod in the direction of Belly. “With some guy.” 

Jeremiah looks back, watching as Belly laughs.

“What’s your problem man?”

“It’s one beer. Relax”

And there he was. Conrad Fisher arguing with the guy from earlier that was hitting on Belly.

Jeremiah drops his cup, rushing by you.

“Just give him the beer.”

“Stop, you’re drunk!” Nicole shouted, latching onto Conrad’s arm. He pushes her off. “No— I’m fine. I’m fine!”

“You’re not taking my beer.”

“Relax, it’s one fucking beer!”

Belly starts running towards them, hoping to stop them before a fight broke out but she get’s hit in the process. The gas stations guy’s elbow hitting her temple.

She shrieks, falling to the ground, again, with a soft thud. “Belly—“

Jeremiah rushes to her aid, helping her up and checking her soon-to-be-bruised temple. 

The boys continue to push each other back and forth, throwing a few punches at each other. 

You just stood a few feet away, watching. You really wished you had a bucket of popcorn, maybe a drink too. Pepsi? Nah… Sprite? Maybe… definitely not the mcdonald’s spr— 

“Cops!” Someone screams causing everyone to panic. Some people froze in fear, others ran. Some even tripped. It looked like an apocalypse, people were rushing by you, shoving you in the process. 

You fell to the ground, the car lights blinding you. You yelped as someone stepped on your hand. 

You held your other hand up, trying to spot Belly or Jeremiah. Just someone you knew.

There was no sight of them. You instead spotted a cop walking your way so you got up and ran as fast as you could. You didn’t know where you were going, but you were sure that you didn’t want to get arrested. So you ran, and ran, until you were just by the water. No cops, no bonfires, and no people.

You reached up, trying to run your hand through your hair but an extreme amount of pain hit you, and it was all coming from your hand. You looked down, shrieking. It looked purple and yellow and looked 3 times bigger than your other hand.

Did you break it? What does a broken hand look like? Does it look like this? Would you have to cut it off? Be handless? Would you die?

You were freaking out to say the least, your hand looked like a marshmallow. Just… nasty looking.

Tears started running down your face at the thought of being lost. You were overreacting, but this was your first time in the cousins. Belly was the one who lead you guys over here, she knew this place like the back of her hand. You on the other hand, had no clue where you were.

You should’ve just stayed at the house. What if you didn’t let Belly in? What if you just ignored her knock? What if you didn’t suggest walking to the stupid bonfire?

And now because of your stupid actions, you were stranded with a broken hand and mascara running down your face.

Taglist: @mindflay3r @lexi-2004 @buckys2thicc @agoodmansaid @jeremiahfisherslover @yourfavoritefangirl @leslienjazzy (Tagged everyone that left a comment on the last post! So please let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist!)

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 9

Summary: You get your ass handed to you. You have fun times with Wanda only for a rude awakening.

Warnings: a lot of cursing, alcohol

If anyone asks her, Laura loves her cousin. She loves you. She really, really does. But sometimes you were a bit of a pain or rather a handful and everyone knows pregnant women should not be carrying too much. So, she can’t help but be glad that there are other people here to help lighten the load. 

Is it wrong that lightening the load includes allowing her husband’s ex-assassin of a best friend to basically manhandle you, said cousin she claims to love so much, at 6am in the morning? It may be a little worrisome, yes. But what is really wrong here is how she is sitting front and center, watching it all happen in front of her a little too amusedly.

Could you really blame her though? She’s pregnant. She knows she wouldn’t be able to stand watching you get thrown around, especially on her swollen feet.

It seems everyone woke up early to watch Nat “teach you self-defense”. You’ve been outside for an hour now and no one has moved from their seats. Oh, no that’s a lie. Clint did go inside once, only for him to come right back offering everyone some lemonade. Even the critters are there sitting criss cross next to Pietro on the grass sipping on their lemonades. 

“So when does the self-defense part start?” you ask, out of breath. You weren’t doing anything, but falling on your ass repeatedly sure makes one sweat.

“When you start defending yourself,” Nat quips. You respond with a baffled, “What?!”

“Arms up, Y/N!” you hear your cousin shout as you prepare yourself to get thrown again.

“Look, if you are still mad about the Yelena Incident, I’m sure there could have been another less violent way to get your frustrations out.” Nat rolls her eyes and in what feels like a second, there are legs wrapped around your head in not a sexy way and you are flipped onto the ground. 

“OH!!!” Everyone yells, as you feel the wind knock out of you. You hear the kids shouting, “Do it again!”

“No, don’t do it again,” you wheeze out. You feel someone rush to your side. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda helps you sit up. An angel, that woman. She turns to glare at Nat. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Relax, she’s fine.” Nat answers, not bothered in any way. Either she’s blind or she’s delusional thinking you took her go-to take-down-the-bad-guy move like a simple scratch on the knee. Wanda gets visibly upset by Nat’s careless demeanor, little wisps of red magic trickling from her hand. She moves to confront Natasha and you think it might be you that is delusional when you stop Wanda, red wisps tickling your hand, and say, “It’s okay. I’m good.”

“See!” Nat throws her hands up.

“You should have put your arms up,” your cousin says off to the side. You narrow your eyes at her after Wanda helps you up. “Yes, Laura. Thank you so much. That would have really saved me from her spinny-upsidedown-flippity-whateverthefuck that was.”

Sam and Clint snicker beside your cousin at your description of Nat’s signature move. She gives you the watch-your-language look that you completely ignore. “Why don’t you come and show me how that was meant to help?”

“Can’t. Pregnant. Sorry,” your cousin motions to her belly. You shake your head, “Excuses, excuses.”

“I do know some self-defense though and I think it is really important to learn so I’m rooting for you on the side lines,” Laura adds. Not believing a word she said, you ask, “And who taught you self-defense? ‘Cause I know for a fact it wasn’t Nat. You wouldn’t be cruel enough to put me through the same torture.”

“I taught her. She’s a pretty decent shot too,” Clint admits proudly. 

“No way. You can shoot?” Sam looks at Laura as skeptical as you do. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hun, bring out your gear,” your cousin says, getting everyone excited. Pietro and Sam help her stand and move over to get a clear shot of where Clint put up a target. Everyone stands aside and watches in anticipation when Clint hands his wife a bow and an arrow. She nocks the arrow back, aims, shoots, and nearly hits the bullseye, leaving everyone’s mouth agape. 

“Okay, impressive,” Sam says.

“No way. You made that look way too easy. Let me try,” you say, wanting to give it a go, and a go you give alright, the arrow ricocheting off a tree (not even the tree that had the target on it) and heading towards Peter’s face. Luckily his reflexes or what he’s described as some kind of tingle kicks in and he catches the arrow on time. 

You let out a sigh of relief seeing that you have not accidentally killed someone. You didn’t want to be a murderer let alone be known as the asshole that killed Spiderman by accident. You flood Peter’s ears with apologies and though he says it’s all good, you still feel really bad and ask Wanda if she could help you bake him some cookies or something later. 

Everyone heads inside after that near death experience. Everyone but you and Nat who says, “Playtime’s over. Let’s do this for real now.”

“Wait, that wasn’t it?!”

Another two hours go by. Wanda wonders why you haven’t barged in the room yet to “bother” her. You should have been done undergoing Nat’s painful lesson by now. Finding it odd that you have yet to make an appearance, Wanda sets out to find you. She sees Natasha sitting at the kitchen table. When she asks her about your whereabouts and gets a “Who knows” as a response, she knows something is up. Nat always knows, so Wanda presses, “What did she say and where did you leave her?”

Natasha eventually tells her where you are. Wanda finds you outside, hosing yourself off. You are covered in mud, which Wanda can only assume was Nat’s doing. “Why did you have to antagonize her?”

You look up to see Wanda staring at you unimpressed, arms crossed and all. You defend, “You have to admit, had you the opportunity, you would have done the same.”

“You mean tell her you’ve now had two Romanov’s thighs around your head and then ask where her mom was because you wanted to ‘complete the set’,” Wanda says, uncrossing her arms to do air quotes. 

“Come on, let me have this, Wanda. You should have seen it! It was glorious. The set up, the delivery, the punch,” you throw your arms in the air dramatically, hose in hand splashing water everywhere. Your body aches and you yelp, “Ow.”

Wanda only shakes her head at you. You pout and turn the hose off. “I’ve never met her mom, but she probably would’ve at least chuckled appreciating a good line. I know Yelena for sure would’ve tried not to giggle before kicking my ass as well.”

Wanda doesn’t mean to let out the grunt of annoyance at the mention of this Yelena, but it happens. Luckily, you either don’t hear it or ignore it as you pass by her, stopping to take off your shoes by the door. Before heading inside, you turn to her and coyly ask, “Do you think you could help me wash some of the mud away upstairs? I don’t think I can reach some parts on my own.”

It doesn’t take a psychic to know Wanda helping you scrub your back is not what you actually have in mind. She tries her best not to stutter as she says, “Of course, what are friends for?”

You head up to the shower first. Wanda waits downstairs two minutes before following up, thinking it was enough time for it not to seem suspicious. Clint, who is in the laundry room, though back turned the whole time, still notices and pipes up right as Wanda takes the first step up. 

“Just keep in mind the acoustics of the bathroom,” he warns Wanda. Though he doesn’t see her, based on the clumsy rushed steps after, he knows she was blushing the whole way upstairs.

Having Wanda in the shower, double entendre intended, proves to be a good thing because it turns out you do in fact need help scrubbing some of the mud that somehow made it down your back. Wanda gets on your case again about agitating Nat but it’s hard to really focus on what she’s saying when her hands are all over you, even if she is just scrubbing you down.

An hour later, Laura and Nat sit at the kitchen table and try not to laugh at you struggling with the measuring cups. Sam holds no reservations in laughing in your face. “How does a grown ass woman not know how to measure some flour?”

Wanda makes a face and he corrects himself, “I hear how that sounded. Let me rephrase. How does a grown ass adult who has had to pass middle school to get into college not know how to measure some flour?”

“Unnecessary jibe at my education aside, Sam, I appreciate you rephrasing that. Back to the matter at hand, I’d like to see you try, bitch,” you challenge him, handing over all the measuring kitchen equipment. 

“Gladly.” He takes your place, leaving you to go stand beside Wanda. “Let me show you how it’s done.” 

You all watch him as he looks over the recipe. You think he is just bluffing about his skills, making a grand show of it all. That is until he turns back to Wanda to ask, “Two batches, right?” Then at her nod, he goes into British Bake Off mode or whatever you would call x game mode for baking. 

Seeing him confidently measuring ingredient after ingredient, you lean over to Wanda and ask under your breath, “Is he doing it right?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Damn it,” you huff out. Sam overhears and chuckles, his ego inflating by the minute. You pout at Sam having taken over what was meant to be a fun activity for you and Wanda to do, but he seems like he is really enjoying showing off so you can’t be too mad. Wanda finds your pout too cute and can’t help but press a quick kiss to your lips, surprising you both. You are both blushing and she tries to play it off cool. “You did say whenever I wanted.”

“I did say that, yes,” you recall. She smiles and then gives you another chaste kiss, more confidently this time, before heading over to Sam. “Alright, leave Y/N to do something, show off.”

Meanwhile, you are trying to calm your racing heart at her kissing you so openly, which is when you realize you have an audience. You’re afraid to see if Laura and Nat saw. You turn around slowly. They clearly did, your cousin’s raised eyebrow indicating so. It makes you blush harder, so you turn back around and go to see what you can do.

Wanda and Sam give you the job of rolling the cookie dough into little balls after moving you away from setting the oven heat because you tried to turn up the heat by double in order to “bake the cookies faster”. They explain why you couldn’t do that.

“Yeah, I knew that,” you say, as you lower the temperature back down. “I was just testing you guys.”

No one believes you but they don’t say anything. Nat and your cousin watch with interest as Wanda and Sam pull your hand full of raw dough away from your mouth when you try to taste it. You lie and say you were testing them again. 

Peter and Pietro trail into the kitchen at the smell of the cookies baking. Sam takes them out once they are ready. Pietro tries to grab a cookie first, but you are faster, smacking his hand away. “Peter gets the first cookie. They were meant to be for him.”

Peter, who has been lingering shyly behind Pietro, perks up. He asks you, “Why?”

“For nearly killing you. Sorry about that. Sam technically did nearly everything, which might have been for the best given my lack of skills in the kitchen. But it’s the thought, right?” you ramble.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you. I won’t say no to cookies. They all look good. Let’s just all dig in,” Peter says, seeing Pietro’s grumbly face. Pietro cheers up at that and mutters, “Finally.”

Laura sees you and the guys reaching for a cookie and warns, “Careful, they’re hot,” but the cookies are already in your mouths. 

“Fuck!” “Shit!” “H-h-hot!” All three of you yell but none of you spit the cookies out. Instead, you all choose to look ridiculous cooling the cookies with your mouths open. Sam looks at you three like the dumbasses you are. Your cousin and Nat look unfazed and Wanda is practically doubled over laughing so hard that you can’t even hear it because she’s having trouble breathing. 

“Get out of my kitchen. Come back when you have proof y’all graduated elementary school.” Sam kicks you out of the kitchen, Pietro grabbing some cookies before being shooed away. You head outside and decide to play some basketball. Cooper and Lila come and join you and a few minutes later so does Wanda. 

You pause, holding the ball in your hands as Wanda walks up to you. 

“What? Did you finish your two pages of reading for the day that quickly or did you just miss me?” you tease her. She gives you a sarcastic smile before snatching the ball away. “Two chapters actually.” She then goes to line up her shot. She shoots and scores, turning back to you with a smug smile at which you shake your head.

“Hey, you can’t walk with the ball. That doesn’t count!” Pietro whines. You fight for her point, telling him to just let her have it, which he does not let go without pointing out, “Oh, so when I do it, it’s not a point, but when Lila and Wanda do it, it counts? How is that fair?”

“Because she’s six and she’s cute, Pietro. That’s why it counts,” you reply.

“Okay, but what about my sister?”

“I just explained. Lila is six and Wanda is cute. Come on, man. Keep up.” Wanda overhears and blushes hard. Pietro laughs at his sister, embarrassing her further. You take the ball away from his hands while he is distracted and then pass it to Lila. 

You do way better this game than the last time you played. You still lost but progress. 

The next morning feels like a rinse and repeat. Nat wakes you up, you go for the morning hike, you complain the whole time. Breakfast is a different story. Laura’s lower back has been aching and she’s been having contractions, one of which comes while you’re eating, scaring most of you. You get straight to your feet asking where the baby bag is and Pietro rushes to find the keys saying, “I’ll start the car!” 

Peter pipes, “I think someone else should drive.” 

“Everyone calm down. I don’t need to go anywhere. The baby’s not coming yet,” your cousin reassures everyone, specifically her husband and Nat who are at her side. Everyone lets out a breath of relief. You ask where the baby bag is anyway to know when the time does come. She says there isn’t one and then Nat is on Clint and your heads about not being prepared.

“I got here after you did,” you defend yourself. She then looks over to Clint who says, “I’ve been saving the world.”

“Always an excuse with you two,” Nat chides. 

And so the afternoon finds Clint, Sam, and Nat going to buy the essentials, while the rest of you help clean up around the house. Wanda is left to supervise Lila and Cooper clean their rooms, Peter is in charge of vacuuming upstairs, Pietro is given dish washing duty, and you are given the broom and mop. 

Your cousin relaxes on the couch in the meantime. You yell up the stairs that you will be mopping now, warning everyone to watch their step. You repeat the same to your cousin who sarcastically says, “I think the whole town heard you, Y/N.”

“Well, excuse me for caring for everyone’s well being,” you retort, continuing your chores. You’re nearly finished. You just need Pietro to be done in the kitchen so you can mop there. You sit and wait in Clint and Laura’s little home office. 

You swivel around in the chair, looking around curiously until something calls your attention, that something being the laminator. You try to think of something fun to laminate but think of nothing interesting. Then you remember something and rush upstairs to get it.

You pass Peter who asks if he can go downstairs now having finished vacuuming. You say yes but tell him not to go into the kitchen yet. You grab what you are looking for in your bag and head back downstairs to laminate it. Before you do, you write a message on the back. 

Dear Scarlet Wizard, please stop hurting the books. Thank you. Y/N :)

Then you laminate the strip. You look over your finished product proudly before tucking it into your back pocket. You’re about to head out of the office when Pietro’s voice crescendos, heeding you of his presence before he appears. “Just ask her, Wanda. She’s seen you in them. I don’t know why you are embarrassed.”

That piques your interest. Pietro finally appears, with Wanda lingering behind him, looking like she’d much rather be anywhere else. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Pietro looks back at Wanda expectantly, but when she doesn’t say anything, he explains for her. “She needs help washing her underpants.”

“Pietro!” Wanda shouts, her face giving a new meaning to her superhero name with how red it turns. She moves forward, spluttering, “I asked Laura if I could wash some of my clothes. She said yes, but I don’t know how to work this machine and I didn’t want to make her get up to show me, and Pietro told me to ask you, so…” 

She trails off shyly, wanting to bury herself in the nearest ditch right after she murders her brother for putting her in this position. Wanda hadn’t prepared to stay so long and hadn’t brought extra clothes. Now she regrets not being like Peter who overprepares. She wonders how her brother hasn’t run out of clean underwear but she thinks it’s better not to ask, predicting she won’t like whatever the answer is; Pietro is not someone who is over prepared either.

“That’s it?” you ask, not seeing what the big deal was, but you can see that Wanda is still looking rather awkward about it, so you don’t question it too much. Rather you comment, “I was actually wondering if you all just overpack for breaks. I mean I know Nat has extra clothes here in the house but I was wondering about the rest of you.”

“Peter is the only one who does the most,” Pietro says.

“Hey, I heard that!” Peter yells coming in to join the three of you. You turn to Pietro and ask, “Then what do you do?”

“He used the same underwear after he showered,” Peter explains. You and Wanda make a face of disgust and Pietro makes one of irritation. Peter runs off upstairs when Pietro starts chasing him, “Don’t tell her that!”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you tell Wanda, who agrees with you. Then you motion for her to follow you into the little laundry room. You show her how to work the machine. She throws her clothes in and follows your instructions. Once the machine gets going, you decide to tease her now that you are alone. “It’s just underwear, Wanda. Pietro was right. No need to be shy about it when I’ve seen it both on and off you.”

She starts blushing again. She hides behind her hands and groans, “Ugh, I should have asked Laura.”

You continue on anyway, “In fact, I remember one instance where you were enjoying when I tugged them o-” You were cut off short by Wanda’s hands covering your mouth. “Stop talking.”

Your laughter is muffled but it’s there nonetheless, finding Wanda’s coyness endearing. She defends herself, recalling a story about you, “You are one to talk, Miss Purple Boxer-Briefs.”

You grab hold of her wrists, removing her hands from your mouth in order to speak. “Hey, that’s different.” You walk forwards, making Wanda take steps back until her back is against the wall. “I was not planning for anyone to see me in those. I was just taking one for the team, thinking the house was getting robbed.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Wanda giggles.This time it’s you saying, “Oh, be quiet, Maximoff.”

“Make me, L/N.”

You sputter in surprise, eyes widening at her words. Hers stare right into yours, challenging you to make a move. And she has the audacity to have a smirk on her face as if she wasn’t madly blushing about dirty underwear a few minutes ago. Where the hell did that girl go?

“Are you just going to stand there and look at me a-”

You surge forward and kiss her hard. Wanda can’t help but smile at getting her way, making it a little hard to kiss her. So you take the moment to break it and ask, “Hey, who told you my last name?”

“The same asshole that gave you this.” One of her hands between you moves up to caress your bruised cheek. “Does it still hurt?”

She prods at it, making you flinch back. “Ow, only when you poke at it.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, pulling her hand away from your cheek. Her bashful face makes you chuckle. You pull yourself together to ask her a question. “Okay, serious question,” you start, and it’s too cute how Wanda pays close attention to what you say next. You’d think she’d know better by now. “Does it make me look badass?”

“Y/N,” she more or less groans your name in annoyance as she gently shoves you. You’re a little off balance but you quickly grasp her elbows to pull back into her space. “I’m serious. ‘Cause if I look stupid, I’m pretty sure I could will my cells to work overtime to heal it faster or something.”

She laughs at you, muttering, “You are an idiot,” and pecking your lips between each word. You hear giggling, only this laughter isn’t coming from the beautiful woman in front of you. No, this giggling you know too well comes from a certain little critter who you now see has potential to go into her father’s line of work with how quiet she can creep up on someone. 

Wanda actually shoves you off this time, going to stand behind you to put a physical barrier between her and the intruding child. You clear your throat, smiling at Lila. “Hey, Lila. Did you need something?”

“Why were you kissing Wanda? Is she your girlfriend? Are you going to have a baby now?” She shoots one question after question rapidly as if she didn’t ask them all at once she would forget them. The first two are valid questions but the last throws you off so far you don’t know where you are. It throws Wanda too, so much so she’s basically choking behind you.

“Woah, okay. Umm, I was kissing Wanda because I think she is very pretty and nice and that’s just a way you can show someone that you think that about them, with their permission of course,” you rush in to add about consent. Your niece and nephews will grow up learning to be a decent human being. You continue on to her other questions. “But no, Wanda is not my girlfriend and we are not having a baby?”

Your last answer comes out more as a question, mostly due to your confusion as to where she got that idea. Wanda comes out from her hiding space to stand by you. From your peripheral vision, she looks amused at seeing you struggle to answer the six year old’s questions. Looking at your niece, she seems to be as confused as you, but you learn it’s due to something else. “Why isn’t she your girlfriend? Did you ask her?” 

You hesitate to answer, really not knowing where to start. Wanda is less amused and more interested now, crossing her arms over her chest, creating a barrier between her heart and your next words that she thinks will inevitably hurt to hear. Lila doesn’t give you the chance, however, continuing to her next question that makes you scoff. “Does she think you’re ugly?”

“I’d hope not.” You turn to look at Wanda, who holds a hand over her mouth trying to cover her giggles.

“Oh, maybe she doesn’t think you’re funny, like Aunt Nat says. Maybe she doesn’t get your jokes.” Lila tries to help, but little to her knowledge, it just makes you want to dig your own grave, especially when you can see Wanda is nearly losing it trying to hold in her laughter.

“Yep, you know you might be right. That must be it,” you agree to appease her. She grins at you, proud of herself for finding an answer to her question, which reminds you, “Why did you think we were having a baby?”

“Because that’s how babies are made,” she says, without a doubt in her mind, which reasonably has you questioning, “Who told you that, critter? Because they definitely lied.”

“Mommy said so,” she says almost defiantly as if what her mom says must be the truth and who were you to make her start questioning her mother now at six years old. You are also not ready to have that conversation, the conversation between you and your cousin where she yells at you for taking over the birds and bees speech that she probably had meticulously planned for a specific time in her children’s lives.

“Aaaand, your mom’s right. Yep. Wanda is basically pregnant now,” you say without thinking. Lila’s eyes go full moon round in excitement as squeals in glee. She practically runs out of the laundry room probably to tell god knows who about the news. Wanda gasps in disbelief beside you, smacking your arm. “Why did you say that?”

“Well, what did you want me to do? Be honest with the child?” you say as if honesty would be the worst thing to bring into that conversation.

“Yes, exactly that,” Wanda says plainly.

“Okay, well unless you want to deal with Nat on your ass about us unnecessarily stressing my pregnant cousin out with talks about baby making with her six year old, for the next however long Lila remembers, you are pregnant with my child.”

Wanda hangs her head in defeat after you put that image of an angry Nat in her head. There are worse things than being fake pregnant with your crush’s baby. She sighs, “You’re paying child support for this kid.”

You smile at her quip, retaliating with, “Not without a paternity test!” She shoves you as you both exit the laundry room and you chant, “Maury! Maury!”

“We are not naming the baby Maury,” she says and runs into you when you stop abruptly to turn around and question her, “Wanda, do you not know who Maury is?” 

When she shakes her head no in confusion, you grab her hand in excitement, “Oh, my god, let me teach you a little bit about American culture,” and drag her with you to watch some episodes of the show.

You only get to watch one with her, leaving her with your cousin to watch more as you go back into the kitchen to finish moping as your cousin so kindly (not so kindly) reminded you to do. Those baby hormones really were kicking in. 

You return to see Pietro and Wanda eating up the show. “I knew it! I knew he would be the father,” Pietro yells excitedly from where he is on the floor looking back at his sister. “Did I not guess right?” She nods and he turns back to the television to watch the guy run off the stage as the cameraman chases after him.

Laura can’t stop yawning so you suggest she go take a nap. You help her up to her room and tell her to rest up, that you had everything under control. She teases as you shut the door, “Just don’t go around impregnating more women while I’m asleep.” 

When you go back downstairs, Sam, Nat, and Clint are making their way through the front door with everything they bought. Sam and Clint set the box with the crib assembly in the middle of the living room. Nat carries some bags and says there are more bags in the car. You head outside throwing an “amateur” towards Nat who rolls her eyes knowing you are referring to your silly one trip from the car to the house rule. 

The rest of the evening goes to arranging the hospital bag and getting all the baby things in order. Nat and Wanda assemble the crib, Nat insisting she do it after Pietro rushes to assemble it with a “tada!” only for it to fall apart when Nat throws a pillow onto it. Wanda is just excited to do it and Nat trusts her to follow instructions unlike her brother. 

Everyone just watches, but Lila who tries to help handing the women whatever they need. As most excited six year olds do, she talks everyone’s ears off about the things she is going to do when her baby brother comes. “Oh! And he can have playdates with Y/N and Wanda’s baby. We can have tea parties every summer. Maybe not tea, cause tea isn’t very tasty and it’s too hot for that. Maybe we can have ice tea instead. What do you think, Wanda?”

Everyone in the room looks confused; most of the confused gazes are looking to you for an explanation and before anyone could say anything, you mouth “Don’t ask” while shaking your head. Wanda indulges Lila, though she blushes through it trying to look unfazed, “Yes, ice tea is nice. Or maybe lemonade. Can you pass me that small piece over there?”

It comes out perfectly, much to Pietro’s chagrin. Now the problem no one thought about- how to get it upstairs into the room. Sam and Clint carry it up the stairs trying to follow Nat’s instructions, attempting to turn it at the right angle to get it up the second flight of stairs. They clearly do not understand what Nat’s aim is here, Nat’s frustration growing by the second. Wanda gets a sense of deja vu but she can’t recall where she has seen this, until you laugh and as if reading her mind fill in the blank yelling, “Pivot!”

Satisfied with figuring out where the scene is from and not wanting to see Nat explode, Wanda uses her magic to take hold of the crib and brings Nat’s vision to life as she rotates the crib at the correct angle. The red mist lifts it the rest of the way upstairs.

“Thank you, Wanda. It seems you’re the only competent person here,” Nat huffs. She turns to the two men on the stairs, “Well, don’t just stand there, expecting Maximoff to do everything. The crib goes in the room with Laura.”

She storms up the steps shepherding Clint and Sam the rest of the way. You hear the laundry machine beeping, so you go give that your attention with Wanda on your tail. After her clothes begin to spin in the dryer, you stop her from getting any further than the kitchen remembering to give her your beautiful creation.

“Wait, Wanda, before I forget. I have something for you.” You pull the photo strip turned bookmark out of your pocket and hand it to her. She takes her time looking over the pictures on the strip from the time at the arcade, especially the third in which you are kissing her cheek. You gesture for her to look at the back and she rolls her eyes upon reading your message. Wanda appreciates the gesture anyways.

“You made me this?” Wanda asks, surprised. 

You nod, “Made or more so laminated it for you. Or rather for future me who will be happy to know she saved another book from you dog earring the ends of its pages.” 

You chuckle when she pushes you in jest. “Hey! That is a lot of judgement coming from someone who does not read.”

“I don’t have to be an avid book reader to know book etiquette,” you declared. 

“Book etiquette?” She raises an eyebrow up in question.

“Yes, there are rules to how you treat books, same as there are rules to everything,” you answered. “Like returning a borrowed book in the same condition.”

“And one of the rules happens to be not to bend the corner of the pages?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Hey, I’m just trying to do you a favor here. Wouldn’t want you to get bullied in book club or whatever. But if you are just going to disregard the rule and not use the bookmark,” you reply, reaching for the bookmark, “I can just take it back.”

“No,” she objects immediately, pressing the photostrip against her chest. She pouts, “You already gave it to me. You can’t take it back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you assured her, laughing at her childish antics. Wanda looks at it once more, smiling, and then gives you a kiss on the cheek. With rosy cheeks adorning her face, she thanks you. “I love it, really.”

Red really is the color for her, you think. That is until you find green giving red a run for its money the next evening.

Sam drove you, Wanda, and Pietro to one of the two bars in town in Nat’s car. It took about half an hour of begging from Sam’s part for Nat to give up her keys, but not without threatening his life if he were to even scratch her car. You couldn’t blame her, it’s a pretty nice car. 

You and the three Avengers walk into the bar. It sounds like the start to a joke and it almost feels like it could be with the way the night starts. It’s a Friday night so there is a crowd but it’s not too bad. You’re still standing around the front entrance and you wonder why no one has made the move to go further into the establishment. Turning to the other three, you notice their eyes sweeping the place. You quickly realize what they are doing. 

“Would you all relax? We are here to have fun. No need to act like you’re on a mission,” you remind them. Sam scoffs, “Uh, speak for yourself. This man is on the hunt for some sugar.” The rest of you three roll your eyes at him as he keeps scouting the area. His eyes befall on the pretty bartender. “And spotted. First round is on me.”

Sam walks up to the bar with swagger to his step. The three of you look for a place to sit. Pietro notices a booth open up and using a little enhanced speed, swoops into the booth, calling you and Wanda over. You talk amongst yourselves while Sam chats up the bartender. He comes over with the drinks smiling to himself. Wanda teases him, “Look at you all smiley. Did you get her phone number?”

“I’m still working on it, but I know it’s working,” he says confidently. “So hurry up and finish your drinks so I can go up and talk some more.”

He rushes you and chugs his drink in one go. You hate to be his buzzkill but someone has to remind him, “I hope you enjoyed that drink, Sam ‘cause that was your one and only for tonight. Or did you forget you drove us here?”

His face scrunches up and groans, “Noooo. Can’t Pietro drive? His metabolism works fast. It’s nearly impossible to get him drunk.”

“Did you forget what car we brought? The moves Nat pulled on me hurt like a bitch, and that was just her teaching me self defense. I can’t imagine what she would do if she finds out we let Speed Racer drive back.” You quickly turn to said twin, “No offense, Pietro.”

“You are all just a bunch of babies,” he responds, sipping from his drink. 

“Ugh, fine,” Sam concedes. “Maybe, I can work with this. I’ll be back. Same thing for everyone?”

After getting an affirmative, Sam is back at it. The three of you watch him flirt with the woman behind the bar. Sam points your group out to her and she smiles at you three while your group acknowledges her with awkward waves. 

A car alarm pulls everyone’s attention away; it’s Nat’s car. The three of you see Sam make a show of looking for the keys in his pockets when it’s clear to the group that he’s been holding them the entire time. That smooth bastard. The woman looks impressed.

Soon she serves up your drinks, Sam bringing them to the table, with a cocky smirk on his face. You, Pietro, and Wanda shake your heads at him his whole way back. “We see what you did there,” Wanda says. “That was very sneaky.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam denies. He takes a sip of his water as the rest of you grab your second drink. Pietro asks, “Very sad, using someone else’s things to boast. Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Keep it down. She doesn’t have to know that. Anyway, that car is a guarantee she’ll be looking this way,” Sam assures and he isn’t wrong. Wanda finds the bartender looking back at your group but much to her discontentment, she is zeroing in not on Sam but you. You don’t notice this happening. 

You are too focused telling some funny story Wanda isn’t really listening to, as she finishes her drink in one go. Pietro catches this from the corner of his eye, frowning at what has his sister looking upset. Ever so observant, he watches Wanda look at the bartender who seems to be staring at you and then shuffle closer to your side. 

His frown disappears, no longer worried but more so amused. He has always found it funny when his sister gets jealous. He’s seen it several times to know the signs- the furrow of her brow, the biting of her lip, and had it been a few years ago, there would be a dramatic exit. A dramatic exit would be overkill here so he guesses she’s substituted it for possessiveness. 

You welcome Wanda’s warmth as she sits closer to you. Sam and Pietro make their comments and jokes about the story you just finished telling. You sip on your drink, nearly choking when Wanda’s hand makes a surprise appearance on your thigh a little too high to be innocent. You try to ignore it and listen to Sam as he starts a story, but it gets a little difficult when she begins to move it. 

Sam asks you a question and as focused as you are when trying to answer, Wanda’s wandering hand makes you stutter a few times in your response. You chug the rest of your drink and Wanda takes that as a sign to get the next round of drinks.

“I’ve got the drinks this time,” she declares, pressing a kiss on your cheek before getting up and heading over to the bar. The little break you have away from her feels a bit of a relief. You were getting worked up under her touch and in public no less. You don’t know what’s got Wanda in this kind of mood suddenly, not that you would usually mind it unless it’s the alcohol. 

That’s the only real outlier here. If it is the alcohol, you’ll have to slow her roll down if only two drinks have her so handsy. You have to come up with a plan soon if that’s the case, because Wanda comes back, bartender behind her carrying a tray with shots.

Wanda takes her seat next to you as Sam’s point of interest for the night sets the shots in the middle of the table. Your eyes widen, counting the number of shots that end up on the table. 

“Damn, how much do they pay you?” you ask incredulously, knowing how pricey a single shot can be.

“And are they hiring?” the bartender jokes. Everyone but Wanda laughs. “Are we celebrating something tonight or just having a night out?” She asks the table but ends the question looking at you for the answer.

“A little bit of both. They’re going home soon, so,” you explain. You have all her attention now, her body turning to face you. “Oh, so you’re from here. I haven’t seen you around?”

Wanda slowly grows irritated, feeling the woman talking is overstaying her welcome at your table. She reaches for a shot, throwing it back, trying not to make a face as the liquid burns her throat. 

You frown at Wanda’s actions. Pietro snorts and Wanda throws him a glare. The bartender is still waiting for your response so you answer, “I don’t actually live here. I stay with my cousin during my breaks from school.” 

“What school do you go to?”

Wanda clears her throat, annoyed, “Don’t you have to go back to the bar? We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Sam speaks up, “There are two other people back there. I’m sure they’ve got Bethany covered.” So that’s the name of the woman unknowingly grinding Wanda’s gears. Wanda is disappointed to see Sam is correct. 

She drinks another shot and the moment Pietro has been waiting for arrives when she gets up suddenly claiming she has to go to the restroom. Bethany tries to help and point them out to her, but Wanda quickly cuts in with, “Thank you, Bethany, but I think I can find my way to the restroom just fine.” And then she stomps off. 

Finding her behavior odd, you decide it best to go follow her and make sure she’s okay. After answering Bethany’s last question, you excuse yourself from the table and head in the direction Wanda left. The restrooms are easy to find, a glaringly obvious sign pointing to them. 

Wanda splashes water on her face at the sink, trying to cool herself down. She can’t help the thoughts running through her head, thinking that Bethany was probably sitting in Wanda’s place by your side, grabbing your arm as she laughs at something you say. She knows these thoughts stem from jealousy and there is no need to tell her that she doesn’t have the right to be jealous when you agreed to be friends.

If Wanda wasn’t irked enough, there are no paper towels to dry her face with. Now she’ll return to the table with a wet shirt. “Stupid bar can’t refill the dispenser,” she mutters, pushing the door open with the side of her body, her hands preoccupied lifting the bottom of her shirt enough to pat her face dry with it. 

She bumps into somebody outside the restroom doors. She lifts her face from her hands to apologize only to be met by the person who has got her acting this moody and you aren’t looking at her face. Your eyes are busy appreciating Wanda’s exposed tummy. Wanda flushes as she drops her shirt, making you redirect your eyes. Embarrassed at being caught, you clear your throat. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I actually came to check on you.”

“Why? I was only gone for 2 minutes,” she asked, though she was happy to note that you were here waiting for her outside the restroom instead of entertaining the bartender sitting at your group’s table.

“You left kind of abruptly. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and not like throwing up,” you reason. You pull Wanda away from standing in front of the door to the restroom when someone tries to get through.

Wanda chuckles, continuing on with your conversation. “Do you think I am a lightweight or what?”

“Well I hope not. You did just buy a bunch of shots and it would be a damn shame to let them go to waste,” you remind her. She smirks at you. “You have some catching up to do.”

“Lead the way.” You step aside motioning for her to do just so. Wanda shakes her head, but smiles nevertheless, taking your hand and tugging you behind her. Wanda is happy not to see Bethany at your table but back behind the bar when you both take your previous seats. 

“There they are!” Pietro shouts excitedly, waving his hand in the air before smacking it back down on the table rather clumsily with an “Ah”. Tipsy Pietro was rather adorable. How did he get like this anyway? Looking back at the table, you find your answer.

“Holy shit, dude! Did you drink all of these yourself?” You’re worried he’d have to get his stomach pumped. He reads the expression on your face and reassures you. “It’s the only way I can get, umm, Wanda?” He turns to ask his sister something you don’t understand, asking in Sokovian. She answers, “Tipsy.”

“Yes! Tipsy. But I left you uh,” he counts the remaining shot cups that still have liquor in them, “four. Perfect. Two for each of you. Now hurry, I want to play billbards, bill-billboards. Pool,” he finally decides. He pushes two shots towards you and the other two towards Wanda.

“Oh, no. Y/N has to catch up.” Wanda pushes one of her drinks to yours, lining them all up neatly. You shake your head at a smirking Wanda. You sigh, “You’re really going to do this to me, huh?”

“Yup,” she affirmed. Then Sam got the three of them to chant your name, making others in the bar look your group’s way. Not wanting people staring, you hush them, “Okay, okay. Geez. I can see why Clint hates that.” Then you drink all three, one right after another. You do make a face. “Oof.”

Wanda drinks hers and then the four of you wait by the pool tables for one to open up. You spend the next hour laughing with Sam and Wanda at a clumsy Pietro. You are just as bad as a tipsy Pietro when playing pool but tipsy Wanda doesn’t care, insisting you teach her how to properly line up her shot. Tipsy you isn’t remotely embarrassed when Wanda completely misses hitting the ball with your guidance because your body is busy feeling something other than shame having Wanda pressed against you as she is. 

Sober Sam is getting bored. Bethany is busy behind the bar doing her job, more patrons filling up the joint. A few minutes later, Pietro is practically sober; his coordination comes back and he doesn’t find playing pool as fun anymore. Also, he’s growing tired of watching his sister basically grind her ass on you every time it’s her turn. 

Pietro ends the game five minutes later. “I’m tired. Let’s let some other people play.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reject the idea, handing his pool stick over to someone else saying his group can have the table. He and Sam head to the restroom but not before telling you two to be ready to go.

There is a pout on Wanda’s face that you find just too cute and you let her know so. “You are so adorable,” you tease, pinching her cheeks. Wanda sends you a glare that looks in no way threatening with her cheeks aflame, making you laugh. “I’ll get us some water. Wait here for Pietro and Sam.”

You head over to the bar counter. You grab Bethany’s attention and ask for some water. “So why was your girlfriend upset earlier?” She asks as she goes to fill up two cups for you.

“Huh?” you ask confused. She repeats herself leaning over the bar in order for you to hear her more clearly. “Your girlfriend,” she nods in Wanda’s direction. You turn to see Wanda watching you two closely. “She looked pissed off earlier.”

Bethany hands over the two cups of water. You didn’t need to but you clarify anyway, albeit a little awkwardly. “Oh, um, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” The bartender smirks at you. You’re confused and tell her so. She rolls her eyes at you. There is no way you could be so oblivious. She does find it cute that you were so focused on your “not girlfriend” that you didn’t see the way she was interested in you. She takes pity on you and clarifies, “She was totally acting like a jealous girlfriend earlier.”

“No, she wasn’t,” you deny, the idea sounding totally absurd to you. But with the way Bethany sounded so sure, you can’t help but begin to question the possibility. “How do you know?”

“I see these things all the time. Reading body language becomes a skill when you work at a bar. Trust me.”

Bethany sees you still doubting her so she proposes something. “Here. I’ll prove it. Do you mind if I touch you?”

You look at her confused but give her permission anyway. She reaches over and runs her finger up and down your forearm. You watch her move and feel more so lost when she throws her head back in laughter. “Okay, what are you doing?”

“If she is jealous, like I say she is, she will do one of two things. She will either come up here and act all possessive or she’ll storm off like she did earlier to the restroom.”

“I don’t know,” you say, unsurely, already pulling your arm away. You are not one to want to play emotional games. Before you have a chance to tell Bethany that, she says, “I should have put some money on it.”

You feel an arm slide around your waist. Wanda comes up beside you and pulls you into her. You are a little startled to be honest, especially when she kisses your underjaw making sure to give Bethany a good view. Wanda catches Bethany giving you a cocky smirk and it irks her. 

“Piet and Sam are waiting for us,” she reminds you. You don’t say anything, your mind still trying to process that Bethany is right and Wanda might just be jealous. Bethany sees the realization glaze over your eyes and rolls with it, pushing Wanda’s buttons. “Oh, you’re leaving already? Well if you ever want more conversations like these,” she writes on a piece of paper behind the bar and hands it over to you folded, “here.” 

Wanda is nearly grinding her teeth at this point. The audacity of that woman to give you her number while Wanda is with you is amazing. Though Wanda knows she’s not with you- with you, clearly the woman would think Wanda was something to you given the way she is wrapped around you. And if that wasn’t enough to piss her off, the way you say “Um, okay?” before pocketing the piece of paper is. 

“You know what, we’ll just wait for you in the car,” Wanda huffs, pulling away from you and storming off to Pietro and Sam. You watch her go, ready to follow but Bethany calls your attention once more. “And there is number two. What are you standing here for? Go. She’ll only be more upset the longer you take.”

“Thanks?” You leave it at that, not knowing what else to say and make your way to the exit. Bethany watches you leave with a shake of her head, mumbling to herself, “She’s gonna eat her alive.”

You reach in your pocket to read the note the bartender gave you, opening the door with your back. Wanda, who is leaning against the hood of the car, watches in jealousy as you laugh at the contents of the note. 

Sam asks, “What are you smiling about?”

Wanda answers for you, tone dripping in discontent, “Getting the number you couldn’t get.” 

“What?! Let me see!” Sam rips the paper from your hand. Wanda rolls her eyes in annoyance and gets in the backseat, slamming the door closed. Her brother shakes his head in amusement, but follows sitting in the passenger seat instead. 

“Come on, let’s go,” you hurry Sam along. You go around the car to open the door opposite the one Wanda slammed and take a seat. Wanda is already not looking at you, instead looking out the window, which you find pointless because there is nothing to look at seeing as there is another car parked right next to her. She’s just getting the view of their window. 

“Wanda,” you say, trying to get her to look at you. “Wanda.” She still ignores you, so you press, “Are you really not going to talk to me?”

“I’m not in the mood. Why don’t you talk to Bethany? Seemed like you liked talking to her. Now you can call her,” Wanda responds, voicing Bethany’s name in an obnoxious way. You try not to snicker but Pietro doesn’t. Wanda kicks the back of his seat, getting in trouble with Sam as he enters the car to see just that. 

“Hey, knock it off! I don’t need Nat busting my ass for something I didn’t do,” he warns and points at Wanda, who huffs but leans back, crossing her arms in irritation. He continues, “Also, if you want me to laugh at your jokes, make them make sense.” 

He throws the paper to your lap. You read it once more and laugh to yourself. Sam is about to start the car but you stop him. “Wait! Before we go, Sam, can you do me a favor real quick,” you say as you pull out a five dollar bill. “Can you go give this to Bethany?”

“So is this like an inside joke or something?” Sam takes the money anyway and heads back to the bar. Pietro asks, “Can I see the paper?”

“Why? You want to have a shot with her too? Clearly she was interested in Y/N, Pietro,” Wanda mumbles. You hand over the paper to her brother while rolling your eyes at her behavior, trying not to smile. 

Pietro reads it and laughs louder than before. Wanda takes off her seatbelt and leans forward to snatch the paper from Pietro’s hands. “Okay, what is so funny? ‘Five bucks she says my name in a mean voice’.” Wanda’s voice trails off in the end out of embarrassment realizing that the note was about her. 

“Hell yeah! I told you I would and I did. I still have the moves.” Sam barges into the car excitedly. “Look what I got!” He waves around a piece of paper in front of Pietro’s face. 

“Her number? Nice,” Pietro says, pretty impressed.

“Yep. She said ‘Here, for if you’re ever back in town,’” Sam tries mimicking Bethany’s voice. Turning to you, he adds, “Oh and she also said to tell you she told you so, whatever that means.” 

“Wanda knows what it means,” Pietro jokes, making you chuckle and Wanda punch him in the arm.

“Alright, alright. Chill out and put your seatbelt on,” Sam tells Wanda. He turns on the car and begins the drive home. “It’s a good thing we’re leaving when we are. Another drink in you and we’d have to pull you out of a bar fight.”

Wanda does as she’s told without another word. In fact she stays silent for the whole ride back, not because she was annoyed like earlier. To say she’s embarrassed is an understatement. It’s one thing for her brother to tease her, throwing remarks he finds oh so humorous her way. She’s used to that from her twin. It’s another thing for you to match his energy, laughing at his jokes and having the same knowing smirk on your face. 

Of course Pietro would know when she’s jealous; they’re twins. Pietro acts the same exact way when he’s jealous. Wanda just wasn’t ready for someone else to pick up on it, especially not the person for why she felt the way she did. 

It is humiliating and that’s why she vows to deny, deny, deny if anyone brings it up, which of course you do because life hates Wanda and won’t let her have this one thing. 

You bring it up after you get home. Wanda tries to rush out the car but you hold her arm, signaling for her to stay in the car. You tell Sam and Pietro to go ahead inside without you, that you need to talk to Wanda in private. 

Sam jokingly “oohs” and rolls down the windows a bit before turning off the car. “This seems like a long talk. I wouldn’t want you ladies to suffocate under all the tension,” he quips. 

Wanda looks at her brother for help and he almost stays seeing the dread on her face, but then he thinks about how this could be new ammunition for teasing her later and makes his decision to go. “Sorry, Wands, but she said ‘in private’.”

“Since when do you respect privacy?” she challenged, ticked that her own blood would leave her to die of mortification for his own amusement. 

“It’s never too late to try new things,” he reasons. He follows Sam to the house, laughing because Wanda shouts out of the car window, “Try not being a traitor next time!”

Wanda’s attention finally turns to you when she hears you giggling. Wanda sits as far away from you as she can, her back practically against the car door. Your laughter dies down, but you still sport a wide smile on your face, irritating her to no end. She crosses her arms and tries to keep her composure.

“What did you want to say?” She feigns innocence, hoping the conversation will take a different route than the one she feels it’s going. However, much like life you won’t let her have this.

“You know, I guessed you could be the jealous type given you telling your brother to stop flirting with me and the other way around, but damn, that was something else,” you tease, finding satisfaction when Wanda’s cheeks burn red.

You let her splutter for a minute, but then take pity on her when you see she can’t find the words to defend herself. You scoot close enough to her that your knees are pressing against hers. “It’s okay, really. Usually, I would find jealousy unattractive but there is something about green on you that I like. It really brings out your eyes.”

Your hands move forward to push some of her hair away from her face as if to see her eyes clearer. Wanda finally finds her voice, scoffing, “I was not jealous,” but she allows you to keep your hands on her face.

“No, of course not,” you reply sarcastically, smirk taking permanent residence on your face. You pinch her cheek to annoy her. 

“Only insecure people get jealous,” Wanda huffs and pushes your hands away. 

“Everyone has their insecurities, Maximoff.”

“What do you have to be insecure about?” she asks like you would be the last person to have any insecurities. 

You lean your side onto the seat. “Plenty of things. Like, no one ever taking me seriously. I hide a lot behind jokes. Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m being serious or not and that makes it really hard to communicate with people.”

You look away from Wanda who begins to uncross her arms, the earlier tension on her body from self preservation dissipating with your confession. Instead, you focus on your hands, fingers tracing the stitched lines on the leather seats. 

You continue with a sigh, “Not to keep reliving the past, but it seems like it’s all I ever really do, I think maybe had I worked a little more on that, maybe Skye and I wouldn’t have ended like we did. Maybe had I shown I could be, I don’t know, more serious, someone you could not only have laugh with but someone you could confide in, have honest talks with, be a shoulder to cry on, then maybe she wouldn’t have seen me as a distraction and maybe we, I don’t know. I’m just rambling now.”

It gets quiet in the car. Wanda watches your hands continue to trace the lines on the seats. You look up at her when she clears her throat, ready to speak. “Vision broke up with me with the excuse that heroes are meant to be alone and I try but ever since he said that I can’t help but think he has a point.”

“Why do you think so?” you ask. Much like you finding something else to focus on, Wanda begins fidgeting with the rings on her fingers before replying, “It’s just that after we broke up, everyone left me alone. They were trying to give me my space, I guess but all it did was make me feel lonely.”

You reach out to stop her fidgeting with her rings which only half works. When you hold her hand, her other one comes to start playing with your fingers. “As embarrassing as it was to have you see me crying, I’m glad you stayed with me that first day,” Wanda whispers, almost like it’s a secret.

You smile and joke, “You were crying? I would have never known if you didn’t just tell me.” You succeed in making her laugh, as she tells you to shut up, but you continue teasing her. “Now the puffy eyes and runny nose make total sense.”

“Oh, god! Don’t remind me,” she pulls her hands away from yours to cover her face. She mumbles behind her palms, “I probably looked so gross.”

You chuckle at how wrong she is, remembering that day. You pull her hands away from her face and respond, “Quite the opposite. I was wondering how someone could look so pretty crying.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at you and accuses, “Liar.”

“Honest. Then I thought how inappor- inaporpiet,” you struggle to say inappropriate so you rephrase, “how it was wrong to think that while you were crying. Sorry, the alcohol is still in my system.”

You continue through Wanda’s giggling. “And it’s your fault I’m not more sober right now!”

“What? How is this my fault?” she questions, still smiling.

“We didn’t get to drink the waters Bethany so nicely served us because you got jealous and stormed out,” you recount, watching the smile drop from Wanda’s face and a frown replace it. 

“I was not jealous!” Wanda still denies, much to your amusement. She tries to pull away her hands but you keep a heavy grip on them.

“Incredible. We just had a whole ass conversation about insecurities and you still can’t admit you were jealous,” you laugh when she denies it again with a pout on her face that you attempt to kiss away, pulling her into you. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mumble with a smile against her lips. She lets out an irritated sigh and leans back into you to finally do something about wiping that knowing smile off of your face. 

Wanda’s lips on yours, you both forget what either of you were trying to prove as you lose yourself to the feeling of having her pressed against you. You are both a mess, still slightly inebriated, but not so much that you don’t know what you are doing. You are well aware that you are in Nat’s car and she would kill you if she were to find out what you were doing in the backseat. 

You take the chance anyway thinking it would be worth it. Remnants of alcohol in your system and watching Wanda take her shirt off will do that. Hands are everywhere, stripping off clothes, so you don’t know who does it but the car horn sounds and makes you both stop in panic. 

“Shit,” you both whisper, out of breath. You turn to look at what could have caused the noise and see your shoe on the driver seat. One of you had thrown the shoe at the wheel. You both look towards the house. The lights were still off. You don’t think you woke anyone. At least, you hope you didn’t.

“Maybe no one heard?” You tell Wanda who looks at you with a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. There are five members of the most renowned team of heroes on the planet in that house. One, if not all, heard the horn.

Your phone chimes. Wanda gives you an ‘I told you so’ look as she pulls out your phone from your pants that are halfway down your thighs. Her heart stops in her chest as she sees the text is from Natasha. She shows you and you cover your face, not wanting to read whatever death threat is on there. 

“Read it for me. Maybe coming from you, I might not have a panic attack,” you beg. She opens the text and reads aloud, “ ‘I expect the car to smell of nothing but lemon scented disinfectant wipes tomorrow’ followed by two exclamation points and the red angry face emoji.”

You let out a sigh and remove your hands. “That doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t think she’s that mad.”

“Wait,” Wanda holds up a finger, reading off of your phone, “she’s typing.”

Your phone chimes incessantly. Wanda begins reading off, “Okay, girl with hand up emoji, ladder emoji, window emoji, person in bed emoji, oh, um.” Wanda’s eyes widen at what she now realizes is Nat threatening you through emoticons. “I am going to stop reading now so you can sleep tonight.”

You groan but take the phone to read through the little story Nat created. “Although I am fearing for my life, I have to give it to her. This is very creative and it sends shivers down my spine.”

You toss your phone onto the passenger seat. “If this is my last night, let’s end it right,” you say before dramatically sweeping Wanda in your arms and moving her to lie down as best as one can in the back seats of Nat’s car. She giggles as you nearly stumble to the floor due to your pants. 

“Stupid jeans,” you mutter, swiftly taking them off and moving on top of Wanda who is still giggling. You quickly shut her up. 

You wake up in the back seat of Nat’s car with Wanda in your arms. You feel three things at once: Wanda’s breath tickling your neck, the warmth of sunlight seeping through the car windows, and the beginnings of a headache. There is a loud screech that does nothing to help soothe the mild hangover. It wakes Wanda up as well. She voices her annoyance out loud, her morning voice husky. 

“Ugh, what is that? Y/N, make it stop,” she demands, burrowing further into you as if that will somehow make it stop. Coincidentally enough it does stop, but before you can relax, you hear voices arise. 

Wanda’s brows furrow and she tries to move away from you to see who could be coming to visit, but with the arm you have around her, you yank her back down into you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper yell.

She looks at you in confusion. “I’m seeing who it is.”

“Maybe that can wait once we’re fully clothed,” you suggest, pointing out the fact that all either of you have on are underwear and your shirts from last night. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, just stay still and hope they don’t peek in the car,” you command. The two of you stay quiet as the voices pass by. From the sounds of it, they come from two women.

“Oh, calm down! That landing was not that bad. It was way better than last time!” one of the women exclaims. Her voice sounds way too familiar, but you are too busy holding your breath in order to not get caught to actually try to place it. 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Daisy. Wait, who let you fly it before?” the second woman asks, the end of her sentence sounding far away hinting at them approaching the front door away from the car you and Wanda currently hide in. 

You hear knocking and then the front door opening. You think you hear Nat’s voice say something that sounds like “oh, fuck” but you aren’t too sure. You and Wanda only get up when you hear the front door close. 

You both hastily redress into yesterday’s clothes. Peeking out the window, Wanda notices a jet outside that definitely was not there last night and seeing as there are no other cars around, she can only assume it belongs to the two women which makes sense after hearing that one of them flew it. 

She sadly puts two and two together. These are the agents that would pick them up to take them back to the compound. You also pieced it together, “They’re here early.”

Wanda notices you sound a little peeved at that but you collect yourself. “Come on. Let’s go see what that’s about.” You give her a quick kiss before you exit the vehicle, holding the door open for her to step out. 

Wanda has half a mind to pull you back into the car, wrap back up in you, and never let you go, although she knows in the end it’s not you that’s going but her that has to leave. She’s just sad that her ride is here so soon and that she had to wake up to it after a night like last night. 

Last night was what felt like a wake up call for her. Lying in your arms, she began to wonder what she was even doing with you anymore. You make her feel like no one else has. She might have denied it all night, but she can be honest with herself. She knows she was jealous. She has never been jealous about anyone before and maybe because she knows she has no claim to you, in other words any reason to be jealous, she realized she wants to have a reason. She wants the right to be jealous. 

You stand there patiently waiting for her to step out of the car. Once she’s out, you fix her hair for her. “There. Maybe not Sister Wanda but I didn’t leave any marks for you to be DJ Wanda either,” you joke, trying to pull a smile from Wanda.

You do, but you find it odd that she doesn’t whack you or anything for teasing. “Wow, no violence after making a joke like that. Are you feeling okay? Did the alcohol not hit you until right now? Are you somehow drunk?”

“No,” she rolls her eyes at you. “I thought we had a rule about not hitting you.”

“Oh, so now you remember the rules. It only took you til your last day here to remember them,” you chuckle, closing the door behind her. You begin walking toward the house but when you reach the porch you feel Wanda pull you back. You look at her with questioning eyes.

Wanda decides to finally voice all her thoughts and feelings that she has been keeping to herself once and for all. “About those rules-“

“Robin Hood?”

Wanda is cut off by that familiar voice you couldn’t place before but you couldn’t mistake it now especially given that nickname. There was only one person to ever call you that. You didn’t have to look to know who it was but you and Wanda both turn to see the last person you thought you would ever catch in Westview County standing on your cousin’s porch.

“Skye?”

______________________________________________________

Dun, dun, duUuUn

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[sunsents]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

[forever-rogue]

Idk if you’re still taking Bucky requests, but I came across a quote and I feel in love with it because it just screamed Bucky to me. It read: “there is nothing as beautiful as seeing someone who has been unlucky, finally being loved so effortlessly by the right person” if this sparks anything in you, I would love to read it 💜

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 1.9k

Warnings | dad!Bucky, slight language, slight suggestive theme

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky bit back a yawn as he closed the car door and headed towards the front door. The smell of spring, the freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers overwhelmed his senses along with the warm summer sun hitting his skin. This was nice, he realized, the calculated simplicity and domestic nature of it all. He hiked his bag on his shoulder, the gold in his vibranium arm glinting brilliantly in the slowly dying light of the day. He didn’t bother to hide it anymore, somehow long past that part of his life. At one point he never thought he’d reach that point in his life and now he had the world in front of him. 

Walking up the stairs, he smiled to himself as he could already smell something delicious cooking through the open windows. In a vain attempt to keep the household from falling into complete and utter chaos, he slowly opened the door and tried to tip-toe inside. He managed to get about two feet inside and kick off his work boots before he heard an exciting squeal followed by a few loud woofs. 

The pitter-patter of two small feet and four paws quickly reached him as Falcon, the trusted family dog, and Emily, your oldest daughter, ran down the hall towards him. Any stress he had remaining quickly melted away at the sight of two of his favorite beings as they almost knocked him over in their rush. 

“Daddy!” an excited shout was followed by another bark. He bent down and scooped the small girl in his arms, the weight of the world off his shoulders as she wrapped her little arms around his neck, “hi daddy, you’re home!”

“Of course I am,” he propped her on his hip and studied her sweet little face. She took after him with his dark unruly hair and ocean eyes, but the rest he swore was all you, especially that sweet smile, “I’ll always come home to my sweetest girl. Did you have a good day, baby?”

“Yeah,” she nodded excitedly as he brushed her hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “mama and I painted and then we planted some new flowers. She said she picked them out because they reminded her of you!”

“She did, did she?” he couldn’t stop the grin that spread from ear to ear as his heart fluttered in his chest. Even to this day you still managed to make him weak in the knees and set off butterflies in his belly. He held Emily tightly in his grip as he bent down to give Falcon a few pets, causing the dog to rub against his legs as he wagged his tail, “what would I do without my little hellraisers?”

“Mama says that’s a bad word!” Emily looked at him with wide eyes and he chuckled softly before holding a finger to his lips.

“It’s our little secret,” he whispered as she nodded, “do you know why this secret is okay?”

“Because it’s not gonna hurt anyone,” she asked as he nodded. She gave him a wide gap toothed grin as he set her back down, “will you play with me later, daddy? Falcon wants to have a tea party!”

“Of course,” he promised his daughter as she held tightly onto his hand, “now go and get cleaned up for dinner. It smells like it should all be done soon.”

“Okie dokie,” she dropped his hand and motioned for Falcon to follow her instead, practically bouncing up the stairs. 

Bucky sighed in content as he shook his head before slowly making his way into the kitchen where he was sure you were. He found at the island, brows furrowed in concentration as you chopped vegetables for the salad. Your baby boy was slung around your chest, and despite the commotion from Bucky’s entrance, he was fast asleep. A lump welled up in his throat as he watched the sight. It would be nothing special to most people, but to him it was everything.

You looked so beautiful, even in your sweatpants and t-shirt with your hair a chaotic bun as you hummed to the baby under your breath. You looked tired and he felt bad for a moment; leaving you with a toddler and a baby was a ton of work and he would have gladly stayed home with you and helped, but you were insistent that he work if he wanted. You’d never hold it against him, he knew that.

As soon as you sensed you his presence in the kitchen, you turned to him and gave him a soft smile, and his own features softened even more, “hello, my love. I’m so glad you’re so home!”

You set down the knife before slowly making your way over to him, careful not to disturb the baby as he immediately leaned down to kiss you. Your whole body was practically humming from his touch as you stole you a few more kisses, “rough day? You should have called me and I could have come home, honey baby.”

“It wasn’t bad actually,” you promised, watching with nothing but adoration in your eyes as he stroked Stevie’s chubby little cheek, “the chaos duo was on their best behavior today and the little one has been sleeping most of the day. I think he wore himself out from all his fussing last night.”

“Miracles do happen,” he laughed lightly as his hand went to your face and he gently stroked your cheek. You grinned at him, keening into his touch like a cat to the sun, “you are so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you playfully pushed his chest before hiding your face behind your hands. Funny, how even after all this time he still managed to make you feel nervous and shy, “I’m in my ugliest mom clothes which I’m pretty sure these sweats have permanent puke stains, I haven’t showered today and I look like I haven’t slept in five years. Hardly beautiful.”

“You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on regardless of all of that,” he insisted softly, reaching for your hands and pulling them away from your face. Your whole body flushed with pleasant warmth as you looked into his eyes, “and I love you more than anything in this world.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you knock me up twice,” you joked as he playfully rolled his eyes, “god, Bucky, how do you still make me feel like this?”

“Like what?” he asked as he slowly moved to undo the sling from your chest and take the baby from you. Stevie made a few small sounds before cuddling up on Bucky’s chest. 

“Like I’m still falling in love with you every day,” you whispered as you leaned in and let him wrap arm around you as well. He kissed the top of your head before sighing in content, “I guess I am. We’re a little different every day - we’re definitely not the same fools from when we first met, huh?”

“I mean, we’re married and have kids, and the whole you know, typical suburban thing going on,” he teased, “so I’d say we’re pretty different. But you’re still my favorite pain in the ass.”

“James!” your eyes widened before the two of you broke into a fit of giggles, “I will get you back for that later!”

“Oh, I definitely count on it,” he promised, “now, go and take a few moments to yourself, shower or whatever, and I’ll finish dinner and get the kiddos and Falcon settled.”

“Whatever would I do without you, my love?”

“I think the better question is what would I do without you, honey baby?”

You blew him a little kiss as you all but ran towards the stairs in order to fit in a quick shower. Sometimes even ten minutes of peace and quiet would suffice. Bucky watched you go with a soft smile on his face, before turning his attention back to his softly cooing son, “your mama’s the best person in this entire world, I hope you always know that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What?” you could feel Bucky’s eyes on your back as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom en suite. He was sitting in bed, winding down with some television as he waited for you, “I can feel you checking out the goods, Barnes.”

“That’s because I am,” you could practically hear the cheeky smirk in his voice, “it’s not wrong to admire, is it?”

“You’re too much,” you dried your face off before making your way back over to him. He offered you a lazy smile as he pulled back your side of the blankets and made room for you. You were only wearing his shirt and a pair of old cotton panties but he was watching you like you were the best in this world. Because to him - you were. The end all and be all, “James? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing,” he whispered as he immediately reached for you and gently pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound of surprise but easily gave into his touch, “nothing at all. I’m perfect.”

“Hmm,” you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his plump lips, gently tugging on his dog tags, “me too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I kind of like you a lot.”

“Is that why you married me? Had two kids with me? Got the dog?” he raised a brow as you carded a hand through his dark locks, scratching lightly at his scalp, “I bet it was all for the dog.”

“He didn’t hurt,” you joked, gently stroking his cheek, “but you aren’t so bad either. I love you, Bucky. So much. I hope you know. I hope you know you deserve this, everything we have - the whole world.”

“I…” he paused for a moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as you showed him so much tenderness and delicate love, “I love you too.”

“Hey,” you put your hand under your chin and turned his face up towards yours, “I mean it James Buchanan Barnes. You have been through so much, so much that other people forced on you, and you deserve happiness. You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. I know you have some bad days, and I understand that, but I want you to know I will always be here for you and I will always love you. You are my best friend, my husband, the father of my children, you are my everything.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Yes,” you insisted softly, “you do, James.”

“I-”

“How about for one moment you hush up,” you pushed him back against the headboard and pressed a few gentle, lazy kisses to his lips, “and just listen to me. And let me love you.”

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you too, James.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[colorful-white-ideas]

Things that I thought only happen on telenovelas ...

*Long txt about pregnancy read it if you want.

So i was losing my free time on Twitter when:

" pregnant woman kidnapped while going to the hospital to deliver her baby" I was shocked I clicked and read:

"Pregnant woman was on her way to the hospital after her water broke , desperate and alone took a cab from the street and called her family, they were waiting for her at the hospital entrance but she never arrived. 24 hrs have passed now since the last time they heard from her , she is nowhere to be found. Police and authorities suspect of human trafficking mafia."

I felt an anguish, a woman in her most vulnerable state kidnapped? They killed her ? Maybe. They stole her baby? Most likely. But how ? How is that they cannot find her? she was basically giving birth wtf is wrong with this world?. The more I read the more sad I became , she looked so happy on her baby shower showing her big belly to the world, playing games with her partner in the party ... The family said the young mom was planning everything for her daughter's arrival. Yes ,the baby was a girl , they even had a name for her: Martina

The woman's mother asked for help on television, said that her daughter's partner was now suspected because he did not report the incident as quickly as he should have.

The partner. A man. why that doesn't surprise me. I immersed myself on the story so much that I started searching some article , video where that man showed his face and his dispair for his now missing child and woman... But nothing. I started to think " he did something to her , maybe he didn't love her anymore ,maybe he never wanted to be a father , he is a monster , someone hang him upside down and make him talk " I wanted blood, I wanted answers , I wanted justice because as a women how i would not to ?

More time passed , there was not a single clue. Her phone out of service after she called her family, no info about the cab or driver that was with her , no cameras on the main avenues. The whole country paralyzed , groups of women praying with candels asking God to please have some mercy ... Maybe if we appeal to Virgin Mary she could help us , In a country were in the last year 5 thousand women disappeared maybe a miracle is what we need.

Then a ray of hope , a close neighbour had some security cameras, the angle was short but it was good enough to film the instant where the pregnant woman ( lets call her J) is seen leaving her building in a hurry , and then a couple ( man and woman) come back and leave the building again but with luggages on their hands. WHO ARE THEY , maybe the fake driver had accomplices , maybe they where following her , they kew where she lived and now they are retrieving her stuff ... where did they take her? BUT it was reported she was completely alone what its going on?

That was yesterday

Today we woke up with good and bad news

" J appeared. In early hours of the morning , the woman was abbandoned in a location far away from where she was kidnapped, her child is still missing" . The familly found her , well actually she found them, some of her relatives live in the town where she was left or released. From there her parents took her to a hospital where the doctors stabilized her, she had scratches - bruises in her arms, and seemed drugged. Meanwhile J's Partner was being interrogated by the police.

The public is expecting some answer and now we will have more clues , in the meantime the country authorities has forbidden new borns to travel out of the country.

J doesn't want to talk, understandeable we think. The hours pass and new info surface : The happy couple that expected their first child , Was in fact reunited due to the pregnancy... they were separated before that. This explain the family suspicion. They didnt have a good relationship.

With J in the hospital and the baby still missing; the now father, still does not appear on tv or any other media asking for help. He is silent , very silent. What kind of father is he?

J finally finally speaks, and say that she gavebirth the baby but didnt hear her cry , their captors told her the baby was born dead, she was not able to see the body. She is afraid of reveal their identities , they threatened her with killing her or her family. How did she scape them? its not very clear

The search for the baby girl continues.

At noon today : The case was so big at this point that a couple of ministers where talking with the press about it. One of them, the head of all the police forces declares the imposible: She has no clinical signs of ever being pregnant.

The country frozes for a second. WHAT, HOW ? we all saw the pictures and videos, friends an family get defensive and declare they saw and touched the belly , they all saw it grow ... but no one can answer who was her obgyn doctor ,its like no one had ever wondered that till today. More time pass , there is no actual proof of one thing or the other , medical records are confidential ... J requests to be discharged cause she felt harassed by the doctors. " They dont leave her alone" said J's father.

Leave her alone? If she in fact gave birth in poor conditions SHE NEEDS medical attention with urgency. The police reveal that she doesn't want to cooperate with physical examinations. The baby search is now second priority.

Some of us still want to believe in her, "this is just a mistake, she is just traumatized, dont waste more time. Keep looking for that baby God dammit!! " I say while I'm reading the updates.

Then , because since the dawn of the internet nothing really remains hidden, her lab works are leaked to the press:

Her Human chorionic gonadotropin hormone (hCG) levels , the pregnancy hormone , were basically 0 zero . In a puerperous woman those levels are still high during the 2 first weeks after labor and she allegedly delivered the baby a day before yesterday. She lied. She was never pregnant.

J suddenly feel better and declare to the press outside her family's house wearing jeans and walking without problems, she insist in her pregnancy, says the doctors are wrong because maybe she couldn't get all the examination done ( she refused them but doesn't mention that) , that she will prove she was pregnant. She only mentions the baby and how worried she is when someone reminds her that.

But no one believes her. The "father" is still silent , the police now investigate a fake pregnancy and delivery ... That is a felony here.

Unless a psychologic pregnancy is proven.

These las 2 days were an emotional rollercoaster... I have never thought someone could ever go that far with a lie of that sort. Did the guy knew? And play all along with her waiting for the moment to come? Pictures, videos, baby shower, she arranging the baby's room, people who touched her and saw her ... She lied every one. For what?

Time and investigation will determine.

Life imitates fiction.

The news here but in Spanish

[aetheternity]

I have a request

Levi's wife y/n and 4 or 5 year old son get kidnapped by kenny and the military police. They get taken to the crystal cave with eren and historia. So when levi comes to save them he is livid and is quickly taking down every mp in his way. Luckily both y/n and her son make it out safely with levi and his squad.

Levi, y/n, and their son have a soft moment and they all hug and give kisses 😚😚😚 and day squad teases them

(I added my own little spin to this where Y/N is playfully argumentative and sometimes wild with Levi. Hope that's ok! I also thought it would be cute if Levi and Y/N’s son was named after Levi’s late friend Farlen.)

"We have more than just Historia and Eren now." Levi grunted, facing Hange. "My son and Y/N were taken as well."

"We can't wait then. We'll leave as soon as possible."

Levi squeezed the paper Hange had given him earlier in his grasp as his squad whooped and hollered behind him. Kenny probably wouldn't kill them, they were insurance after all. Which was that much worse for Levi.

He already knew if he didn't manage to calm himself before they got to Kenny he would lash out recklessly. The one thing he'd told his wife and son to never allow themselves to do.

~~~~

"Oi." Levi stepped closer, concern etched onto his face. His eyebrows scrunched where he looked into his wife's eyes. "If you continue moping around our child's health will be at risk and yours. The doctor already told you that."

She turned, eyes narrowed and lips tight where they were pulled into a frown. "What else am I supposed to feel? The father of my baby is running around dodging death. Am I supposed to be happy Levi?"

Levi rolled his eyes, his hand already coming up to the bridge of his nose in expectation for the upcoming brawl of sorts. "I'll be alive for the birth of our son."

"Will you though?" She stepped closer, challenge rising in her tone and eyes.

"I'm not leaving you or the soon to be kid we've made. And you already know that." He fought back. "I'd sooner go back to the underground."

Her hands ran up to his collar tugging him closer. And he let her, let every bit of fury trapped beneath those stone cold eyes run over his spine like a flash of lightning all with the same neutral expression.

"I'm so serious you wouldn't even believe. If you don't come back one of these days and I have to raise this baby all on my own. I'm gonna bring you back to life just so I can kill you again. Do you hear me Levi Ackerman?"

Levi let out a little huff and a small smirk ran over his lips. She let him go and he straightened out his collar. "You get scarier everyday." He remarked "Way scarier than any damn titan."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her down the mostly empty corridor. "You saw the doctor again today right? Tell me what happened."

"We've got a healthy Ackerman on our hands. He's grown bigger than he's supposed to be at this stage actually." She smiled softly as she placed a hand on her belly. "Probably cause he has your blood."

"Tch, moron. He's already his mother. Constantly kicking every time I touch your belly. He's gonna be a brat just like you."

"I hope he gets my height and not yours."

"For his sake your height instead of your mouth would be good."

"My mouth has gotten you through many long nights so I wouldn't complain if I were you."

Levi playfully rolled his eyes as Y/N's soft laugh filled the corridor. Her eyes shining brighter than they had her whole pregnancy. It was weird Levi had always heard about new parents being scared but he barely was.

When he'd found out he'd been more surprised than anything but he'd barely even had the time to over analyze the situation until that night. This unbelievably wild girl was the mother of his child. What more could he want.

Fear did dawn on him. Knowing he'd have something new in this world that needed his protection. Something so precious and small to protect. But another part of him knew that kid would be safer if he got his mother's fighting spirit.

"Hey, you better not be thinking about other girls." Y/N huffed as she poked at Levi's forehead.

Levi grabbed her finger. "Dumbass, no one else would be able to handle you if I left."

"Just sounds like you're making excuses so that you don't have to tell me, you adore me and could never find anyone else who brings you this much joy."

"No." That barely even scratched the surface..

~~~~

"Do you have a location on them?" Hange asked

"There're a whole bunch of military police and Kenny's squad is surrounding the entire area. But no sign of Kenny himself or any of the people who were taken." Sasha replied

Levi huffed, brain not wanting to retreat to the worst possible scenario. Besides the conversation currently developing in front of him there was a sort of quiet drifting in the atmosphere.

"We have a plan right?" Armin suddenly asked

And Hange nodded, "You're gonna need these." Her hands clasped around the cool metal of the signal flares.

"Signal flares??" Jean stared in disbelief

"Don't worry, we're getting out of here alive hostages and all." Hange stated before turning to Levi. "They're ok."

Levi blinked, slowly but surely uncurling his fists. He looked around to the others their faces a mix of concern and in certain cases glee. But they all had the same sentiment.

"Put the plan into motion." Levi stood

~~~~

It went surprisingly quickly. From the barrels they'd deployed to the signal flares being shot off. Sasha and Mikasa taking out the military police like no one's business but Levi could already feel his Ackerman rage growing.

Where the hell was Kenny? He thought.

His question was soon answered when a bullet flew past his cheek immediately drawing blood. The next bullet striking an ice pillar with a hard crack as he ducked for cover behind it.

Levi paused repositioning himself to jump and land behind one another of the thick pillars searching for the source of the bullets. "Where the hell are they?" He grunted voice raspy, thick and loud where he called to the only person that would be behind this.

Kenny's laugh was boisterous, heavy where it bounced between each pillar. The amount of sweat that had collected on Levi's palms had his weapon slippery in his grip and the vein in his forehead was close to popping.

"I think you have other things here you should be concerning yourself with."

In the blink of an eye Levi's head shot backwards, Jean's scream mixed with the heart shattering sound of Hange hitting one of the pillars caught his attention. A bullet releasing her blood as she slipped and rolled over against the ground like a discarded toy.

"Tch!"

"Levi! Oi you should be worried about me. After all. Your little family dies by my call!"

If Levi was boiling before his blood was erupting now. With incredible skill and speed he bounced his way around the pillars dodging each bullet as Kenny shot them out. His agility raised as he flipped over Kenny's form and behind him. In an instant Levi was tossing a bag full of flammable liquid in time to meet his next shot.

When the bag tore open Levi flew forward, through burning flames created by Kenny's gun tossing his blade. The motion caught Kenny off guard but he managed to dodge it, his hat flying off into a nearby pillar along with Levi's blade to hold it up there.

Levi's heart was hammering taking the advantage he'd managed to get he flew at Kenny with incredible speed slicing through his torso almost like it was butter. In the heat of adrenaline Levi watched as Kenny's body fell to the ground of the cool cavern.

He landed with a hard breath before retracting the odm gears hooks. He couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't stop himself from running forward no matter how stupid and dangerous it was.

He heard bits and pieces of speech behind him. "Follow Captain!" And "Wait, hold on!" But none of it stopped his feet.

He skidded in his pace as he heard soft calls of, "Dad! Dad!"

And he was immediately headed for it. A bit of relief flooding his chest as he heard the faint sounds of odm gear clanging behind him. His squad clearly keeping good pace.

When he arrived he instantly locked eyes with his five year old son and wife.

"Dad!" Farlen's voice echoed. He didn't look injured from what Levi could tell and neither did Y/N. Farlen's hair tosseled as if he'd merely been running outside.

"Where are Historia and Eren?!" Mikasa called as she ran up behind Levi.

"Guys!" Historia's voice boomed. She slunk forward barely supporting Eren's weight. His shirt gone and his face covered in blood.

Levi quickly ran to untie Y/N and Farlen immediately embracing Farlen when he jumped into his arms. If he were any other kid Levi would probably be questioning why he hadn't shit his pants and why his face was tearless. But he definitely wasn't any other five year old.

"Geez, you guys took forever." Y/N remarked, stretching her hands above her head. "I was about to wreck all these Military brats butts for you." She said with a smirk at Levi.

Levi huffed, rubbing his son's back. "Next time you can save yourself then." He remarked giving Farlen a soft head rub.

"Ugggh Mom.. Dad not now.." he sighed

"There won't be a next time!" Y/N fought back. "I'll never get caught up like that again."

"Tch, whatever."

"Are you challenging me Mr. Ackerman?"

"You're a brat, Ms. Ackerman."

"How about I show you how much of a brat I can really be?" She chuckled with a dark smile etching over her features. She pulled him closer, hugging his and Farlen's form with a firm hand on Levi's lower back.

"Don't start something you can't finish." Levi whispered back.

"Ewwwwww.." Farlen mock gagged between them.

Y/N just laughed loudly. "You'll understand when you have someone you love to hate, Farlen."

"Yeah.. I'm with Farlen. That's eww." Connie remarked with a shake of his head.

The others soon joined in with their own little laughs and teasing words. "I can't believe how soft Captain can be." And "They're such a cute family I hope I get that some day."

Levi repositioned Farlen on one arm ignoring all the chatter. Though his cheeks bloomed a rosy color that was extremely unmistakable "Historia, where's your father?"

"He escaped before you guys got here. He's headed toward the wall." She replied

"We've gotta hurry then."

(I'm so sick of people on the internet rn I swear🙄)

[namjoonchronicles]

impression | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 5.5k

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, self-worth, over-sensitivity, pisces dude, married life conflicts

↳ song ariana grande ‘pov’ 

Just this morning you woke him up with ‘Daechwita’ blasting on his ear drums, dancing and prancing around the home gym in your spandex bra and sweatpants, rapping to every word he wrote, with more swag than ten Yoongis combined. Forehead glistened with sweat, rosy cheeks and more life in you than he ever had. He leaned by the door sill just watching in utter disbelief and renewed admiration to just how much you loved his music. It never gets old. But how the tables have turned, two minutes before midnight.

You’ve locked yourself in the bathroom, him leaning his back on the wall, speaking through the closed door, calling out for you.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through. Fat chance, but at least he tried.

Must be something in his drink last night for him to hear his own song even when he is sleeping, Yoongi thought. But he didn't drink last night? Yoongi pulled the duvet down his head, contorting his entire face and the blaring boom bass music, rippling through the miniature figure standees of famous baseball players he had lined up on the TV cabinet. The music was so loud, the pictures hung on the walls began rattling at each beat drop. Where is this music coming from??

Two seconds in, and the empty spot next to him spoke volumes. All answers were as clear as day.

Yoongi sat up on the bed, duvets pooled around his waist as he yawns loudly and his bed hair flopping on either side leans towards, some baby strands standing in all directions. He scratches his arms, neck and belly as he comes awake. Face puffy, eyes barely open, and cheeks as circle as they could be. He gathered the duvet to the side and pushed himself off to the edge of the bed while shoving his feet into his indoor slippers. He tried to fetch his phone from the bedside table and saw it vibrating on its own from the loud music.

"Better stop her before the neighbours come complaining…"

He waddles about the room lazily, dragging his feet, his arm reaching for the switch panel before he even arrives to have the curtain open and let the sun in. The automated curtain aligned and folded creases perfectly as it gathered itself to each designated side. The bed, the bed will be made up later after he advises his wife not to deafen the whole neighborhood with his albums and he could finally think.

The teal-colored walls that extended along the hallway of the house, decorated with wedding pictures, family pictures, his signed baseball jerseys, picture of his basketball days (the one he jumps for a slam dunk and especially proud of, you know the one), your graduation picture (with him professionally photoshopped in) and some lovely polaroids of your first unofficial date that he insists was official. More on that later. Yoongi walks pass this memory lane with a stern face, shooting glares ahead, marching in the direction of the music, which seems to be coming from the gym. What he saw was a petite figure, all hyped up, sweaty, holding up a water bottle to your lips like a microphone, mouthing his rap like it was your own. You saw him in the mirror reflection but instead of coiling away, shy, you spat his rap to his face with flaming confidence. Yoongi looks down with a shy smile, eyes turning small and polite, skin blushing pink with second hand embarrassment. His face is hot and your sweaty skin, hair plastered to your neck and forehead, in revealing spandex was not helping. Neither is your swag. He clamped his lips with his teeth while you pulled his arm so he would join you. He protested lazily but didn't resist as hard. He throws his head back, whining dejections but you couldn't care less.

"Are you making your own concert here? Plagiarising my songs?"

You heard him and grinned widely at the mirror. He folded his arms and watched you dance seductively and just as the rap got to the 'my tongue sends boys and girls to China' part, the music stops and he is no longer next to you but by the stereo and turning it off.

"Yoongi! I was working out!" "People are gonna come and complain…" "They know who you are…" "They know my name from you…"

Screaming underneath him, that's what he meant. You rolled your eyes at him. He passed you a face towel with a sheepish smile. Wiping your face with it, you watched Yoongi unplug your phone from the sockets. It reveals several missed calls from your mother in law, Yoongi's mom.

"Mom called…" "Really?"

You moved closer to him to see. Yoongi reads the message she sent you outloud and the colors drained down your face.

"What do I cook? What do I do? What does she usually have for lunch? OMG, I don’t know. Do we even have kimchis left? I hadn't restocked…" "She likes fried dumplings and soy garlic chicken stew… it'll be okay. She said she is coming around noon. It's just a little over 8 am… Go take a shower."

You scurried to the bathroom and did as told. Yoongi made the bed while he waited. He turns the cordless vacuum cleaner on but it beeped soullessly because it wasn't charged. He sighed. You always forget to charge them after using them. He opted for a broom and dustpan instead. Yoongi disappears into his home studio, to take the shampoo he had been using and after-shower lotion for you to use. He twisted the knob, knowing you wouldn't lock them when you shower. Knock on the glass door of the shower and told you to use them. You nodded, passing him a look over your shoulder but he was out as quickly as he entered. That cold, cold steely husband.

You stepped out of the shower wrapped in towels with your hair dripping wet, hurrying to the hairdryer to dry your hair. Yoongi walks in with nothing but a towel around his waist. He passes you a chaste kiss on the shoulder first, then your cheeks before he continues to unravel his briefs and showered as well. The water trickles down his face, neck and shoulders, cascading down his speckless back, over the bum of his ass and wetting his happy trails at the same time. He aggressively rubs water over his face, the tips of his hair appear darker as it gets wet. You dressed up in your oversized hoodie, a pair of jeans and red converse, hair tied up in a bun, grabbing your purse for a quick run to the store. If your mother in law is coming, the least you could do is cook an all korean cuisine, prep nicely on the table so she knows that her son was taken care of nicely. Giving her a lasting good impression was your core priority as of now. And Yoongi would have been more than happy to do the grocery for you but this time, just this once, you want to show him that you are dependable too.

If there is anything you learned from korean cuisine is that food is prepared meticulously like you would, a form of art. Everything is placed neatly on a plate, and wrapped tightly. Taste and looks must be perfect. Everything had a sequence. Tradition and culture shapes the good people of Korea to what it is today. And for Daegu native, Yoongi's deep accent and habits become one of the most significant traits that flags a Daegu representative. You are obsessed with getting it right. Although you mostly don't understand the heavy accents he tends to let slip out once in a while, you were expecting to guess the words as it comes. His accents are one of the things that you loved about him. Daegu dialects are strong, and oozing masculinity. They are often direct and unapologetic so it might be heard as harsh. You couldn't tell apart if he is cursing or if he is just plainly just talking about his day when his friends stop by. He caught you a few times, staring blankly at him when he blurted out dialects out of frustrations, and he laughed them off when you accuse him of lying to you about what the words actually mean.

With his mom stopping by, the dialects are going to be thick and you would probably stare blankly most of the time. Communications are limited and Yoongi had to come back and forth to translate some of them.

Korean cooking is not your forte. Let's put that out there, in the open for everyone to see and understand. You are not familiar with it, and although you love some of it, some just don't fit your taste buds. But Yoongi is a full blown Korean. You make adjustments here and there, but it's not like he is always around for you to cook them often. That's why your korean cooking skills deteriorated. Even simple things like choosing which mushrooms to cook with takes 10 minutes longer than it probably should. You went with your heart and took the one you saw first.

Yoongi came out from the baths to see an empty room. Your perfume wafts over his nostril and it tattles about your whereabouts. Just as he was about to investigate, his phone shrieked a calling tone. It was Jungkook. Asking for a chord. He sounds desperate and bored to death. Being a good friend, Yoongi speds to his home studio after clumsily putting on some white tee on top of a grey shorts, halfway through and sending him several chords the little guy could work with, then pulling the rest of the shirt down as it loads. He swore he didn't take long but he found you already changing your clothes and starting to chop things on the chopping board, sloppily. He knows that it was not you to do things sloppily so he offered to help sharpen the knives.

"Soy garlic stew?"

You chewed your lips at him as he asked and nodded. Anxiety was written all over you. Your hands were already so shaky, and that's why you couldn't hold the knife properly, aside from it being blunt. You turned to the sink and began chopping the scallions with another knife Yoongi handed you.

“There are some potatoes I bought in the paper bags, I brought the mushroom I am familiar with, I am not sure if it's the one used in the stew. What time is it already? Is this enough time to even cook the stew? The chicken hasn’t thaw has it? I am not going to have enough time… She is going to know that the dumpling is store bought and I am putting my pride on the line…” you spoke nonstop, didn’t even hear Yoongi if he was saying anything, which you assumed he was quiet, so you became annoyed and, “Why aren’t answering any questions I have??”

Yoongi stood there, with a blank expression, “You wouldn’t even let me talk…”

You answered your own questions, and he was here listening to everything, opening his mouth and closing it before any word could come out because you bulldozed him with words, as he dug out the potatoes you were talking about, as well as the mushrooms.

“I’m sorry, I watched the youtube video on making the stew on the way to the mart and it seems pretty complicated, but doable… I think that the ginger and garlic goes in first,” you paused and sighed, “It’s been awhile since I cooked a proper meal for myself. I don’t know if I had it in me to even do this anymore…”

That’s right. While Yoongi was always away from the last two years, his work trips extended from 3 months to a whole year, and while studying for your master’s degree, you opt for simpler food, just enough for you to get by the day with a filled stomach. Most of your time is dedicated to your studies and laundry. Stopping by Daegu was hardly done, and if anything, you would just send some gifts her way. It is pretty awkward between you and his mother; language barriers, interests, and principles. You didn’t notice when Yoongi was standing behind you, his hand was on top of yours, soothing over your knuckles and he hijacked the scissors from your hands gently.

And he whispered softly atop of your head, “I got this.”

Just like that, he took over kitchen duties and let you handle the simpler stuff like, putting the pot on the stove, fill water in it, skin the potatoes, chopped them into large cubes, unstub the capsicum, peel the skin off of the chicken, peel the garlic and ginger. Yoongi’s instructions are clear and easy to follow. After all the things are chopped and prepared, he hands the ladle to you.

Your eyes widen. And you shook your head. Stepping back. Yoongi clicked his tongue and chuckled through his nose. Coax you. But no, you stepped farther back. He then took your wrist gently and placed the ladle handle in your palm.

“Trust me?” “I trust you, it’s me I don’t trust.”

“I’ll help you every step. Let’s go. Have confidence!” “You’re the multi billionaire, I’m just the struggling degree student with a part time job.”

“You’re Min Yoongi’s wife.” “I find that hard to believe sometimes…”

With another scolding tut of his tongue, you conceded. With a heavy heart.

The chopped chicken pieces are placed in a boiling water pot, and when its reddish flesh turns white and is cooked, it is drained and washed underneath cold running water to remove impurities. You watched quietly as Yoongi cleans them with his capable hands. His veins protrude, extending well over his forearms. The tip of his fingers were pinker than the rest of his hands, and he smoothes over those nooks and crannies the chicken pieces have. As ridiculous as it may sound, you were quite envious of the fact that those chickens have his full attention now. Next, the carrots.

The carotene source is peeled and chopped in large size. Yoongi helped guide your hands over the handle of the knife, because he is pretty particular on how big he wanted those carrots to be.

“Isn’t that too large?” You asked him in a small voice. They are half the size of your thumb. “No, it’s just nice…” he replied in a low voice, his lips just behind your ear, “It has to be in the same size as the potatoes, so it will cook at the same time.”

Your bottom grazed over his front and he learns to just keep you sandwiched in between the counter and him, so it won’t turn to something else. He is just as anxious as you are with his mom coming. Therefore, the percentage of him turning frisky is zero to none. The onions come next. They are chopped in half and then into fours. Yoongi paused and braced himself for tear gas attacks only there was none. He asks where you bought those onions, and you replied, it was grown in your colleagues garden. They were given for free. And he comments,

“They should sell these, we will be their first loyal customer! It doesn’t sting!”

You laughed as you prepared the fruits you bought. It was rock melon and some papayas. You avoided buying tangerine because you know she will bring some from her hometown, knowing how much Yoongi loves them. Daegu’s tangerines are very sweet and plump. There is nothing like it. Yoongi sliced green onions for the stew and extra hot chili peppers because his mom likes them spicy. Then he prepares the mixture for the broth.

“Now watch,” he instructed you, “Soy sauce, rice wine, red chilli pepper powders, minced garlic, two cups of sugar, red pepper paste, sesame oil, pepper. Mix well.”

Yoongi prepared a pot and placed the cleaned chicken pieces in them, added potatoes, carrots and water with the mixture he made just prior. Then, boil. After the chicken is cooked thoroughly, he adds onions. Then the scallions. Then salt to taste. You prepared the oven and Yoongi carried the pot to it to keep it warm until his mom arrived. Dumplings were pan fried. That one was simple. His mom doesn’t like her beverages too sweet, a simple plain water is enough.

When all the food is done, you turn to him at the same time he did. Sweats rolling down his sideburns and his thin white shirt clinging on his skin like he ran a mile. You approached him with a huge smile, swept his hair back to reveal his forehead and dabbed your inner wrist to wipe away his sweat all around his face. He sniggers through his nose. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, you can’t help but plant a kiss on them. Nuzzling your face on his neck, you draped your arm around his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you…”

He leans his cheek on your head and kisses one side of your brain, before exclaiming that you both need another shower after cleaning up the kitchen and turning on the air humidifier to chase away the smell of cooking.

“How was the journey?” you chirped. “The weather is scorching hot, the sun is melting me away before I can meet my son,” Yoongi’s mom complained in a thick Daegu accent, and when she stepped in, she gave you a glance and straight away went looking for her precious son. As expected.

“He was just out of the shower, he will come soon, mother,” you said the last word awkwardly, it doesn’t really roll off your tongue as comfortably as it should. She replied to you with a dejected “Hmm.”

You blinked and cast your eyes downwards, then up again to change the topic, “...Let me take you some cold drink… it must have been a torture, to walk around in such hot weather,” you sped to the kitchen and grabbed her a cold water in a tall glass.

“Hello mom…” Yoongi revealed himself from the hallway, gave his mother a hug that you didn’t receive when she walked in. “It wasn’t torture when I’ve come to see my son!” She suddenly changed her words, now she is all bright and cheerful, and you disappeared from her sight completely unless Yoongi looks over to you and includes you in the conversation. That too, wasn’t permanent. Yoongi learned that his older brother’s wife is carrying a baby and Holly had been snuggling to her tummy at every chance she gets. The sight would have been adorable and they were able to take a picture of it so Yoongi’s mom excitedly showed them to Yoongi. They both are sitting on the sofa while you were in the kitchen scooping up cooked rice into bowls of three.

“This sofa is new isn’t it? I didn’t see it the last time I was here,” his mom asked. “Yes, yes… do you like it?” Yoongi said and said you chose them. Then her enthusiasm dissipates. “I like it better without one. Now it’s too westernized,” his mom’s lips turned lopsided, continuing, “Did you know that hanging your legs down will disrupt the blood flow up to your brain? We better sit down on the floor when we eat, too…”

Yoongi prepared a Japanese folded table and pushed aside the coffee table that was there. Everything you’ve prepared on the dining table was moved to the Japanese one. When everything is set, you and Yoongi wait for his mom to start eating before you both do. It’s tradition. Even between man and wife, the older one begins eating first. Yoongi sips the stew and then you begin scooping the stew into your bowl. You were the only one eating mostly with a spoon instead of chopstick since you aren’t too accustomed to it. Yoongi’s mother said in a joking tone that you should start using the training chopstick used by toddlers.

Why are you extra sensitive today? She was just joking, but smiling is so hard right now. Your cheeks feel heavy and your shoulders stiffened. Yoongi carried the rest of the conversation effortlessly. The deep Daegu accent is already shifting your attention towards the fried dumpling instead. It was just a little over 45 minutes since she arrived, why does it feel like days?

“Dumplings, mother?” You chirped, attempted to use the chopstick and successfully landed them in her bowl.

Then she puts them back where they were, and said, “I don’t eat store-bought dumpling, darling,” before resuming to tell Yoongi the story about her neighbour getting into a real estate feud. You hold your breath in your throat and try not to think about it too much. Although you’ve finished your bowl of rice, Yoongi still hasn’t. He was busy nodding away to what his mother was saying. She barely touched the stew. When she turned to her food, you tapped Yoongi’s knee underneath the table and he looked at you wide eyed, darting at the stew. And Yoongi’s lips turned to the shape of an “O”.

“How do you like the stew, mom?” He asked. “It’s okay…” “My wife made it…” Yoongi said with a smug smile.

You smiled, shyly.

“It tastes exactly how Yoongi would cook it. I thought you cooked it, I know how horrible her korean cooking is, Yoongi… You don’t have to lie to me,” his mom passed.

After bidding her farewell at the door, Yoongi accompanied her to his brother’s incoming vehicle that fetches her. His brother made a promise to stop by when the baby arrives and when the Covid cases reduce a bit. You watched from the window from your bedroom and when the car drove off with Yoongi waving goodbye to his mom, your heart thudded differently.

Your eyes stung, and tears impending to fall as it collected around the brims. As you heard the front door beeping open to Yoongi returning, your feet dashed to the bathroom door, pushing it open as your tears rolled down your face like a dam broke.

Sensitive? Too soft? Was I too emotional? Am I not trying hard enough to be enough?

Yoongi walks in, to an eerily silent house. Ridding his shirt by pulling it over his head as he walks down the dimly lit hallway. His heavy footsteps heard across the floorings and you covered your mouth with your hand to not make any sound. He noticed that the bathroom light was on unlike the rest of the room.

“You’re showering alone? Traitor…” he pouted and wriggled the door knob and noticed it was locked from the inside. “I have a stomach ache,” you hoped you sound convincing. Your voice didn’t sound as shaky and you hope he didn’t catch on. “Okay…” he said, after a long pause. You turned the shower on to reduce the sound of you crying, and went back to sitting on the floor by the door, dug the heels of your palm into your eyes socket, and hugged your knees, sniffling.

“Hey…” his voice muffled through the door. “Hmm?” you replied, through a broken smile.

“Are you okay?”

Another dam broke.

Shit, I’ve started crying again. Why can’t I stop crying?! He is going to find out now… Fuck.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through.

“Was it mom? She says something you don’t like? You know how mom is, right? She doesn’t mean any of it…” now it’s Yoongi’s turned to bulldoze you with questions he himself answered.

Unable to take it anymore, you had to speak out, even if it means behind closed doors.

“I know she doesn’t like me as a daughter-in-law…” you spoke in broken voices. “Nonsense…” Yoongi passed, nonchalantly.

“No, will you please just listen to me?!” you raised your voice a bit, “I am not like your brother’s wife who cooks great Korean food, who sends her nice homemade desserts to her likings, and now is bearing a grandchild for her. I can’t cook, and had to rely on you a lot. She came over and she didn’t give me a hug like she did you, and the whole she doesn’t even speak to me unless I speak to her first, and even then, she shuts me down so I couldn’t say another word. I can’t even use a damn chopstick or make homemade dumplings she’ll eat!”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to lean his back on the door and hug his knees, then hang his head low.

“Suddenly the sofa is too westernized. And the glass doors letting in too much sunlight when I renovated it the way she wanted. It seems like everything I do is wrong and I just have no place in the Min’s household no matter how hard I try,” you sniffed, and, “To make matters worse she brought up the girlfriends you had in high school and how they cook her favourite food! Girlfriends! Plural! Here I thought you only had one… Jokes on me, I guess… It’s fine, honestly.”

There's nothing more terrifying than the word ‘fine’ you threw when you’re sad and Yoongi knows it. It signifies so many things. It indicates that you’re done, and you’re ready to let go of it, by shoving it under the rug like many other things your mother in law did to you ever since you met her. Yoongi shot his head up when the door opened and his eyes followed you in silence, a little solemn. You dried your hair, sitting on the makeup chair table, running the cool air Dyson hairdryer over the lengths of your hair. Yoongi crawled on all four and knelt behind you to hug your waist, nuzzling his face on your lower back. Then the tears returned, and kept falling.

Your gaze is stuck on the reflection of you in the mirror. What have we become?

It was one of those moments where no words seemed to suffice. Regrets and guilt becomes almost the same thing. Pointing the blame is the last thing on your mind. Choosing sides is difficult when so much is at stake. You may have unclasped his arm from around your waist, heard his wordless gesture and refused to see his face, but so much of him is in you. The fact you held on for so long was because of that man you love and married. Is this going to happen everytime your mother in law stops by?

Even then, you didn't want him to go against his own mother, nor do you want him to side with her… It was such a confusing situation.

Yoongi needs to return to the studio. He packs a few toiletries and clothes for him to wear while he is there. You helped him pack leftover food so you are not burdened to finish everything alone. The conversation shifts to what matters now. You carry your duty as a wife, his partner. You make sure that he is able to provide for this family and even though your emotions are once again neglected for the time being, you were glad that it actually occupied your mind and heart.

At the door, his manager carried his things and instead of leaving along with his manager, Yoongi told him to go first. You already know what comes next. But you aren't sure if you had it in you. One look in your eyes and Yoongi knows that you will rather die than have that conversation all over again. He ran his finger through your hair, lowered his lips to your forehead and stayed like that for awhile, and you said,

“Take care of yourself,” you spoke to his chest, breathing in his musky cologne for the days ahead without him. He stepped back, thumbed your cheek and pinched your chin, tilting your head back. He glanced at your lips while biting his own then backed away, to leave. As the view of his back got smaller and smaller, he exclaimed, “I’m going.” Not once did he turn behind to have one last look. And it was something Yoongi would do. Doesn’t matter if it's at the airport, or at the backstage, he will never look at you after he leaves you, even when he knows you’re right there standing, and looking at him. He says that, if he saw you standing there waiting for him, he will not be able to fight the urge to run to you. So he never looks back. The one thing that he always does before a work trip, is to kiss your forehead. Dr. Laurel Steinberg says, a forehead kiss indicates strong emotional intimacy.

But Yoongi says that a forehead kiss to him signifies a bond that goes beyond lust and love, it was your soul. It is to say, “I might be too far away to hold you, but my soul is yours.” It sends butterflies and confettis your way when he does it. It always feels warm and you always feel protected with a stamp of Yoongi’s lips on your forehead. It feels like a talisman. That no matter what, Yoongi is here.

Recovery. The emotional turmoil, the rollercoaster. You fill your time organizing the photos Yoongi took. With your final exams finished a week ago, you’re given a month off before you begin your final year. Yoongi now lives in his studio office because the album recording session begins and he is in every process. He is in charge of doubling and finalizing the tracks, directing and whatnot. Yoongi sends you a 1 minute 23 seconds video. Scowling at it, your face softened at the sight of him, recording himself in the studio. Dark circles doubled in size and his cheeks sunken. Poor thing hadn't been eating well did he?

“Hey, sweetie…” his familiar guttural voice resonated with your heart strings, “Sorry I haven’t been able to properly give you a call. It’s too late when I’m free, and I’m asleep when you’re awake. So I figured I’ll just send you a damn video, to hell with it.” You chuckled softly as your visions turned blurry.

“I think I will be addressing the recent issue we tucked away for later day. It’s later. You have never been good at fighting for yourself. It was something I don’t really understand because I’ve seen you fight my fight for me,” he glanced to the side and smiled fondly. You were unclear what situation he was talking about but you kept listening.

“You told me that I shouldn’t side with you because that would mean I am against my mother. Here’s what I truly think…” he breathed in and sighed loudly, “I think I should side with you. I spoke to my mom a few days ago, asked her how she is, and I told her several things I don’t like, like bringing up my past ex girlfriend, or how you can’t use the chopstick yet, or how your korean cooking isn’t great yet… how upset it made you and me. She told me that she was just jealous. I left home when I was 16. Come back when I am 20, married at 25. I will always be her son, I let her know that. But I am now someone’s husband, and I happen to cherish this someone, her heart and her wellbeing is my responsibility. I am not stolen from my mom, I consciously chose this person to be with me, to be her husband and built a home with her. And if she can’t respect that, then she cannot return to our house…”

You had to set the phone down and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

“I’m done being a referee,” Yoongi continued after a long pause, “You’re gonna cry again, and I won’t be able to pass you tissue or give you a hug, I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. I am proud of you and all the little things you do. Daegu dialect is difficult to understand ha? That’s alright. You’re getting your degree, and you help pack my things even though you’re sad as hell the day I left. I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask for a better wife, and I hardly think I deserve you. Until we meet again, soon. Your husband, Min Yoongi.”

The video cuts to him winking.

Another text from him,

[Yoongi, 1.03AM] Impression is never permanent. I hope you give mother another try…

Wife is typing...

[Wife, 1.04AM] Erm. [Wife, 1.04AM] Sends a pic.

[Wife, 1.05AM] How’s this for a lasting impression?

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