#they have gone through everything in life

[azullumi]

TO HOLD, TO FEEL, TO LOVE !!

premise — the intimate act of handholding, wishing to feel one another at the tip of the fingers; what are hands made for if not to hold one another? content tags — various characters with gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, hands are mentioned multiple times, my small headcanons of their hands, not proofread, 0.7k words ; headcanons

note from me — something small and simple for me because i have 3 lengthy fic series (or events) in my drafts for all of you <33 also i dont have wifi here and just relying on data so im barely surviving

SUNDAY, he held the sun once; he held your hand. His hands are slender and bony, delicate and gentle yet his hold on yours is firm and tight—as if he doesn’t want you to let go nor does he want to let go of you. For him, it’s a way of protection, a grounding reassurance that you’re there with him, not an illusion, not a dream. He’ll always take his glove off when holding your hand, insisting that it’s much better to feel the warmth of your palms and the way your fingers fit in his.

AVENTURINE, has hands that are soft, slim, and slender with clean, trimmed nails. He uses his fingers to draw the stars and the universe on your skin, tracing the lines of your palm, kissing your knuckles so sweetly, so gently. Whenever he holds your hand, he often finds himself fidgeting and playing with your fingers—it’s a small habit that he does, one that eases and soothes the tremble of his own. The simple act of holding your hand grounds him and stables himself at times when everything feels so messy and suffocating.

VERITAS RATIO, is not one to ask for such things, at least verbally. He’ll show himself more through his acts, fragments and pieces of himself found in the subtle gestures that he does—such as the pinky of his hand finding its way on to yours, hooking itself, and letting it linger until you let him hold the entirety of your palm in his. It’s subtle, simple, delicate yet rough and sharp on the edges just like his hands. One thing is that when you squeeze his hand, accidentally or intentionally, he’ll squeeze yours back.

LUOCHA, how could his hands be more feminine and delicate than a woman’s while also looking like a man’s? His hands are pretty, fingers delicately thin and long with intricate lines on his palms that looked like it was carefully drawn by an artist. The way it looks when he’s holding yours is just mesmerizing, it’s like two missing puzzle pieces that finally found and fit into each other—he is never complete without you. Perhaps he has told you or perhaps he hasn't yet but the reason why he gets quiet when you hold his hand is because he’s relishing in this moment and burning its print into his memory so he’ll never forget how soft your hands feel.

GALLAGHER, touchy, needy hands that seek for the warmth and smoothness of your skin underneath his touch—he’s simply an affectionate man who adores seeing your hand in his. He’ll always find ways to lace his fingers in yours, always wanting to hold your hand; on the note of his hands, it’s rough and bigger than yours will ever be—years of his life honing and carving the shapes of his fingers into ones that you’ve known and always held in your sleep.

ARGENTI, an epitome of beauty and so are his hands, are the definition of it too. It’s slender, long, and pretty, a perfect pale shade that seems to glow underneath the sun, and his fingers have this naturally pink shine on them. He’ll sing praises of how beautiful your hands look, especially when he’s holding it in his—would adore it more under the light, as the shadows cast itself on your skin and everything around him feels so surreal. It's mesmerizing, wonderful, breathtaking, to think that you could be more beautiful in his eyes, even if it’s just something small and simple.

JING YUAN, has rough, big, calloused hands that never want to let go of you. To think that he had gone through a life where he never felt your skin, where he never got to hold your hand. He’s a clingy man, affectionate with adventurous hands that is always on you—whenever you’re near him, his hands are either holding yours or just on you, resting on your waist, wrapped around your figure, or just anywhere as long as he gets to feel you under his hands. It’s like your skin and his palms are magnets of opposite poles.

GEPARD, a little shy and hesitant in the aspects of affection, even if it’s just the small act of holding your hand. His face is flustered, cheeks covered with a shade of pink that is easily discernible underneath the light, and his lips are curled into a smile that beams only affection the same way he looks at you and your hands intertwined with his. His grasp on you is firm and strong but would easily loosen when you ask him to; he does get anxious though, thinking if his grip was too tight or too much.

special mentions to the wonderful and beautiful @toorurs !! i know i have already said this before but you’re a pleasant surprise in my life, and you have become someone special and dear to me. you’re an amazing friend, kind and sweet, as well as, talented <33 i aspire to have your strength and courage in situations that would have me just running away and just completely avoiding it, you’re a strong person and you’re doing amazing, and you’ll keep on doing amazing things. i’ll always be here for you no matter what happens, hoping and wishing that you’ll get everything you have ever wanted and wished for, and anyone who is a hindrance to your happiness will get a watermelon or anything thrown at their face (just point me to them)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#—stellaronhvnters. #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #honkai imagines #honkai fluff #star rail #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #ratio x reader #luocha x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr sunday #star rail x reader #hsr #hsr imagines #hsr x you #star rail x you #azul.writes

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 20]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

Pain radiates through your body as you begin to regain consciousness. There are two points that are throbbing and parts of you want to slip back down into the darkness until the aches are gone, but the rest of your body doesn’t like that plan. 

Slowly, the switches in your mind are flipped to ‘on’ and you become more aware of what is happening around you. There are two people talking near you - a man and a woman whose words you cannot yet process, but the deeper voice sounds so very familiar and comforting. It takes a few moments or hours - you cannot tell - for you to give a name to who is speaking, but when you finally figure it out, your mouth speaks his name.

“Matt…?”

Your name is said, then something is touching your face. Your instinct tells you to pull away, so you try to, but there is a gentle pressure keeping you in place.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just me, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

Forcing your eyes open takes a few tries and you have to blink multiple times to get anything into focus. Slowly, Matt’s face forms in your vision, looking so, so haggard. His hair is fluffed up like he’s been messing with it and he’s got a frown that is so out of place on him. He should be smiling or laughing. That is how you always picture him in your mind - warm and happy. 

You realize it is his hand that is cupped along your jaw and press into it, letting your eyes close again. His thumb begins to rub along your cheek and you want to melt into it and allow yourself to drift back into the nothingness where there is no pain. Matt, however, has other ideas.

“I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

You do not want to do that, but since he is asking, your eyes open again. Your brain feels like sludge, but it is your knees that are screaming at you to not move. 

You are startled into being more aware of your surroundings when a feminine voice speaks from above you.

“Matt, you need to move if you want me to do anything.” 

He seems to hesitate, his face screwing up into something clearly unhappy before he finally pulls away from you. He doesn’t go far, though, stepping only a foot away. Only once your vision isn’t filled with a handsome-exhausted lawyer do you process that you are laying on your couch.  You have no idea what is going on, why you are in pain, or how you got to this position, but part of you feels at ease because Matt is there with you. 

You trust he won't let things go badly for you.

A beautiful, but tired, woman steps into your view, a pen light ready in her hand. She has an air of authority about her that has you not questioning why she is in your living room. 

“My name is Claire, I’m a nurse,” she tells you and you introduce yourself. “You passed out. I'm going to check your eyes and ask you a few questions to make sure you don't have a concussion.”

“Okay.” You don't remember passing out, but it would explain a few things. Your anxiety-people-pleasing mind pushes your confusion down and wanting the examination to be easier for Claire, ask, “Do you want me to sit up?”

“Do you feel like you can?” She counters and you don’t really know the answer, so you try. Your head throbs as you do and your knees are not happy about bending, but you get yourself into sitting. More pieces are added to the puzzle of what is going on, but none of them make any sense. 

You couldn’t tell before, but Matt is wearing a dark red jumpsuit that reminds you of Captain America’s armor. There had been a news segment where they had brought out a replica to talk about the design and the function and all you can think is Matt somehow got his own copy and customized it. For whatever reason. You certainly don’t know all of his hobbies - it could be a cosplay thing for all you know - or some kink - or both. 

You are in no position to judge.

The other puzzle piece is Karen’s boyfriend, sitting at your kitchen table looking at his phone, with your daughter in his lap. She is splayed against him in her bright pink jammies and her sleep headband, and you can only guess how deep into dreamland she is. But why is she out here, being held by a near-stranger, and not in her bed? 

You don’t get to ask that question - Claire is back in front of you with her penlight, shining it directly into your eyes.  As she does, she fires questions at you.

What is your name? Birthday?

Where are you and who is the current president?

What is twenty divided by four?

You pass the concussion test and are rewarded with two of the biggest ibuprofens you have ever seen. You take them, chasing them down with water from your sticker-decorated water bottle, as Claire tells you what is what.

“You have a decent sized cut on your forehead. It needed three stitches - and those will dissolve on their own, so you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll give you some of these higher milligram pills for the headache you’ll have, but a good night’s rest will have you up on your feet again. Do you need instructions on how to clean the cut?”

You take in the information at face value, still unsure why you are being examined and cared for in your living room as opposed to a hospital. Everyone else seems so sure of what is happening and completely fine with it, so you simply shake your head.

“Um, no, I know how to take care of it.”

“Perfect,” she turns away and begins to pack up a backpack on the coffee table you did not even notice. “If you start getting nauseous, head to the ER. Now,” she turns to stare down Matt, “If my delicate hands are no longer needed, I’m going back to bed so I am well rested for the job I actually get paid for.”

“Thank you, Claire. I appreciate it,” he says in a soft voice, but there is a layer of gravel in it you aren’t used to. 

The nurse finishes her packing, then looks to you with a small smile, “it is nice to finally meet you, I’m sorry it was like this. Late night calls have gone down since he told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you?” You say to her as she leaves your apartment, completely unsure of who you just met and what her connection to Matt is.

As you continue you try to comprehend what is going on, Matt moves towards you. He cups your jaw with both hands, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks, “what were you thinking?”

You frown at not only the rougher tone he is using, but the question, “Matt, I don’t know what is going on. I don’t…” 

You trail off and finally mentally address what you have been ignoring.

Your hand creeps up to your face and you feel the edges of the band aid covering up the cut on your forehead. How did you even manage to do that? Claire said you passed out - but how? And why? And why are Matt and Frank here?

Did Minnie call them like she did with Foggy when you were sick?

You don’t know those answers, so you switch to things you can figure out. You search your mind, trying to recall what you were doing before you apparently passed out. You remember cleaning the bathroom, then Minnie coming in and throwing up. 

As those memories surface, the rest rush you - you took Mouse to the bodega and on the way home, some man attacked you. You remember struggling and fighting then…then there is nothing. 

The fear you felt then tickles back into your throat and you can feel tears starting to form. 

“We were attacked,” you breathe out and almost instantly, Matt is pulling you to him, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you as the reality of what happened hits you. You cling back, burying your face into the rough material covering his shoulder, and try to not break down. 

You’d been slapped a few times - but no one has ever tried to physically hurt you to that extent before. You had never felt so helpless - so useless - before. You hadn’t been able to protect your daughter. 

Hands had been around your throat and in your hair and you had flopped around like a fish. 

He could have killed you. 

He could have killed Minnie. 

Matt gently rocks you as you process what happened to you. You try to not cry, but you can’t stop it when some tears do start to fall.

“Why were you out so late?” he asks into your hair and the guilt pools in your belly. You were so stupid to go out.

“Minnie was sick,” you mumble against Matt’s shoulder. “Her stomach was upset, and we didn’t have Pedialyte. We had to go get some.” 

You can feel him frowning into your hair and it just makes you feel that much worse about everything.

“It couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“No.”

It’s not you that responds - it's the man across the room you completely forgot about. You lift up your head to look at Frank, confused why he is speaking up for you. Matt partially turns, pulling you along, and angles his head towards the other man.

“No?” He questions, not sounding pleased at all that someone else is chiming in.

“No,” Frank repeats firmly. “That’s bein’ a parent, Red. Your kid needs something in the middle of the night, you go out and get it. That’s how it is - there ain’t no waiting until morning when they are sick. That’s how they get dehydrated. She didn’t do anything different than any other mother in the city.”

Matt’s lip twitches and you have the feeling he is trying to not scowl or snap. You can tell he is just worried and upset over what happened, but you’d never seen him like this before.

But Frank is right - there was no scenario in which you did not go to get Minnie what she needed when she was sick. 

You look to your baby, and you need her in your arms. You pull away from Matt, wiping at your eyes as you do, and make your way to your small dining room. You feel more than see Matt follow you - practically becoming your shadow until you are in front of Frank. Once you stop walking, he is against you again, his chest to your back and his hand on your hip.

Your daughter is dead weight as she is passed to you and you cradle her to your chest, giving her hair a kiss before asking, “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay,” Frank assures, and you feel like he is speaking to both you and Matt. “Probably going to have some nightmares and be clingy, but you’ve got one brave and smart little girl.” You smile a bit at the praise, because you like to think the same thing about Mouse - brave and smart - your perfect little angel. 

“Gave her some of that Pedialyte,” he adds, “and she drank it all, so hoping whatever made her sick will be gone.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. You feel like he is a father and that is why Minnie seems comfortable with him, but he has an air about him that makes you not want to ask.

You rock your daughter in your arms, feeling so grateful that she doesn’t have a scratch on her. You have no idea what you would have done if she had been hurt in any way.

You can feel yourself starting to calm - your tears are slowing as you accept and process things and part of you just wants to curl up in bed with your family and sleep for twelve hours. 

Unfortunately, that is not in the cards for you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Matt’s head jerk towards the main door, and you can’t help but tense up. His vibe since you have woken up has been on edge and you're surprised he hasn’t snapped or something, yet. He pulls away from you to stalk towards the hallway and you hold Minnie just a bit closer to you, unsure what he could have heard.

He swings the door open and there is a woman with thick jet black hair and bored looking expression. She pushes past Matt without care and enters into your apartment. 

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

“What happened?” Matt asks.

“Well, he’s not dead, but he won’t be waking up anytime soon. I even got you a report number, so you can follow up,” the woman says, and you realize they are talking about the man who attacked you. That makes your heart start beating a little harder and your mouth feel dry.

“Did they say where they were taking him?” 

You tune out of the conversation and instead focus on holding Minnie. You press your lips to her hair and avert your eyes away from Matt and the woman. You look briefly to Frank, who is back on his phone, then let your eyes wander elsewhere. Minnie’s sippy cup is sitting on the dining table, so you decide you can at least clean that up. 

As you move around the table, something else catches your attention. 

There’s a large black bullet proof vest sitting on one of the dining chairs, with a distinctive looking skull spray painted on it. 

You’ve seen that skull before - it’s a common thing to see spray painted on a wall or post box around Manhattan. It’s a symbol everyone in the city knows just as well as Spider-man’s emblem or Captain America’s shield - it’s the Punisher’s logo. 

The Punisher - whose real name is Frank Castle, who, if you recall correctly, looks strikingly similar to the man sitting at your dining table. 

For some reason you do not understand, you do not panic. You simply stare at the vest, all the connections flying around in your brain, and mentally go ‘Well, that makes sense.’

The Punisher is here because he was with Matt.

Matt’s dark red jumpsuit isn’t a cosplay or a kink thing - it’s armor. 

It’s armor because he is Daredevil - the protector of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Matt is Daredevil.

Daredevil is Minnie’s Dad.

That’s why he sometimes has bruises and cuts you don’t ask about. That’s why his knuckles are scarred. 

That’s why he is in your apartment tonight - Daredevil stops people from being mugged. 

You were being mugged and he came and rescued you. He called his Superhero Doctor to come make sure you were okay so you wouldn’t have to go to the hospital and explain how a blind man stopped the attack. 

“You okay?”

You look to Frank, and you expect to see blood and guns and mayhem, but all you see is the man who brought you soup. You see Matt’s friend and Karen’s boyfriend - who are two of the kindest people you have ever met in your life. They have treated you better than anyone ever has in your life. They care about you. 

You flash back to your very first encounter with Frank and you recall how you were scared of him, but Minnie wasn’t. Minnie - who is unsure about everyone new. You trusted her instincts even before you knew about her gifts - you’d once heard you can tell a person’s intentions by how toddlers and dogs react to them, and you’ve always found it to be true. 

So, you decide to trust Minnie as well as your initial reaction - it may possibly be because of a concussion but you would actually like to sit and think about what you just learned rather than react blindly. 

“I’m okay,” you say slowly, sticking with how you feel in that exact moment, and not how your night is going. “I think I’m going to go lay her down.” You hesitate, then decide you still need to be a good host, since this is your apartment, ask, “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” he says, his lips turning up into a small smile. “Think it’s time for me to head out - leave you and Red to have a talk.”

Your cheeks heat up and you know he knows you have figured out who he is. You hold Minnie even tighter and look down to your feet, your anxiety over being perceived starting to spike.

But you know better than to be rude and Frank has always been kind to you and Mouse.

“Thank you, Frank. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

You do not flee, but you do walk a little faster than normal to carry Minnie to bed. You oh so carefully place her down and tuck her in, making sure Pig is right there with her. Scooby must be out in the living room, and you’ll need to grab him when you finally are able to lay down. 

You stare down at your daughter, who is sleeping so peacefully, and let everything wash over you again. You cover your mouth to try to repress a sob, but you know it doesn’t matter - Matt will still hear it. 

Everything is changing so much and so fast and you don’t know how to deal with it. 

First, you finally find Minnie’s father, then you find out he has super senses and your daughter inherited them, and now you learn he is a superhero.

You don’t know how to even begin to process this development. There is no guide for this and you aren’t even sure how you even feel. 

You can’t be angry at Matt - you don’t know how he got into crime fighting, but you know how passionate he is about being a lawyer and helping people. You know he loves Hell’s Kitchen deeply and you can’t imagine having to hear every little crime that goes on. 

You don’t know much about Daredevil. You know he sticks to Hell’s Kitchen and he’s made the area safer. He stops muggings and break-ins, and he’s cleared out various gangs. You know the community likes him for the most part - there is actually a mural of him in an alleyway near the diner. 

But what does it mean for you and Minnie? 

How does Matt being Daredevil work with him being a father? If you look back over the last few weeks, you haven’t really noticed anything off. 

But what if he gets into a fight he can’t handle? 

Or some bad guy learns who he is and comes after Minnie to get to him? You know that happens to politicians and cops and such, so it would be no different for a vigilante. 

What secrets will you need to keep?

Do you need to learn more than basic first aid - like how to stitch someone up?

How will you explain this to Minnie?

Does he know Spider-man? Captain America?

Does he kill?

There are so many questions ping-ponging around in your mind you don’t notice when Matt enters the bedroom. 

He comes up behind you and says your name in a soft voice before wrapping his arms around your waist. He holds you to his chest, chin dropping over your shoulder, and to your surprise, you find yourself leaning into his hold. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he tells you and you close your eyes at his words, letting his voice wash over you and corral your thoughts into something quiet. “I had a plan to tell you - to explain everything. I swore to myself I wasn’t going to hide anything from you.”

You believe him. 

You wish you would have known sooner, but you also understand why he didn’t tell you. It’s not just something you tell someone, and Matt has proven that his intentions have always been good. 

“Am I going to get another binder?” you ask, sniffling a little as you do to stop more tears from coming.

“If you want one, I’ll make you one,” he instantly replies, “just please don’t take Minnie away. I beg of you.”

You can hear the fear and pain in his voice, and you know exactly how he feels. You remember how scared you were that he would take Minnie away. 

You turn in his arms - looping yours around his middle and resting your forehead on his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t do that. Not unless she is put into danger.” 

“I would never.”

Again, you believe him. 

His arms tighten around you until you're snuggly pressed into him and you can feel armor and buckles pressing against you. You squeeze him back, needing the comfort and needing something to ground you. 

You need to feel safe. 

Matt makes you feel safe. He made you feel safe before you knew what he did in the night and now it’s just amplified.

“Did you stop him?” You ask in a whisper. “The man who attacked us?”

“I did,” he responds. “I’ll stop anyone who dares to try to hurt my family.”

You shakily nod against him, then ask the question you fear, “Did…did she see?”

He doesn’t respond right away, but when he does, the guilt is palpable, “No. Frank made sure she didn’t see anything.” 

That eases your anxiety a fraction. You will need to talk with Minnie about what happened, and you already fear that conversation. She has never seen anything so violent before and you are surprised she isn’t already having bad dreams. You have no idea how she’s going to react in the morning.

You have no idea how you will react in the morning. 

You press your face into the crook of Matt’s neck, where there’s some type of rough black fabric. He begins to rub his hand up and down your back - you don’t think it will be soothing, but you don’t want him to stop. 

You want him to stay and hold you.

You want him to keep you safe. 

So, you tell him. 

“Stay the night,” you mumble against him, and he nods into your hair. 

Neither of you move to pull away - you stay holding each other in front of your daughter and you wonder if he needs the comfort as much as you do. 

It feels like time crawls by and your knees, which you must have banged up in the attack, start to make it known that you need to stop standing. Matt must sense something, as he nuzzles into your hair and whispers, “We can talk more in the morning. Let's get you to bed.”

You hum in agreement, then slowly bring your arms around to Matt’s front so you can place your hands on his chest, “I need to change. I’ll grab you some sweatpants and a shirt.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” 

It still takes you a minute to finally step away and when you do, his hands drop from you. As you go to dig for clean sleep clothes, Matt begins to undress. You try to not turn to look - you are curious about how the suit is put together and how he gets in and out. You didn’t see any zippers or other clasps, but you suppose he wouldn’t want those out in the open if he’s fighting someone. 

You find two sets of sweats, one large enough for Matt. You hesitate to start changing, but then remind yourself that not only is he blind, but you’ve slept together, so you have no reason to be shy. So, you strip and pull on your new pajamas. 

Matt is still working on his boots when you turn back around, so you set his clothes on the bed. You remember then you are missing a member of the sleep squad.

“Do you know where Scooby is?” 

To his credit, Matt doesn’t look confused. You wait patiently as he uses his abilities, then smile when he tells you the toy is under the coffee table. You go to fetch him, and finally drop Minnie’s sippy cup in the sink, and when you return, Matt has finished changing. 

You hold out Scooby to him with a small smile, “Do you want to tuck him in?”

Matt’s solemn face lights up and he takes the dog. You watch, with a strange lightness coming over your heart, as he places Scooby beside Pig. He places the tenderest of kisses to your daughter’s temple, and you can see him move his lips, but are unsure what he actually says. 

You let him have his moment before taking his hand and tugging him towards your bed. He won’t be sleeping on the couch tonight and both of you know it. You lay down first, then he does, stretching out on his back.

“Come here,” he breathes, and you obey. You roll so you can curl into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. His arm wraps around you and you feel Safe.

Your body and mind feel so heavy as you close your eyes, and you hope you can sleep as peacefully as Minnie. 

The two of you lay in silence and when you finally succumb to your exhaustion, as the darkness takes you, you once again hear Matt’s soft voice.

“I love you.”

-

AN: Its not mentioned bc Reader missed it but it is very important to me that everyone know Jess brought Matt his gloves as well.

Also new header :3C

-

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium

@anehkael

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

[suguann]

an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two

It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 

Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 

It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.

Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 

He never claimed to be a good man. 

(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)

Just an honest one.

So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.

Rinse and repeat. 

The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.

You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.

He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 

Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.

Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”

A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”

“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 

“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”

You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.

It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.

(A mindfuck is what it is.)

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost smut #ghost x you #cod smut #cod x reader #cod fic #cod imagine #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 imagine #.things i write

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Alright, here we go

First and foremost I want to talk about what flying bark's animation has meant to me.

In a world where every day I see 2d animation being rejected for cheaper 3d and puppet animation at every turn, Monkie Kid's animation was the one of the first things that gave me hope for the future of 2D animation. I can't tell you how long I've been wanting a 2D animated show, growing up I wanted one so desperately, I craved good animation amongst the stiff 3D and flat storytelling, so when I got it, when Monkie Kid happened, I was so unbelievably happy. It was everything I wanted in a show, gorgeous animation, excellent voice actors, romance free and friendly to my desperate friendship-craving, romance-overstimulated brain and written in a way I enjoyed so much. I struggle to describe exactly how much I’ve adored everything this show has been up until this point. It truly is a masterpiece.

Monkie kid has kept me company during the lowest and roughest points in my life. I got to such a bad place mentally but Monkie Kid’s fast-paced, snappy, detailed, colourful bright animation brought light into my darkest mental times and not only helped me stay connected with people but kept me creating even when I wanted nothing more than to lay on the floor and never move again. I'm aware most of the flying bark team is active on the bird app and none of them are gonna see this most likely but I still just wanted to say thank you. Thank you so much for animating this show, thank you so much for giving it your all. Thank you so much for giving me something I’ve always wanted so perfectly. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for keeping me company at my lowest, thank you for sharing your joy of animation so I could catch some of those rays of sunlight and feel a little of that joy too. Thank you for your positivity and good vibes, thank you. 

I know so many people have gotten inspiration from flying bark and I have to add myself to the infinite list. My art has improved so much thanks to their inspiration. My style has developed, I’ve had so much fun, I’ve written some of my favorite works ever based off of expressions that the characters make alone. My last amv I made because I was so grateful for the animation that we'd gotten up to that point. I wanted to showcase, to thank, to appreciate. I didn’t know it would be a goodbye. Words can't describe all that flying bark's animation and even their storyboards have done for me. When nothing could make me happy, monkie kid wormed its way into my brain and somehow kept me in one piece. I know that wouldn’t have been possible without the animation that left me at the edge of my seat, breathless and laughing over how incredible it really was every single time. Every new clip, every new episode I’d pause and rewatch again, I’d rewatch over and over, I’d take screenshots of every goofy background character, I’d screenshot every expression I could, I’d go through episodes frame-by-frame, literally one at a time for hours on end just so i could catch every detail, I’d open my eyes wider and wider to try and take in every bit I could in a way I’ve never been able to do before because there is nothing else out there like monkie kid. There was nothing as fun and as joyful as every single frame that flying bark gave us. And I am going to miss that so much.

The fact that season 4 was a sendoff is so heartbreaking to me, it's hard to describe how devastated I feel knowing something that kept hold of my hand when I was facing hard hard things in my life is suddenly gone. I don’t know how to ever express how important this show has been to me, it’s kept me going and helped me get to a place where I could breathe again. It’s connected me with some of the greatest people I know. It’s given me incredible experiences, introduced me to what animation could be and I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt having to say goodbye so suddenly. 

I know this isn’t the end of Monkie Kid as a show. I know season 5 is still coming. And I also know Monkie Kid has lost a huge part of what made it unique and special, a huge part of its heart and soul. Without flying bark it feels like half the show is missing and although I hope I can still support the show, no one can deny the cavern-sized hole that is left by flying bark’s absence in it. The animation team has such an incredibly positive atmosphere around them that just absolutely radiates from the things they create. I am going to miss that so desperately in monkie kid. I’m going to support every other show flying bark works on, I’m still going to love their animation wherever it goes, but I am going to miss it in monkie kid like nothing else I’ve ever missed.

I do have some other thoughts regarding the new changes in monkie kid but I wanted to keep that separate from the actual farewell, so that’ll be it’s own post and I just want to end this by saying thanks for everything Flying Bark you’ve been a real one. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re already being missed so hard it hurts. Keep those good vibes and keep up what you’re doing. You all really are incredible and an inspiration to artists everywhere. We love this show because of the voice actors, because of the writers, because of the music but a great deal of people loved this show because of you. You’ve inspired a community of artists, you’ve inspired me. Thank you flying bark for everything you've given us, you gave it your all and I’m gonna carry the impact you left on me for the rest of my life. 

LOVE YOU FLYING BARK. Here's to a bright future. Thanks for everything <3 

#knox rambles #long post #monkie kid #flying bark #gods ima miss them #ive never cared about an animation studio so much in my LIFE #good people will do that to ya #face in hands bro #im a fundamentally different person because of these guys #ough #lego monkie kid #its gonna take me a bit to recover from this one bois

[thegoldencontracts]

Hi

What do you think about Self aware!Housewardens and what are your Headcanons for them HSBSJJAJAJAHA idk I've been into ddlc recently.

FELLOW DDLC + TWST FAN SPOTTED I MUST RAMBLE

I'm going to make more specific fics with this later because who doesn't like self-aware AUs? Probably someone but that someone is not me

Ignorance is Bliss

The housewardens of Night Raven College come to a crippling realization about the truth of their world. They all handle it in different ways.

Riddle, who knows he's in a game, that everyone here is fake. What did he learn all these rules for? What was the point of his suffering? He's just a character to be watched by others for amusement's sake. Was the Queen of Hearts a mere character too? Did any of this have meaning? But then he sees you. You're real, and he's enraptured. What are the rules of your world, the real world where life isn't some story to be played? Though Riddle can't help but envy you, he really does wish to get to know you better.

Leona is hit by the revelation after his overblot. Everything he's gone through was all a part of some game. Just a way to keep players entertained. You're real. You'll never have to deal with the crippling realization that everything you say's a part of some script, that whole life's a game you'll never be able to leave. More than anything, Leona hates the fact that he knows your kindness towards him is all fake, but he still can't help but be captivated.

Azul is envious, just like Leona. He's gone through all of this just for entertainment? His overblot, his family, his world- none of it was real? And you're there, watching his suffering like it's some game for you to play, because that's really all it is. A game. He's a character in a game. But, seeing how real you are, even if your words are conveyed through the black sprite of a self-insert protagonist, how genuine your kindness is - it draws him in. He's meant to be a cold, rational individual, but perhaps he can be a bit softer with you. You won't mock him. You won't leave. And besides, if this really is some odd game, can't Azul get more of your gems with gap Moe?

Kalim is rather accepting of his circumstances. Sure, he's heartbroken to see the truth - that his whole life's a part of some gacha game meant to make some massive corporation called Disney more money, but can he really do anything about it? Besides, Kalim has always been someone who believes in making the best of the terrible hand he's been dealt. He's stayed kind in the face on constant poisoning attempts, and he's kept his heart in a world where there was no one he could trust. And in his attempts to make the best of his situation, he can't help but get closer to you. After all, you're a real person, and you don't gain anything from turning on him. You appreciate his kindness, and even if there's a fourth-wall separating the two of you, Kalim's grateful.

Vil is shaken by the revelation. This is all a game? You're just here to be entertained? But in spite of how worldview-shattering the realization that he's just a game character meant to Garner profit is, he can't help but he oddly comforted. Nothing's wrong with him. Neige 's performance was supposed to be worse than his, and the ordeal at VDC was just as unfair as he thought. Though Vil isn't exactly fine and dandy, he's not quite broken either. And, in the actual fanbase of this game he's in, people like him better than Neige? And you're one of those people? If it turns out you write fanfic or draw fanart of him, he'll be very appreciative.

Idia's shocked. His brother's death, his overblot, all the overblots, they were setups for him to be a character in some non-otome gacha game? It's weird. Idia's all too used to not being in control of his life, though. He just tries to cope in any way he can. He's definitely going to try and learn about his fandom, what type of ships and fanfic and fanart and the like are made about him. He's one of the most likely to try and ask you about the fandom. If you make fancontent for him, he's going to be especially interested. Be warned, though, he will nitpick your characterization of him so hard. At least your stats are better now, I guess?

Malleus is already an isolated individual, and now you're telling him what little connection to others he has is fake? In all honesty, he's definitely the most attached to you out of all the dorm heads. You're the only real friend he'll ever be able to have. The only real friend any of them will ever be able to have. He does find comfort in his massive fanbase, though. You're telling him all these people care for him, and because of the difference in the way time passes in game vs in reality, they won't die in a matter of what feels like seconds for him? As shaken as he is by everything, it really is a comfort.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle Rosehearts #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.

A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅

The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.

It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.

Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.

 And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.

Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone.  Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.

Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing.  Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.

It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.

So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.

“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.

However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.

“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.

“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.

Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.

Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.

Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.

Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?

Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.

You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.

Right, Ana.

You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.

Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”

For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.

“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.

After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!

On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal  in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!

Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”

You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.

Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.

“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.

You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.

“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.

“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.

To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”

The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.

In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.

However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”

The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.

Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?

“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”

You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.

“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.

“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.

The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!

Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.

Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.

This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.

Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.

Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.

Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.

Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”

And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.

All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.

Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.

The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.

However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.

So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”

Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.

Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.

One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.

When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”

The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”

You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.

“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”

Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.

So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.

Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.

Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.

 „Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”

You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.

“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”

You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.

“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.

It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?

“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.

Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.

“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.

It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.

“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”

There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.

“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.

Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.

When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.

You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.

“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.

Ana looked at you sheepishly.

“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.

You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.

“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. „I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof.  It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”

Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”

You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.

When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.

However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 21

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

It isn’t until you hear the front door that you leave your bed. Much of the morning you’ve spent listening to the buzz of your mom and Steve’s murmurs. They’re plotting their surprise and you’re left to suffocate in anxiety. You can’t think of anything they might be planning. 

You get up and gently open your door. You tiptoe into the hall and peek into the kitchen. No one’s there. The bathroom door is closed and you hear your mother’s cough from inside. That reassures you somewhat.  

You continue down the hall and stop by the front door. Once more, the drone of Steve’s deep timber cuts through the walls. You lean over to peek through the window beside the door, tugging the edge of the curtain back with a single finger.  

Just at the threshold of your mom’s lot, Steve stands with his broad back to you. You glimpse two figures on the other side of him; blonde, primped, and pretty. It’s Marge and Callie from the HOA. They hand something to him and he examines it as he bends his neck. Their voices drift in through the screen but the words are obscured by distance. 

Marge plays with the perfect flip at the bottom of her hair and Callie pushes out one hip. You wonder if they’ve hand delivered their first rebuke. Oddly, their interaction doesn’t seem tense. 

The women preen up at Steve and finally walk off. He watches after them, shifting on his feet, then turns and marches up his walk. You get a better look at what’s in his hand as he diverts and stop on the other side of the low fence. You strain to keep sight of him around the trim of the window. It’s a tupperware container. He dumps it in the bin and grimaces, letting the lid fall back down heavily. 

You back up as you hear the bathroom door. Your turn and sniff, rubbing your temples as you drag your feet along the hallway. She emerges in a cloud of hairspray and perfume. You crinkle your nose at her. 

“Morning,” you babble dumbly. 

“Would you hurry up,” she sneers, “we gotta be going soon.” 

“Right, sorry, mom, I was just--” 

“Just putting something on,” she snaps. “Steve’s gone to get dressed then he’s back to drive us.” 

She brushes past you roughly and you peer after her as she goes into the kitchen and pours what’s left in the coffee pot into a mug. She tuts and shakes her head as she drinks tediously around her painted lips. The makeup and hair suggest that jeans really aren’t an option. 

You return to your room and scour your dresser and closet. You don’t have much more than handmedown jeans and tee shirts. Like everything else about you, clothes are an afterthought. You only have that dress. 

You change into the polkadot dress. It doesn’t fit any better than last time. It’s too hot for a sweater as a sheen already settles over your forehead. You peek out before you cross the hall. You think your mom is done in the bathroom. 

You brush your teeth and wash your face, going through the basic steps of your routine. You never do very much. You wrangle in your hair as best as you can but you still feel inadequate. You step back into the hall as your mom’s footfalls stomp closer. 

She’s in a green satin dress. The forest tone is muted but the cut is elegant and the fabric expensive. You haven’t seen her in anything that nice since before her diagnosis. Together with her hair and makeup, and the necklace around her neck, she doesn’t look sick at all. 

“Oh, mom, you look pretty,” you say. 

“Yes, yes, move,” she elbows into the bathroom, “I have to touch up.” 

You nod and your cheeks pinch. You flit back to your bedroom and search the little basket in your top drawer. You find the silver bow pin and weave it into your hair. It’s better than nothing. You shrug. You don’t have any other jewellery really. 

You close your door and wait in your room as your mom snaps and slams around in the bathroom. Her footsteps thump down the hall then click back up in heels. She sounds like she’s pacing. She only stops as the front door opens and you hover on the foot of your bed. 

Your mother holler’s your name and you stand up. You come out and scurry down the hall. You pick out the brown strappy sandals that don’t really go with your dress. Your other option is sneakers and you don’t think she’d be very happy about that. 

“Well, you two look lovely,” Steve praises as he stands just inside the door. 

You murmur a thanks and look up. He’s wearing a blue suit and his hair is combed and style neatly. Your eyes round as you look between him and your mom. You’re underdressed to a painful degree. 

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he checks his watch, “we gotta be there by ten.” 

“Ready,” your mother chimes. 

Steve backs up and opens the door as he steps out onto the porch. He holds it as your mom struts through and you follow as you cross your arm over your stomach and rub your arm. He beams at you as you try shrink into nothing. 

You follow your mom up the walk and to Steve’s car pulled up at the curb. As you stand at the passenger side and Steve strolls up behind you, your mom leans in and lowers her voice to a harsh whisper, “pull your dress up.” 

She pinches the strap and you look down. You gulp and try to adjust it to cover more of your chest. You really don’t know when they got so... big. You turn away as Steve passes and goes around the back end. As you tug on your dress, he glances over and you make a face, caught in the adjustment. His cheek ticks and he quickly looks away and strides up the other side. The door unlock with a click. 

“Alright, ladies,” his opens his door, “today’s the day.” 

You get into the backseat as his declaration rings in your ears. The day? What day? You lift yourself and push your skirt under you as it catches behind your bum and you drop down, your chest bouncing with the motion and you once more tug on the flimsy fabric. 

Your eyes are drawn up as Steve fixes the mirror and you meet his eyes in the reflection. Can he see you? You quickly avert your gaze out the window and pull on the seat belt. Your stomach is roiling like a steaming pot. You don’t like surprises. 

🏠

The large metal letters above the romanesque entry read ‘CITY HALL’. You walk behind Steve and your mom as they enter through the double doors. Their pace is urgent and they are quiet with anticipation. You do your best to keep up though you wonder if they even remember you’re there. 

The twists and turns past the plaques that delineate different departments and arrows the point to others has you disoriented. Why are you here anyway? It seems like important stuff for adults. Well, you are an adult too. 

You join a queue inside an office with windowed walls. You hadn’t been paying attention when you entered. You crowded your mom and Steve as you try to stay away from the person behind you. The line moves slowly as the clerks behind glass call numbers out to bring up the next person. 

“Rogers, Steve,” Steve declares as he steps up and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, then recites your mother’s name. 

“Oh, yes, the Judge will see you in private chambers,” the man in the booth says, “your witnesses?” 

“Got one, the other is on his way,” Steve tuts and lifts his wrist, checking the time, “he will be here by ten.” 

“Alright, you just want to go to your left and curl around this desk. You’re in Chamber Three,” the clerk directs and hands back the paper, “congratulations.” 

Steve nods and backs up. As he turns, your mother clings to his hand and he slowly closes his fingers around hers. He glances back as you follow, careful not to tread on his heels. You furrow your brow. It sounds like... 

“Surprises,” Steve chuckles as he stops before a door marked with a number three and lets go of your mom, “we’re getting married.” 

Your mom steps into the open doorway and you stop just outside as Steve lingers by the frame. You gape up at him, speechless. He smiles and rubs your arms. 

“We’re gonna be one big happy family,” he says, “I’m gonna take care of you and mom.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

[buckyseternal]

shame on me ✤ 3

last and final part 🖤 warnings: violence (not DV), angst

shame on me masterlist

Cold. Tactical. Efficient. That’s how you had always lived your life; when you joined in with the Avengers, it was no different. Having been raised as essentially an assassin since you were a child, it was always in your mind to be situationally aware, look out for targets, but to keep in mind that you were to be undetectable; suave. Smooth. Elegant.

One man down; knife to the side of the throat, dragged into the bathroom stall. Suppressor screwed on. Enter the room. One shot; two, three, four – use him as a shield. Five, six – the clip’s empty. Targets eliminated. Rumlow eliminated. Exit the room. Smile at the bar staff and leave an average tip so you don’t draw attention to yourself. Is that blood on your cheek? No – must have been some lipstick smudged. Exit the building. Get back to the safe house.

Open the door. Hear that beeping? Run, run, runrunrunrun-

Everything was hazy. Everything was going in and out of darkness. Where’s your training? Get it together. You managed to move your arms and legs, pushing up to get on all fours. You turned back, looking at the safe house that was still burning. You blacked out. When you woke up again, the flames had gone down, but were still there. Was anyone coming?

That’s the fun part about solo missions – you’re all by yourself. You looked around the dirt, looking for the flip phone that was in your jacket pocket before your house blew up with you halfway in it. They must have put the bomb in my room. Are they going to double back to see if I’m dead? No – they’re all dead too.

Your eyes landed on the phone about 15 feet away, and you hauled yourself through the dirt in your torn up dress, letting out a pained scream as your wounds dragged across the ground. Grabbing your phone, you hit the number 1 on speed dial.

“What’s the weather like up there?” What was the fucking code phrase again?

“It’s…it’s- with every falling snowflake…a special- no, a unique- FUCK!” You could barely remember the phrase, your obvious concussion getting in the way. You were going to be stranded here forever, probably left for dead.

It was silent on the other end of the line. The operator could hear you begin to cry. “Agent number and operation?”

Thank god for the backup. “Agent 595259, operation Phantom,” you panted out. You could hear the operator typing on her computer.

Your vision began to fade, and looking down, you saw you had a sizeable gash on your side along with a few big cuts on your legs. You were losing a lot of blood. You used what strength you had left to try and stop the bleeding. Your consciousness was going out, your strength failing – you crumpled back to the ground. You stared at the sky, trees towering above you and partially covering the stars.

“Exfil sent, agent. Stay where yo-”

It surely was a sight to see when the jet touched down and the two medics came rushing in your direction. A cabin in the woods completely burnt to a crisp, surprised that the frame was still standing. A girl lying on the ground in a small pool of blood, dress torn and fabric crudely tied around your waist. Phone just out of reach of your hand. Pulse barely hanging on. The medics wished that they could have stabilized you better – but all they had was their undeniable skill and a prayer to whoever would listen.

The jet landed on the helipad at the top of the tower, medical professionals inside the building already clearing a path. It had caused obvious alarm and people had begun to gather, panicking. What could have happened that they needed to clear- oh.

The medics rushed you down the halls, yelling out codes and other medical terminology that very few of the bystanding Avengers understood. But what they did understand was clear:

“BP is dropping quick and we can barely feel a pulse, get her into surgery quick!”

“What’s- oh my god.” Bucky pushed to the front of the crowd, not understanding why everyone was panicking until he saw your almost lifeless body being wheeled on a gurney and heading straight to surgery. He pushed past everyone, questioning the medics as to what happened and how it happened.

“Sir, you have to stay here, we will give updates when we have them,” and with that, he was left at the doors. Your life was in their hands now.

He sat down, head spinning. What could have gone so wrong? All of the different emotions built up inside him until he couldn’t deal with it anymore. He stood up, hands clenching closed and open, looking for something, anything to help. He brought the glass of water that had been sitting on the table to his lips, took one sip, and threw it against the wall. He yelled expletives, not knowing what he’d do if he’d lose you.

Hours had passed by before any doctor came to update the ones who stayed to wait for you. Sam, Bucky, and Wanda looked up from their seats, Bucky standing and meeting the doctor halfway.

“She’s alive. But still critical. It’s going to take a while for her to wake up, but you’re all free to wait in the room with her.” Bucky pushed past the doctor and made his way to your room, while Sam and Wanda breathed out a sigh of relief, Sam thanking the doctor for the update and Wanda going to update the others. When Bucky arrived in your room, he was devastated to see the condition you were in.

Cuts on your face, bruises and bandages on your legs, IVs with saline drips hooked up to your arms, a nasal cannula, EKG cables running from under your hospital gown to keep track of your pulse. It was a mess, this whole thing was a mess. He walked over to your side, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He knew you couldn’t feel it, but he couldn’t help himself.

For the rest of that day and half of the next, he didn’t leave your side – sitting slumped in the uncomfortable chair next to your bedside. And then he heard you rustling, heard you groan.

“Baby,” he rushed to your side, gently grabbing your hand, hope flooding his features. You were still heavily groggy, the morphine easing the pain, but still in bad shape. At least you weren’t bleeding out on Canadian soil anymore. You opened your eyes fully, and you just stared at him for a few seconds. But the events of the past month played in your mind.

It’s fucking hard being with you.

It’s always been hard to be with you.

We’re done.

The last thing you remembered was the snow falling around you. The last thing you remembered was thinking maybe now I can be at peace.

“Oh god, I’m so glad you’re awake,” he kissed your hand. You blinked up at him, zoning back into reality from your memories. You looked at his hand, seeing his ring was back on. It’s always been hard to be with you.

You used what little strength you had to pull your hand away and lay it back down next to you.

Bucky looked confused – he had the nerve to look confused. You looked away from him, focusing back on the fluorescent lights directly above you.

“I…I didn’t know if you were coming back,” he tried to brush your hair out of your face, and you just flinched away.

“I almost didn’t,” you manage to whisper, voice still hoarse from not using it for two days.

“But you’re here now, that’s what matters.” He had the nerve to still try and smile, even though you couldn’t even look at him. He thought maybe, just maybe, it would take some time. Maybe you were just not feeling well, maybe it was the concussion, maybe you just needed more rest and things would go back to normal. “I just…I was so worried about you, baby. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

You let his words hang in the silence of your medical room. You couldn’t even bear to see him in your peripherals. “I wish you hadn’t.”

He deflated at your last words. Shoulders slumped from their once tense position, eyes falling to look at your bed rather than your face. He hadn’t realized how serious all of this was – the fight, the mission. It was just another fight like any other fight, he figured the relationship would mend itself. He figured that everything would be okay now that you’re back home and alive. How could he stay apart from you now that you had almost died and he had just gotten you back?

He sat back down in the chair, keeping a close watch on your vitals as you just stared at the clock on the opposite wall, watching the time go by.

Two more weeks had passed, and you were doing better. Bouquets of flowers showed up on the little tables in the room from various Avengers. Your closer friends had come to visit you, checking up every day to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. You had begun to walk with the assistance of the nursing staff – they were so kind to you and so patient. One time Bucky tried to help you on your other side when you got up to exercise your legs, and you just pulled your arm away from him, still not looking at him. He stood there and just watched as you walked on, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. When were things going to get better?

Another two weeks had passed. You were back on your feet, fully mobile but with a wince in your step. Your bruises had cleared up and your cuts were healing nicely. The stitches in your side were working, and they looked good. No infection, nothing going wrong with them. Textbook recovery.

It was a Thursday morning when Bucky walked into an empty medical room. The EKG cables and tabs were laying on the bed, IVs taken out and needles thrown away in the proper bin. Drawers were still left half open, bandages and other basic medical supplies missing. There was a note left on the table.

To my nursing and medical team: thank you from the bottom of my heart. I could not have lived or healed without your skills, efforts, and patience. I will always remember what you all did for me.

Bucky let the note flutter to the ground as he exited the room, looking around frantically. Running into the nurses, he hurriedly asked if she had seen where you’d gone, and she was just as surprised as him, running to your room. By the time he had left the medical wing, he heard her call over the loudspeaker for other medical staff to be on alert for a missing patient.

Running up the stairs and down the hallway of the 16th floor, he banged on your old room, damn near knocking it off of its hinges. No answer. He made his way back down to the common areas, where a couple of your friends had gathered.

Different flowers and gifts were placed around the conference table. Sam had your dog tags in his hand and a note in the other. To my big brother: take these to remember me while I take this journey. I’ll be watching over you.

Natasha shed a single tear over a note and some white lilies. I know you can find me no matter where I go – you’ve always been so gifted. Know that I’m here for you, but know that I’m not coming back. Don’t come looking for me. I love you.

Other members of the team had notes and trinkets that they were all reading over, talking with one another and speculating what happened, where you could have gone. Bucky looked around the table. There was nothing left for him.

Making his way to your old shared apartment, he burst through the door, leaving it wide open while he called out your name. There was no response. He entered your shared bedroom, mouth opened in shock as he spun around, taking in everything. Your phone was left sitting on your nightstand under the lamp along with your keys and wallet. The firebox that once stayed hidden in your closet was now out on the bed, all of your passports and important documents gone. Your tactical suits were left hanging in the closet, all of your clothes left folded in the dresser. Your guns, knives, and other gear that you had collected over the years were still in the hidden compartments.

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed – the side you used to sleep on – and as he stared at the picture of you two hanging in a frame on the wall, he realized that he would never see you again.

I might do an epilogue, but I'm not sure yet. I hope everyone enjoys this last part of the mini-series 🖤

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #mcu #mcu masterlist

[atombombkaytee]

I’ve watched the entire series again today in a hungover state and I CAN’T DEAL with all the parallels.

I mean, when Lucy finds out about her Dad’s true actions and origins - her whole world falls apart. She saw the vaults as safety - she looked up to her Dad more than anyone else in the world. She learns that he’s lied about who he is as a man and as her father, but also she must realise that the vault’s are hiding their own dirty secrets (especially after her experience at vault 4) and that her Dad is a part of that too. She even says to Max, after leaving vault 4, that if she destroyed a whole community to save him, he would be heartbroken: when that’s exactly what he did on an even grander and more terrible scale. Lucy’s life wasn’t even in direct danger to warrant that reaction - he’s just an insecure selfish arsehole.

At the very same time we see the flashback scene of Coop hearing Barb suggest that they drop the bombs on America. This woman that he loves and trusts and has made a family with - who he said he fell in love with because she always tries to do the right thing. Their reactions at the point of realisation - shock, inability to speak, almost dissociation - are both extremely similar. Him having gone through that betrayal before (and likely plenty of times since) is EXACTLY why he talks to Lucy how he does. He’s preparing her for the eventual heartbreak - because he has experience which states that nothing could ever be as perfect as she claims her life is. When he’s making ass jerky from Roger, he even tells her: there’s what people say they do and then there’s what they really do.

When you look at all of that, really, in the scheme of things, Coop - the man that she’s seen as this inhuman, cruel, murderous monster - he’s the good guy. He too thought his wife’s business with vault tec was abhorrent. Yes, he’s been warped and twisted by the wasteland and by his own trauma - but he does see this brightness in Lucy. He thought she was just naive and full of bullshit (especially being a vault dweller. Something which I’m sure triggered him considering his past with vault tec and the links to his wife) but when she proved herself by giving him the vials instead of letting him die, he’s probably amazed that there’s someone left in the world who isn’t just a liar and a terrible person. He’s so used to betrayal and violence by this point. She’s a good person - a trait that he literally said he was in love with his wife because of. She softens him.

But she also proves herself in another way - by shooting her feralled mother - showing that she’s also grown and learnt that not everything is black and white. It’s not just “good and bad” in this world. And although Coop has questionable morals, he’s honest, like her. He tells it how it is. Plus, after her Dad’s huge life changing betrayal and her time in the wasteland, she understands a little more why Coop has done all the things that she’s seen him do - I mean he did meet her pretty much day one out of the vault initially - hence why she goes with him. He has hardened her up to protect her in the wasteland.

Wilzig even says “will you still want the same things when you’re a different animal altogether.”

My god. It’s just genius. Absolutely genius.

“You comin’?”

Edit: Can we also talk about how Coop is basically the inspiration for the vault boy - who Lucy basically looks to (physically a few times throughout the series) for inspiration to do the right thing. AND the fact that her Dad was obviously a bit obsessed with Coop and probably still was when Lucy was born, seeing as he’d been in a pod and had only just woken up, retaining recent memories. So Lucy likely watched all of his films and her Dad maybe even saw him as a bit of a role model (or at least his in-film characters). AND the obvious exchange of index fingers. Yup. Honestly if this relationship doesn’t become cannon, I will start dropping bombs too.

ANOTHER EDIT: Sorry one last thing but, I just want to add: nothing that post-war Coop does is personal. It’s either: to get a job done, survival, because he’s been triggered by something (understandable after what’s he been through) or, in Lucy’s case, to teach a (admittedly often harsh) lesson. He doesn’t just mindlessly kill - or particularly enjoy killing - he just has no issue with it, it’s all just means to an end. He even still remembers to pay for his tomatoes in Filly ffs haha… I imagine he’s extremely numb and devoid of all feeling - except for when it comes to his wife and little girl. That’s the only time we see more visceral reactions in either actions or dialogue from him. He’s such an intricate character and Walton did an amazing job of portraying him.

#fallout #post apocalyptic #cooper howard #ghoul #bethesda #ghoul fucker #ghouls #Lucy Maclean #Hank Maclean #subtext #series #writing #ghoulcy #the ghoul #walton goggins #ella purnell #jonathan nolan #fallout amazon #tv adaptation #vaultghoul #spoilers #parallels

[hippolotamus]

thought i planned for everything (just didn’t count on you) | 1.6k | E (BuckTommy)

Earlier today I promised my wife @bidisasterevankinard an incentive for studying in exchange for making her think about too many WIP ideas. Since husband @diazsdimples is also going through it with schooling, this is for both of you 😘 ps: idk anything about what certs and licenses and stuff Tommy would need. Just roll with it and be nice, yeah? Also, this is unbeta’d so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.

Tommy scrubs at his forehead, blowing out a frustrated breath. He’s looked at the material in front of him for months now, determined to ace his recertifications. And it had been going well. Really well, in fact. He had a study schedule mapped out, accounting for his shifts and time with friends. He even left a small margin for the unexpected. There was just one factor he hadn’t accounted for. Evan.

The past few years of dating haven’t exactly gone anywhere serious. Some casual dates, one that he thought could go the distance but only broke his heart. So the expectation of having that feeling again? Of having someone thoughtful and caring, who gives him butterflies and makes him want things? Pretty much zero.

But then a hurricane happened. Actual and metaphorical. It tore through his life, upending the idea that love – or anything close to it – just wasn’t in the cards for him. And when everything settled, there was Evan. Evan, who asks how his shift was, tells him when he gets back from a call, and turns a pretty shade of pink as he blushes and says ‘I missed you’.

Tommy doesn’t regret any of it, but he does wish the universe’s cosmic timing could’ve held off just a little longer. At least until the state of California tells him what he already knows and says he’s fit to pilot an aircraft.

A knock on the door gets his attention, but he seriously contemplates ignoring it. He didn’t order anything and he doesn’t have plans. Unfortunately, the first responder in him can’t help wondering if one of his elderly neighbors needs something.

Fine. He sets down the pen he’s been chewing on and reminds himself it’s been too long since he stood up and walked around anyway.

“Evan?” Tommy asks, surprised to see him standing there. He instinctively looks him up and down for obvious injuries or signs of distress, but finds nothing. Only his gorgeous boyfriend, smiling coyly. “I didn’t forget about a date, did I?”

“No, uh, nothing like that. Because you are supposed to be studying.” Evan raises one eyebrow like Tommy is in the wrong for answering his own door after somehow manifesting Evan’s presence.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Evan says shyly. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately and wanted to help.”

For the first time, Tommy notices Evan’s got his hands behind his back and wonders what his definition of ‘help’ is. He’s dressed down, soft and adorable in a hoodie and joggers, so it’s unlikely to be a booty call. Though not completely out of the question. And not that Tommy would complain either.

“Did you bring flashcards or something?”

“As a matter of fact…” Evan steps over the threshold, past Tommy, like he owns the place. While shy, demure Evan is a favorite, confident Evan is by no means a turn off. Especially as he whirls around and proudly holds up a set of blue, yellow and pink index cards. “I did.”

“Evan-”

“A few nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I might have taken some notes of my own. And, like I said, thought I could make myself useful for my hot, pilot boyfriend.” He rocks up on his tiptoes, capturing Tommy’s lips for a chaste kiss before he meanders to the kitchen.

Tommy pushes the door closed, following Evan where he lays the cards down on the table, opposite the books and manuals Tommy has scattered. Evan walks to the cabinets and helps himself to a glass, filling it with water before returning. Next he makes himself comfortable in a chair, sitting slightly back with his legs spread apart.

“So, can I help?”

There’s a glimmer of mischief in the way Evan looks at him now that has his heart racing. Like helping is the last thing Evan plans to do.

Tommy gathers himself enough to sit down in his own seat and flashes Evan a confident smirk.

“Do your worst, kid.”

“I’ll start with an easy one. What is the atmospheric gas composition?”

“Twenty-one percent oxygen, seventy-eight percent nitrogen, one percent other,” Tommy rattles off.

“Well done.” Evan flicks the card down then casually leans over to untie one shoe and slip it off.

“What are you-”

Evan clicks his tongue, tutting in fake admonishment. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, baby. Next question. Each one hundred meter climb in elevation causes a temperature drop of what?”

“One degree Celsius.”

Evan simply grins and removes his other shoe, leaving him in socked feet. Tommy would be lying if he said his dick wasn’t taking interest now that he’s caught on to Evan’s game. It is thoroughly unhelpful.

“PAIP should be implemented how many minutes after an aircraft fails to give its position report or is overdue for arrival?”

“Fifteen. Got anything harder for me?”

Evan’s tongue darts out, licking along his lower lip. “Oh, you bet I do.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure and think about… anything except bending Evan over the table. If only it was that simple.

They repeat the process, volleying questions and answers back and forth until Evan’s stripped down to his boxers, his cock obviously hard and leaking beneath the tented fabric. It’s distracting as hell and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate.

“Come on, old man,” Evan teases, palming himself lazily. “Lives are on the line here. You need to be able to think under tense conditions.”

“You’re such a brat.” Tommy’s jeans press uncomfortably on his own straining erection and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from mirroring Evan’s movements.

“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” Evan applies more pressure, letting out an obscene moan as he strokes himself. “Or I could be – ahh – if you get this – mmph – question right.”

“Fuck, Evan.” Tommy undoes his belt and zipper, creating the tiniest bit of relief.

“That’s the idea. Even – oh, fuck – wore the new plug I told you about.”

Christ, Evan’s gonna kill him before they get the chance to see this all play out. And that’s unacceptable.

“Don’t stop,” Tommy orders, stalking off to grab the lube stashed in the couch cushions. When he returns, Evan is still stroking himself exactly like he was instructed. “Good boy, Evan. Doing what I told you.”

Tommy grips his chin and crashes their mouths together in a filthy kiss, delighted as Evan makes the most beautiful whine.

“But, you – ah – didn’t answer me,” Evan protests when they separate.

“Myoglobin.” He leans close to Evan’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “Lesson’s over, kid. Face down over the table. Naked. Now.”

Evan nearly trips over himself, leaping up from his chair and shoving his boxers down. He drapes himself over the piles of papers and index cards, wiggling his ass like he’ll die if he has to go one more second without being fucked.

“Gotta say, I like your methods,” Tommy murmurs, starting to work the plug in and out, tracing his other hand along Evan’s bare skin. “But now I think it’s time for your reward. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yes. Please.”

“So desperate, my Evan,” Tommy coos. “Thought you would be in control, getting me all worked up. And here you are, laid out so gorgeously for me, just begging for it.”

Tommy pulls the plug out completely, discarding it to the floor. Evan keens and clenches around nothing, just waiting to be full again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Tommy shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He slicks himself up with the lube and smears a generous amount on his fingers, fucking them in and out of Evan’s hole. Just enough to ease the way.

“Tommy,” Evan pants, practically crying when he pulls out.

He lines himself up, gripping Evan’s hips and pushing in without additional warning. He doesn’t pause for adjustments before he sets a relentless pace. It’s unlikely either of them are going to last, but he’s not going for longevity here.

Evan curls his hands around the edges of the table, leveraging it to fuck himself back against Tommy’s cock. It’s stunning and breathtaking, the rhythm they’re creating. A symphony of moans, squelches and skin against skin.

Soon the familiar heat pools in his belly, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Ohfuuuuck,” Evan moans, purposely tightening around him.

Tommy digs his fingertips into Evan’s sides, the world around him being reduced to static and white noise as he comes, filling Evan up. He thinks he might shout Evan’s name, but he’s not really sure, nor does he really care as he slumps forward, draping himself across Evan’s glistening skin.

“Gimmeasec,” he mumbles. “I’ll take careayou.”

“No need,” Evan murmurs back. “All good.”

Tommy presses a lazy kiss to Evan’s spine, enjoying the resulting small shudder. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He kisses another ridge, and another, before answering. “For taking notes. For caring. Wanting to help out. For being you.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Evan whispers, hesitantly.

“Never,” Tommy assures him, dropping gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders, mindful of the mess forming between them as he maneuvers to properly reach. “Never too much, baby.”

He bites back words that are too early to say, even if he definitely feels them. Has felt them building in his chest, creating a near endless chant. He wonders how long he’ll be able to smother them before they burst forth. Hopefully long enough. Enough for Evan to feel them, too. For Evan to want to stay.

“Clean up and nap?” Tommy asks instead.

“Sounds good. Earned it.”

Tommy huffs an amused sound against Evan’s skin before pressing one last kiss there. God, I hope so, kid.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #hippo writes #tevan #tevan fic #what can i say #i love my spice #di tag 💙💍 #james tag 💍 #fic: thought i planned for everything

[leciraofthewilderness]

So, despite some faults, I really enjoyed totk, and on its anniversary I want to say something about it. Other people have said similar things before but it’s really important to me and actually a big part of why the story of totk was meaningful to me, so I want to also say it:

Zelda needed to come back from draconification. The story needed that. It wasn’t lazy and just ignoring “consequences” because (imo) that was the *point*

The point is to feel like there are going to be terrible consequences and then say actually, no. You can come back from this, with the help of other people.

To me at least, that was the theme of the whole story.

If botw was about how the world goes on past loss and grief and starts to heal (how flowers grow in the ruins and the world can be beautiful again, be worth saving, even if it has changed)…then totk was about a more personal kind of healing.

The weight of the world should not be on your shoulders alone…you, alone, should not have to fix everything…you should not have to sacrifice yourself, but when you do, someone will be there to save you from it.

This turned into a really long ramble so:

You (Link) gained so much and now it’s gone. It feels like you’re back to where you started and yet you know you have to do it all again…you were weak and you failed and you’re weaker now…but

You go down to the surface. Monsters swarm across it once again. Other people are fighting them too though. You help, but it’s not just you…

You go to the Rito, the Gorons, the Zora, the Gerudo…just like with the divine beasts, there are friends who help you save each region. But this time, part of them comes along with you when you leave. It’s nice, you realize, the first time one of them protects you from a monster you weren’t prepared for. You’re still weaker than you were before, but someone has your back…

When you go up to the sky you see a strange new dragon there. There’s something about them that feels familiar. You try not to think about it.

You go down to the depths too. It’s terrifying at first. You hate it. You only want to get what you came for and get out of the dark….but slowly, the light grows. You get stronger. The dark feels like a challenge you can face (and someone has your back).

There are spirits down there. You don’t know when they’re from, but some part of you wonders…are these all the people you let die in the Calamity? (You help them find rest from their wandering. The weight on your shoulders feels a little less heavy).

There’s so much gloom. The first few times the sky turns red and hands chase you (a reminder of what you’ve lost, how you failed) you just run. Eventually though, you have to fight. It feels like the (second) worst day of your life again. But you manage to get free of the grasping gloom and stand and fight, as wild and desperate as it is. Beneath the manifestation of your worst fears, there’s another thing to fight, but this time it has a face (a voice in the back of your head says…you know this isn’t all on you and your failure…it’s really Ganon’s fault right?). You get through it.

At every turn in your travels, it seems like something reminds you of Zelda. Her passion, her curiosity, her kindness. You miss her.

At first, the tears you find reassure you. She may be in the past, but she’s safe. She’ll come back somehow…but then you hear the word draconification for the first time. You want to believe she wouldn’t do it but you know her and the fear sits cold inside you. (Zelda is a lot of things. She’s been allowed to be more of them, since she was freed from her hundred year battle, without her father holding her back. But deep down inside her, there’s a vein of self-sacrifice that still runs strong. It’s what saved the world before, after all).

She did it. She really did it. She’s gone from you (from Hyrule) forever, and it’s all your fault. If only you hadn’t failed so utterly in the battle (you can hardly even call it that) under the castle. If only you’d caught her. If only you hadn’t let the sword break. You should have protected her you should have been better it’s all your fault and now she has to live with the consequences, forever. Everything really is on you, you should have been better.

(Zelda POV: you couldn’t call upon Hylia’s power in time, you were too content to let it wither and fade away from you, ready to be free of it. You shouldn’t have. He got hurt, the sword got hurt, it’s your fault…Sonia and Rauru help you channel it again, Sonia helps you learn how to turn back time…but you don’t save her. She dies because you couldn’t save her. Rauru dies not long after. There is no one left to guide you, once again. You could spend years trying to figure it out on your own. But you did that last time. It didn’t work. Self-sacrifice, stepping in front of someone you love, that worked. (You do what you can, to call upon the sages, to help Link in the future, first). And then you swallow the stone. You’ve come a long way, in the past five years, allowing yourself to exist. But in the end, self-sacrifice worked last time. It’ll work this time too.)

You (Link) go down beneath the castle. You were supposed to bring the sages but you didn’t. It’s nice, for someone to have your back. But no one else should get hurt to fix your mistakes.

They follow you anyway. They fight with you, against the hordes, against the greatest enemies you defeated together, along the way. They’ll have your back, even if you don’t think you deserve it.

You fight Ganondorf, and then the demon king, in the hardest battle of your life. You think it’s over and then the demon king decides it’s better to lose himself completely than let you win. You’re exhausted and afraid of yet another battle, but up there in the sky, when you’re falling, the Light Dragon catches you (you wonder why she changed her path to catch you, you wonder if there’s still something of Zelda left in there to save). With her help, you win.

And then you’re in some other realm. The spirits of Sonia and Rauru are there. You remember how the two of them and Zelda channeled such incredible power together. You think about Recall. Turning something back to the memory of what it was before, like Sonia said. You stand with them and you allow yourself to hope. Maybe the Light Dragon can remember the form she took so long ago, the person that she was.

And then you’re falling, and Zelda is falling, but this time you catch her. You catch her. She’s back home with you, finally, finally.

And maybe, one mistake doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to be perfect. Sometimes, someone else can stand with you, and it’ll all turn out alright. (You can put the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can sacrifice yourself, but someone will be there to catch you, someone will be there to pull you back to yourself, when all is said and done).

#loz #tears of the kingdom #Link #Zelda #I will say also that I think part of the reason totk is special to me is very personal #like when it came out I was still struggling with the worst burnout of my life #I had had a few months of exhaustion between January and March and in May that exhaustion was still sticking to me #it was hard to get out of bed hard to do anything I felt so tired that I almost felt sick but I wasn’t sick #and the thing is Zelda games are my biggest special interest #and having a new one to play like genuinely I’m not joking it gave me bsck so much energy #I was doing really badly but when totk came out I played it for an entire weekend straight basically #and like my mom came to visit me and help me out with basic life stuff #and like sit with me while I played just like enjoying being together #and that was really nice #over that summer and the fall after I started getting to know someone I work with better #largely over conversations about totk at first #and they’ve become a good friend #(and become someone that I feel safe to be fully myself around) #and so I just have this really strong personal connection to totk #like I will not claim to be impartial about it #there are definitely criticisms that I can acknowledge #in particular I don’t like that they un-amputeed Link let Link be disabled #and also ganondorf’s characterization was shallow and one dimensional #and I’m sure there’s other things I could think of #but the overall narrative #including Zelda becoming the light dragon and then turning back in the end #I really like that #it felt like a narrative of healing to me #and playing it at the time that I did felt really healing to me too

[ladykailitha]

Everything I Ever Wanted Part 4/4

The last part. The end of this glorious story. I had such a blast writing it. All the world building, the characters, their stories.

I'm not sure if I'm 100% percent done with this world, but for now this is goodbye.

Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged even with it suddenly being scuttled by staff because it had the word escort in one of the tags.

Here we have the Harringtons trying every trick in the book to get more money from Steve, and the birth of Steve's and Eddie's baby.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve stared at the single pink line in bitter disappointment. He knew he should feel grateful that he didn’t get pregnant on the first try so that they had more time to prepare.

But the acrid feeling burned his insides like a sick fire.

Eddie came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle. He kissed their bond bite and nuzzled the scent gland to send waves of comfort through their bond.

“It is four in five, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured gently. “There’s always next time.”

Steve turned in his arms and buried his face into Eddie’s scent gland to deepen the scent between them.

“What if this means we were wrong?” he whimpered. “What if I’m not a golden omega after all?”

Eddie held him tight. “Then we’ll adopt or try surrogacy. We’ll figure it, Stevie. I promise.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Okay...”

Eddie kissed the top of his head fiercely and held on for dear life. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that if he was kind, that if he was just, he would let Steve bear Eddie’s pups.

****

Eddie’s rut came before Steve’s heat, but that wasn’t uncommon. Especially with Steve’s heats more frequent than a regular omega but not as often as a golden omega.

Steve was happy to service his alpha’s ruts. It was the one part of his job he actually missed. Tommy had tried to say that he just liked the rough sex, but that wasn’t it. He loved the providing for an alpha when they were at their most vulnerable. To feed them, clean up after them, to be the thing they held onto when their whole world was shifting out from under them.

Ruts originally were for the alpha to impregnate as many omegas as possible without the bond. Back when the world’s population was too low. But for whatever reason even after the population grew, the alphas still developed a mindless need for sex a few times a year.

Steve personally thought that it was something bred for like fucking animals because men tended to think with the wrong head.

What this all boiled down to was that when Steve’s first heat since they bonded, Eddie was able to be lucid throughout the whole experience and give Steve the much deserved attention he needed.

Afterwards, Steve was forced to admit that having Eddie take control of his heat was even better than when they were both under the haze of the hormones.

Never before had a heat been so smooth, so effortless. Gone was the feeling of not being full enough, of not being good enough.

But Eddie soothed all that away.

So Steve really shouldn’t have been surprised when six weeks later he was staring a double pink line.

“Why the fuck are the lines pink?” Steve huffed. “Isn’t that sexist?”

Eddie looked at his bondmate, husband, and love of his life with fond exasperation. “Honey...is that really your take away right now?”

Steve looked up at him in adorable befuddlement before he realized what the double line meant.

“I’m pregnant?!” he squealed. He threw the applicator in the sink and hugged Eddie tightly.

“You sure are!” Eddie said, swinging them both around in their rather large sized bathroom, but still managing to knock things over in their excitement and overwhelming joy.

“My baby is having our baby!” he shrieked in delight.

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

“Who should we call first?” he asked once he was put back down.

“Wayne!” Steve said at the same time Eddie cried, “Robin!”

They laughed and then their next exclamation reversed, with Steve saying Robin and Eddie saying Wayne.

“Both?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Both is good,” Eddie agreed.

****

They set up a live group chat. Robin answering first and then Wayne popping in.

After they said their hellos Steve held up the pregnancy test slowly.

Robin gasped and squealed in delight. “I told you! I’m so happy for you!”

Wayne’s reaction was more mild, but no less sincere.

“I’m happy for you both,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as a tear slid down his cheek.

“You’re going to be a grandpa,” Eddie murmured.

Wayne pressed a hand to his mouth as more tears fell. He let out a watery chuckle.

“I’m going to be a grandpa,” he whispered. He laughed out loud. “I’m going to be a grandpa!”

“You’ll come live with us until the baby is born, right?” Steve asked nervously.

Wayne looked between Eddie and Steve’s earnest faces and any objection he had flew out the window.

“Hell yeah, I am,” he said gruffly. “It’s about time I retired anyway.”

Everyone in the chat cheered.

****

After all their friends and had been told, Steve informed Starcourt of their pregnancy.

He was informed that Benny and Robin would coordinate the agency’s announcement to coincide with Steve and Eddie’s press release of the news.

They would wait until the twenty week mark when the chance of a miscarriage became an impossibility.

Steve would wear loose fitting clothes and more dresses to hide the bump until an announce would be ready to be made.

Robin and Benny would also manage the rumor mill and their privacy.

They got a very good doctor who specialized in golden omega care, now that Steve couldn’t be anything else.

Those first few weeks were bliss. They were happy and thrilled that Steve was pregnant.

They started preparing their nursery. Winnie the Pooh themed. The characters painted on the walls. The books on the shelves. Stuff animals galore.

Will had done painting of the walls and Steve nudged the omega in the direction of illustrating for children’s books. In particular his alpha’s children’s books about Poppy the Purple Dragon. It was a series of books about teaching gender and sexuality to late tween-early teens.

Will blushed. Mike had taken a page out of Eddie’s playbook and started really focusing on writing middle school aged books about alpha health and then just slowly branched out to all genders from gentle pushes from his in-laws, El, and even his older sister.

They weren’t originally going to have pictures, but Steve thought it was a good idea since it was something Will was passionate about too.

Dustin hadn’t bonded yet. Everyone had thought that he would have bonded Suzie when he brought her home from college. But they were both alphas and at first that wasn’t a problem, but soon it became clear that Dustin would benefit from having an omega partner.

So they broke up.

It was no surprise to anyone that Erica presented as an alpha. She also was unbonded, but that was more a personal preference then because she hadn’t found the right person.

Jim was grateful that El was just a beta. She had health problems as a child and both Jim and Joyce were concerned that adding a second gender would have further harmed her.

She was beautiful and charming young woman and Steve and Eddie, who claimed they didn’t have a favorite, was without a doubt their number one of the kids.

She was a fashion designer in New York and incredibly happy.

Then the news dropped that Steve was pregnant and suddenly everyone was rushing out to LA to make sure he was safe. El was the only one who chose to stay, after all she could design clothes from anywhere and LA was as a big a fashion hub as New York was.

First there was the fallout from the fact that Steve was a golden omega.

Starcourt Services put out the following statement:

“Starcourt Services, along with it’s sister companies across the globe have long since known the possibility of untested omegas being golden omegas when they are brought to us, but due to the privacy of our omegas, Steve Munson ne Harrington is merely the first golden omega willing to come out as such since retiring.

When the former escort came to us with the news of his pregnancy and his golden status, we were overjoyed for him. But we knew that this would have to be carefully curated to the press.

This is not like the Church coming out and saying that they knew that one third of their sequestered infertile omegas were there without their consent.

This is the opposite of that. This is Starcourt Services, we pride ourselves on our client and escort confidentiality. If an escort had wanted the public to know that they learned later in life that they were an golden omega, you would have been informed.

However, with the nature of Steve Harrington’s marriage and bonding with known rockstar, Eddie Munson, his pregnancy, no matter how much he could have tried to hide, would be leaked eventually. So between his people and ours, we were able to formulate what we hope will be an appropriate response.

Again, we congratulate Eddie and Steve Munson for their upcoming bundle of joy and wish them all the happiness in the world.

We will be holding a press conference to answer an further questions on...”

And they listed a date and time.

Which Steve and Eddie had wisely sat it out, because apparently Steve’s parents had shown up and asked about the difference in bid price verse golden omega dowries.

And when they were told that golden omega dowries had been over-inflated by the media and that some times the “price” wasn’t a price at all if the omega’s soulmate wasn’t from the elite.

Hooboy.

To say that went over like a lead balloon would be an understatement. It blew up the media and several outlets were forced to admit that they had known about golden omegas choosing from all walks of life, that they would only report on the rich ones.

Often times a benefactor would step in and help pay the dowry but that wasn’t always the case.

Jim Hopper took advantage of the situation by running for president of the United States under the platform of creating dowries and testing centers for parents who can’t afford to pay for the golden omega test. And to give parents and infertile omegas the right to chose not to take the test.

Steve was sure he was going to win. Because even conservatives would chomp at the bit for the chance that their children might be golden omegas.

When it looked like the Harringtons weren’t going to get more money from Starcourt they tried to take Eddie and Steve to court over grandparents’ rights. Claiming that as an escort Steve is incapable of being a loving parent due to the nature of having so many sexual partners.

After their lawyers showed all their trips out of town while Steve was in school with no evidence of having alternative supervision and how they would come just often enough that it couldn’t be considered child abandonment (thereby proving they knew what they were doing), the judge laughed them out her court room.

So they did the last thing they could they tried to blackmail Steve into giving them more money.

What did they try and blackmail him with you ask?

That he hadn’t been a virgin when he had been auctioned off.

Steve sat there staring up at them, five months pregnant, in his and Eddie’s living room on their outrageously plush sofa and laughed.

“You have no proof of that,” he said shaking his head. “I only had one girlfriend and there is no way Nancy Wheeler is going to say shit about me, not with all the things I know about her.”

Mrs. Harrington rolled her eyes. “Just because she was your only girlfriend doesn’t mean you weren’t a slut before her or after her.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at her. “Just because Steve wanted to be an escort when he was younger doesn’t mean he was sleeping around as a teen. What is wrong with you people?”

“We have photos!” Mr Harrington bellowed.

Then Steve really did laugh. Threw back his head, clutching his stomach as he just burst out in peels of laughter.

“If you’ve got what I think you’ve got,” he said once he was calm enough to speak. “You ain’t got shit. Because the cherry popping refers to my hymen being broken. Which, considering I played in a couple of different sports, and that can cause hymen breaking, is such bullshit. And even if it hadn’t been, I still would have been considered a vaginal virgin because those pictures you have is of me fucking Nancy before either of us presented.”

Eddie’s grin was feral. “So what you’re saying, honey,” he said, his voice positively dripping with disdain, “is that they just admitted to having child pornography of their own child.”

Both the elder Harringtons blanched.

“Now get out of my sight,” Steve said waving them off, “otherwise that lovely little protection order I have waiting for you will spring into effect.”

They sputtered and protested but they were forced to leave the premises with all their hopes and dreams dashed.

“Morons,” Eddie huffed. “Like I don’t have a legal team, a PR team, and a whole slew of people willing to take them down for fun. And that’s not including your people, babe.”

Steve shook his head. “I honestly don’t know where they thought they would get away with any of their attempts. I was starting think I was starring in a roadrunner cartoon for fuck’s sake.”

Eddie chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “But it’s over and done with now. I want you focusing on that pup of ours you’ve got growing.”

“Wayne and El are going to be pissed they missed out on the fun,” Steve murmured, curling up into his alpha’s side.

“They are,” he hummed in agreement, “but I’m grateful they weren’t here to see how vile they were to you.”

Steve chirped happily as Eddie rubbed his bond mark. He was safe, his pup was safe, and that was all that mattered.

****

Even with the epidural, Steve swore off more pups while he was giving birth. It was awful, it was horrible. Zero out of ten, would NOT recommend to anyone.

Then the beautiful, curly haired little boy was placed into his arms and he was in love. He wanted a half dozen more.

“Eddie...” he said looking up at his alpha with awe and adoration. “He’s perfect.”

Eddie smiled back down at his little family. “Look at what you made, Stevie...look at this sweet little baby. He’s all ours.”

The nurse handed Steve a bottle of formula. “Are you sure you don’t want to try breast feeding?”

Steve shook his head. “I want to be able to have other people feed him, being able to sleep more regularly, and not leak all the time.”

The nurse did not look impressed, as they could have hired a wet nurse, but wisely left them alone. Steve immediately gave it to his baby was happy to see that he quickly learned what it was for and began to eat.

“You ready for his grandfather and godmother to see him?” Eddie asked gently, smoothing Steve’s hair.

Steve smiled up at him and nodded.

Eddie went out to the hall and brought in the two guests who were waiting patiently.

Wayne checked on Steve and then made sure Eddie was faring okay, while Robin rushed to Steve’s side and fussed over the new mama.

“He looks like Dustin,” she cooed. “All curly hair and no teeth.”

Steve smiled up at her. “That’s why we decided on the name Dustin Wayne Munson.”

Wayne looked down at his grandson in awe. “Oh, Stevie, you didn’t have to go and do that.”

Eddie punched Wayne’s arm good-naturedly. “Like we would call him anything else, old man.”

He grabbed a burp cloth and draped over Steve’s shoulder, who proceeded burp their baby.

“You can’t have two Dustins or two Waynes though,” Robin said. “What are you going to call him to avoid confusion?”

“Winnie,” Eddie explained. “Once he gets into school, he might choose to go by either his first or middle name, but to us, he’s Winnie.”

“Welcome to the world, little Winnie,” she murmured gently, reaching out to capture a curl. “May it be kind to you.”

“I think it’s time to let Mom and Winnie sleep,” Eddie said. “We can tell his other namesake when both are better rested.”

Robin and Wayne nodded, filing out.

Dustin would be over the moon when he found out later, tears of joy streaming down his face as Winnie was placed into his arms, surrounded by all of Steve’s found family.

Chrissy had already went out and bought two wardrobes full of clothes of varying sizes so that the little one would always have something fashionable to wear.

Robin was swearing undying fidelity to this three hour old baby.

The rest of the Party was promising to teach him all sorts of the things from science to basketball.

Even the boys from Corroded Coffin got in on it, offering their services to babysit whenever they got overwhelmed.

Steve and Eddie just watched in loving adoration for their friends and their family.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said. “How are you feeling right now?”

Steve kissed his lips. “I got everything I ever wanted and I couldn’t be happier.”

Eddie pulled Steve closer into his side. “I’m glad, Stevie.”

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson

[sinsirellaxx]

Can you do a toxic! Slyhterin boys where they found out y/n is actually pregnant? Cause let’s be honest, they wouldn’t be happy and sweet about getting their girlfriend pregnant

Slytherin Boys – Reacting to you getting pregnant

Warning: Toxic boys, mentions and talks of abortion, toxic relationships etc., not proof-read (cause I'm lazy)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I totally agree with the idea that they wouldn't be happy at all!

Hope you'll like it!

Mattheo …

… glares down at your trembling hand holding the offending pregnancy test, his nose pulled up in disgust.

… suddenly views you as this stupid person that is unable to use birth control. If you aren’t on birth control and only use condoms, he’d still think you were the cause for this mess. Did you poke holes into the condoms? Did you want to get pregnant and trap him?

… would be so turned off by the idea of having a child at that age, that he’d project all that frustration and negativity on you – he’d start detesting you. Gone is the obsession he had felt for you and replaced by pure annoyance.

… stared at you coldly as he told you he didn’t want to see you anymore – that he didn’t want to be involved with anything regarding the child – his child.

Theodore …

… stares at his phone dumbly – his mind completely blank as he assessed the situation. Well, fuck.

… immediately blocks you – a poor attempt to push you and his new problem out of his life.

… desperately hopes you don’t try to confront him – he’s an asshole but he doesn’t want to be cruel to your face, duh. But obviously, you did confront him.

… rolls his eyes when you start crying in front of him, obviously scared and overwhelmed by the situation and his apathy.

… rudely interrupts you and tells you to fuck off – that he cannot have a child yet. If you refuse to just leave, he’ll obliviate himself out of your life. Problem solved, right?

Lorenzo …

… would get angry. Not at himself – no, he’d be mad at you. How could you destroy such a beautiful relationship?

… is desperate – he loves you but the thought of having a child make his balls shrink.

… would force you to make a choice: Him or the child. If you want to keep the child, he’ll break up with you – which further angers him, because he still wants you but if you decide to terminate he’d be back to being his usual loving and obsessed self.

Draco …

… enters panic mode. He knows his parents and he knows the chaos that would ensue of they found out, so he begged you to terminate. If you refuse to, he’ll try to gaslight and manipulate you into doing it.

… will hold a grudge if you do not terminate and his parents find out, which would result in you two having to get married.

… would be kind of put off by the thought of you carrying and growing a child and distance himself from you.

… would definitely cheat to satiate his desires and needs because his feelings for you were clouded by hatred.

Blaise …

… laughs in your face when you tell him. He thinks it is a joke. When he takes in the state you are in it quickly dawns on him that you aren’t joking after all.

… groans loudly as a string of profanities leaves his lips – why did everything have to be so complicated?

… suddenly accuses you of cheating on him because no way in hell could he have gotten you pregnant. He’d try to talk his way out of it – spewing lies about his fertility and turning the situation in a way that makes him look like the victim.

… tells you to leave and accuses you of being a filthy cheater.

Tom …

… will demand, no, force you to terminate – because he would not allow any mistakes. He doesn’t want to be a father – especially not out of wedlock.

… doesn’t give you a choice – because you can’t be trusted. He’ll help you through the procedure and ensures that you actually go through with it.

… he’ll not break up with you though but will put you on birth control and watch you take the pills every. Single. Day.

… does not show any remorse or empathy, because he simply cannot understand why you’d be this devastated. If he has to, he’ll obliviate you and make you forget about the whole incident.

#slytherin boys #toxic slytherin boys #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #yandere tom riddle

[qrrieterisunnq]

Stupid Argument - Nico Hischier

SUMMARY: Nico and Y/n get into a two-hour-long argument about Nico leaving his shoes in the middle of the hall, leading to Nico being snappy and annoyed by everyone at practice the next morning.

WARNINGS: argument, grumpy and snappy Nico, unedited

WORD COUNT: 1,35K

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Nothing just enjoy this lil angst/fluff

masterlist | wip's

You and Nico are in your kitchen, sitting silently at the table as you two have breakfast. It is unusual, you two are so quiet. Normally you would talk about his hockey practice, your job, or life in general. But you just had an almost two-hour-long argument about his shoes in the middle of the hall.

The atmosphere is thick from the tension between you two. You clear your throat as you finish breakfast and stand up to put your plate in the dishwasher. You shut the dishwasher a little too harshly as you return to the table to chug down your now-cold coffee.

Nico is still eating the eggs you made earlier, his features are hard and tense, and he doesn’t bother to even look at you. You scoff and shake your head as you walk into your room to get changed.

Nico’s eyes slowly watch your angry frame disappear in the doors of your bedroom. He let out a sigh, dropping his head in his hands.

“Fuck,” he sighs, taking in a deep breath as he runs his hands down his face with a defeated sigh. “Stupid shoes.” He mumbles to himself, pushing the plate away from him, his taste for food now gone.

He hates when you two argue but sometimes you make a big deal of small things. Like the shoes, or when Nico left a plate in the sink because he was in a hurry for morning training. That was two weeks ago, and you two argued for twenty minutes straight. Sure you, after a while, you two talked it through and everything was fine, but this argument…Nico doesn’t think you two will make it up.

Nico pulls out his phone from his pants, his eyes widening at the time it is. He has only twenty minutes before the practice starts, yet his drive here takes about fifteen minutes.

Quickly he eats the rest of the food, puts the plate in the dishwasher, and runs to the bedroom to get his wallet and bag. Watching him, as he quickly gathers his things, muscles on his back flexing under his compression shirt, you can’t help the heat spreading across your body. You don’t even realize you are biting down on your lower lip until you see yourself in the mirror you are sitting in front of.

Nico gives you a quick look, as he makes his way out of the room. A few minutes later you hear the door shut close a defeated sigh leaving your lips.

In fifteen minutes, Nico parked his car at the Prudential Centre parking lot, his ride was quiet, only he and his thoughts about your earlier argument. With a frown on his face, he gets out of the car, bag around his shoulder, as he locks the car and makes his way into the building.

When he gets in the locker room, all the guys are already in gear and skates, looking at him with questions written all over their faces. He ignores all of them, making his way to his seat to get changed.

Timo and Jack exchange looks, nodding at each other in silent agreement, they have to talk to him.

“Cap, I’m free!”

“Cap! Here!”

“Nico!” Nico ignores all the attempts of the guys talking to him and shoots on the net. He ignores the looks the guys give him and the shouting that’s coming from their coach as he skates over to the bench to get himself water.

“Neeks,” Jack starts carefully, stopping next to him, his shoulder brushing against his.

“What?” Nico snaps at him, looking in the opposite direction, as he watches the guys practice.

“You and y/n fought, am I right?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, squirting some water on his face before he skates away from Jack. Timo’s eyes, which were glutted on the two of them, now looking into Jack, who just let out a sigh and nodded his head. With that, Timo skates himself toward Nico, stopping in front of him. Nico groans in annoyance when he sees his friend standing in front of him.

“What?” he leans on his stick, cocking his head to the side.

“You and y/n? Everything okay?” Timo tries carefully, his eyes watching Nico’s face. He notices how his jaw clenches at the mentioned name.

“What?” he leans on his stick, cocking his head to the side.

“You and y/n? Everything okay?” Timo tries carefully, his eyes watching Nico’s face. He notices how his jaw clenches at your name.

“Everything’s perfect!” he growls and skates away from him.

Jack who was watching the whole situation with his younger brother, skates over to Time with Luke hot on his tail. The three of them watch Nico as he angrily shoots on the net, making it difficult for Jake to make a save.

“We have to talk to him,” Luke says, his voice low and his eyes lingering on Nico’s figure. “He’s not himself.” He sighs looking at his brother and Timo.

“Yeah, he fought with y/n.” Jack nods his head, leaning his head on his hands that are on the top of his stick.

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Luke says skating around Jack and Timo. “I, uhm, I’m going on the toilet so I should maybe call y/n and ask her what happened?”

“No, if Nico is pissed like this because of their fight, he would be pissed at us for talking to her. We’ll talk with him.” Timo says patting the Hughes's backs as he skates towards the coach who called for him.

“Nico stop!” Timo shouts at him when Nico storms out of the ice.

“What?!” he shouts at him and throws his arms in the air. “What do you want, for fucks sake?”

“Can you calm down? I don’t know what happened earlier with you and y/n, but get yourself together, for fucks sake!”

Nico releases a breath, hanging his head low. “We uhm, we fought because of my shoes in the hallway.” He let out a dry chuckle shaking his head. “I shouted at her, over fucking shoes.”

“You two should talk more, not argue over every bullshit.”

“I know, but we are on a rough path now, and…ugh…it’s so hard,” Nico whispered, looking into Timo’s eyes.  “I love her, okay, but she is so stubborn, sometimes.”  

“You both are,” Timo says a smile on his lips, his note making Nico chuckle. “But that’s why you love her, so calm down, take a shower, go home and talk to her.”

“Thanks, man.” Nico pats his shoulder walking away to the locker room, now in better mood.

Neeks💗 – I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier, schatzi. I was acting like a dick. Can we talk when I get home?

Schatzi❤️‍🔥 – I’m sorry too, I shouldn't have yelled at you just because of the shoes. And yes of course we can, I’d love to.

With that, a smile appears on Nico's lips and he strips off of the rest of the gear. When Jack sees the smile on his lips, his own smile forms in his as he looks over at Luke and then Timo.

Nico quickly makes his way to the shower taking a quick shower. As soon as he’s done, he puts on his clothes and practically runs out of the arena. He drives himself to your shared apartment, you are already sitting on your couch, nervously nipping at your fingers as you wait for the doors to open. In the background, your tv is playing some series, but you are giving it no attention.

As soon, as you hear the keys jiggle, you stand up from your seat and practically run into Nico’s figure, hugging him tightly and saying sorry to him, repeatedly. Nico lets out a chuckle, dropping his bag and closing the doors behind him, he grabs your tights and lifts you, hugging you tightly too.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby! I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Neeks, I’m sorry.”

#nico hischier #nh13 #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils fic #nhl fic #new jersey devils #nhl #nhl hockey #nico hischier blurb

[slvtforwandanat]

Stalked/a Wanda Maximoff fanfic

warnings: abuse, stalking, swearing, Wanda tried to r*pe you, hair pulling, slapping this is not for the faint-hearted 18+ MDNI

Ever since you broke up with Wanda everything has been amazing, no more abuse, no more manipulation, blackmail, fucking nearly every day, but your life got even BETTER once you met the love of your life, Natasha, she was everything missing from your life, practically your other half, you could see the envy when you looked at Wanda, the frown on her face watching you be happy with someone that wasn't her.

it was a Wednesday afternoon, and you and Natasha were cuddling on the couch, watching shameless, when you hear your phone ping, it was Wanda..., you excused yourself and stepped outside, opened your phone "hey baby, you free tonight, your slut of a girlfriend, can wait, I have better plans" another ping *click too see image* you thought of it a couple seconds before opening the image she had sent, your eyes widened, it was a huge strap on, bigger than any other you have seen, "like what you see baby?" you were getting frustrated, she was so disgusting to think you'd want to spend a second with her, you furiously replied "Wanda you have to get this in your mind, I'm not interested in talking, fucking, or being friends, I'm happy without you, leave me alone" her message box popped up, you were scared "you're going to regret that pet" her profile went offline, a wave of relief went through you, but you knew this wasn't over.

*it's now 10:00 pm*

you are twisting and turning in bed unable to go to bed because of that last message Wanda had sent, so much things were going through your mind, is she going to hurt you, Natasha, you were going to have a panic attack when your phoned pinged again, you jumped , as you picked up your phone it was Wanda again, a slight unease came from this you opened your phone, but that was a big mistake "aww my baby struggling to sleep?" *click too see image*, your heart dropped could she see me? you hand started shaking, cautiously you opened the picture, your blood ran cold, it was you just a couple seconds ago picking up your phone, looks like it was taken for your window, you grab the nearest weapon, which was a Glock in your bedside table, you loaded it and made sure not to make any noises, just as you approached the window, you heard a glass smash in the kitchen, you flinched, your surprised you girlfriend hadn't woken up, but she couldn't, as you crept towards the kitchen with the gun in your hand, you feel a presence behind you , two arms grab your and take the gun out of your hand "miss me baby" it was Wanda. "You know it was really easy getting into your house" with labored breath I spoke "your fucking crazy Wanda, you were stalking me?" "of course my love" "I'm not your fucking "love" you tried to get out of her grip but it was the mother fucking Wanda Maximoff it was useless, with a swoosh of her hand your and her pants were gone, she tapped the tip of the strap against your ass "I've missed this ass" she pulled your hair ripping some out, and slapped your ass, so there was definitely a mark there, you felt the tip rub against your panties, you closed your eyes knowing you were about to get raped by your crazy ex, but just as she was about to slip it in, the kitchen light came on, and Wanda was away with a click, she must've worked on a new spell because she just disappeared, you girlfriend came out rubbing her eyes, you quickly put your pants back on "everything ok baby? Natasha asked while yawning "yea just thirsty".

Wanda could be anywhere you had to be careful.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff

[freelancearsonist]

fresh out the slammer

➔ Javier Peña x afab!Reader

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Javier Peña moves home and, in the process, breaks the invisible bubble of your complacency.

➔ Rated MA // reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), age gap (reader is 23, javi is mid-30s), infidelity (reader is married), unprotected p in v sex, oral (reader receiving), pet names, smoking/nicotine use, reader wears a dress

You’re not sure when the ring on your finger, a glistening band that you used to admire so much, transformed into a shackle.

You loved him at one point, you’re sure you did. You never would’ve ended up here otherwise. You’re not weak, you’ve never been the type to need a partner in order to feel complete. You got married because you were in love, because you thought that you would love your husband for the rest of your life.

It’s terrifying how quickly the illusion of comfort comes crashing down when you meet Javier Peña.

You’ve heard so much about him that he’s nearly a thing of legend, despite never having met him. Your neighbor Chucho is incredibly proud of his only son. Every day that you go over to help around the house with Chucho’s seemingly endless list of chores, you’re regaled with stories about the fearless Deputy-turned-Agent Peña; about how the world will be changed and molded by Javier’s hands. It’s hard to believe all the tall tales that Chucho weaves, and still there’s undeniable reverence in your mind as you catch a glimpse of Javi’s handsome face in the photo frames that you dust.

All the stories you hear, though, never could have prepared you for the real deal.

He shows up without warning one sweltering afternoon and sets his bags down on the floor with a hefty thump, clearly confused at the beautiful stranger in his father’s kitchen. Apparently, Chucho didn’t warn him about you, either.

He knows within seconds of stepping through the door that you’re off-limits–he’s trained his eyes to seek out the glistening golden band on your left ring finger. But the more you talk to him, the more you look at him, the more you smile at him… he can’t help wondering more and more exactly how off-limits you are.

Days don’t blur together the same way they once did for you. You find yourself eager to visit your neighbor just for a chance to glimpse the easy smile that Javi reserves for you–his pretty next door neighbor, his friend.

It’s so painfully easy to like him, even despite your best efforts to the contrary. He’s the perfect gentleman–always says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, holds doors open for you, helps you carry in groceries. He thrives with acts of service, and it shows. He seems like he genuinely likes spending time with you. He tells you the lighter stories of his time with the DEA, and you tell him stories in return. Mostly about your childhood so you can avoid what your life has become since then: just a moon spinning mindlessly in the gravitational orbit of your husband. Nothing more than a phantom floating around your boringly nice little house, in your boringly nice little neighborhood.

You were so young when you uttered the vows that would become chains. Eighteen, fresh-faced and wide-eyed and all those other descriptors that come with youth and naivety. You had wanted to be wanted, and your husband had wanted you. It could’ve gone on forever without a wake-up call.

Then there’s Javi and everything changes because of him. With each passing day, you grow closer and closer to a man who isn’t yours. Bit by bit, Javi pries the steel trap of your doubts open without even meaning to–and when those doubts pour out, they come like a flood.

You used to sleep so soundly in the king-sized bed you share with your husband. But now, there are late nights where you lay awake in that bed and you wonder even as you lay beside your husband if you were too hasty in marrying him so young. 

Your quiet resentment was at least subconscious before Javi strolled in, short sleeved button-up shirt sweaty from the late summer humidity and dark wash jeans hugging those broad hips in a way that should be considered a crime. You leave his house and return home to a husband who takes you for granted, who thinks your care of him is just the bare minimum, and it chafes.

You try not to let it bleed over, but little comments you make paint a much larger picture. Javi can tell as clear as day that you’re not being appreciated–that you’re even starting to feel trapped. 

Your friends start to see it too, on the few occasions you go out. You’re a bit more transparent with them, because they can read you like a book regardless of how much you try to hide. That’s the hardest part of coming to terms with how unhappy you are; that you were wrong, that you made a stupid decision, and the people around you know it. You’ve never been good at admitting mistakes, and this is the biggest mistake you possibly could’ve made. The vows you made to your husband are supposed to be engraved in stone for eternity.

You know you should focus on fixing this rather than condemning it. You were happy before, and you could be happy again. Then you look up into Javi’s dark eyes, and you start to think that you might never be happy if it’s not those eyes that you come home to each night.

It’s infinitely harder when you can feel the burgeoning desire every time you step foot in his home. Javi knows it’s not his place to speak his mind, but it’s right there in the look on his face. He thinks you deserve better, even if better isn’t him. That’s the part he fights to keep to himself; that he so desperately wishes it could be him. Javi could appreciate you the way you deserve, Javi could make you happy. If you would just give him a chance, he could change everything for you. He’s so willing to ignore the doubts and the what-ifs in favor of the perfect fairytale ending. Realistically, could he really deliver on all the promises he’s made to you in his mind? He’s tried this out before, and it didn’t end well. It could just end up as the same story, different chapter.

That’s the scariest part, to him–the realization that he’d rather love you and lose you than never have you at all.

The scariest part for you is just how willingly you would uproot your entire life for even a chance to be his. There’s no reality where it happens easily, your life is far from a Hallmark movie. Divorce would be messy, and it would halt not only your life but your husband’s, too. He has no reason to think you’re unhappy; on the surface, everything is great. He supports you, and you support him in return. He doesn’t recognize that you’re wasting away your wonder years in the home of someone who doesn’t excite you–and even worse, that you spend most of your days pining after someone he’s never even been properly introduced to.

Maybe that’s the hardest part of all this; that it’s not really your husband’s fault, but yours by way of negligence. If you had waited, maybe explored a little further before settling down, you might have found the man you really wanted to be with. You wouldn’t have led on a perfectly nice guy who’s just a little too vanilla in all aspects of life for your taste.

You know it’s considered emotional cheating, what you have with Javi. Your husband would be so hurt if he found out, and you know it. The last thing you want to do is hurt him, but Javi makes you feel so alive. He makes you feel so cared for, so valued, and who can blame you for wanting more of those feelings?

Every morning when you walk across the expanse of lawn that separates your property from Chucho’s, Javier’s waiting for you with a smile and a cup of coffee made exactly the way you like it. He protests half-heartedly that you don’t need to come take care of Chucho anymore now that he’s home, but you know he would worry his head off if you didn’t show up. Besides, your home is so lonely. When you go next door, you have constant company between Javier and Chucho. When you’re home, you have no one but yourself until your husband comes home–and even then, it’s hollow company. There’s not much conversation between two people who can feel something dissolving but are powerless to stop it.

Your husband starts to ask questions about the neighbors that he’s never bothered to bond with. He’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. You used to go to Chucho’s once a week to help out, and your visits have only increased since his son moved back in. It looks suspicious even from an objective point of view; Chucho is old, but he’s far from decrepit. He doesn’t need as much help as you offer,  certainly not with Javier around.

You never talk about it, but you know he wonders. And really, he has a right to. You’ve thought about taking that final, irreversible step a million times. You’ve thought about taking Javier’s handsome face between your hands and kissing him absolutely breathless more times than you can count.

But that’s all it’s been so far, thoughts, never actions. As much as you want to forget, you always remember that you’re married. Javi can’t seem to forget it either. You know he wants you–maybe even as badly as you want him–but he won’t do a thing about it. Not with that shiny ring on your finger.

It’s your five year anniversary, and your husband thinks it needs to be a big deal. You would think so too, if you weren’t so preoccupied with other thoughts. Regardless, you go through the motions. You go into town and buy a nice dress for the occasion, you send out hand-written invitations, you organize catering and decorations. It’s slated to be the backyard shindig of the year, but celebrating your marriage is like a punch to the gut right now–especially when Javi offers his help with the preparations.

Your feelings are a little unreasonably hurt by how eager he is to assist. Why is he so excited for you and your husband? Have you been reading all of his signals wrong? 

You haven’t–his love language is acts of service, and he’s sure he can prove to you that he’s the better choice if he can demonstrate his worth. But it’s not like he can just come out and say that–he can’t be the deciding factor of whatever happens between you and your husband. It’s a choice you have to make on your own. So he grins and bears it–even as each wedding photo and reception memento you pull out of storage drives a chisel into his heart.

You’ve grown used to being able to read him so well. Now, as he helps you lug boxes down from the attic, you have no clue what’s swirling in those pretty brown eyes. It seems like distance, and maybe that’s for the best. Maybe celebrating your wedding anniversary is exactly what you need to get back on track–to finally put the man you can’t have out of your mind and focus on the man you do have.

“You did good,” Javi hums, beer in hand as he leans against the garage to admire the finishing touches of backyard decoration with you.

“You probably did more than I did,” you admit sheepishly.

“Nah, I’m just brawn. You’re the brains behind this operation,” he tells you with a quiet chuckle. “He’s gonna love it.”

You let out a little sigh and push away from the garage, wiping imagined dust from your palms. “Let’s hope.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, and Javi takes a few sips of his beer before working up the courage to ask what he wants to. “You still love him?”

“Of course I do,” you answer without thinking, because that’s what you’re supposed to say–even if it’s not entirely the truth.

You want to take it back the moment you see the crestfallen look on his face, but it’s too late. You shouldn’t want to take it back, even if you could. You’re supposed to love your husband forever, ‘til death do you part.

“Guess I’d better go clean up,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He treks off across the lawn before you can stop him, broad shoulders practically bursting through the seams of his tight button-up, and all you want to do is throw yourself at that retreating back. You want to bury yourself in him and beg him to run away with you, to save you from this mess of your own making. 

Instead, you go back inside and get yourself ready for what is shaping up to be the longest night of your life.

It’s busy, there’s really no other way to describe it. You’re being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously–everyone wants to hug you or take photos,  the caterer keeps pulling you into the kitchen for issues that they should be able to handle on their own. Your goal of a nice, relaxing party is completely out the window by the time the last of the guests arrive.

Big parties have never really been your thing, but your husband soaks up the attention. You hardly even see him the entire night–he’s always off chatting with a friend or a coworker.

All these smiling faces are like nails in your coffin. You get so many hugs and congratulations that it’s suffocating. There’s one face you really want to see, one face that could make your anxiety melt away like butter on a stovetop. He’s not here.

Chucho seems to sense your anxiety as he brings you into a warm hug–there’s something unreadable in those anciently wise eyes. “Javier sends his best.”

“He’s not coming?” Your stomach drops, and Chucho can tell. 

“Think he’s come down with somethin’,” Chucho explains. Then, with a subdued smile that tells a deeper story than words ever could, he says, “Maybe you ought to go over and check on him. You might do more good than I could.”

Deep down, you know it would be so horribly irresponsible and rude of you to leave your party at this moment. You’re supposed to be hosting and having a good time, enjoying a night dedicated to you and your husband. If Javi doesn’t want to join in, he doesn’t have to. He has every right not to be here, it’s not like it’s his celebration.

You’re knocking on his front door before you’re even conscious of making the decision to do so.

His eyes are red-rimmed when he opens the door. For a moment, he looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost–the most beautiful spectre of a person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“You still love him.” This time, it’s not a question. Just a cold, hard statement.

“I’m supposed to,” you whisper. It’s an easier answer than the truth.

“You should go back,” he tells you, and you know. You know you have no right being here, no right to ask him to give you more of himself than he already has.

“I know.” The unspoken part of your answer is that you won’t, because there’s nothing worth celebrating back there. Those people are all at your house under false pretenses, and the only other person who knows it besides you is standing in the doorway of this modest ranch house with tear-stained cheeks that you can hardly bear looking at because you put those tears there. “I’m sorry, Javi.”

“I am too.” You don’t know what he’s apologizing for until your brain catches up to your nervous system and you realize he’s kissing you. Not sweetly, either–it’s harsh, as if he’s chastising both of you for what’s happening even as he’s powerless to resist it. His tongue sweeps into your mouth and your arms snake around his neck without thinking, because the thought of pulling away now that you’re here hurts more than anything else ever could. There’s no going back now and you both know it.

He pulls you inside and presses you against the door, every delicious inch of his body pressed up against yours as he kisses you deeper and deeper.

“You need to stop me,” he murmurs into your mouth, even as his hands trace down your waist and tug you closer against him.

“I don’t want to.”

Javi knows he should be the bigger man and put a stop to this before it can go any further. He can’t ask you to uproot everything for him. He doesn’t have anything better to offer you than your husband does–realistically, he knows he’s the lesser of two options. He just can’t bring himself to do it when his lips are trailing down your neck and your hands are unbuttoning his shirt.

“This’ll change everything,” he mumbles as your hands find his belt buckle. It’s a last, fleeting attempt to save you both from something that only ends in disaster.

“Good.” 

Really, when you put it like that, he’s doing you a favor by pulling you down the hall to his bedroom.

“I don’t wanna go back,” you confess as he pulls your dress over your head. “It’s all bullshit.”

“I know, baby. I know. But you have to.”

“We can’t just ride off into the sunset?” You ask, a tinge of humor in your voice because you both know that it isn’t that simple. Maybe in the movies, but definitely not in real life.

“I wish we could,” he admits with a smile as his warm lips trail lingering little kisses down your stomach. “I’d give anything to make that happen.”

Really, you know there’s nothing more for him to give. He’s risking his own security by doing this, too. He’s dooming himself to backwards glances at the supermarket and whispers behind closed doors–the typical curse of a small town. Whatever heat you get for this, he might get it just as bad. Still, he doesn’t seem to care. Still, he’d ruin his own life for a chance to be yours.

If you were merciful, you’d bail him out now before he has to take any of the heat from this disaster. In the end maybe your biggest flaw is how unable you are to stop yourself from being selfish, now that you finally have a glimpse of the sunshine you’ve been hoping for throughout the winter that your marriage has become.

He’s achingly gentle as he pries your thighs apart and makes quick work of sealing his lips around your clit. He looks up into your eyes as he unwinds you, like he’s never seen anything more magnificent. The thought excites you more than it should.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he all but whines into your cunt. It’s impossible not to let that go to your head–the fact that he’s imagined working you open on his tongue like this before.

In the end, you need the reassurance that it hasn’t just been you this whole time–that he’s always wanted you as much as you’ve wanted him. “You imagined this?”

“All the time, baby.”

That does you in all on its own. You shatter like a vase dropped on a hardwood floor, pleasure coursing through every vein as you struggle to escape his ministrations yet simultaneously desperate to press yourself closer to him. His grip is strong as he works you through it, keeping your hips firmly in place against his mattress as he laps at you like he’ll never be able to get enough.

“Jesus…” he murmurs once you’ve come down enough to stop moaning his name. He scatters little kisses over the insides of your thighs, desperate to stay close even as you shiver with the remnants of your orgasm. “I gotta be inside you, baby.”

“Come here then.”

You’re still a little breathless as his lips find yours, but he breathes life back into your lungs quickly enough. He’s shoving his jeans down and grinding his hard cock against your soaking cunt in a matter of moments, and it’s intimidating. Not because of his size—although he’s quite a bit bigger than you're used to—but because of how right this feels. What if this is the first and last time this ever happens? What if nothing ever feels this right again?

He quells your fears one kiss at a time, tongue sliding across your bottom lip as his hand comes up to hold your jaw.

“We can stop here, baby,” he tells you so sweetly, even though you can see in his beautiful eyes that stopping is the last thing he wants. He would do it for you though, even if it hurts, and that only makes you want him more.

“Please don’t stop, Javi.”

He’s lining himself up before you’ve finished saying his name, eyes dark and searching. “Nice and slow, querida.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

The first push of him is ecstasy. Like stars lighting up the night sky or waves crashing against time-worn cliffs, it’s right. It feels good, his hands holding your thighs open while he presses deeper inside you, but what makes it feel great is that it’s Javi. It’s the man you would give everything up for, finally filling you the way you’ve dreamed since the day you met him.

“Ohhhh, Christ…” he murmurs as his eyes flutter shut, finally filling you to the hilt. It’s almost hard to hear over the deafening pace his thumb works against your clit. “This is gonna be so embarrassing.”

“W… what do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck. “Feel too damn good.”

You’ve got to be hearing things, because surely there’s no way he’s as unraveled as you are? Surely you don’t have that much of an effect on him?

You brush your fingers through his dark hair, soothing him even as you’re desperate for him to move. “It’s okay. You’re perfect.”

“I’m far from it,” he admits, but he pulls back and starts slowly rolling his hips against yours anyway.

“You’re perfect for me, then,” you whisper. His hips jolt a little at that, and you’re stunned once again by how much simply your words affect him—by being wanted as much as you want him.

“God, I don’t fuckin’ deserve you.” He thrusts deep, as if to distract you from his passive self-degradation, and it draws an involuntary whine from your throat.

“You deserve everything, Javi.” You hope he’ll keep you around long enough for you to drill that lesson into his head.

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Words would never properly convey what he feels, anyway. He dedicates himself to showing you instead.

It’s like time stands still just so he can wreck you more effectively. Every moment of his hands hitching your legs higher around his waist, every moment of his cock splitting you open, every moment of his breathy kisses; it all seems drawn out. And yet it’s not enough— you don’t think it’ll ever be enough. You’ve wasted too much time not being his.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he mumbles into your mouth with a particularly deep shove of his hips. “I never thought I’d get to have you.”

“I never thought you would want me,” you admit earnestly. Your voice is so much higher than you remember it being—everything is so tightly wound you feel like you might combust into flames.

“How could I not?” He kisses you again—slow and languid, even as his hips pick up the pace and his thumb speeds up on your clit to match. “I can’t let you go now. You know that, right?”

“I don’t want you to,” is all you can manage before all coherent thought is wiped from your mind by a blinding wave of pleasure.

Time doesn’t exist for a little while. Nothing does, really, outside the bubble of this queen-sized mattress. All you know is the waves coursing through your nerves and Javi’s little grunts filling the room as he fills you, with short and deep strokes that leave you dripping the creamy reminder of what you’ve done. You’re sweaty and sticky as he unwinds himself from you so he can flop down beside you, and nothing’s ever felt better.

By the time you manage to pry your eyes open again, Javi’s coming back from the bathroom down the hall with a wet washcloth.

He winces at the overstimulated groan you let out when he starts wiping you clean. “I know baby, m’sorry.”

He tosses it into the laundry hamper at the foot of the bed when he’s done, then sits on the edge of the bed next to you to light a cigarette.

For a moment, it’s quiet. You watch with quiet fascination at the little swirls of smoke that drift from his lips, and you think you could get used to this. 

“I meant it, Javi,” you hum quietly. You prop up on your knees behind him, arms snaking around his waist as he leans back against you. “I don’t wanna go back to the way things were. I don’t want you to let me go.”

“I won’t, then.” He lets out a contented hum, then leans forward to drop the butt into the ashtray on his nightstand. Your arms are open when he leans back into you, and this time he turns so he can kiss you. It’s light and lingering, a contrast to the desperate kisses from earlier—it feels like a promise.

“It won’t be easy,” you warn him. You know he knows, but you have to give him an out. You have to make sure he sees the storm that’s coming.

“It doesn’t have to be.” A smirk flashes across his lips as he leans his forehead against yours. “You did your time, baby. You tried. It’ll be alright.”

And here, in the safety of his arms, in the safety of his bed, you believe him.

You’ll go back to your own home in a few short minutes, when you can bear to release Javi from your arms. You’ll finish out the party for your guests, and then you’ll talk to your husband. And then, once everything is finished imploding, you’ll run to the porchlight that calls your name from next door and the open arms that can soothe any ache.

➔ this is third submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge thank you for the prompt love :)

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe and @schnarfer ; dividers: @saradika-graphics thank you darlings <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #narcos #narcos fanfiction #cece writes