#sorry on my end for taking so long to reply!!

[nadvs]

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part two)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

content warning parental abandonment

» part one

» masterlist

Zach gets you and his daughter box seats for his next home game.

It happens to be on your first day back at work after his family leaves and he jokes that sooner is better than later, not only because his team might get knocked out of the playoffs, but also because Ella could change her mind about wanting to come.

The private space overlooking the stadium is small, only a handful of other people there, as the late afternoon sun shines over the rich green field.

You learned that Zach is a major league soccer player minutes into meeting him. You knew he had an unusual life and a certain level of notoriety as a professional athlete. But seeing the crowds filling the seats below you makes it real to you.

The music and the announcer’s voice boom through the stadium, fireworks going off as players rush the field. All this craziness doesn’t match the man you know. Zach is kind and humble and beneath his silly sense of humor, he has a gentleness to him that you’d never expect from someone whose last name is sprawled over fans’ jerseys, who’s getting cheered for so loudly that it’s deafening.

Ella excitedly claps when her father appears on the stadium screen, his face hard as he jogs under the bright lights. You gaze ahead in awe, unable to believe that this is the world he lives in when he’s not at the house, running around with his daughter, thanking you for everything you do.

After the game ends in a draw, you take Ella home in time for dinner. As you drive, wipers cleaning away the drizzle that just started to fall, she excitedly rambles about the experience from the backseat. You smile to yourself, glad that she enjoyed herself and proud that you’re the reason she went.

As usual, Ella slips out of her chair with a mouthful of food when she hears the front door open halfway into dinner. You watch her dart out of the dining room, listening to the huff Zach lets out every time his daughter roughly launches herself into his arms.

“That was so cool!” you overhear.

“Really?” he says. “You didn’t get bored?”

“Um, it was kind of too long,” she says, “but I had pictures to color.”

“Appreciate your honesty,” Zach replies with a laugh.

They round the corner to enter the dining room and when Zach’s eyes land on you, your heart does a somersault.

“Hey,” he says to you, nervous.

“Hi,” you reply. “Thanks for the fancy seats.”

“They were alright?”

“Good enough for two princesses,” you tease.

“Princess ballerinas,” Ella corrects you as she sits down again.

“Right,” you say. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that we’re princess ballerinas now.”

Zach mirrors your smile, loving the feeling of sharing a moment like this with you. You stand to clean your plate and it reminds him of what his mother said a couple of nights ago. That you look at him the same way he looks at you.

He hopes that it’s true, because he can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s a little embarrassed that you saw him in a match. He’s always loved soccer, but he never liked how much attention is on him as a major league player.

“Maybe you should wait out the rain,” Zach says to you. “It started coming down hard on my drive home.”

“Good idea,” you say, happy to spend more time with him.

The rest of dinner consists of Ella happily chattering with you and Zach. As she clears her plate, Zach’s phone buzzes on the table top. His lips purse in worry at the notification, and then he shows you the severe thunderstorm warning message on his screen.

“That looks bad,” you say. “How long is it supposed to go on for?”

“It says into the early morning,” Zach answers. “Do you want to crash here?”

“I’m sure I could make it home,” you say. “I’ll just drive slowly.”

Zach’s lips part, and then he closes his mouth, simply nodding.

“What?” you chuckle. His eyes dart away.

“Just worried about you,” he admits. You huff an endeared laugh.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here,” you decide.

He sighs a breath of relief and says, “Thanks.”

Zach takes Ella to bed and you settle on the couch, glad you already have everything you’ll need in your overnight bag in the guest room. You eventually hear his footsteps coming down the stairs over the sounds of the television and the rain hammering down on the roof.

He sits on the other end of the couch next to you, so far that a person could easily sit between you. It’s typical Zach, never getting too close to you. The only time he’s ever touched you is when he shook your hand before your interview half a year ago.

“She fell asleep while I was explaining what offside means,” he says with an adorably puzzled expression. “Trying not to be offended.”

“I can’t believe she’s actually interested in soccer,” you say.

“Ouch.” Zach puts his hand over his heart. “Okay, I’m offended now.”

“I mean because you said she never cared before,” you laugh.

“I asked her so many times if she’d want to come to a game,” he huffs. “But you suggest it once and she’s immediately in. She always listens to you.”

“Not when I’m trying to convince her to leave the park,” you say. He chuckles. “Can you believe she’s starting kindergarten soon?”

Admittedly, Zach’s concerned about it. In less than a month, Ella will be going to school and he never was one to have much anxiety before he became a father, but all he does now is worry. He doesn’t want any teachers or kids to be harsh with his little girl. She’s already been through enough.

“She’ll be okay,” you say.

“What?”

“You have that worried look on your face,” you tell him. “She’ll love school. I’m sure of it.”

“You can read me pretty well,” he says, smiling. You shrug timidly, thinking back to how quickly he’d noticed something was bothering you on the night of Ella’s birthday.

“What?” he asks.

“It goes both ways,” you admit. “You saw right through me after the party.”

Zach’s jaw tightens, the playfulness between you replaced by a fragile air. He takes a breath before speaking. He knows he needs to have this conversation with you.

“Do you feel better about what she said?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. Now that you’ve had some time to process, you’re okay. “How about you?”

“Well,” he begins, nerves tightening in his stomach, “it wasn’t easy to hear. Ella shouldn’t have to wish she had a different mom. Jade should be here for her.”

He’s never said her name. He’s never looked like this before, his eyes avoiding yours, hand trembling a bit as he scratches his jaw. You can tell this is hard for him to talk about. But he’s choosing to do it with you.

“You said ex-wife that night, but she was never my wife,” Zach admits.

“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know I haven’t told you much. When we talked that night, it reminded me of just how much you don’t know about it. I just… I hope you know that you’re… you’re so much more than Ella’s nanny. You’re our friend. And you’re obviously a mother figure to her. And it feels weird that you don’t know what happened.”

His words sink into you, every syllable having an effect on your heartbeat.

“What happened?”

“Ella was a surprise,” he tells you. “Jade and I were dating in our senior year of college when we found out she was pregnant. And then I got drafted into the league and we graduated and everything was happening so fast, but we were happy and… I stayed happy and she didn’t.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, looking at him as his eyes stay trained off of yours.

“We broke up a few months after Ella was born. But we were both sure we could handle co-parenting. She stayed at home while I worked. I could see she didn’t like it, though. She wasn’t a bad mother or anything. She just wasn’t very… affectionate with Ella.”

Your chest tightens. It’s painful to imagine Ella wanting love and not getting it.

“I don’t know. I thought she’d eventually feel how I feel about being a parent. I tried everything,” Zach says, remembering how he’d encouraged Jade to go to therapy or take time away or work while they hired help. It was like she was stuck in her unhappiness. “But then she left and… that was it.”

He finally looks at you and the tenderness in your eyes gives him a breath of fresh air. It’s what you do. Just by being you, you give him the push to stay hopeful that he and his daughter will be okay.

“We weren’t in a good place when you came. But you made things so much better,” he says. “You do an amazing job taking care of her. I really appreciate it.”

Your eyes light up, the smile on your face gentle.

“Thank you for saying that,” you say. “And thank you for telling me the full story. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Zach sighs now that the weight of reliving it is gone.

“I really do love her. I meant it when I said it.” At this point, you’re sure you love him, too, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. “And I feel lucky to get to watch her grow up. This doesn’t even feel like a job to me anymore.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you don’t want the pay?” he says. You find relief in his joke, tossing your head back with a laugh. “Seriously, though, let me know if you need me to keep things the same while you’re part-time during the school year. I don’t mind.”

“Wait, are you offering to pay me for hours I’m not even working?” you chuckle. “Zach, no. I’m good. I have other things lined up. But thank you.”

“What? Everyone knows you should always accept free money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say. “How do you even have the energy to joke around right now? I just watched you run around for ninety minutes.”

Like always, Zach blushes when you bring up his job. He’s intense and focused on the pitch, but he’s different when he’s at ease at home.

“There’s a break in the middle,” he replies.

“I stand corrected,” you say. “So, how’d you get into soccer?”

Your conversation quickly and easily drifts into topics you hadn’t explored before, the storm raging outside as you learn more about him and he learns more about you. He’s still on the other end of the couch, but soon, his arm is resting against the back of it, his hand inches away from you as you sink into the soft cushions, beaming at each other as you talk.

You don’t want to stop, but eventually you can’t stifle your yawn, prompting Zach to check his watch.

“Jeez,” he says. “Ella went down three hours ago.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up. “That flew by.”

Zach knew that the more he learned about you, the more of a goner he’d be. It feels like he just went on the best date of his life and all he did was sit on his couch and talk.

There’s something between you and he hopes that it’s not just his infatuation misguiding him.

────୨ৎ────

You were right. He had nothing to worry about. Ella’s more than happy at school. It’s only a week into the year and she’s already naming all her new friends when Zach picks her up Friday afternoon.

Her first dance recital is tonight and he’s looking forward to seeing you and his family there. Ella had even mentioned that her other grandparents could come. They were elated to get the invitation.

And of course, when he arrives at the studio that evening, you’re already there, reliable and steady like you always are. You greet him and his family warmly and introduce yourself to Jade’s parents.

It feels wrong to hear you refer to yourself as Ella’s nanny. You’ve been in his life for eight months now and you’ve nestled your way into his soul so deeply that he knows you’ll stay with him forever.

He’s been grappling with this since he first realized he had feelings for you; this bothersome sense of wrong. He can’t pursue you. Technically, no matter how much it doesn’t feel like it, he is your boss. He pays you to take care of his child. If things went sideways, it could push you to leave.

Although he’s never felt this much love for a woman in his life, it’d be selfish. He can’t do it to Ella. He didn’t even want to date other women when Jade was still around simply because it could confuse his daughter.

But you’re different.

His thoughts are interrupted when you look at him, pulling him out of his haze.

“I saved us seats,” you tell him.

Zach’s sitting between you and his father when the recital starts. Eventually, Ella drifts across the middle of the floor between the other dancers.

“This is the part she’s nervous about,” you whisper to him, recalling how she’d told you that this part in the choreography makes her trip sometimes.

You watch her hop sideways, focused as the music grows faster. You’re so on edge that you don’t realize your hand slips into Zach’s, squeezing nervously. She lands her last skip and rejoins the group. You let out a sigh of relief. Then, you look down, seeing your fingers wrapped around Zach’s.

“Sorry,” you say, trying to laugh it off as you pull your hand back. “I think I’m taking a five-year-old’s dance recital a little too seriously.”

Zach can only offer a tight smile. His team’s inching closer to advancing to the championship semi-finals and the pressure has never been heavier, but even that hasn’t affected him like the tension he’s feeling right now. His whole body is on fire from your touch, and it won’t go away.

When the recital comes to an end, Zach leans closer to you to murmur over the applause surrounding you.

“You going out to dinner with us?” he asks.

“Do I have to?” you quip.

“What, you got a date or something?” He worries that the joke was too much. Too flirty.

But you laugh and say, “I haven’t had a date or something in forever. Yeah, I’ll come.” Although it’s hard to believe that a woman like you is single, he’s glad you are.

The eight of you sit in the busy restaurant, making conversation. As Zach expected, Ella insisted she sit next to you. You have endless patience for her, listening to her talk, answering her questions, letting her pick off your plate. He would move mountains for his child. He can tell you’d do the same.

Zach picks up the bill and you all say your goodbyes to Jade’s parents, who insisted they didn’t need to stay the night. Before you head out, you tell his family it was nice to see them again. He can tell you’re a little surprised when his mother pulls you in for a hug, but you kindly return it.

Connie obviously appreciates everything you’ve done for her son and granddaughter. Zach tries not to daydream too much, but he likes imagining being your boyfriend and telling you that his mom called that you’d become something one day.

When you say bye to Zach, your gazes meet like you’ve been waiting for a private moment for ages. Things changed on the night you stayed over. You went from friends to a gray area of something more, neither of you acting on it but knowing it’s there.

Only an hour after Ella falls asleep, Zach’s parents and sister turn in for the night, tired from their drive in. Zach is too wired, silently sitting in his living room, his tea not having its usual effect of soothing him.

He goes through his camera roll, wishing he could go for a drive to relax, but not wanting to leave his daughter in case she needs him. He stares at a photo his mother took of you and him and Ella earlier tonight after the recital, Ella’s hair frizzy from all the jumping around she did.

His smile is wide and so is yours and you look like more than just someone he hired to help take care of his daughter. You look like a family.

He opens your conversation and sends you the photo. It’s nearing 10 p.m. and he’s not sure if you’re already asleep, but you respond a minute later: Aw I love this. Thanks :) How’s your night going?

Zach responds: Good… but everyone’s asleep and I’m still wide awake. Yours?

You reply: Is your tea not working?

He smiles to himself and texts back: Not this time.

You text: I’m kind of wired, too.

How come?

Not sure.

He replies with a joke: Could be Ella’s fault. I saw her eat a lot of your dinner. It’s probably hunger keeping you awake.

Once again, his mind drifts to the way your palm felt against the back of his hand tonight. Then, he hears a door open upstairs. In case it’s Ella, he quietly rushes up the stairs to run into his mom, who’s leaving the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he whispers when he startles her. “I thought Ella woke up and I didn’t want her to think I was gone.”

“I’m sure she’ll be deep asleep until the morning,” Connie says. She notices he’s still in the clothes he wore to the recital. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I’d go for a drive, but I–”

“If she wakes up, I’m here and if she needs you, I’ll call. Go. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go for a drive,” his mother insists. “She’s okay. I promise.”

Zach considers it. With work and Ella and you, his mind has been sort of chaotic. A drive, even a short one, will give him some relief.

“Thanks,” he finally says, giving his mom a grateful smile.

The streetlights plunge him in and out of darkness as he drives through town. When he got in the car, the impulse to go see you seemed ridiculous. With every minute that passes, it feels less and less silly.

Zach eventually pulls over and looks at his phone, staring at the text message he sent you ten minutes ago. How could he even ask to come over without coming on too strong or crossing a boundary?

He’s not sure if he believed in signs from the universe before, but when you text him right when he’s considering if he should text you, he takes it as his answer.

Nothing is ever her fault. But now I’m having a midnight snack lol. Are you still awake?

He replies: Yes. Just driving around. Do you want company?

He’s nervous as he waits. But then you send him your address.

Minutes later, you open your door to gentle knocks, heart skipping when you see him. At this point, being apart from Zach is starting to hurt. You lied when you texted him. You know exactly why you’re wired. It’s because he won’t leave your mind.

“Hi,” he says, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Kind of crazy that you’ve been to my house a million times, but I have no idea what your place looks like.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “You need to see it that bad?”

“I think it’s what’s keeping me awake.”

You laugh, stepping back, inviting him in. Zach’s eyes travel over your apartment, taking in every little piece that you’ve put into it. Being here is more intimate than he expected. And then you shut the door behind him, thickening the tension, both of you now sharing complete privacy in a way you never have before.

“Is that an Ella original?” he says, pointing to a drawing stuck on your fridge.

“Yup. That’s me and her and the castle we live in,” you tell him. You lead him into the kitchen as you gaze at the bright crayon marking the paper. “And that’s her horse. She was very adamant about it being her horse. But I can pet it if I ask nicely.”

He laughs and gazes at the drawing, touched that you’d keep something his daughter made up on display. Even when you’re not at the house, you want to be reminded of her.

“Where am I?” he asks in mock offense.

“I’m sure she meant to include you, but the horse took up too much space,” you explain, looking over your shoulder up at him. He’s inches away from you, towering above you. You’re so close to him that you can see the stubble growing over his jaw.

“The tutus are a nice touch,” he says, pointing to the pink skirts drawn on both of you. You laugh and turn to face him all the way. You clear your throat, smitten that he’s really here.

“She was great tonight, huh?” you ask.

“She was.” Zach’s smile is bright, the same way it always is whenever he talks about her. “And she wanted all the grandparents there.”

“I think that’s progress.”

“Me, too.” He exhales. “It was an almost perfect night.”

“Almost?”

“My hand still hurts,” he mumbles, face pinching as he looks down at his hand.

“Listen…” you say with a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stressed.” Zach laughs and it takes everything in him not to hug you. “Was it really that bad?”

“So bad,” he teases, flexing his hand. “You’re too reckless.”

“Reckless? Is that what you think of me?”

Zach cocks his head, staring down at you with a look that burns through you, and soberly says, “No. It’s not.”

His gaze drifts over your face, taking you in slowly. You think back to the first time you saw those eyes, sad and distant. Comparing the way he looked that morning to how he’s gazing at you right now is like comparing black and white.

The light atmosphere has quickly been replaced by a somberness hanging over both of you. Your heart is thumping against your chest. Hard.

“What, then?” you ask.

How can he even find the words to describe how you make him feel? You fit perfectly in every way. You settled into his life like there was always a place waiting just for you. Even tonight, when you grabbed his hand for only a moment, it felt like he was born to be touched by you.

You’ve brought light to his life. He always looked forward to coming home to his daughter, and now he looks forward to coming home to you, too. And having to continue to live like this, acting like his heart isn’t completely yours, is torture.

“I think you’re…” Zach’s tone is low, lids dropping as he looks at your lips before he speaks again. “Perfect.”

Your breath catches. You’ve been able to keep yourself away from him for what feels like ages. You’re not sure you’ll have the strength for much longer. This is the moment where everything can change. You know you both feel it.

“Should I not be here?” he says quietly.

It’s his way of making sure you’re okay. That you want him to be here as badly as he wants to be here. That even though maybe this shouldn’t be happening, you have faith that it will only bring you both joy, and you don’t need to consider the risks because you’ll never have to face them.

He looks so painfully unsure that you long to comfort him. Your hand finds his and he laces his warm fingers between yours the instant he feels you. He exhales slowly, never having felt so vulnerable before.

Too much is on the line. He’s only thinking of himself right now. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn’t have given in, he shouldn’t have–

“Stay,” you whisper. Your simple word untangles the knot in his chest. You step closer to seal the distance that remains between you. His eyes finally drift back up to find yours.

“I can’t help how I feel about you,” Zach murmurs. “I don’t want to mess up how good things are, but I just…”

He trails off into silence, sighing shakily.

“I know,” you say. “Me, too.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says with a note of pity. You breathe a sad chuckle.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you here.”

Zach’s grip on your hand tightens, his heart feeling like it’s just been put together after being fractured for years. His lips part and while he doesn’t know how to say how much your words mean to him, he knows how to show it.

He leans closer, cupping your face, capturing your lips with a soft and impatient kiss. You dissolve into bliss, eyelids fluttering closed as his hot mouth presses against yours, head swimming, body buzzing.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, eyelashes overlapping as you kiss deeply, hungrily tasting each other in adoration. His arms circle around you and surround you in warmth.

He lets out a short, almost silent moan against your lips, relieved and assured and grateful that you want him this badly, too. Everything about this feels right. He’s where he’s supposed to be, standing here, kissing you, baring his soul.

You’re breathless when you eventually pull away, eyes slowly opening as he tilts to plant a lazy kiss on your forehead, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“I kept telling myself that I can’t like you,” he says against your skin. “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”

You exhale a contented sigh, afraid that you did actually doze off and that this is all just a dream.

“I think I do,” you reply.

Zach’s laugh is breathy, leaning back just enough to look at you. He’s in awe, his lips tender from pressing against yours, his knees weak as he holds your face in his hands. Now that he doesn’t have to hide it or force himself not to stare, he lets himself drown in your eyes.

He brushes his lips against yours again and you smile under the kiss, placing your palm over his hand.

“Is this the hand I hurt?” you tease, gently squeezing.

“Ow,” he playfully winces, making you laugh. You nuzzle your cheek against his palm and smile up at him.

“You sure you like me?” you say. He’s sure he loves you, but it’s too much, too soon to say at this moment. “You know you can’t afford any injuries right now.”

“Worth it,” Zach plays along.

“I keep wanting to ask you about work,” you say. He hasn’t spoken much about playoffs, but you did a little research on his team’s standings. “How has it been? Are you stressed?”

“Pressure’s on, but I’m fine,” he says simply. Your words won’t find you at first. It’s sort of unbelievable how he doesn’t ever flaunt his success, not even a little bit.

“That’s it?” you laugh.

“What?”

“Your team could go to the finals and you’re just fine?” you say.

“How’d you know that?” he says, his heart warming.

“Had to look it up. Not like you’ll tell me,” you quip, pulling away, his hands falling off of you. Zach chuckles, following you into your living room.

“Are we fighting already?” he asks.

“We won’t be if you tell me why you get all cute and shy whenever you talk about your job,” you say, settling on the couch.

He sits to face you, his knee bumping yours. You love that he’s as close as you want him to be, instead of keeping a distance like before. He finds your hands, holding them in his.

“Just a second,” Zach mumbles. “I need to process that you called me cute.”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle against his chest.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice muffled by his shirt. “We talk about my job all the time.”

“Oh, come on. Because we have to. That’s the whole deal.”

“Is it?”

Zach sighs, kissing the top of your head, loving the way your body slightly shakes with your laughter. You sit up again, looking down as you interlace your fingers with his, playing with his hands as you wait for him to speak.

“I love soccer,” he says, “but I never expected I’d be good enough to go pro. And somehow, I did and all the attention that comes with it is just… it’s not me. I’ve never been the loudest guy in the room. Never wanted to be.”

You nod. You could tell soon after meeting him that while he’s confident and loves to joke around, he’s not one to demand the spotlight.

“And now the more attention I get,” he continues, “the more people might want to know about me and I’d rather keep Ella safe and give her a normal life.”

He scratches his cheek, uncertainty flashing on his face.

“And… I’m not exactly proud that I’m not working a normal job. I’m always thinking that maybe it’d be better for Ella if I had a nine to five, but the pay is great and I can’t play forever, so I just want to save up as much as I can for her. Then I’ll find something more steady.”

You're sure you’ve never met a person this humble. It’s nice to know what goes on in his head after having wondered for so long.

“Will you still even need a nanny then?” you ask lightheartedly. Zach purses his lips as he nods.

“I will if she’s you.” You smile as he pulls you in, holding you as your cheek rests against his shoulder.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you shouldn’t be proud of,” you tell him. “You’re an amazing father.”

“You don’t know how nice it is to hear you say that,” he admits. The worries that he’s being selfish have been gnawing at him for a long time. He’s always concerned he’s making the wrong choices for his daughter.

“I think it every time I see you with her. I know you said she was a surprise, but you treat her like being her dad is all you’ve ever wanted.”

Zach leans to kiss your forehead over and over again, palm gently pressed on your cheek, like he’s making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you but couldn’t. You start to giggle under all the kisses, hugging him tighter.

“Speaking of,” you say, “I’m sure you’re thinking it, too, but we should keep acting like we’re just friends when we’re around our boss.”

He breathes a chuckle, nodding as he looks down at you lovingly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it slow. She’ll be so happy when we tell her.”

“You think so?” you say, your heart blooming from the certainty in his words, from the way he unabashedly intends on being with you and telling his daughter.

“She’s always asking me if I like you.” Truthfully, Ella asks if he loves you, but again, he doesn’t want to use that word until he’s sure you’re comfortable with it.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “She actually asks if I like you yet. It’s like she knows it’s inevitable.”

You realize that the way you’re wrapped up in each other does feel like it was always inevitable. You know that your heart would never have been able to resist him. You’re glad he feels the same way about you.

────୨ৎ────

A week after the night in your apartment is the semi-final. You’re sitting in the living room playing with Ella with the game on in the background. She’s partly interested, whereas you can’t ignore the ball of nerves sitting deep in your stomach.

Zach’s been opening up more about his job when you get time alone, admitting that the pressure can give him tunnel-vision sometimes. You’ve taken on the workload as much as you can so that he’s not too stressed.

You’ve kept things the same when you’re around Ella and you’ve already determined that if she asks why you’re so invested in what’s on tv, you’ll simply say you grew an interest in soccer after the home game you both attended. But she’s too busy playing with clay to care.

The first half ends with no goals scored. You set up an afternoon snack for Ella, letting her help, your mind elsewhere as you imagine Zach in the locker room, wondering what his coach is telling him and what he’s thinking about at this moment.

Five minutes after half-time, the opponents score. Your heart sinks. Twenty minutes later, Zach scores. You have to stifle how loudly you want to cheer.

Then, the game goes to penalty shoot-outs. Zach had told you how much he hates when a game comes down to that. It’s a nail-biting few minutes, but Zach’s team wins, securing their spot in the finals. In his next game, his team could take the cup.

Right before dinner, you and Ella change into the jerseys you’d secretly bought a few days ago. Zach already told you that even if his team wants to celebrate a win together, he’d prefer to see you two, so you know he’s coming straight home.

He steps through the front door to see you in his team’s jerseys, rushing to give him a hug. Your arms are around his shoulders while Ella’s are around his hips, both of you excitedly cheering. Zach’s heart has never felt so full.

“So, I take it you watched it?” he mumbles into your hair, reveling in the familiar aroma of your shampoo. It takes everything in you not to kiss him when you pull back.

“You did amazing,” you tell him.

“Daddy, do cats ever come to your games?” Ella asks.

Zach looks at you, puzzled.

“There was a commercial with clips of animals crashing soccer games,” you explain, laughing. “It’s a valid question.”

“I haven’t seen any,” he tells her, kneeling to meet her eyeline. “But I hope we get one so I can tell you all about it.”

“Could we keep it?” she asks.

“If a cat comes onto our field and it doesn’t have an owner, sure, we can keep it,” he says. She jumps excitedly, then runs off to play. Zach stands up again, grinning at you.

“Don’t let her watch any more matches,” he says. “If a cat shows up, I’m done for.” You laugh, crossing your arms simply to keep yourself from touching him.

“Congratulations,” you say. “I know you don’t like the attention, but you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” He looks down at your jersey. “It looks great on you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, turning to show him the back. It’s his last name and number. He almost can’t believe this is really happening, that he met someone like you who cares about him this much.

“Better on you, I think,” you say.

“Impossible.”

You face him and he gazes at your lips in the way you know means he wants to kiss you. In the few private moments you’ve had since you confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve shared warm hugs and sweet kisses. You can’t wait until you don’t have to hide your love for him anymore.

“Dinner in twenty,” you tell him. “I bet you worked up an appetite.”

Zach’s legs are heavy as he trudges up the stairs, partly from fatigue, but mostly because the last thing his body wants to do is be away from you.

────୨ৎ────

Zach’s family drives in to watch the championship game at the house. You weren’t all that nervous around them before, but now that you and Zach are privately dating, you’re eager to impress them.

He had mentioned to you that he hadn’t told them about you yet, but he’s hoping to the next time he sees them. He also told you how his mom had a suspicion about you two, which makes you hope you’re not too obvious.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since you decided to date, but every moment you get alone with Zach isn’t long enough. You knew he was kind-hearted, but now that he’s not holding back, he showers you with affection and compliments, reminding you of how much he appreciates you every day.

Just like it is with Zach, it’s easy with his family. You talk and snack and take turns playing with Ella while you watch the game. The game starts off as promising, but unfortunately, the final ends with a loss for his team.

“He did tell me they were kind of the underdogs,” you say to his family sadly, watching the screen. “I still think it’s great that he got this far.”

The stadium he’s playing in is hours away and he won’t be getting home until after midnight. You spend the rest of the evening with Zach’s family, wishing you could see him and give him a comforting hug.

When Zach gets to the locker room, dejected and disappointed, he checks his phone to see a text from you. I know it’s not how you wanted the season to end, but you played an amazing game. We’re all so proud of you, no matter what.

It’s ten minutes past midnight when you hear the front door open. You’ve been sitting in the kitchen, staying awake on your phone after everyone turned in for the night. You turn on the kettle you already filled with water and find Zach in the dim hallway, meeting his eyes with sympathy.

“You’re here,” he mumbles in surprise. You only close the distance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

“Wanted to see you,” you whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had better days,” he admits, kissing your neck. “This feels good, though.”

“I’m making you some tea if you want it,” you tell him, “but if you’d rather go to bed, I get it.”

“Tea sounds good.” He pulls back, stroking your cheek. “You’re really proud of me? Even though I’m a total loser?”

You half-chuckle, nudging him.

“Never call yourself that again,” you say.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll stop ‘accidentally’ making too much food,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.

You settle in the kitchen, reminded of the first time you sat together like this all those months ago to plan Ella’s birthday party. Now she’s halfway to six years old, growing faster than you could have ever anticipated.

After you put the steaming mug of tea in front of him, Zach puts his hand over yours, squeezing.

“I tried to be positive but I saw it coming,” he admits to you. “They were the stronger team. We’ll just train harder and hopefully get them next year.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you say. “Just don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? You’re not a loser.”

“Baby…” Zach breathes a chuckle. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m always winning. It sucks to get this far and to put so much work in just to lose, but knowing you and Ella are waiting for me at home… That's what my life is really about.”

You stare at him, awestruck, heart beating so hard that you can hear it in your ears.

“I love you,” he says. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say, but I’ve loved you for a long time.”

You bite your lip, giving into the urge to lean closer and kiss him. When you pull back, palm resting on his cheek, you smile.

“I love you, too,” you say. “It’s not too soon.”

“Phew. I was more nervous about telling you than I was about the game,” he says. You laugh, pinching his cheek.

“Stop being so cute,” you whisper.

“I can’t help it,” he quips. “I didn’t forget how you said you haven’t been on a date in forever. What do you think about tomorrow night? Ella will stay with my family and you and I can go out for dinner.”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. You chat a little longer before you head home.

When Zach tells his mother he’s taking you out for dinner the next morning, she’s overjoyed to hear that you’re an item now and throws in a few ‘I told you so’s. When the evening rolls around, he tells Ella he’s running some errands and instead drives to pick you up from your place.

Sitting across from you at a restaurant on a real date feels like a dream. He holds your hand on the table and nudges your knee with his every so often, unable to keep his hands off of you like usual. It’s like talking with a best friend, the conversation flowing so naturally that he refuses to believe he’s only known you for just shy of a year.

When he drives you home after dinner, you lose track of time kissing him goodnight.

────୨ৎ────

You and Zach had discussed that today would be the day. Now that you’ve been together for over eight months, he’s ready to tell Ella.

It’s a Saturday and Zach’s making lunch while you and Ella set the table. Long gone are the days of spending just a few minutes together, one of you arriving at the house while the other one gets ready to leave. The three of you are almost always a unit now, settled into a routine.

After lunch, you leave as planned so he can talk to her one-on-one. Zach finds Ella drawing on her bedroom floor after he says his goodbyes to you and knocks on her door.

“What are you drawing?” he asks.

She holds up the paper, three figures under the shining sun. When he asks if that’s you, him, and her, she happily nods.

Zach settles on the floor, watching the way she colors in the yellow sun, her legs kicking in the air. He’s seen a change in his child. There’s no doubt about it.

While she was always a happy kid, she’s grown to be much more expressive and affectionate since you stepped into their lives. You bring out the best in her. The best in him, too.

He tries to force down the tears that come up every time he looks at his daughter and thinks about what happened a year ago. She’s too small to have to know the pain of abandonment and betrayal. He pushes away the thought.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Zach says, clearing his throat.

“Do you want another bracelet?” she says.

Zach smirks, looking down at the beaded bracelet on his wrist that she made for him a few days ago. She made you a matching one that you always wear, too.

“Yeah, if you’re not too busy,” he says. “But that’s not it.”

He says it exactly as he rehearsed, telling her how happy you make him and asking if she’s okay with you being his girlfriend. When she grins up at him and asks if that means that you can move in with them, he chuckles, tears pricking his eyes.

Zach always felt like he needed to make up for the love Ella’s mother wasn’t giving her. Now, there’s nothing to make up for, nothing missing. He wishes the circumstances had been different, but he knows he’s lucky that he met you.

He was sure soon after he got to know you that his daughter would grow to love you. Deep down, he was sure that he would grow to love you, too.

────୨ৎ────

It’s past nine p.m. when Zach gets home from training. Now that he’s in the midst of playoffs again, he doesn’t get as much time at home anymore, but he takes it in stride.

When he can’t find you on the main floor, he tiptoes upstairs in case you’ve fallen asleep putting Ella to bed. Sure enough, she’s snuggled up next to you, both of you snoozing.

It’s been a month since he told her about your relationship and somehow, she’s grown to love you even more now that she knows you love her dad. Zach wonders if Ella can see how much happier he is these days. He tried to hide how empty he felt before, but maybe she caught on.

He’d rather not know. He’s rather not think about the past at all, really. Because right now, as he gazes into his daughter’s bedroom to see you hugging each other in your sleep, he knows he’s looking at his future.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Seven

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Forced claiming bites and very subtle allusions to SA (neither are graphically depicted), and some blood/injury mentions. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : 😭😭 sorry this too so long. Also sorry for being terrible about replying to comment on last chapter, work has been kicking my ass.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seven

There was a hollow place in his chest, carved out and left to fill with rot and decay. It had been there for as long as he’d been himself again, the space that used to be occupied by the Winter Soldier, by violence and bloodshed.

Little by little, he’d been trying to fill it, trying to become whole again.

And, for a brief moment, he’d dared to think it was working. 

For a few sweet minutes, he thought that hollow inside him might be filled by you and the feelings you’d caused to grow inside of him.

It played over and over in his head; the moment he’d fucked up and ruined everything.

You’d looked so - fuck, he wasn’t even sure what the look was. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Scared. All the things he never wanted to make you feel, all the things that made the alpha in him feel sick. He was supposed to protect you, supposed to look after you, and what had he done instead?

He’d tried to claim you without consent. He’d tried to take more than you wanted to give.

That thought caused him nothing but pain of the worst kind, forcing him to realise that Bucky was no different from the Winter Soldier. They both hurt you and neither cared. 

Only, that wasn’t entirely true. Bucky did care. Of course he did. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have felt so bad. But reality came a close second to his feelings of self loathing.

Not only had he tried to claim you - wanted to claim you - he’d then abandoned you. You were suffering through your heat and he’d just walked out and left you there. God only knew how you were coping on your own.

Fuck, he hated himself, but it wasn’t enough to make him return to the apartment for another two hours.

Something felt off the moment he stepped inside.

The bathroom door was open, so was the door leading to your room, but your scent seemed weaker than it should be and, before he even reached your bed and found it empty, Bucky knew that you were gone.

You’d run.

He knew that it was all his fault.

He moved back towards the door, already knowing it was too late to try and catch your scent, but he had to try. You were gone. Almost as if you’d never even been there to begin with.

In his panic, he called Sam, and the conversation that followed was a rushed garble of words that, ultimately, resulted in Sam telling Bucky that he’d be there in ten minutes, but Bucky wasn’t prepared to wait. He was going to head back to your apartment and look for you there.

Sam met him outside, already on the phone to Torres, trying to track you down after Bucky found your apartment empty.

Bucky felt like he was crawling out of his own skin, his chest tight with worry as he tried not to think about all the terrible things that could happen to an omega in heat out in the city on their own.

“Torres says a police report was filed outside your apartment building a couple of hours ago,” Sam relayed as Torres continued to speak on the other end of the call. “A taxi driver reported seeing the omega that he’d just dropped off being forced into the back of a car. The taxi driver confirmed picking her up outside the safehouse and that she was in heat.”

“Does he know what kind of car or the direction it went - anything?” Bucky asked.

A smile quickly grew on Sam’s lips.

“Even better, Torres is going through street cameras tracking where they took her...” Sam said, his attention returned to the call, listening as Torres worked. “You’re sure? Okay, great. I owe you one.”

“Well?” Bucky asked before Sam could even end the call.

“Gravesend, Brooklyn. There’s a warehouse. Torres is going to call back with more intel,” Sam answered, already moving towards his car.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, his voice a frustrated growl. “You got the suit?” 

“Yeah, it’s in the car.”

“Get the fucking suit, Sam. I’ll meet you there.” 

“You sure?”

“The longer she’s with him, the more time he has to hurt her,” Bucky said, already heading for his motorbike

“Should we call it in? Get back-up?” Sam asked.

“No. Not yet. We don’t know he’ll react.”

He started the engine and paused, watching as Sam pulled on his wings, waiting to see if the other man had any further questions.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Is what Sam chose to ask, reminding Bucky of that gnawing emptiness inside of him again.

Bucky didn’t answer, he simply put in his ear piece and peeled away from the curb. 

Following the speed limit, he knew the drive could take almost an hour. But Bucky wasn’t going to follow the speed limit. 

It wasn’t long before he saw Sam fly overhead and, despite his best efforts, there was no way of keeping up with the wingsuit while weaving through traffic. But the journey passed in a blur - twenty minutes of splitting his attention between other vehicles on the road and how he was going to apologise to you when he saw you again.

Sam tried to make conversation through the earpiece but Bucky wasn’t interested. He was single-minded in his need to rescue you and fix what he’d broken.

By the time he reached the warehouse, as directed by Sam, Torres had managed to give them a pretty good overview of how many ex-Hydra goons were inside and what hardware they had.

It wasn’t well set up, clearly you were the only reason they were even in New York. In some ways that made it better, but also so much worse. Rumlow wasn’t going to give you up without a fight. Add to that the fact that you were still in heat and Rumlow was an alpha obsessed with you...

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” 

Sam’s voice broke through Bucky’s internal panic, almost causing him to flinch.

“Where’s your head, Bucky?”

“It’s right here.”

“Oh really? Then what did I just say?”

“You’ll drop in from the roof, I’ll sneak in from the back,” Bucky answered, hoping he hadn’t missed anything.

“Getting her out is the mission,” Sam said. “Dealing with Rumlow comes after.”

“Agreed.”

Before Sam could continue, Bucky started to move, knowing that they’d already wasted more than enough time. You’d been with Rumlow for over three hours and he knew that anything could have happened in that time. More than that, he knew you; he knew you were a fighter, that you liked to get under people’s skin, and he wasn’t sure how Rumlow would deal with that.

He jumped the fence with ease, landing with a cat-like grace, barely making a sound. 

The sun was already starting to set and that made things a little easier for him. Bucky channelled years of training and muscle memory, slipping behind one guard and leaving him incapacitated. If Torres’s intel was right, that left another fifteen men, including Rumlow.

“I’m inside,” Sam said through the comms. “She’s definitely here, I can, uh, smell her.”

Bucky’s stomach knotted as he tightened his grip around the throat of a second goon until he went limp in his grasp.

All he could think about was getting to you, barely noticing anything or anyone that got in his way. He forced open the door and managed to drop another one of Rumlow’s men. It felt like he was losing himself, giving himself over to the part of him that was still the Winter Soldier. He didn’t care if he hurt anyone, didn’t care if he took it too far.

“Bucky, upstairs. I’ve found her, she’s not -” 

The sound of gunfire echoed through the warehouse, the element of surprise finally wearing out. Bucky took off at a run, heading towards the stairs.

“She’s what, Sam?” He asked, worry filling his tone.

A goon appeared from a doorway, only to find a vibranium fist slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards and halfway through the room he’d been leaving. His other hand was already reaching to unholster his gun.

He headed up the stairs, onto the walkway, heading towards the sounds of fighting.

When a knife flew towards him, it was instinct alone that had Bucky catching it mere inches from his face.

“Good to see you again, Soldier.”

The voice caused the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck to stand and his features twisted into an angry snarl as Rumlow stepped out onto the walkway.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked in a barely contained growl, throwing the knife to the ground.

He took in the sight of Rumlow, his heart threatening to stop at the sight of blood on his shirt. 

“She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be,” he answered.

Rumlow started to step forward, closing the distance and Bucky did likewise. Bucky lifted his gun, getting off a couple of shots but, in close quarters, it was easy for Rumlow to knock the gun from his hand.

Both men quickly threw fists, both hitting their mark. Bucky staggered back, momentarily shocked by the power behind Rumlows hit. 

The gauntlets. They were making him stronger.

Rumlow needed a second to recover, but both were toe to toe again in a matter of seconds.

This time Bucky feinted, swinging his fist but changing to a knee at the last second, slamming Rumlow into the railing. Then came the punch, super soldier strength, forcing Rumlow to take a step back. 

Rumlow retaliated, bringing his foot down against the side of Bucky’s knee, forcing him to stagger backwards to regain his balance. But, for Bucky pain was secondary, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for getting to you. He needed to save you.

He drove forward again, landing a blow to Rumlow’s kidney before grabbing his shirt and forcing him back against the railing, managing to lift him off his feet.

That was when it hit him, the cloying and sickly scent that was all over Rumlow - it was you, but not the you that Bucky knew. There was something wrong with the scent, something unpleasant, something sour. It reminded him of distress and despair, of pain and suffering. 

“What did you do to her?” Bucky demanded.

Rumlow laughed. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.”

He took advantage of Bucky’s momentary lapse in concentration as he worried about you. Rumlow kicked out again, this time wheeling Bucky around so that he was the one pressed against the railing.

“Can’t believe you came all the way here for another alpha’s omega,” Rumlow grit out, reaching for another knife and driving it into Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky let out a grunt that was more anger than pain as he let go of any sense of restraint.

“She’s not yours.” 

He pushed Rumlow backward before lifting him off his feet again and slamming him into the railing, over and over, ignoring the crack of bones and the rattling sound every time Rumlow gasped for breath. The other alpha went limp in his arms and Bucky lifted him, about to drop him over the side of the railing and to the ground thirty feet below.

“Bucky!”

Sam. It was Sam.

The voice pulled Bucky from his anger.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” Bucky dared to ask, the question catching even himself by surprise.

“I’ve got back-up on the way, they’ll take him to The Raft, he -”

“He doesn’t deserve that.” Bucky snapped, his eyes fixed on Rumlow’s face, on the blood bubbles that formed at the corners of his lips every time he tried to draw breath

“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Sam said. “But you don’t deserve to have his death on your conscience, and there’s an injured omega through there who needs you.”

It was all he needed to hear to let Rumlow go, letting him drop onto the walkway, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move with the damage that Bucky had inflicted. In the distance he could already hear the sirens. Rumlow would pay for what he’d done, just not in the way that Bucky would have preferred.

But Bucky still didn’t know exactly what Rumlow had done, and that thought had him quickly moving past Sam, following the scent that was you but not you into a small room. Another scent soon filled his nose; the coppery tang of blood.

You looked so small, huddled in the corner of the room on a small camp bed, a bloodsoaked scrap of fabric pressed to your neck.

“Mouse?”

He was at your side in an instant, though you seemed unable to fully focus on him. Your lips parted but no words came out.

“Come on, I’m going to get you out of here,” he told you.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, ignoring the knife wound in his shoulder and the blood soaking through his shirt, quickly carrying you out of the room and out of the warehouse where the sirens were getting louder.

“It’s okay,” he told you, over and over, even though you’d lost consciousness at some point. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, mouse. I’m so sorry.”

“Bucky...” you managed in little more than a soft sob.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re safe, mouse. Just hold on to me.”

You did as he asked and wrapped your arm around him as tight as you could while keeping the cloth pressed to your neck.

For the second time that day, he lost himself to the blur of it all as you were quickly loaded into an ambulance and the EMTs started to work on you. They wouldn’t let him travel to the hospital with you, but Sam quickly made sure he was pushed into the back of a second ambulance to have his stab wound dealt with.

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

Your eyes opened and for the briefest moment, you felt nothing but relief; your heat was over and the pain in your abdomen was finally gone. But once your eyes started to focus and you realised where you were, you started to remember.

The monitor at your side started to beep wildly as you desperately tried to sit up.

Hospital. 

You were in the hospital.

The cold, sterile smell filled your nose and it was almost enough to make you vomit.  

There were hands on your shoulders and voices trying to settle you, but none of it got through to you. You wanted to sit up. Get up. Run.

The beeping seemed to get louder and more frantic. Your neck hurt as you tried to move and you found yourself clawing at the bandages, too panicked to remember what had happened to you. Breath caught in your chest as you struggled, desperate for freedom, desperate to escape the new hell that you’d found yourself in.

You heard someone say something about sedation and, after a few seconds, things started to get blurry and you quickly slipped into darkness.

The second time you woke the panic set in slower, your mind finally clear enough to think, to remember. You were in the hospital. You were safe. 

Well, at least a little safer than you had been.

You’d never liked hospitals and the letters OEC painted on the walls did nothing to help settle you. 

Months of your childhood had been lost in rooms like the one you currently found yourself, hours and days spent being made to feel weak. Broken.

When your hands dared lift to your neck again, it was gingerly and with the sort of hesitation that came from not knowing if you really wanted to know. Fingers brushed over gauze and bandaging and the slightest pressure had you wincing. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to fight back the memories that began to flood back. Brock had tried to claim you. He’d bitten you. Over and over, trying to force you to submit.

You wretched, only just managing to lean over the side of the bed in time, bringing up nothing but fluid. At some point someone else entered the room and there was soon a bucket held out for you until, finally, your stomach completely emptied itself.

The doctor helped you settle back in bed and quickly took your temperature.

“Your heat symptoms have finally abated,” she said, sounding quite happy about it.

“How - how long have I been here?” You asked, your voice raspy and dry.

 “You were brought in two days ago,” she explained, pouring you a glass of water and handing it to you, “we had to operate immediately and, because of your heat, we had to keep you sedated yesterday to allow recovery.”

Operate? It was still so fuzzy, it was always harder to remember things that happened during your heats, but this felt like something else. It almost felt like you didn’t want to remember, like some part of you already knew that you were better off not remembering.

You took a slow drink before you spoke again, your throat feeling like it was full of sandpaper.

“What’s wrong with me?” You finally dared to ask, causing her to stop dead beside your bed. “What - what did he do to me?”

The doctor set you with an uncomfortable look which caused your stomach to coil and tie itself in knots. Bad news. It had to be bad news. 

She took a breath while you tried to ignore the tears that were prickling at the corner of your eyes.

Not bad news. Awful news.

“When you were brought in, you’d suffered severe trauma after rejecting several forced claiming bites” she said slowly, gently. “There was extensive tissue damage around your throat and neck, particularly over your mating gland. The surgeons did everything they could, but they were unable to repair the damage that had been done to your gland and, ultimately, they had to remove it.”

She continued talking a little while longer but her words were nothing more than a static hiss in your ears as the memories started flooding back.

He’d tried to force a claim on you, over and over, his teeth at your neck, tearing at skin. You’d refused him, denied him. You remembered bleeding. You remembered the pain, begging him to stop.

(You remembered Bucky holding you, carrying you to safety.)

“My... gland?” You said. “It’s gone?”

“I -” she took a slight breath, “- I’m afraid so.”

“What does that - I mean, how can I -” you tried desperately to understand what you wanted to ask, to understand what had been done to you and how it was going to affect you going forward.

“There’s no easy way to put this,” again she hesitated for a beat, “without your mating gland, you will never be able to be claimed or mated.”

The words left you feeling numb, even though some part of you didn’t really understand why. You’d never wanted to be claimed, never wanted to mate. You’d always tried so hard to reject the omega side of you but, now, you felt broken.

“But,” the doctor continued, her tone perking up a little, as if she wanted you to know it wasn’t the end of the world, “you’ll still be able to have a normal life; you’ll have your heats, you’ll still be able to bear pups. Though you may find your scenting is affected...”

Again, your mind drifted away from what she was saying, watching as her lips moved but not hearing a single word. Soon enough your gaze was drifting away from her, looking at the wall, at that garish OEC sign, hating that you were there.

You hated everything in that moment, every little thing that had led you to that point in your life. It felt like everything was unravelling and you had no idea how to stop it.

Your eyes snapped back to the doctor in time to catch her question. 

“The alpha who came in with you is still in the waiting room, would you like to see him?”

Still? He’d been sat out there for two days?

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

“You don’t have to stay,” Bucky said, for at least the fiftieth time that day.

Since being patched up and checked over, Bucky had remained in the hospital waiting room, only receiving the barest of updates about you. He knew that you’d been taking into surgery straight away and that you’d been taking into recovery a few hours later, and they’d told him that you’d been kept under sedation so your heat symptoms didn’t cause complications, but that was all. 

He had no idea the extent of your injuries or how effective surgery had been. 

Of course, he understood that he wasn’t next of kin, that he was really nothing to you, but it frustrated him no end not knowing if you were really okay.

Sam had been home to sleep, and he’d tried to get Bucky to do the same. But there was nothing that anyone could say or do to get Bucky to leave that chair. He wouldn’t leave you, not again.

(Never again.)

“How about I stay and you go get some rest?” Sam countered. “I can call you if anything happens?”

“No,” Bucky answered, not even considering it. “I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re going to be no good to her if you make yourself ill, Bucky,” Sam answered back. “Just because you’ve got that cyborg brain doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest.”

Normally he’d roll his eyes at Sam’s dumb jokes, maybe even say something pointed in response, but Bucky was tired. More than that, he was worried.

“This is my fault, Sam. I can’t just leave her.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. You’re not the one who hurt her and beating yourself up over it isn’t going to help anyone, least of all her.”

Bucky shook his head. “I fucked up, Sam. I lost control. I tried to claim her when she didn’t want it and that makes me no better than Rumlow.”

In the time that they had spent in the waiting room together, Bucky had explained rather loosely what had happened between you and him, but it was clear to Sam that there was so much more to it.

“You stopped when she told you to. Rumlow didn’t,” Sam stated. “That’s a big fucking difference, Bucky.”

“I left her - she was in the middle of her heat and I -”

“You did what you thought you had to do to keep her safe.”

“But she wasn’t safe, was she? If she’d been safe, none of this would have happened.”

Bucky got to his feet and started to pace, not sure what else he could do with all of his nervous pent-up energy. Sam let out a sigh, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do to stop Bucky from spiralling right now. He needed time to work through it, but he wasn’t going to allow himself that time until he knew for certain that you were alright.

Sam just hoped that moment would come sooner rather than later.

“They’ve finished processing Rumlow at The Raft,” he decided to change the subject. “After all the shit he’s pulled, he’s never going to see daylight again.”

“It’s still more than he deserves.”

“You still pissed I stopped you from killing him?”

“Yes,” Bucky snapped before pausing a beat. “No.” Then; “I don’t know.”

“That’s not you, Bucky. You’re not that guy.”

Not a killer. Not the Winter Soldier.

(But would the Winter Soldier have let this happen to you? No. The Winter Soldier would have kept you safe.)

“Maybe I -” Bucky started and stopped as the door to the waiting room opened and your doctor stepped inside.

Sam got to his feet, moving to stand beside Bucky.

“She’s groggy, but she’s finally awake,” she said.

“How is she?” Bucky asked.

The doctor took a breath before answering, deciding how much she was able to share.

“She’ll live. Thanks to you two,” she answered. “She’s recovering from the surgery well and there were no complications. Though she is going to have to remain under observation for at least the next couple of days.”

“Can I see her?” Bucky asked.

“She -” the doctor hesitated, “- she’s refused all visitors.”

“No, I need to see her. I need -”

“I understand your frustrations, but ultimately it’s the patient's choice, and given that she’s here because of injuries inflicted by an alpha -”

“That’s why I need to make sure she’s okay,” Bucky tried again, not even trying to hide his frustration. 

“Bucky...” Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to give her time. She’s been through a lot.”

“I just -” his eyes flitted to the doctor who didn’t look like she was doing to change his mind. “You’re right,” Bucky conceded, not wanting to think about what Rumlow might have done to you and how you must have been feeling.

It turned his stomach inside out to think that you were less than a hundred metres away and he couldn’t get to you. Bucky ached to hold you in his arms again, to apologise for fucking so much up. More than anything, he wanted to confess to you, to tell you that it had never been about biology. It had always been you. He wanted you.

The doctor took a beat, her eyes moving from Bucky to Sam and back again.

“Normally this would be the part where I call the police to report crimes committed against an omega but...” she trailed off, looking at Sam. “Is that necessary with Captain America here?”

“No,” Sam answered. “Everyone involved has already been dealt with.”

“Good, no alpha who’s capable of doing that to an omega in heat should be allowed to walk the streets,” the doctor said.

For a moment Bucky had to wonder just how much she’d seen in her time working in the OEC, and he found himself reminded of everything you’d said about being an omega. Finally, he was starting to understand what it was really like for you. And, more than anything, he wanted to change it.

“Could you tell her that I’m sorry?” Bucky asked. “Tell her that I’m sorry I fucked up.”

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

Sorry. What part was he sorry for?

You didn’t have the heart to ask the doctor to check for you and, besides that, you were certain she had more important things to be doing than playing messenger between you and Bucky. Whatever he had meant by the comment, you were sure he wasn’t sorry about what you wanted him to be sorry for. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Bucky was an alpha. 

Perhaps not the most traditional alpha, but you were almost certain that he had no idea why you’d run from him.

No, he wasn’t sorry about that, wasn’t sorry about reducing you to nothing more than a good little omega. He was sorry that you’d been hurt and, really, even you understood that wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

When the doctor delivered his message, she told you that he was still in the waiting room if you changed your mind and wanted to see him.

He was there the next day too.

And the next.

On more than one occasion you found yourself in tears, still devastated and reeling over what had been done to you. You almost broke, almost asked them to let Bucky in so that he could hold you and tell you that everything was going to be alright.

(It wasn’t. You already knew that it wasn’t.)

You mourned lost opportunities and things that might never have happened - things you’d never really wanted or expected in the first place. 

So many times you’d wished not to be an omega and, now, it seemed like you weren’t even that.

And the real irony was Bucky, sitting out in the waiting room, not knowing that you’d been ruined, that you’d never belong to him now. You could already picture it, the pity in his eyes if he saw you again; the poor little omega. 

The more time you were given to sit with your new reality, the worse you felt about it, the numbness of shock finally giving away and leaving you to feel the full extent of your trauma. You became despondent to the point that a psychiatrist was sent to assess you.

She asked about you, about your life, and about what had happened to you and, as you always did, you gave half the story and heard all of the things you expected to hear in response; it wasn’t your fault, you shouldn’t blame yourself.

You knew she was right, but knowing it and feeling it were two different things. It felt like it had been your fault. If you hadn’t let your guard down with Bucky, you would have stayed in the safehouse, you would have been able to finish your heat with him, and then you would have been able to leave, able to avoid Rumlow.

Instead you’d let yourself believe that there was something more than biology at play, you’d let yourself hope that he cared, that he saw you as more than just an omega. You’d allowed him the perfect opportunity to hurt you without him even realising it and all because you didn’t want to be a good little omega.

On the sixth day in the hospital, you were brought a bowl of Cookie Crunch cereal, the nurse telling you that the alpha in the waiting room had told him that it was your favourite. Whatever had been holding you together in that moment finally broke and you started to sob uncontrollably, hating that Bucky could care so much without knowing it was too late, and hating even more that he’d come to know you better than anyone had in years in just a few months.

He knew you.

He cared about you, in his own way.

And that just made your heart ache more, knowing that it was too late. Even if you could get over what had happened between you, why would Bucky ever want a damaged omega like you?

Still, every day you would ask if he was in the waiting room and it wasn’t until the eighth day that you were told that he’d left and hadn’t come back.

He’d finally given up on you.

It should have come as a relief knowing that he wasn’t still out there, hoping for a future that was impossible. He’d get over it, get over wanting to claim you, have you as his good little omega. And he deserved to because, as much as you might have hated him only a few weeks ago, you knew now that Bucky was a good man. A better man than you deserved.

You decided to leave the hospital that night, checking yourself out against the doctor's advice. You had no idea where you were going to go or what you were going to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there, couldn’t keep wallowing in your own trauma and self-loathing. You wanted to push it all away and bury it down, just like the first time you’d escaped from Rumlow.

Your apartment was still paid up until the end of the month so, you supposed, that would be the best place to start, even if it meant trying to dodge Bucky while you found somewhere else to live.

It was late when you got home.

His scent lingered in the hallway and caused your legs to tremble beneath you, and your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze when you realised that your door had been repaired - someone had cared enough to make sure your apartment and your things were kept secure. It wasn’t something you expected and it made you think about what he’d told you, about how people cared.

You cast a longing glance at Bucky’s door, wondering if he was in there, if he was sleeping, if he was suffering through nightmares of finding you covered in blood. Part of you was desperate to go to him but you knew it was too late to say or do anything, too late to change anything. The time for talking had passed and none of it mattered anymore. You couldn’t be what Bucky wanted and he couldn’t give you what you needed.

If you were lucky, you’d be able to save you both the heartache of having to face each other again.

End Note : 😭 I can't believe this story is almost over. I think the next chapter will be the last. I don't know if it'll need an epilogue, but we'll see. Hopefully the next/last chapter will be up by the end of November (it should be quicker to write that this one, I'm just hella bad/slow at writing action). Also I'm really tired so so I'm sorry if any dumb typos slipped through

As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes

@thecraziestcrayon @silas-aeiou @danzer8705 @notpotatocap @prttylight

@skittslackoffilter @mcira @chimchoom @highwaytomichelle

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

Ok but, but—if Telemachus mistakenly believes his dad and Poseidon to be friends and Odysseus and Poseidon are forced to hang out because of him, would the lines between pretend and not pretend blur after several years? Like would they eventually start having at least a little fun with each other and then later be absolutely horrified by that (especially Poseidon, bc what is this, his hatred is no longer as all consuming as it used to be?? Who authorized that??)

And eventually Odysseus just goes "Yk that offer to learn forgiveness still stands" while wearing the most shit-eating grin ever (Penelope predicted this development several years ago)

yeah!!! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ i would like to think that they do eventually end up having a real friendship rather than just a fake one

and yes of course penelope could see it coming a mile off!

they both would be internally like "oh gods why?!" at first.

but then they both realise that maybe just maybe they actually enjoy each others company and their bickering turns into banter & laughter.

telemachus just now thinks their best friends rather than just friends shdjhdfjds

penelope is happy that after all the trauma those two caused each other, they can finally put it behind them. she loves seeing her husband actually laugh and enjoy himself. also she definitely says i told you so, many times to odysseus face about her earlier predictions.

as for odysseus & athena's friendship. even after their past breakup falling out, i like to think that odysseus is initially really worried about admitting he regards poseidon as an actual friend now. he's worried that even though she has changed, that maybe befriending her uncle (the god she has had a long rivalry with) is a step too far again.

to his surprise though, she's actually happy for odysseus and proud that he was able to actually befriend the earth-shaker himself. this time she's glad odysseus did not push his emotions aside and opened his heart for friendship & forgiveness.

what odysseus didn't expect though, was that the 'king of ithaca's and god of the seas' friendship' would be a hot topic in olympus itself.

suddenly ithaca's palace has more uninvited visits from other gods and goddess. the mortal king who was instrumental in winning the trojan war, who battled with monsters and gods alike... became friends with the god who caused him to take 10 years to get home?

he had already been talked about amongst the gods during those 10 years, but now they were all even more curious as he has gone from brutally defeating poseidon to becoming friends???

poseidon however was not happy with their interest in ithaca and especially odysseus. that was his (and athena's, but mostly his) mortal friend gods damn it!

(im sorry this ended up being a long reply, my brain wouldn't stop yapping away hhdhdhdh)

(please if you have any futher thoughts, please please please share/add them ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) )

[comfybirdie]

5 REASONS WHY I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS IS JUST ABOUT A TOUR

I don't think I'm smart enough for plausible theories, so this is just a vent of a long time fan. I also have not read many posts, because I've been busy with life, so sorry if someone also said these points.

1. The concept.

I hope this is an album, but I wouldn't pledge my life on it. What I think, however, this is going to be something that brings all the storylines together from previous albums. At least from the Black Parade and Danger Days definitely, but I'm also thinking a bit about Conventional Weapons, too. This is because while yes, the tour does carry the Black Parade name and comes right after everybody spent time crying about not being in the select few to attend the WWWY Fest, the Secretary was not part of the Black Parade storyline. The closest thing we had eas the Director of BLI in Danger Days. And I think we all knew who this woman was the moment she popped up on the screen:

So what if Gerard's costume for the tour was the now undead Director, who became the Secretary of the Dictator?

2. The storyline itself.

I know every word to every album, from the singles to the B sides to leaked ones. But there may always be a chance that I misinterpreted the whole thing, maybe we all did, but the Black Parade is about the afterlife. Whether you got there because of illnes, war, it doesn't matter, you become part of the Black Parade when you die. I believe it to be a celebration of life, or carrying on even after the end.

What the Black Parade has never been, was a personal celebratory National Band, which is exactly what the post writes as the story. I'm going to insert a screenshot with the story.

I saw a theory that the entire concept is going to be revamped, which it might as well be, but even it doesn't make sense.

3. Because that's not what My Chemical Romance is.

And right now I'm thinking about the captions under the pictures.

After seeing the Secretary, my first thought about these captions was that we - The Black Parade - originally must have answered by wanting to be killjoys, the rebellious ones, but eventually we broke and stood in line, becoming the Dictator's beloved National Band, to which the Secretary replied: "Good boy."

However, My Chemical Romance never stood for that. They would never reward us with a tour for standing in line and shutting our mouth. They would never become the corporate machine they stood against since the very beginning. They would never lead the Black Parade in this manner and for this purpose.

And maybe it's just my naivety, the long lost teenager somewhere deep in me saying this, but I still believe they would never do that.

4. Foundations of Decay.

Has it been 2 years since this song came out? Yes. Am I going to bring it up? Absolutely.

(This is definitely overthinking on my part, but I was a history major and with the current events, the parallels are unmatched.) So the thing about wars is, you need people to fight it for you. You need soldiers and military leaders and all of them have to be loyal and obey the orders. The easiest way to achieve that, is by building an ideological foundation you can use to sway their judgement and decision making. The mustache man started with the theory of the back stabbing of the nation. During the middle ages, Christianity provided this foundation for the crusades in the middle east. If you give people something to fear or you give them something to idolise, they will be willing to fight against or for what you want.

And this is the Foundation of Decay.

"you must build an altar where it wells"

"Take his body as a relic to be canonised"

"You stumble through your last crusade"

And is you ask me, this is why this one song came out so much earlier than the rest of the project. Because they lay the ideological foundation first, and you need people to absorb it and truly believe before you can lead them with it. So you tell them again and again and again. Play it at every show on a tour. And so that reunion tour is when the Black Parade became the National Band, instead of the Killjoys. Because we sang along to every word, we absorbed it and not just believed it, but lived it as we attended the tour and sang when they told us to, cheered if they just came on the screen. We became conditioned to follow Gerard's orders as he walked on the stage, just as we will follow the order to play for the Dictator, instead of standing against him.

5. But empires and dictatorships never last, do they?

Rome fell apart. There is a reason there was a Third Reich, because the first 2 also fell. The Ottoman Empire also eventually weakened and fell apart. And just because the Communist Party always said that life is great and everyone is happy "In the Concrete Age", everyone who has lived in a ex-soviet occupied country (hello to my fellow Eastern and Central European MCR fans), we can all tell you, it was everything but true.

And so it is only a matter of time before Dictator's reign has to see its end? Perhaps maybe even bought on by his beloved band, put together from the misfits who the Secretary had to break to stay in line.

But, this is all just my theory. Thank you for clowning with me and my tinfoil hat if you read it this far.

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Hi Ada! Sorry your mind is in a bleh place - sending you lotsa hugs!!💗💗

1) I FINALLY replaced by gravel bike that was stolen this summer (long story short I bought a replacement that was on a prize offer for the insurance money but couldn’t break on it properly bc even though it was a ‘women’s’ model the grips were too big and the breaks too hard to push for my nimble hands hehe and I had to convince the store to buy it back and sell me another one and it’s generally really difficult to find a good one in my size so I’ve been worried cause it’s a lot of money😩) and the guy who sold it to me was soo nice he like helped me out for an hour at least and was so helpful answering all my questions. And he gave me so much off the prize for the best bet of a bike he had, so that I actually got a BETTER more expensive bike and hardly had to pay extra! And we joked too - so I left yesterday feeling both really excited and like ‘successful human interaction checked!’ (People are nice and random things will sometimes work out!!)

2) this weekend I messaged my professor this weekend bc I’d completely missed the deadline for an assignment that could help me get some feedback on my ideas for my exam project. I’ve never interacted with him outside of class and of course I got all over sharing about why I missed the deadline and why I’ve missed class a few of times and struggled to be on time, telling him about the memorial days for my best friend, my anxiety and ADHD and how it’s been difficult to get back to everyday life after travelling and then when I’d sent it I felt super weird about it. But then he replied sharing that he’s struggled with his anxiety this month and a personal anecdote about how he’d actually been in the process of getting his doctor to prescribe anti-anxiety meds when he held the presentation on mental illness (the course is called ‘normality and deviance’). He ended the mail by sending me a ‘mental hug’ and it really meant a lot to me. The day before, in class I’d been late, but still participated and we had a guest teacher who when he left called my name and said ‘it was interesting to hear from you!’. I’ve been feeling bad about my academic skills and aspirations lately bc I feel like other stuff is holding me back. So these two things reminded me, that so many people struggle even those that you think are successful, and it doesn’t take away from the things you’re good at and love doing!!!🥹

3) I wore my binder out for the first time this weekend, for my friend’s birthday and following night out and felt really affirmed and good about myself and in my body!! (Of course I was still hit on by a straight guy who got a bit gross when I very gently rejected him but oh well).

4) have a few pics of my family dog!!

And one of Moo Dom (thank you for the name suggestion D @carlos-tk ) who is one of your biggest cheers for writing delectable smut and making this fandom kinkier!!!🥳🤩 he reads along over my shoulder from where he’s placed on the couch pillows and he’s a big fan😌

I’ve been in a bleh mood myself - on and off everyday obligations this semester has felt a bit overwhelming, doubting my academic aspirations and the winter depression symptoms hit hard suddenly after my all-nighter to follow the election last week.. but these little things made me feel better and I am coming up from it and the sun is out today!!☀️

I hope you feel better soon too and take care of yourself and can relish in some of the little things along the way<3<3<3

- Life is a rollercoaster and a WIP! <3😌

what's up wednesday

Hey everyone! Thanks for the tags. I've been steadily working away at both kinktober and the rent boy au, but I'm kind of in a bleh mental space right now so I don't really feel like sharing.

That said, because of bleh mental space, I'd love, love, love to hear something positive that's happening with all of you!

Whether that be something that made you smile, something you're proud of, a picture of your pet, I want all the good vibes! Feel free to reply, reblog, send an ask, message me or not reply it all, I won't take it personal!

Tagging those that have tagged me already:

@nisbanisba, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @heartstringsduet, @paperstorm, @carlossreaders

@strandnreyes

Then I'll tag some of the usual crew:

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk

@theghostofashton, @bonheur-cafe, @basilsunrise, @never-blooms, @literateowl

@lightningboltreader, @honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @goldenskykaysani, @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @sanjuwrites, @sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty

@ironheartwriter, @irispurpurea, @your-catfish-friend, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcometololaland

@rmd-writes, @butchreyes, @emsprovisions, @tellmegoodbye and then here's a tag for anyone who just wants to share some good news <3 <3 <3 <3

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.189 Correction

When story time ended, Sophia took Desi to the bathroom and washed away the mess. With a few moments to myself, I went to the real estate website to see our house again and choose which side we'll call home. Both houses have an identical layout, so it really boiled down to which furniture we liked more. The gray house had a more sophisticated vibe, while the blue house was more relaxed and comfortable. Choosing was a lot harder than I imagined because they both were nice, and I couldn't go wrong with either. Ultimately, however, I chose the gray one. I figured since I'm taking on all the risk, it's only right we live in the fancier one. Just as I picked up the phone to call Less and tell her we have a house, someone knocked at the front door. It was Dub! I let him in and told him I was just thinking of him yesterday. Usually he'd take the opportunity to joke about how he has that effect on sims, but he just kinda snorted and said it was funny in the driest of tones. There was nothing funny about that half-hearted laugh and him standing in the foyer staring into the corner. Something was wrong.

"Earth to Dubstep. You coming in or you gonna stand in the foyer all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm good."

He definitely was not good because he didn't even flinch at the mention of the nickname he hates so much. Whatever's got him in a funk is probably why he's here. He always comes to me when he's in crisis. Well, when he perceives he's in crisis, rather. I love the guy, but he's a little high-strung sometimes. I'm glad he has sims in his life like Maia and me who are much calmer and more level-headed to keep him straight.

I didn't want to just dive in and spook him, though, so I started with a little small talk.

"Happy belated," I said.

"Thanks, man," he replied with a tiny grin.

"How did Tami like sharing her day with you?"

He let out a very long sigh, and I knew I had stepped unintentionally right into the middle of what I tried to dance around. I guess we're going all the way in.

"She didn't."

"Oh."

"How do you-" He stopped himself and turned away from me. "Nevermind. You wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?"

He swatted at me, trying to sweep the conversation back under the rug.

"Nothing. You have the perfect child and all this wisdom. You don't understand what it's like for the rest of us."

Was he mocking me? I've had it up to here with everyone assuming I live this perfect life and have all the answers. I'm one of the most down-to-earth sims I know, yet somehow I still end up being out of touch with everyone. Am I too confident? Too strong? I know I've carried things I shouldn't have in the past, and I need to be more open, but how does that equate to me having it all together? I know Dub is upset about something and isn't thinking straight, so I'm gonna try to let it go this time, but not before I give him a little dose of truth because, upset or not, this fairytale everyone thinks I live in ends today.

"Do you really believe that?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"Maybe. I don't know. But I'm sure you're gonna tell me how I'm wrong, so..."

"Damn right I am. You don't know my life like you think you do. And you definitely don't know what goes on in my head. 'All this wisdom?' I got it from all the shit and mental gymnastics I've been through. Now, I'll be the first to say my child is the best, but she has her moments too. And I've had my share of parenting and marriage fails, so don't tell me I don't know what it's like."

He sat silently for a few moments, taking in my reprove. Part of me thinks all he needed was to hear me say he's not alone, but another part thinks he still needs advice on something, so I got down to business.

"What happened, Dub? I don't like seeing you like this."

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"Don't worry about it. What's going on?"

"You ever wonder if you're ruining Desi?"

His question caught me off guard, and I laughed. He has no idea how obvious that answer should be.

"Only all the time," I said.

His eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Of course. Did Tami come with a manual? Because we sure didn't get one. I don't know what I'm doing half the time, man, so yeah...I wonder. Like, her birthday is in two days, but I'm still carrying her around like an infant. She enjoys it, so it's cool, but is it hurting her? Will she want to be up under us all the time when she's older? Am I keeping her from becoming independent? I question every move I make with her, even if it's not necessarily bad."

"I feel that." He sat there, nodding over and over as if to drum up the courage to make his next statement. "Tami has been doing and saying some mean things lately, but I just let it happen because of my own feelings about the sims she's doing it to."

"How do you mean?"

"I told you she kicked my former tenants. You know they deserved that. She also bit my father-in-law. I was so proud of her because someone needs to knock him down a few pegs. But she's older now and using words. She cut up this little girl in the park yesterday and told her she wasn't pretty."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. But the other girl started it, so she had it coming too."

"I see what you mean now."

"So, what do you think about it?"

Oof. Why does he always put me in this position? I have a lot of feelings about this, but I'm sure none of them are what he wants to hear. But what kind of friend would I be if I said nothing? I'd feel terrible if Tami grew up to be a monster, knowing I had the opportunity to shed some light early on. It won't be comfortable, but I've got to at least try. Here goes nothing.

"I think ... You're my boy, and I'll always tell you the truth, so ... You're her dad, Dub. You should be the one telling her those things are wrong, not encouraging her bad behavior. I know you think all those folks got what they deserved, which is also problematic, but is that the message you want to send Tami? That she can do and say whatever she wants and get away with it because 'they deserved it?' I'm afraid of the path you're putting her on. What kind of a woman will she become if you let her continue on like this? Do you think of her future?"

"Of course I do! What kind of a-"

He paused, succumbing to the realization I was right, even though I wondered if I had gone too far.

"I'm sorry if I'm out of line," I said. "I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't care."

"No. You're right. You always are. I was just thinking about what my parents will say if they find out how she's been acting. There's no way in hell they would have let me get away with the stuff I let slide."

I can't imagine my parents letting us get away with that either, but I honestly don't know what they would have done. Me and Less never really got into trouble, and my parents were both so lenient. I guess I'll never know. Hopefully, I'll never have to talk to Desi about this.

"I'm glad you always keep it 100 with me," he continued. "That's why I trust you so much. Can't lie, though. That hurt, but I know I needed to hear it. Deep down, I knew, but I never saw it like that. I'll do better, though. Believe that."

"I believe it, man. We don't play about our daughters."

"We absolutely do not!"

Not that I don't love these deep conversations with my best friend, but that one got really heavy, and he clearly has a lot to mull over later, so I pulled out my phone and showed him our new home, hoping a lighter topic would do the trick.

[wispscribbles]

why are you and your drawings so cool 😭🙏

afdsasdfasg thank you !! irl ppl would laugh at me being called cool lol - Have a ghoap as thanks <33

[soccerpunching]

The only endou and fudou hc interaction i have is fudou sending endou different kinds of "yall had your own room growing up and it shows" tweet screenshots and endou laugh reacting on every single one and endou just sometimes text him "hey look at this! you like this, dont you?! You can buy some at ___" abt an object that fudou took very light interest in while in liocott (he prob didnt even remember he likes the thing but he will realize at some point that he appreciated endou remembering)

fudou enjoys having harmless fun with endou. endou is too friend-shaped

[reubyocs]

Avon watched Dr. Chandra curiously as he attached him to various bits and bobs from around the lab. As Dr. Chandra explained the pieces of technology he had developed himself, Avon took an opportunity to look in its' general direction.

"Oh. Yes. I'm sorry." Avon mumbles as he listens to Dr. Chandra's instructions. He's just incredibly curious and wanting to learn everything about these gadgets. To be in the presence of someone as intellectually genius as Dr. Chandra, well, it's clear that Avon just wants to learn whatever he can from him.

Upon Dr. Chandra's instructions, Avon remained perfectly still. To ensure he didn't move a single millimetre while he was being operated on, he momentarily deactivated his automated breathing system and simply watched what Dr. Chandra was doing. He could feel the warmth from the gadget help fuse his arm joints back together again. Avon's gaze followed Dr. Chandra as he typed away rather quickly, attempting to reprogram Avon's fingers- and fortunately, it works. He feels a sense of relief when he sees his fingers finally begin to sit back in their normal positions.

"I feel okay." Avon speaks, nodding at Dr. Chandra before looking at his reattached arm. Gently, he wiggled his fingers to see them moving in a more natural way. He would test his full arm movement but considering Dr. Chandra mentioned something about nanites, he chooses to give it a bit of time before he does. Finally, he was able to mostly function normally without having to worry about his arm falling off at any given moment.

He nods again upon hearing that he'll get the chance to learn more about the other types of AI that lived in this sanctuary. Avon spends a moment wondering what category he'd fall into, especially if he'd be enough to technically be included in the category of former war machines.

"Well. Thank you Dr. Chandra." Avon mumbles as he reactivates his breathing system. There's so many things he wants to learn and ask about, but he doesn't want to be too annoying either. He learnt that from his interactions with his own creator. So for now, he chooses to remain quiet, patiently kicking his legs around as he awaits any further instructions or questions from his new friend.

[ @drchandras-sanctuary-for-ais ]

Dr.Chandra felt simple adoration towards Avon. There was also the urge to protect him, which he quickly turned down, he did not wanted to come off as off-putting or possessive. He still wanted to help though and that he would do.

While Dr.Chandra connected Avon to all sorts of gadgets and cables, he diligently tried to answer all of his questions with the patience of a saint. "Some of them i made myself, yes. For example i built this computer you see in front of you from scratch" He chuckled, kind of proud of his skills after all. While Dr.Chandra was by no means someone who loved to brag, but a certain professional zest couldn´t be denied. The portal gun we used was a gift from a friend though, so that´s not from me. But the stasis chambers over there, are also after my design. Though it took me quite a long while until i managed to get them properly working"

After he had set up Avon, he started the diagnostics program and lifted up the discarded arm that the android held in his hand now. Examining it quickly, he nodded his head and quickly grabbed another device.

"I will tell you more about all of my gadgets down the line, i promise. But for now maybe we should concentrate on your treatment, okay? What i am going to do now is to re-attach your arm, but in a way it won´t fall off again. So please hold still" While doing his work, he closely monitored the screen, using aforementioned gadget to re-connect the arm. A small amount of heat was used to meld the parts together. It would at least stabilize his arm a little bit. The rest would follow after.

After the arm was sort of fixed, he saw the crooked fingers pointing in all kinds of angles. A quick glance over to the screen, a few code combinations later and slowly but surely the fingers came back to a more natural state. "There, at least we got your arm all fixed up. Now these nanites will do the rest, fusing everything together. After this nothing should fall off anymore" He explained, looking at Avon while talking. "How do you feel? Still alright?"

Fixing one more thing, Dr.Chandra was quite happy with the results so far. Everything was going according to plan. "Oh you see, most of them were AI`s without a body at first. The range varies from former spaceship AI´s to former war machines to abused AI´s who were horribly treated by their creators...the list is long. But when we will do the tour through the Sanctuary later on, you will learn more about them bit by bit, don´t worry, Avon."

@reubyrp

[unicorn-academy-brainrot]

Can we have some hc of Isabel and Val cause these two are straight up enemies to lovers one bed trope

I posted some of my headcanons here a little while back! I also have a little fanfic/story cooking up in my noggin but I don't know how to express it just yet, I think equally in words and visuals and right now they're both getting bungled up but i just KNOW the two of them had a tense moment on the beach during their beach date AHHHHHHHH im gonna go crazy!!! i cant decide whether to write it out or to make a little comic idk!!!

but anyways here's some new ones cuz i think about them way too much

-Val and Isabel are both early risers. Isabel wakes up early to do training like we see in her short and Val wakes up early to do her beauty routine and maybe do some training/studying too, but I think they both like the excuse to be the only ones awake at the same time as well. Also I don't believe in the rest of the sapphire's abilities to voluntarily wake up early lol (except Ava SOMETIMES). They probably have some cute genuine moments when they're both not quite awake yet and nobody else is around for them to pretend for

-I think Val and Isabel also get tired early since they are early risers, I think they probably fall asleep on each other's shoulders by "accident" during one of their camping trips while stargazing

-Isabel thinks its funny to openly flirt with Val ("heyyyy Valentinaaa~") cuz it's easy to make her blush and angrily deny it but I think Valentina's soft moments makes Izzy's brain absolutely malfunction and explode

-ISABEL IS ALWAYS FINDING DUMB EXCUSES TO TOUCH VAL!!! Grabbing her hand to arm wrestle, grabbing her arm to "pull her out of danger", putting her arm around Val's shoulders to "annoy" her, etc etc. Of course Val secretly likes it but she's gotta put on the front that she doesn't lol.

.... i need to draw some of these sometime

ty for the ask!! :D

[hayaku14]

hello why is kaishin more popular than shinkai or what i mean is why bottom shinichi is like the most widely believed one? lol not really in the fandom just vaguely familiar with the anime from childhood it's just my mutuals likes this ship. i'd thought shinichi being the top would be more popular given his personality.

anon sorry for the late answer!!

imma be real honest with you, anon, i've loved the kidco dynamic since i was conan-sized but i only realized kaishin should be making out around 2021 so i don't know if i'm the best person to answer this question LOL BUT, i'll give you an answer!

tbh, i think for fandom shipping in general, the main character more often than not is the chosen bottom and whoever else is the other party is topping them. in japanese media especially, the ship names are mostly born from putting the kanji of their names together wherein the order of which indicates the seme and uke. since this happens early on, we kinda get stuck with that as the popular ship name whether you prefer the other way later on.

perhaps kaishin is more popular but not entirely by a lot compared to other ships where it's completely skewed to one side. i see a lot of shinkai too. ofc there are people who prefer one way over the other exclusively and that's completely fine!

personally, i think confining them into seme and uke or top and bottom does a great disservice to the kaishin dynamic because to me we should be looking at their sub-dom dynamic more and why they're actually peak switch sub and dom!!!!

that's fucking right kaishin is actually peak switch and i will die on this fucking hill!!!!!!!!!!

when you say shinichi would be the "obvious top," i'd like to assume in your heart you actually meant "the obvious dom" (LOL) but i think that could also apply to kaito.

i think the appeal of kaishin is the push and pull between them. the give and take. they're always trying to one-up each other. sometimes one pushes and the other gives way, sometimes it's the other way around.

i will be honest, perhaps switch pairings might just be my preference but I have never encountered a pairing that felt this completely equal in the switch department more than kaishin. like for other ships i'd sometimes be like, "yeah they switch but A is 70% more dom than B." But for kaishin I'm like, "oKAY THEY'RE 50/50 THEY'RE EQUALS THEY'RE PERFECT HALVES RAAAAAHHHH"

now how does this answer your question? well, i have no proof and im going off of vibes and like i said im no veteran in this ship fandom but, i think a lot of people do enjoy the other way around as you think it would've been. it's just that...it's something that can just be filed under the kaishin tag too. because it's basically the same sometimes. the only different thing is who's topping and bottoming. like sometimes i'm scrolling through twitter and i'd see art that's giving shinkai but it's tagged as kaishin and vice versa lol.

also personally i prefer calling them kaishin because i love the letter k and i associate the name shinkai more with makoto shinkai so every time i see people refer to kaishin as shinkai, my mind just conjures up an image of kaito, shinichi, and makoto shinkai together and i know that's fucking hilariously weird but it sometimes happens!!!! LMAO so even if i'm thinking about shinkai stuff, i still prefer using the name kaishin lol.

(but having the kaishin/shinkai distinction is definitely still useful especially for people who want to filter through one way or the other so fuck yeah to the ship name shinkai you're here to stay!!!)

anyway in conclusion, top shinichi is popular too dw lol, or maybe i should say bottom kaito is popular too lol i see yalls

also sorry that this answer is not only late but also a whole essay that doesn't even straightforwardly answer your question lol my bad anon

[tiny-tf-faces]

Hello! An update on the babies!

Their feathers are coming in and they are starting to be more vocal. We've started holding them to get them used to human touch and they all passed their most important milestone: shitting on a human

One of them has a slightly malformed leg due to uneven bedding... We brought him to the vet and now he's wearing "tape pants" to correct the position. The vet told us to put him in a cup so he stays upright

He is NOT happy about it lol. He tries to escape often, but if everything goes well on next tuesday we can remove everything. We call him fancypants, I think we will keep him :> Anyway, that's all for now! Kisses

!!!

Such good little borbs! Is one of the blue ones going om nom nom on sibling in the first pic?

Glad to hear the little ones are being taught the right way to perceive humans - as chairs. What do baby birds feel like? Are they soft?

It's a tragedy that fancypants has already been imprisoned at such a young age. My best wishes for birb recovery!

Thank you for keeping me updated on these little guys! They're always the highlight of my day :)

[sailforvalinor]

Who doesn't like Edmund??????? HOW can they not like Edmund?????????? He's the best of the Bertrums!!!!

Well, to be fair, being the best of the Bertrams is not too difficult, lol.

But yes, a LOT of people dislike Edmund, like, probably the majority of the Austen community. I agree!!! It’s so frustrating!!!

Like, Darcy insulted Elizabeth’s family to her face and actively separated her sister from the man she loved, Captain Wentworth ignored Anne’s existence and courted other girls in front of her on purpose, Edward was engaged to another woman while courting Elinor, and we give them passes, but we come down so hard on Edmund for *checks notes* letting Mary ride on Fanny’s horse for too long.

Yes yes, obviously there was more to that incident, but the point still stands—Edmund has committed far less grievous mistakes than most Austen heroes, but he’s the most hated. Why is this??

There’s a couple reasons for this, I think: we never get to see him actually in love with Fanny, and, unlike most Austen heroes, he never gets to perform any sort of grand gesture to make amends for his mistakes. We know that he does fall in love with Fanny and that these amends must have been made (especially seeing how quick he is to apologize to Fanny when he realizes he's been neglecting her in other places in the novel), but Austen deliberately chooses to narrate these events without actually giving them to us directly. Admittedly, this frustrates me, but I understand why: Mansfield Park is not a love story. There is a romance in the story, but that isn't what the narrative is fundamentally concerned with--the narrative is fundamentally concerned with Fanny's development and strength of character independent of (you might even say in spite of) the other characters in the novel. Unlike Pride and Prejudice or Emma, Fanny's character development is not incited by the actions of the hero (which, to be clear, I don't have any issue with--Mansfield Park just has a different narrative formula). Fanny overall is what you might call a static character--not in the sense that she is not fleshed-out or well-developed, but in that she does not go through a lot of character change. Rather, instead of her arc being about changing to become a better person, her arc is about her struggle to remain the good person that she is in spite of outside pressure to change to become more like the rest of the world. (For a really good example of a static character arc, look no further than Captain America!) It's not that Fanny doesn't go through any character growth whatsoever, she definitely does, but this growth overall roots her more deeply into what she believed before, rather than inciting change. The more I think about it, actually, the more it seems like Mansfield Park is a typical "Austen" story told from the perspective of the love interest.

It is actually Edmund who goes through the more dynamic character arc that we associate with most protagonists--which is why I've been thinking for ages that a retelling of Mansfield Park from his perspective could be REALLY interesting. Because told from his perspective, Mansfield Park undoubtedly becomes a love story where it did not hold that status previously. And Edmund would make such a great protagonist!!! There is SO MUCH about his character that I find absolutely fascinating. He of course has a very strong moral compass, which is something I've always admired him for, and despite his attraction to Mary and delusion about her character, is never once even tempted to change his profession from a clergyman to earn Mary's love. We really don't give Edmund enough credit for coming out so well-adjusted and morally upright as he did, coming from a family like the Bertram's. He is also fundamentally very kind, but what's so interesting about him is that he is not, though he certainly tries, always the most attentive. He certainly never neglects Fanny on purpose and is horrified when he finds out that he has, but the fact still remains that he is not the most emotionally perceptive (I'm actually very tempted to draw some parallels between him and Catherine Morland here). Edmund possesses a lot of book-smarts, but is somewhat lacking in social intelligence--or, for lack of a better term, street-smarts. I don't know what textual evidence there is to support this, but I've always had the impression that up until the beginning of the novel, Edmund hadn't had much experience mingling in society, given how as soon as he finished college he was brought straight home to manage Sir Bertram's estate while he was away in Antigua. Regardless of whether or not this is actually the case, it's clear that Edmund is a terrible judge of character despite how morally upright he himself is, which is absolutely fascinating to me. (Again! Catherine parallels!!) Fanny makes a direct contrast to Edmund in this regard--she does not possess the same book knowledge or have the advantage of the education that he had, but she is, though unconsciously, the most emotionally intelligent person in the room and the best judge of character in the entire book.

It is this contrast, but with their shared beliefs about the world and what is right and good, that cements my belief in how well-suited they are for each other. Edmund does not challenge Fanny to change, but Fanny's steadfastness of character does motivate Edmund to change--when he realizes that she perceived what sort of person Henry Crawford was all along and that she was right to refuse him, it exposes to him just how blind he is to the character of others. Edmund basically goes through the same sort of arc that Austen's heroines go through, but this time the roles have been reversed! IT'S JUST SO COOL

Anyway, sorry for rambling. TL;DR, I'm not going to try to convince you that Edmund Bertram is on the same level as Mr. Knightley or Mr. Tilney, but PLEASE examine him critically before you write him off as trash, because he really isn't.

[pbnmj]

Ur tags about how Miles and Pavitr are the ones who say "I can do both" because it IS quintessential spiderman thinking AND because they're too young to have seen that devastatingly not work yet. BUT the thing is they are RIGHT but only if it's "we"! Spiderman's mythos is inherently a lonely one reinforced by Miles and Gwen's isolation and by every. single. intro. reminding us that every spider person is the "one and only spider person"! And yet!! These films are just about relationships (1/2)

YES YEAH YOU GET IT !!!! and (quite recently rewatched it and mentioning it here cause i can't believe i forgot to mention it in the post you're talking about) it really gets me that gwen also says 'i was doing both' in regards to protecting miles and protecting the canon event, and i love that the phrase was reflected like that, even tho (at this point of the movie) miles and gwen pretty much oppose each other in views/priority !!

it also absolutely kills me the way that gwen begins (like you say) atsv quitting the band and isolates herself, and then throughout the whole thing she finds something/someone that she wants to take that leap for, all over again :') she (and the entire spider-team!!) is willing to bet everything on miles and is ready to fight for him, and i really just love the idea that miles just is a force that inspires good !!!! IT REALLY IS ALL ABOUT LOVE!!!

[suddencolds]

~

[phoenixtakaramono]

Hi, I just wanna say I LOVE Truce ❤️❤️, your writing(l'm amazed sometimes because it's just too good) and can't wait for the new chapter. Can I ask when are you gonna update?

This Ask is regarding the status of this PWP on AO3:

Hi! I’m just gonna combine these two anon Asks because they’re asking the same thing, haha. Firstly, thank you. Muah muah. 😘 💞

Secondly, hopefully this year. I dunno exactly when yet but hopefully it’s possible with my work schedule and any irl setbacks. I can’t give an exact date as of right now because I don’t like making false promises. Nothing takes the wind outta my sails than setting a deadline—and failing to meet it; it will give me writer’s block, haha. You can read my reply to an anon Ask here; it’s asking about two different fics of mine but my answer remains the same: I don’t like sacrificing quality for quantity. I prefer taking a longer time than rushing out a subpar update. A chapter will be ready when it’s ready. In the interim, I will post sneak peeks, update the status bar, and only give an ETA the week before it’s ready to be posted. I recommend my readers to turn on their Subscribe notifs so they’ll be notified when it’s ready.

Technically I can split ch3 into two chapters like I did for ch2, but that means the upcoming update is just 90% set-up. Billy and Homelander don’t physically interact yet in the set-up. Neither do they share a dialogue exchange. And I think that’s boring, no? I’d rather y’all read ch3 for its full intended effect, with the set-up and foreshadowing leading to the payoff. It is, after all, the chapter with their 🔞 First Time. A lot of exciting things happen this chapter after the set-up. Homelander flying Billy outerspace “as a date,” their first Team Up, kitchen sex (their first), Billy’s debut as a superhero + vice captain role in The Seven with Billy’s “bloody” birthday present to Homelander. It’s my favorite chapter outta the bunch because of the exhilarating rollercoaster ride it is—and I don’t want to take that away from y’all.

Also in the interim, you can read my butchlander threadfics here on tumblr and definitely on my Twitter thread here. They’re my humble peace offerings whilst I am working on Truce. :)

———

So this part isn’t particularly directed at you, Anon(s), but a pet peeve of mine are readers demanding updates, readers who assume I’ve discontinued/ abandoned a story, and readers who keep pushing for an update even though I’ve already nicely informed them of when to realistically expect an update from me and why it’s taking a long time. There’s one reader on one of my stories whom, for a good part of this year, has sent maybe over 99+ comments on AO3 trying to psychologically pressure/ guilt trip me into updating a certain fic. Like, their words are very kind and I’m happy they adore my fic to bits, and I’m sure they have good intentions, but it doesn’t make me, the writer, comfortable seeing someone say things like “I’m obsessed with this fic; I check for updates everyday; I think and breathe this fic; if you don’t update, I’m going to die; when are you going to update? Please, this story is too good to be abandoned/discontinued, I don’t want that to happen to [insert fic] like all the other abandoned stories in this fandom. All I think about is this fic; I read this story every day. I can’t breathe if I don’t see any update.” Or the alternative: “[insert compliment] but I just know this story is abandoned/discontinued, and that’s such a shame.”

Y’all, this ain’t the motivation or encouragement you think it is. It’s incredibly demotivating and making me want to take even longer outta spite :/, especially if I’d taken time to reply to the reader’s Comment reiterating essentially what I said above in bullet point #2. Asking the writer again and again for an update a hundred times in a row is not going to change their mind. It’s a lil disconcerting.