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tender-rosiey · 2 years ago

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“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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blondykebarbie · 2 months ago

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First

Theo Nott x fem!reader (implied Slytherin!reader but not relevant)

WC: 7.1k

CW: 40% plot, 60% smut; mdni; reader is embarrassed about being a virgin; mentions of kink and masturbation; also fluff & hurt/comfort

Summary: While on vacation, your friends find out that you're a virgin. Theo offers to remedy the situation.

A/n: First Theo fic! First time I've written smut with a male character so pls be kind and enjoy.

After a long day of driving, you all had arrived at Pansy’s parents’ cabin a little before dinner time. You’d unceremoniously dropped your luggage on the floor of the sitting room before gathering around in the comfy furniture, deciding how to split up rooms. Normally, you and Pansy would share, being best friends for as long as you can remember. But now that she and Blaise are together, they’ve already claimed the master bedroom for themselves. All of you happily oblige them, much preferring they keep their lovesickness to themselves rather than subject you all to their disgusting pda. This leaves you with Astoria, Daphne, Draco, Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo. The sisters, naturally, pair off together as well as the cousins, meaning it’s down to you, Theo, and Enzo. It quickly becomes an argument over who gets a bedroom to themselves. Theo insists that as the only girl left, you should take the single bedroom, but Enzo vehemently disagrees, claiming he could not bear to share a room with his grandpa of a friend on vacation. He, for one, planned to spend many nights up late, and Theo’s comparatively early bed time would ruin his plans. A game of rock, paper, scissors leaves Enzo the winner and he happily struts off to claim a room all for himself. You really don’t mind, but your counterpart murmurs something under his breath about the boy “not being a gentleman.”

As you grab your luggage, Theo catches your wrist gently, “I can sleep on the couch, if you want, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

It’s sweet, his sentiment, and your heart melts a little for the softness that hides underneath his hard facade, but you shake your head, “it’s okay, really. I don’t mind, unless you do.”

He drops your wrist and shrugs, “I don’t mind, tesoro, so long as you’re sure.”

You smile at him softly, “I’m sure, Theo. Now let’s go see our room so we can get changed. Pansy’s been raving about the hot tub for days, and so help me if I don’t squeeze every last second out of it.”

He laughs softly and motions for you to lead the way up the steps. You hear soft murmuring from the master bedroom at the end of the hall and Mattheo and Draco’s bickering from the room next door and you can’t help but find yourself grateful that you’re on the other end of the hall where it’s much quieter. The room left for you and Theo isn’t small by any means, but it’s certainly still cozy enough that you feel transported away from the real world and the problems it holds. You throw your bag on the bed closest to the window and begin to unpack, neatly organizing your things in half the dark drawers so that the other half is still left for your roommate. When you’re done, you flop down onto the soft, cozy twin, the emerald green comforter reminiscent of your bedding back when you went to Hogwarts. You observe Theo as he puts away his things and can’t help but smirk at the small pile of books he adds to his nightstand.

“Merlin, did you bring a whole library with you?”

He smirks slightly and rolls his eyes at you, “this isn’t that many, tesoro. It’s only four books.”

“But we’re here for a week. How can you possibly finish four books in seven days?”

The brunette only waves you off, tucking his final pieces of clothing into the drawers and throwing his swim trunks over his shoulder, “I’ll go change in the bathroom and you can get ready in here.”

He steps out and you hop up, digging through the few different suits you packed. You settle on your favorite- a stringy triangle bikini that’s both pink and orange and reminds you of the sunset. Bows hold the bottoms together and the string around your neck, but you can’t quite tie the back securely enough without fear that it will unravel in the water and expose more than you’re comfortable with to your group of friends. There’s a knock on the door and the sound of Theo’s low timbre, announcing his return. You let him in, arm pressed to your chest to hold the skimpy fabric in place.

“Perfect timing, Theodore. Think you can tie me up?”

You ignore how bloody hot his bare torso looks as you turn your back to him, offering up the dangling strings. His warm, calloused fingers dust over your back and you shiver, but he’s kind enough not to mention it. If he does, you’ll blame the air conditioning. The string tightens and you encourage him to pull it a little tighter before he knots it securely. You adjust the cups as you turn back around, nearly brushing noses with Theo. You thank him quietly, but the brunette doesn’t respond, only nodding absentmindedly. You don’t miss the way his eyes quickly flit down your body and your heart stutters. Is Theo checking you out? Sure, you’re showing off a lot of skin, and he’s a man with eyes, but is that all it is? Or…

“Come on, slow pokes,” Enzo interrupts, head peaking into the room, “everyone else is already out at the hot tub.”

Theo grumbles and smacks his best friend upside the head, “we’d already be ready if you didn’t bitch and moan about which room you wanted.”

Enzo dignifies him with a middle finger before urging you both along down the steps and out the door. The back patio is beautiful, especially with the sun setting low in the sky, falling behind the tall dark forest. It’s quiet aside from the chirps of birds and the low thump of the bass pouring from Mattheo’s speaker set up next to the hot tub. You grab a drink on your way over and toss your towel onto the railing before sliding into the hot water, sighing softly as the warmth eases your muscles, tense from the car ride. Though the hot tub is packed fairly full, you find space next to Pansy who is half draped across her boyfriend’s lap anyways. Theo, unfortunately, takes a seat next to Mattheo, which is exactly opposite of you.

You all spend the next hour laughing and sharing stories, indulging Draco in his complaints about Potter, and teasing Pansy and Blaise for being utterly obnoxious with their pda. It’s moments like these, not the hot tub, that fill your chest with a persistent warmth. Being with the people you love the most makes you happy, and you’re content to quietly revel in the center of the chaos. Though you’re far from shy, you’ve always been content to observe rather than participate in your friend group’s antics, and they’ve never minded your more quiet demeanor. In fact, on many occasions, Mattheo has praised your cool-headedness, claiming you’re the one that secretly keeps the lot of you in line. It makes you proud, like you’ve earned your spot here. Of course, it’s a ridiculous notion, because you don’t have to earn anything. Still, it’s nice feeling like you have a place.

“Alright ladies and lads, I hope you all know what time it is,” Pansy announces, clapping her hands together in attention.

You all groan before she can even spit out her next words.

“Oi, shush. You all know you love my games, and this time, we’re playing Truth.”

“Pans, I’d rather drown myself in the hot tub,” Draco remarks snidely.

Blaise snorts and rolls his eyes, “go ahead, Dray. No one’s stopping you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you add, “I’m kind of on Draco’s side, crazy as it may seem. I don’t really want to play.”

Your best friend clutches her hand to her chest dramatically, “this is the utmost betrayal! I thought I meant something to you. You think you know a girl…”

You huff and pinch her side, causing her to squeal, “you know it’s not like that. I just don’t really feel like spilling my guts to this lot, and I’d really rather they keep some of their secrets to themselves.”

“Secrets are the reason for every successful relationship,” Enzo agrees.

It doesn’t help your case.

“Oh come on,” Astoria scolds, “don’t be cowards. No one here will judge.”

Mattheo bursts out laughing, “I will.”

Daphne smacks his chest and he winces, cursing under his breath, “we’re playing and you all don’t have a choice. Right, Theodore?”

The brunette, who has been quiet during the entire exchange, looks up. He smirks, “right. There should be no problems unless…” his eyes find you across the water, “you have something to hide?”

Your face flushes and you shake your head quickly, taking a sip of your drink, “nope. No, nothing to hide.”

“That settles it then,” Pansy announces happily, “Truth is simple. Answer the question.”

“Or?”

She looks at you, “or nothing. No drinking your way out of this game, sorry.”

“Who let you be in charge?” Mattheo grumbles, taking a long swig of his firewhiskey.

“I’d just like to remind you all this is my place so it’s my rules.”

“Technically it’s your parents’ pl-”

“Blaise,” Pansy huffs, “whose side are you on?”

He goes quiet and the boys snicker into their drinks, murmuring something about him being whipped.

Your best friend puffs up her chest and eyes the group, “I’ll go first. Okay…what’s your biggest kink?”

An imperceptible sigh escapes your lips at the first question. Did she really have to start off so graphic so quickly?

Blaise smirks from beneath her and answers easily, “bondage.”

You try not to think about the implications, avoiding eye contact with Pansy as she grins, “right, who else?”

You’re scared, to be honest. Some of the boys are into depraved things, if the rumors back in school were even slightly true, yet you can’t deny that you’re curious. The answers vary in intensity, with those like Mattheo’s (punishment) being unsurprising and those like Astoria’s (mommy kink) being more surprising. Some of you share kinks too, with both Theo and Enzo preferring dom/sub dynamics while you and Daphne both have an affinity for praise. You tend to think you and Theo’s preferences go together quite nicely, but it’s a point you keep to yourself, pocketing the satisfaction away deep in your chest.

Blaise is up next, asking a similarly sexual question- when was the last time you touched yourself- and you wonder whether all of the questions tonight will be equally as mortifying. It’s not that you’re really ashamed of the topic in general, but more you feel embarrassed to share anything with this group who are all incredibly sexually active while you’re…not. You feel a bit behind in comparison, and you don’t want them to know.

Luckily, after that, the questions move away from sex, broadening the topics to embarrassing secrets, old school crushes, and sometimes even meaningful, thought-provoking questions about the future. Those are the ones you enjoy the most, because they feel relatively safe. The future isn’t real, not yet at least, so every answer is based on dreams, not in fact. Nothing can be held against you, because nothing has actually occurred yet. Plus, it’s quite fun to fantasize about, at least for you. If Daphne complains about its impracticality, and the question’s waste of a turn, you don’t pay it much mind. Still, what goes around comes around, and soon enough it's Mattheo’s turn. You know the question will be bad based on the evil smirk on his face.

When did you last have sex?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You can already feel heat creeping up your neck and shame prickling in your throat at the question. How do you confess, without humiliating yourself, to your entire group of sexually active friends that you’ve never had sex? Answer: you can’t. You can’t run away either, because that will just draw more attention to what you don’t want to confess. It’s best if you just spit out your answer when it’s your turn and hope they move on. Pansy’s the only one that knows….the only one that’s supposed to know. You wish it could stay that way. Everyone but you is excited to answer the question, clearly, from the way they’re smirking and teasing one another. Pansy, at least, has the decency to glance at you apologetically.

The answers are rapid fire, and you wish everyone would slow down so that it takes more time to get to you. To no one’s surprise, everyone has been getting action of late: Pansy and Blaise (today), Mattheo (yesterday), Enzo (last weekend), Astoria and Draco (two weeks ago…suspicious), Daphne (last Wednesday), and Theo (one month ago). Though Theo’s response does shock everyone a bit, you reckon that one month of abstinence is still not very long. Anyhow, you all know the brunette could pull anyone he wanted anytime easily, so it doesn’t really matter. With that, you’re the only one left, and all eyes are on you. You’re beginning to think Draco’s idea of drowning in the hot tub isn’t such a bad idea after all.

You swallow, take a deep breath, and then mutter your answer.

“What?” Enzo asks bluntly, “can’t hear you.”

You clear your throat before speaking louder, “never. The answer’s never. I’m a virgin.”

At first, no one responds. They’re all silent, staring at you a little dumbfounded.

An awkward laugh escapes your lips and you know your face is alight with shame, “right, well, I’m going to go kill myself then.”

“No, no, wait!” Astoria protests, “sorry. I was just surprised s’all. It’s not a bad thing, really. It’s just…”

“I can’t even begin to understand how a pretty girl like you has never had sex.”

Your head shoots up, meeting Theo’s piercing blue eyes. A different kind of heat floods your cheeks.

“So, have you done anything, then?” Draco asks.

There’s no malice in his tone, but you still feel as though you’ve been put on the spot.

You shake your head quickly, shamefully, “only making out.”

“It’s really okay, tesoro,” Theo murmurs, drawing your attention back to him, “I promise.”

Your other friends nod in agreement, and you can’t spot any dishonesty on their faces. Your shoulders relax a little.

“I can always help you out, you know,” Mattheo announces with a mischievous smirk.

Your shoulders instantly begin creeping back up to your chin and there’s a shout of protest before Daphne is smacking the curly-haired boy upside the head and scolding him for being absolutely fucking disgusting. Mattheo, for his part, starts cursing and complaining about the constant abuse, explaining that he was just trying to be helpful. In the chaos that’s been unleashed, you decide now is your time to slip away without being seen and call it an early night, hoping that by the morning everyone will have forgotten all about your confession.

You wrap your towel around you as you hurry inside, shivering against the blast of air conditioning that smacks you in the face. The task is simple, quickly rinse off in a hot shower, put on pajamas, and pretend like this evening never fucking happened. You don’t quite make it to the bathroom, though. While you’re collecting your things to head to the shower, there’s a soft knock on the doorframe and a clearing of the throat. You look up to meet, for the umpteenth time tonight, Theo’s watchful gaze.

“Tesoro…” he says it softly, and your stomach flips. It almost feels like he’s about to pity you, and that’s the last thing you want.

“What…Theodore?”

He flinches at your harsh tone, “I just wanted to check on you. To make sure you’re okay.”

You scoff, turning away from him to dig through your suitcase in search of your toothbrush, “why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Though you don’t see him, you feel him stepping closer to you, “don’t do that, bella. Don’t downplay your feelings.”

You drop your things onto the bed and sigh, turning to face him. He’s closer than you realized, only a few inches separating you.

“I know you feel embarrassed, but no one was judging you, really. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.”

You pick at the beds of your fingernails, refusing to meet his gaze, “but everyone else has had sex but me. I feel like I’m being left behind, Theo. Is- is it me? Is something wrong with me?”

Long, slender fingers grab your chin and gently tilt your head upwards, “nothing is wrong with you. Merda, I wish you could see how perfect and beautiful you are. Nothing as silly as an imaginary social construct could ever change that.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you gulp at the sincerity of his words. His eyes dance over your face, searching for acceptance and understanding. Merlin, is he pretty like this. He’s always pretty, but when he’s looking at you so intently and kindly, it makes you feel a sort of way. Theo’s gaze makes you feel special and loved, and it’s perhaps the most attractive thing in the world. Subconsciously your gaze falls to his perfect pink lips, and you’d really like to kiss him silly, though you know you can’t. You can’t because you’re feeling insecure and vulnerable, and he’s everything but that, and he’s also one of your best friends.

Theo must catch your wandering eyes, because suddenly he’s smirking and the tips of his ears are a delightful shade of red, “you know, amore mio, I must confess, I was pretty pleased to hear that you’re still a virgin.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you can’t help but feel a little hurt. You want to inch away but he stops you, his free hand dropping gently to your waist.

“I’ve never thought any of the boys you’ve gone on dates with were good enough for you. None of them deserve to have you like that. Especially not for your first time.”

Frankly, it’s an irritating thing for him to say, and you huff frustratedly. Still, a little bit of giddy pleasure bubbles in your stomach at his possessiveness, “that’s such bullshit, Theo. It’s just what non-virgins say to virgins to make them feel better. As if they’re ‘too good’ to touch. That’s not a thing. People are horny and they’ll lust after you if you’re attractive. Clearly no one’s ever lusted after me so-“

The brunette laughs disbelievingly and you scowl, “it’s not funny!”

He pulls you closer, til your chests are touching, “you really are innocent. Not because you’re a virgin, Tesoro, but because you’re so blind. You really think you’re unattractive?”

Your throat bobs with uncertainty.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself around you? How badly I want you? How badly I’ve always wanted you? Not just your body, but all of you?”

Your heart is pounding so rapidly in your chest you think Theo must be able to hear it. You swallow thickly, at a loss for words. It can’t be true. The Theodore Nott, the boy of your dreams, can’t really be confessing his crush on you right now. He has to be lying to make you feel better.

His thumb dusts over your cheekbone, drawing your attention back to him, “amore mio, I’m crazy about you. And it kills me that you don’t see how wanted you are. I want you, if you’d just give me a chance.”

“Theo-“

“Shhh, don’t let that pretty little head of yours try to twist my words into something ugly. I mean it. All of it.”

Your trembling fingers find his wrist and you cling to it like a lifeline, “you’re not just saying it to be nice? Or because you wanna be the first one to fuck me?”

A flicker of hurt passes over his face and you instantly feel guilty. Your voice shakes as you whisper an apology.

“I’m just scared.”

Theo pulls you into his arms and you bury your face in his bare chest, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with chlorine. He rubs your back soothingly and kisses the top of your head tenderly, “amore mio, I promise. You mean everything to me. I’d love to be your first, if you let me, but I also want to be more. I wanna take care of you, hold you, dry your tears, make you laugh, and love you. Please, trust me.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes bashfully, “I do, Theo. I always have.”

He beams, his cheeks flushing pink, and you can’t resist the urge to kiss him anymore. You barely mutter a “can I-“ before his mouth is on yours, muffling a gasp of surprise. Firewhiskey lingers on his lips, but it’s him that you’re drunk on. Despite his typically sharp features, rigid posture, and standoffish attitude, Theo is all softness in this moment. The whisps of hair at the nape of his neck are soft and curl in your fingers, his hands roam over your hips softly, like he’s worshipping you, and his lips are like pillows, gently tugging on yours in a way that makes you moan quietly. Even his tongue prods at the entrance of your mouth carefully, kindly asking permission rather than roughly taking what he knows is already his to enjoy. You sigh into him, which causes him to groan and grip your waist tighter. His lips unlatch from yours, instead trailing a hot path down your neck before burying his face in its crook.

“Fuck you are so perfect,” he mutters, and you giggle at the way his breath tickles.

“But I want to do this slowly. Right.”

Theo pulls away a little to look at you, his eyes tracing over you lovingly, “go get your pretty little self ready for bed and then I’ll take care of you, hm?”

You reluctantly leave his arms, but also appreciate the extra time he’s giving you to prepare yourself physically, emotionally, and mentally. You know first times are never perfect, but you want yours to be as close as possible. You take your time in the shower, trimming up, scrubbing lovely-scented things into your skin, and calming the nerves fluttering in your stomach. It’s just Theo. You know he’ll be nothing short of wonderful, but you don’t want to mess up or be bad, if that’s even a thing.

As you’re drying off and brushing your teeth, you’re glad you packed your favorite nightgown. While you couldn’t originally imagine any reason to pack it, you feel damn lucky you decided to anyways. It’s a sweet little white thing that’s soft to the touch and has flowers stitched into the ruffles of the skirt. It always makes you feel immensely pretty, like a package just waiting to be opened. The groan Theo lets out when you re-enter your shared room makes you think he tends to agree.

“Lock the door, Tesoro, don’t want anyone interrupting us.”

You oblige him, chills running up your spine at his confident tone. With a flick of his wand he sets a silencing spell, really guaranteeing your peace. You fidget with your nightgown anxiously by the door, eyes watching Theo warily as he leans back against his bed, the veins on his arms flexing under his skin. The gray t-shirt he’s wearing hugs his biceps deliciously and softens his features, causing warmth to pool in your belly.

“Come here, cara mia. Don’t go shy on me now.”

Hesitantly, you pad across the room towards him, standing at the side of his bed as you nervously twist your fingers together. His blue eyes soften even more and he gently places his hands on your hips, as if he’s afraid he’s going to break you. You shudder involuntarily and it makes him smile. Merlin what you would do to always make him smile like that.

“So pretty and all mine,” Theo mutters reverently.

With a gentle tug, the brunette brings you up onto the bed and in between his spread legs until your faces are inches apart. He presses a kiss to your nose, causing it to wrinkle cutely. It’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. His hand trails gently up your back to rest at the nape of your neck, “can I kiss you, Tesoro?”

Your breath hitches and you nod.

“Words, bella.”

“Theo, please.”

It doesn’t take more than that, and suddenly his lips are on yours. You expect it to be hot and passionate, but instead it’s slow and so incredibly sweet. Your whole body melts into his hold, a sigh escaping your mouth. Tentatively, you wrap your arms around his neck and he groans, pulling you flush against him. Gently, he flips you over, laying you down on your back and settling between your thighs.

Your breath hitches and Theo smirks against your lips, “Sound and taste so pretty.”

His blue eyes trace over your face and his smirk softens, “promise me you’ll tell if I’m doing anything too fast or if you wanna stop, okay?”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Good girl.”

The praise shoots straight to your core and you nearly whimper.

“Oh Bella, I’ve never been more grateful for Pansy. You really do like praise.”

Theo trails kisses down your body slowly, worshipping every inch and continuously murmuring more praises. It sets your body alight, humming with desire. When his mouth reaches your bare thighs he fiddles with the hem of your nightgown.

“Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, breaths heavy, “please, Theo. Need you so bad.”

Slowly, tantalizingly, he pushes the skirt up your legs, kissing every new inch of skin revealed to him. He tugs the nightgown over your head and tosses it to the side, letting out a low moan at the sight of you below him. Though you’re wearing a pretty pair of pink lace panties, you’d forgone a bra (because you don’t wear one to sleep). You’re suddenly very exposed to the cold air and his gaze, and your nipples harden of their own accord.

“Cazzo, sei così, Bella.”

You feel shy underneath him and move to cover yourself, but Theo grabs your wrists and pins them above you tutting softly, “don’t. You’re perfect.”

“Can I at least even the playing field,” you murmur, eyes trailing to the end of his t-shirt. He nods and reaches for the hem but you stop him, wanting to do it yourself. Theo chuckles darkly and lets you take off his shirt, smirking when your eyes roam hungrily over his body.

“Like what you see?”

You smack his chest and murmur a shut up before leaning in and kissing his collarbone hesitantly. Theo’s breath is the one to hitch this time and you feel emboldened by the power you hold over him. You sink your teeth into his skin slightly, at least knowledgeable in how to leave a mark behind. He hisses and a hand flies to your neck, gently pulling your mouth away, “you know I love that, tesoro, but I’m gonna be in my trunks the rest of the week and I’d rather not get teased everyday for a hickey.”

You laugh softly but pout just a little, “embarrassed of me or something?”

Theo’s brows pinch in alarm, “no, amore mio no, I-“

“Teddy,” you reply, pressing a hand to his toned chest, “I’m joking.”

He groans and he nips your nose teasingly, “brat. Also, I like when you call me Teddy.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, “okay, Teddy.”

Theo kisses you again and moans into your mouth, hands exploring every inch and curve of your body. Little whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips repeatedly as he makes his way back down your body, paying extra attention to both of your nipples. You arch into his touch, wetness pooling between your legs as his tongue swirls expertly. You tug on his soft curls in approval and he groans at the sensation, the vibrations making you moan louder.

Theo places wet, hot open-mouthed kisses down your soft stomach all the way to your hips and thighs. He kisses inward to the crease of your legs and your hips buck upwards on their own, desperate for more.

“Teddy, fuck, please, I need you.”

“Sshhhh, Bella, I know. You’re doing so good f’me. Already so wet. Such a good girl”

You whine and you know he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. Theo’s long, calloused hands find your thighs and push them up and apart, giving him plenty of space to settle between your legs comfortably. With ease he pulls your panties off and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare. You feel his hot breath on your dripping folds and whimper quietly to yourself, trying to be patient like he wants. But it’s hard.

“Merda, pussy’s so pretty.”

The filthy praise does unspeakable things to your body, sending a loud moan tumbling out of your mouth while simultaneously making you want to snap your legs shut in embarrassment. Theo, of course, doesn’t allow that, his strong grip keeping your thighs spread apart.

His blue eyes, hooded with lust, look up at you from between your legs, “you ready, Bella?”

“Y-yes, Teddy. Please. I need you.”

He’s kind and makes you wait no longer, diving into your folds like a starved man. You cry out, both startled and pleased by the sensation. It’s strange at first, something warm and wet, that’s not your own fingers, prodding between your legs. Theo’s ministrations on your dripping folds are slow and precise, far from clumsy and inexperienced like yourself. He teases the edges, like he’s savoring your taste, before gliding upward and wrapping his lips around your clit. You moan and your hands fly to his hair, tugging him closer to your center, “oh Teddy, baby, that feels so good, Merlin, don’t stop.”

Your breath is whiny and high-pitched, sounds you never thought yourself capable of spilling from your throat left and right. Theo groans into you and the vibrations against your cunt feel even better than the ones against your nipples. Waves of pleasure pulse through you and you shudder, panting heavily into the air.

He releases your clit with a wet pop and mouths over your folds yet again, this time his tongue prodding at the rim of your entrance.

“Theo-“

His tongue pushes in and your eyes fall back, your fingers tugging impossibly hard at his hair. If you weren’t so lost in pleasure, you’d be more worried that you were hurting him. But he doesn’t stop you. In fact, his moans urge you on and you rut your hips into his face, his nose bumping deliciously against your throbbing bud. Your legs begin to quiver as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach tightening impossibly.

“Are you gonna come for me, tesoro? Be a good girl and let go.”

With that, you snap, waves of white hot pleasure rolling through your body as you moan loudly and uncontrollably. Your hips roll against his face as he continues to eat you out through your pleasure, easing you down from your high. Slowly, you release your grip on his hair as your hands fall limply to your sides. Theo pants heavily as he places a few kisses against your thighs before moving up your body to lie next to you. His chin is dripping with your essence and you’re not sure whether to moan or hide your face in embarrassment. The brunette, for his part, looks smugishly pleased, a lazy smirk on his face and his pupils blown wide with lust.

“Gimme a kiss, Bella.”

You lean in obligingly and capture his lips, groaning at the taste of yourself. He pulls away and wipes his chin, thumb rubbing on your cheekbone gently, “was that okay, amore?”

“Okay? That was more than okay, Teddy. That was perfect.”

He kisses your cheek, “you did so well for me. Looked so beautiful coming undone under my mouth.”

You can’t even feel shy with the way he is looking at you so earnestly, so sincerely. Theo makes you feel totally and utterly safe. You brush sweaty strands of hair off his forehead and peck his lips chastely, your whole body full of warmth and love for him. With one arm slung lazily over your waist he sprinkles a few kisses across your face, causing you to giggle.

“You think you’re ready for more?” he asks softly.

There’s no urgency behind his tone nor force. You can tell he’s genuinely asking you, and if you said no, you know he would be just as fine with that.

Luckily for him, you’re more than ready.

“Yes, Teddy. Wanna feel you inside me.”

His face turns red and he groans, resting his forehead against yours, “can’t say things like that, tesoro. Gonna come before I’m even in you.”

You giggle, not at all remorseful, and he kisses your forehead, his smile obviously present. Theo then shuffles off of you to pull down his pajama bottoms and boxers. His cock springs up, slapping against his stomach and your eyes widen in surprise. How is he supposed to fit? You’ve only ever tried your fingers and even that could be too much sometimes. But all of him?

Theo chuckles and tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, “it’ll be okay, Tesoro. We’ll take it slow and tell me if you need to stop, yeah?”

Your breathing quickens in both nervousness and excitement as Theo pushes you back down against the bed and hovers over you, eyes trailing over your worried face. His hand finds your hip, rubbing his thumb across your skin consolingly as he presses a long, sweet kiss to your lips.

“You gotta relax. Gonna warm you up first, okay?”

You nod, bottom lip stuck between your teeth. Theo gives you a knowing look.

“Y-yes. O-okay, Teddy.”

He kisses you slowly, softening your tense muscles with one touch. While he distracts you with his tongue, his fingers trail down your body and nestle between your legs. They dance over your slick folds softly and you gasp into Theo’s mouth, both in surprise and a little from overstimulation. He only hums in his throat knowingly, continuing to lazily make out with you as he circles your clit a few times. You twitch underneath him and groan softly, one hand snapping up to grab his bicep.

“Doing so well,” he mutters against your lips.

You whimper at the praise and try to lean into the sensations rather than freak out over what’s to come. One finger prods at your entrance and then slowly pushes into your warmth. Your breath hitches and you dig your nails into Theo’s skin anxiously.

“You’re okay, that’s it.”

He slowly thrusts into you a few times before adding a second finger. You stretch around him and it only hurts a little, especially when you try to relax like Theo said. His fingers curl inside you expertly at a teasing pace and you clench, your hole fluttering eagerly.

“So tight for me. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

You moan, eyes fluttering shut as you revel in his praise and ministrations. He scissors you open, which also helps to stretch you out in preparation for more. Theo kisses you once, twice, three times, and then leans over, grabbing a condom he had placed out on the nightstand earlier. He rips the foil open and leans back on one arm to roll it down his length.

Theo’s hard, and his tip is red and angry, already leaking pre-cum from the foreplay. He pumps himself a few times and you can’t look away, eyes fixed on his pulsing member. Before you know it, the words stumble out of your mouth.

“Can I?”

Theo’s head snaps up, eyes locking with yours, “y-yeah. If you wanna.”

He guides your trembling hand to his cock and wraps your fingers around him, covering yours with his own. The brunette whimpers and it’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. It makes you want to come on the spot.

“God, Teddy, you’re so pretty too, you know that?”

His ears flush red.

“No, really. Everything about you- your face, your sounds, your cock-“

Theo moans, “Bella, you don’t know long I’ve dreamed of this moment. How many times I’ve gotten off imagining my hand was you.”

You inhale sharply, your stomach fluttering at his confession.

“I’d imagine you too, when I got off,” you mutter, “couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted you for so long, Teddy.”

He leans forward and kisses you sweetly, “to think, we could’ve done this sooner.”

“Well we have each other now, and that’s all that matters.”

You cup Theo’s jaw and kiss him again, hoping to pour all your love into the one action. When you separate, he rests his forehead against yours and urges you to also pump him a few times in preparation. You oblige and Theo moans loudly. He lines himself up with your entrance, meeting your gaze and smiling at you encouragingly.

Though you’re tense with anxiety, you trust him. He slips his hand into yours, squeezing tightly as he pushes into you. Your breath hitches at the immediate stretch and you wince, the pain more apparent than when he’d used his fingers.

“You’re okay, amore mio. Doing beautifully so far.”

He continues to push in and you whimper, breathing heavily. You clutch onto him tightly but Theo only murmurs soft praises into your ear and presses repeated kisses to your temple. Finally, his hips still.

“All done, cara mia. Fuck, you’re taking me so well, and you feel so good wrapped around me.” Theo brushes his thumb over your forehead, “how do you feel?”

“Hurts,” you whimper, “but I like being so close to you Teddy.”

He stares at you with so much affection that your heart melts, “I know amore mio, but it’ll start to feel good. Thank you for trusting me.”

You pucker your lips, begging for a kiss, and he indulges you with a chuckle, “hmmm, so needy for me.”

You wrap your arms around Theo’s neck and pull him flush against you, “okay, I think I’m ready.”

He smiles softly, nudging his nose against yours, before he begins to move inside you. At first it really hurts, but Theo is so sweet and soothing and lovely that eventually the pain subsides as pleasure arises. The drag of his cock against your walls begins to feel less painfully rough and more deliciously rough, ripping a moan from your throat. He rocks up into you a little faster at your sounds of pleasure, leaning down to kiss you, “that’s it, that’s my girl.”

His girl. Those two words send a gush of wetness out of your hole.

“You like that, tesoro? Being my girl?”

“Yes teddy! Wanna be your girl.”

“Already are. Only girl that’s made me feel this good,” he grunts, pounding into you harder.

The pain is nearly entirely gone now, Theo’s thrusts all little waves of ecstasy as you writhe beneath him. He slips a finger between your connected bodies and circles your clit, making you arch into his touch.

“FUCK, Theo. Oh god, yes..”

“Bella, oh merda, I’m already about to come, like I’m the virgin here. You’re just so fucking tight.”

Theo hooks one of your legs over his broad shoulder, adjusting the angle of your bodies so he can fuck you deeper. With ease he finds your g-spot, ramming his tip up into it over and over again until you’re seeing stars and all you can do is call out his name like a prayer. Theo swallows your moans with a sloppy kiss and his grip on your waist tightens so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, Teddy. I’m already gonna come. I’m sorry if it’s too soon-“

He shakes his head, his own breath shaky, “come for me Tesoro, make a mess on my cock.”

You plummet over the edge, orgasming harder than you ever have as you clench around him over and over. Theo grunts loudly as you squeeze him like a vice. Your face in ecstasy, because of him, is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and it sends him over the edge too. He fucks you both through your respective orgasms before he collapses on top of you, panting.

Your pants mingle with his and you cling to him like a koala, your sweaty bodies intertwined together as one. Theo softens inside you as you trace your nails up and down his back, soothing both him and yourself. With his face buried deep in your neck, he gives you a gentle kiss, “how are you feeling, tesoro?”

You don’t respond right away and Theo looks up, worried.

“It was- Teddy. It was perfect. You were perfect. I’ve never felt so good in my life.”

Theo just grins at you, all dopey and lovesick, and you feel lucky to see this side of him that he never shows anyone.

“You were the perfect one, amore mio. In every single way.”

He kisses your lips over and over in quick succession, like he’s drunk off the taste of you. You can’t say you blame him. You lie together for a few minutes before he sits up and eventually pulls out. You half hiss half whimper at the loss of contact, and Theo kisses your forehead in apology.

“We’re just gonna get cleaned up and then go to bed, okay, Tesoro?”

You nod sleepily, allowing him to pull your nightgown back on and watch as he puts on his own bottoms before scooping you up into his arms. Theo pads down the hallway quietly before situating you on the toilet in the bathroom. He urges you to pee while he preps a wet washcloth. With tender care the brunette wipes the warm cloth over your face and between your legs, cleaning up the mess you made. You whimper at the overstimulation and he kisses your knee remorsefully. Soon enough you’re settled back in your shared bedroom and Theo tucks you into your twin bed before joining you on the other side. It’s a tight fit, but you don’t mind. You quite like getting to cuddle up so close to him. Between your exhaustion, his protective warmth, and the smell of his shampoo mixed with lingering sweat, you’re ready to pass out instantly. But before you do, you murmur one final thing:

“Does this make me your girlfriend now?”

You feel his lips in your hair as he chuckles, and his arms tighten around your waist. In between waking and dreaming you hear him murmur, “yes, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You hope forever.

490 notes · View notes

elleaitch22 · 2 months ago

Text

Love on Fire

Chapter 11: Through Smoke and Frosting

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: The last scene may make you cry, but I’m hoping it doesn’t. This is my favorite chapter so far! Hope you love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Character death, anxiety

Word Count: 5.6k words

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Week 14:

“Az?” Paige called as she walked in the house. It was 7:30 in the morning, and she was just getting off her shift at the fire station.

She didn’t get a reply, only heard the shower running. She put her shoes on the rack and padded into the kitchen, smiling at the lemon-poppyseed muffins on the counter.

Everything had gone back to normal in the past couple of weeks. Instead of buying desserts that correlated with the size of the twins, Azzi was baking them. Which meant one thing.

Azzi was happy.

She had made it through her first trimester. She didn’t have to get injections in her hip every night. She wasn’t throwing up or feeling nauseous all day. Her energy levels had gone back up. The genetic testing came back clear. Everything was going the way it was supposed to.

She was comfortable enough to let herself get fully attached to her babies.

When Paige would come back from picking up Azzi’s late-night craving, she would stand by the door and listen to Azzi whispering things to her bump.

This morning, she walked in to see Azzi in pink sweats and a sports bra. She was turned to the side, hands running over her bump slowly. Paige smiled at the soft expression on her face.

“Good morning, Mama.”

Brown eyes met hers in the mirror and the smile on Azzi’s face stretched. “Good morning, Paigey.” Her hand rubbed her stomach. “I missed you this morning. Made some muffins.”

She crossed the room, eyes dropping to the small, tanned bump. It was almost weird seeing her newly popped belly. “Can I say good morning?” Paige questioned.

Azzi turned to her fully and poked her stomach out. Paige lowered herself down. “Good morning, Bear.” She said with a kiss on the mound. “Good morning, Bean.” Another kiss pushed into the skin. “You guys are the sizes of lemons now. You’re probably sucking your thumb, but you have to stop if you want a smile as pretty as your mom’s.”

Azzi inhaled as blue eyes peered up at her through her lashes.

“I hope you look just like her. You’ll be just as pretty, just as kind, just as smart. You’ll be just as perfect. Make sure you’re nice to her today. She’s the best.”

The rest of Paige’s talk with the babies was too quiet for Azzi to hear, so she just stood there watching the woman she loved having a one-sided conversation with her belly. She brushed her hands through blonde hair, still damp from her shower at the firehouse.

She didn’t know how Paige did it. Always made her feel safe, seen, wanted, and cherished without making her feel like she owed her anything in return. Letting Azzi stay with her. Every whisper to Bean and Bear. Each treat she brought Azzi in the middle of the night. Everything she did took up a bigger space in Azzi’s heart.

Paige whispered a prayer into her skin, asking for health and protection for the coming months.

The blonde let her hands rest on the swell of Azzi’s stomach. It was moments like this that stung the most – a teaser of the life she wanted. Azzi was becoming a mom. And she was doing it without Paige. She got to touch her belly, talk to the twins whenever she wanted. She wished she could press kisses all over her stomach, fall asleep with her head resting over belly. She wished she could tell Azzi how much she loved her. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

But in all of her envy, she was also eternally grateful for moments like these that filled her chest with warmth and love and a little ache.

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Week 15:

The night before Father’s Day, Paige and Azzi played around in the kitchen.

Well, Paige played, and Azzi was putting a cake together.

“Paige,” She warned, piping bag in hand.

Paige’s grin was soft and warm as she watched Azzi lean toward the countertop. Exhaustion was all over her face, but she still glowed. She didn’t know how Azzi managed to look so tired but still so flawless.

Azzi’s belly was out in her crop top and sweat shorts. And it bounced every time she laughed, which Paige found hilarious. So, she continued to poke her best friend, trying to make her giggle.

“Paige, seriously. I’m tired and in pain. I just wanna finish putting this cake together so we can go to bed.” She pouted; frustration clear in her voice.

The woman took two steps back quickly. “What hurts, Az?” All the playfulness in her actions gone. Her hands hovered. She wished she could take every ache from her – help smooth those lines on her forehead.

Azzi sighed, slowly straightening. “Just round ligament pain. Can’t do anything about it.” She mumbled.

She rolled her shoulders back and focused on the cake again.. All she had to do was place the burn layer and add a shell border around it. Then, she could put the cake in the fridge and finally go to sleep.

It was Market Saturday, so Azzi had spent Thursday and Friday making extra desserts. And her entire Saturday was spent on her feet, selling cakes to new customers. All she wanted to do was bury herself in the blankets that smelled like Paige and sleep.

Right after she placed the “Happy Father’s Day, Papa!” wafer paper, large hands wrapped around the bottom of her belly.

“Blondie…” She said, sternly.

“Wait, just let me.” Paige started, hands cupping the bottom of her belly. “I read about it. They said I could help relieve some of the pain if you lean back into me,” Azzi absentmindedly did so. “And let me hold the weight for you.” And she lifted.

Azzi didn’t expect the embrace to feel that good. All the tension trapped in her pelvis just disappeared at once.

“Oh.” And Azzi blushed deeply at the sound that had just come out of her mouth – a little bit of a moan, a little bit of a groan, entirely embarrassing. Her knees nearly buckled. Paige tightened her arms instinctively. “Oh my God. That feels amazing.”

Paige tucked her head of Azzi’s shoulder, kissing her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting, Mama?”

“The blogs say it’s normal, and rest is one of the only things that will help. But with Market this week, I knew I’d be on my feet more, and that it’d just hurt until I could chill.” She leaned almost all of her bodyweight onto Paige, and it felt wonderful.

The firefighter hummed. “Well, we can start doing this every day before bed, as long as I’m home.” She didn’t move. “I’d carry all of it for you, Az. Forever, if you’d let me.”

Azzi lifted her head quickly, “Really?” She grinned when she felt Paige nod into her neck. “You’re the best person I know, Madison.”

They stayed like that. For a few minutes that felt like hours. Just two people in the soft light of the kitchen, the scent of frosting, in the cloud of love that neither could speak aloud.

Azzi wanted to say it. Wanted to tell her that she was so in love with her. But she couldn’t. Instead, she just let Paige hold her. And for now, that would have to be enough.

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

Father’s Day was uncharacteristically hot. And Azzi was already moody in the heat before she got pregnant. Today was even worse.

All week, she’d been loving the fact that she looked visibly pregnant. But she didn’t realize it was because she only went places where people already knew she was pregnant. The ladies at the bakery gushed over the roundness of her bump, and Azzi was happy about it.

But today, she was going to the Bueckers’s home, and if she didn’t pick the right outfit, everyone would know before they could even see the pregnancy reveal cake she had worked so hard on.

She was overjoyed with the outfit she had picked. She was matching with Paige, which was low key one of her favorite things to do. She wore a thin chambray shirt over a cream bodysuit, while Paige wore the same top and loose cream shorts.

Which was great, but then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the way out.

“I can’t go there like this!” She exclaimed, looking to her best friend incredulously.

Paige hadn’t really been paying attention to how obvious the bump looked. Mainly because she was mildly obsessed with staring at it, but also because she’d spent four hours clearing up a major car accident. She got off shift two and a half hours after she was supposed to, so instead of taking a three-hour nap when she got home, she slept for thirty minutes.

“What’s wrong with your fit? You look cute, Az.” She mumbled tiredly.

Azzi looked down at her outfit, then back up to her best friend. “They’re gonna know before I tell them if I show up like this.” She controlled the pout that desperately wanted to spread across her lips. “Just gimme ten minutes so I can find something else.”

She rushed back into Paige’s room, stepping into the closet. In hindsight, the bodysuit would be annoying because she was peeing every twenty minutes it took. Her five minutes to roll the tight fabric over her body.

She landed on an outfit just as casual and just as matchy – light-washed, baggy overall shorts and a cream tank top. Azzi decided to leave one strap down to loosen the stretch across her belly. Now instead of looking pregnant, she just looked full.

Paige was dozing on the bench by the door when Azzi came back out.

“P, why don’t you let me drive today?” She questioned lowly.

Blue eyes popped open, sparkling like always, but a veil of exhaustion dulling the shine a bit. “You’ve been the passenger princess since junior year, Az.” She stood and stretched.

“Yeah, except when you tore your ACL senior year. Or when you got that concussion from that one fire.” Azzi said, brushing her fingers over blonde strands. She smiled softly as Paige unconsciously relaxed into her hand. “You’re exhausted, Paige. Let me drive, just for today.”

Azzi flashed her puppy dog face, and Paige didn’t stand a chance. The next second, the cake was on the floor in the back seat, and Paige was already reclined and dozing off.

Thirty minutes later, Azzi pulled in behind Drew’s Camaro. She reached over and cupped one cheek. “Wake up, Paigey. We’re here.” She said lowly, brushing her thumb over the skin.

Paige groaned, eyes blinking open slowly. “I can’t wait to go to bed.” She grumbled.

“We can leave whenever you’re ready.” Azzi muttered.

Paige huffed, climbing out of the truck, walking to the other side to help Azzi out. She held the cake box in front of her belly as an added layer of protection.

When they walked in, Azzi made sure to lean forward as she hugged everyone so nobody could feel the press of her stomach against their abdomen.

Bob had requested a barbecue for his holiday, and Azzi was grateful. One of her biggest cravings had been burgers. And watermelon. And corn. And mac and cheese. She almost cried at the spread on the patio table.

The dinner was filled with conversations about the WNBA season, the upcoming NBA draft, and everything Drew would be doing to prepare for his last season of college hoops.

“Wherever you go this summer, just make sure you got a place to train.” Paige around a sausage dog.

“I will,” he started. “You gotta do runs with me at least twice though.” He negotiated.

Paige nodded with a smirk. “Alright, but I’m only playing the 1 or the 2; my knee’s been bothering me.”

“Gotchu.” Drew said, moving closer. He lowered his voice before speaking again. “You know what’s been bothering me? The heart eyes you and Azzi have been giving each other since high school.”

Paige scoffed, but moved closer to hear her brother better. “Drew, c’mon bro.”

He rolled his eyes, “No, you come on. You’ve been in love with her forever, and you have to know she loves you too.”

“She’s trying to have a baby, Drew. Her hormones are all over the place, man. I don’t want her to get with me out of pity or because her emotions are crazy.” She gritted out through clenched teeth. “After she has her kid, then I’ll tell her. I’ve already waiting this long. A little while longer won’t hurt.”

Before Drew could enlighten her with more advice, Azzi called out for her.

“Can you help me get the dessert?” She asked, smug smile on her face.

Paige grinned, following her into the air conditioning. “It’s hot as shit out there. How you feeling?” She questioned.

“I’m excited to tell them!” She slid the cake out of the box, as Paige searched the drawers for a lighter. “So I’m going to bring him the cake and light the wafer paper on fire, and you’ll record, right?” She asked.

“Yeah. And I’ll make sure to get pops and Katie’s reactions.” She pulled her into a side hug, pushing a kiss into her temple. “You ready for everyone to know?”

Azzi smiled softly at her bump. “Yeah. I’ve been waiting to tell them forever.”

They walked out together, Azzi holding the lighter under the cake board.

“Happy Father’s Day, Pops!” Paige hugged him tightly before moving to the other side of the table. She pulled her phone out as Azzi placed the cake in front of him.

He glanced at the cake, reading the words before looking at her, eyes wide.

“I saw this TikTok trend where you use edible paper as a cake topper and burn it to show something under it.” She swallowed her nerves down. “I wanted to try it out, so I hope you don’t mind being the guinea pig.”

He chuckled, eyes already misty. “Of course not, Azzi.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she struck the lighter. Just seven months ago, she hadn’t been given the chance to tell Bob and Katie about the life growing inside of her. And now she would finally get to share with the people she loved.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa.” She grinned, touching the flame to the wafer paper.

Paige and Azzi held their breath as each millimeter of paper burned away.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” Katie screeched, pulling Azzi into a tight hug.

Bob gasped, looking from the cake to the women. “Twins?” He breathed, tears flowing.

At her nod, the backyard erupted into cheers.

Paige’s smile grew, never wavered. But a small part of her wished she was allowed to cry too. Not for the babies; she was over the moon about them. But for the woman she loved, standing just out of reach.

While her parents fussed over Azzi and the babies, Drew came to wrap Paige in an embrace. “You better tell her soon, so your name goes on the birth certificates.” He whispered in her ear.

“Bro,” Paige punched him in the side. “Shut up.”

“Nah for real though,” He started. “I’m excited for y’all. Hopefully this will give you the final push to get together.”

Mari came over next, “So does this mean you’re going to tell her how much you love her?” She nudged Paige playfully.

“Why’s it always on me?” Paige sucked her teeth. “Why can’t Azzi tell me.”

Drew’s girlfriend shot her a look. “She’s growing two humans, Paige. She doesn’t have to do anything else.”

“Hey! Be nice to her!” Azzi called across the table. “Paige is the only reason I’ve survived the last four months.”

Drew cackled. “You better stand up for your woman, Azzi!”

Everyone was buzzing with joy. Making gender reveal, baby shower, and holiday plans. Mari and Drew took turns making baby jokes. Bob cried every time he looked at Azzi. Katie went through nursery themes.

In all the joy and chaos, Paige and Azzi’s eyes still found each other – love, elation, and relief shining in their eyes.

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

Week 17:

Azzi’s family had purchased cruise tickets for Tim’s Christmas present, and the crew was in the Bahamas when Father’s Day rolled around.

So, she caught up with them after they got back. She hosted a dinner at her (Paige’s) house with all of her dad’s favorites.

While Paige entertained Jon and Jose in the living room, Azzi pulled her parents to the dining room to talk.

“I just wanted to apologize to you both.” She said, tears already welling in her eyes.

Katie reached out, grabbing one of Azzi’s hands. “No, baby, we’re sorry. I should’ve trusted you. Supported you.” Azzi shook her head, “No, I should’ve.” She sniffed.

“We know how much thought you put into everything.” Tim started, “You’re the most indecisive person I know, so I know you didn’t make that decision lightly.” He chuckled.

“Yes, and you’ll be a wonderful mother, Az.” Katie squeezed her hand. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be alone like me. You have us in the same city.”

Tim nodded, “And Paige, Katie, and Bob. Drew and his girl.”

“Thank you for understanding – apologizing.” Azzi smiled. “I shouldn’t have told you about the miscarriage like that.”

“Oh honey, you were grieving.” Katie whimpered. “No one can tell you how to feel when you’re grieving like that.”

Tim pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry we weren’t there. Sorry you didn’t feel safe enough to come to us for support.” He paused. “We’ve missed you, baby girl.”

“We love you, and we respect you in however you would like to move forward.” Katie cam behind Azzi and wrapped her arms around the pair. She pressed a kiss into Azzi’s curls.

“Of course I forgive you!” She mumbled into her father’s chest. She pulled back a bit. “I love you.”

When the trio walked back into the living room, Paige could see the weight lifted off Azzi’s shoulders.

She looked back to Jon and Jose. “Come on, so we can eat.”

This time, dinner wasn’t tense at all. Everyone was laughing, telling jokes, catching each other up on the last few months.

“We’re thinking about going on another cruise in December, Azzi. Christmas on a beach sounds amazing.” Katie beamed.

Azzi straightened, she was planning on telling them about the babies later. “I’ll have to see – if I’m pregnant, I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” She was tense, like she was waiting for bad news.

“That’s fine, just let us know. We’d be more than happy to stay in Virginia if that’s what you need.” Time shrugged, shoving more shrimp lo mein into his mouth.

Azzi exhaled, happy that it didn’t turn into a big deal. “Oh, definitely!” She smiled.

For dessert, Azzi had prepared homemade fortune cookies. She even wrote little messages on tiny slips of paper before she made them.

Katie gasped, “Noni and Poppy?” She pressed the paper to her chest, eyes darting to Azzi’s abdomen. “How far along are you? When are you due?” Her blue eyes shined.

“Times two?” Tim shouted, standing quickly.

He rounded the table and scooped Azzi into a hug in three steps.

“Twins!” Jon and Jose exclaimed simultaneously.

She laughed loudly, overjoyed that everyone she loved knew.

“Yes. Twins!” She grinned. “I’m seventeen weeks and five days. I’m due in early December.”

Katie blinked fast, tears falling, hand still clutching the fortune. “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

Azzi sat down slowly, one hand resting on her stomach without thinking. Paige caught her eye from across the table, and for a long second, the rest of the world faded. Just the two of them smiley softly at each other.

For the first time, the warmth and peace in Azzi’s heart felt like it might last.

She blinked quickly and smiled widely. “Okay, who wants seconds?”

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

Week 18:

Paige had been reading the parenting blogs again. There was a certain way her body locked up when she read about something she and Azzi hadn’t considered yet.

“What is it?” Azzi didn’t even look up from her book, just sighed, content to let Paige keep rubbing the tension out of her calves.

“You ever thought about getting a new place?” She asked.

Azzi’s brows furrowed and she sat up straighter. “Why?” She asked, voice serious now.

“Not like that, Az.” Paige responded, tightening her grip on her legs. “It’s just that there are only two spare bedrooms, and I wanted to keep one as the guest room.”

The brunette exhaled deeply. “I just assumed they’d share for a while.” She shrugged. “They won’t need their own rooms until they’re like five.” She settled back into the couch.

“But what about schools?” Paige continued. “You know the ones nearby are shitty.”

Azzi giggled. “Relax, Blondie. They won’t have to go to school for years. We got time.”

It was quiet for a few minutes. Paige had gone back to tapping on her phone, probably finding more things to worry about.

“But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll put my place up for rent and start saving for a down payment.” Azzi sighed. She hated making Paige feel like her concerns weren’t valid or appreciated. “That you for making sure we’re taken care of.”

The blonde smiled softly, eyes still on her screen. “I’m just letting you know, if I find something with a big yard and good schools, I’m putting this place on the market.”

Her comment sent Azzi into a fit of giggles. “Where are you gonna live though?”

“Excuse me?” Paige questioned, offended. “I’m gonna live with you, Az. We already discussed this. I’m with you for all of it.”

There was a softer, more serious air in the room.

“But what about when some girl comes along and you fall head over heels for her. I’m gonna be left with a mortgage that’s too high and a mountain of bills.” Azzi tried to smile, but it was something she’d always dreaded.

Eventually, Paige was going to fall for someone else, like really fall for them, and their friendship would be pushed to the back burner.

Paige put her phone down and pulled the book from Azzi’s grip.

“I need you to listen to me and believe me when I say that no one could ever make me leave you. You and those babies are the most important things in this world. I promise I’ll never leave you, Az.”

Her blue eyes were sharp as she spoke. Azzi knew she was serious, but she also knew love could hit you when you least expected it. That sometimes, people left, even when they meant to stay.

Paige must have seen the hesitation in her face, because those blue orbs softened. She reached for Azzi’s hand, head bowed to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“You’re not a responsibility to me. I’m not doing this because you’re just my best friend.” Paige said quietly. “You’re my home.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, chest still tight. She couldn’t tell Paige she believed her, not yet.

But she still let Paige pull her into her side. Let her pull a blanket over both of them. Let Paige show her how she felt.

And even though it wasn’t everything she wanted, it was enough for now.

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

Week 20:

The day of the gender reveal was chaotic. Paige was supposed to be home by 8 to help her and their moms set up their backyard for the party.

Azzi had initially planned a simple reveal at the bakery where everyone would come by after closing. They would all bite into a cupcake at the same time and then go home.

But the two Katies refused to let that happened. They made invitations and told everyone to come in pajamas to go with the theme of “twinkle, twinkle little stars, who we wonder what you are”, which annoyed the pregnant woman. Pajamas weren’t made to be worn outside, but she couldn’t go against the two older women.

When Paige hadn’t shown up at 8, Azzi assumed she stopped to get breakfast before coming home.

When Paige hadn’t shown up at 9, Azzi assumed she was on a call that was running over.

When Paige hadn’t shown up at 10, Azzi checked her location. And when it showed she was at the fire station, she knew she was on a call.

When Paige hadn’t shown up at 11, Azzi called Station 22 to try to get information. There was a structure fire, but the firefighter who stayed at the station had no updates.

When Paige hadn’t shown up at 12, Katie and Katie took over to occupy the guests while they waited for Paige to come home.

It was 2:00 when the food had been eaten and everyone had been waiting for the big reveal. Everyone had tried to encourage Azzi to do the reveal without Paige, but she refused.

“Paige has been here for everything. I’m not doing this without her.” She said sternly.

Around three, everyone started the leave, and Azzi was finally able to turn the news on.

Apparently, a warehouse fire started at 6:30, right before Azzi was supposed to be able to come home. When the firefighters arrived on scene, they tried to contain the flames, but their spread. Part of the building collapsed, and some firefighters were trapped. The fire was finally contained at two, but flames were still burning.

Paige turned the tv off, deciding to take a shower and wait for Paige at the station.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Azzi didn’t know how long she spent at the station. She paced in front of the building, too much nervous energy to sit down. The butterflies in her stomach would come and go, never really settling down.

She knew how dangerous structure fires were. During fire school, Paige would quiz herself about the different kinds of structure fires. Warehouses that had plastics and fuels could burn much longer than other structures. It would take even longer with hot spots or flare-ups.

The sidewalk cooled and the sky turned to cotton candy. And Azzi still waited outside.

When the last light finally dipped below the horizon, Azzi went inside to wait by the door. Paige would kill her if she was outside at in the dark.

She was counting herself down from another panic attack when the dingy white tiles on the firehouse floor were bathed in red light.

Her head popped up.

She didn’t hear any sirens.

She knew what that meant.

Lights with no sirens meant someone wasn’t making it home.

Azzi couldn’t breathe. It was almost like she was outside of her own body.

She knew her hands were shaking, but she couldn’t feel it. Somehow, she’d managed to make it back outside without tripping over her feet.

The butterflies in her belly had come back, full force.

She watched the trucks pull into the lot, hands trembling on her belly.

As soon as they came to a stop, one of the squad engine doors opened.

And Azzi sobbed in relief.

“Paige!” She cried. She floated over to her, arms opening wide.

But Paige took a step back, wincing at the wounded sound that fell from Azzi’s lips.

“You can’t touch me yet, Mama. Tons of chemicals from the smoke. It’s not safe for the babies.” She said, voice kind, but tired.

Azzi’s lip wobbled. “Just wanna hug you. I was so scared.” She wimpered.

“I’m know, Az.” She said. All she wanted to do what hold Azzi, ask her how the party went, and sleep. “Lemme take off my gear, get you a mask, and we can go home. Does that sound okay?”

Azzi nodded sadly, walking over to Paige’s truck.

The other firefighters get Azzi head nods and silent greetings, fatigue obvious.

Only a couple of minutes passed before she saw Paige coming out with her duffel and a white mask in her hands.

“I know you hate these, but I won’t get in the car with you if you don’t have it on the right way.” Paige mumbled, handing her the mask and opening the passenger door.

The ride home was quiet, SZA playing lowly in the background. Azzi just looked at Paige. There was soot on her face and flakes in her hair, but she was still just as beautiful as she always was.

Those butterflies were back in her abdomen again.

“Lost a trainee tonight.” Paige muttered as they entered their neighborhood. “She never fucking listened, and we lost her tonight because of it.” She huffed. “I told her to stay on my six, and she walked off instead.” She threw the truck in park and sighed. “By the time I turned to check, she was on the other side of the room we were sweeping. Couple seconds later, the ceiling came down.”

Azzi wanted to reach out, to hold her. But her hand paused before she could touch her.

“Come on, Paigey. Let’s get you a shower, some food, and some sleep. Yeah?” She asked softly.

Paige trailed after her slowly. Azzi pulled out the comfiest boxers and hoodie she could find and went to start the shower.

Those damn butterflies were back, and she hadn’t even been thinking about Paige this time.

A couple minute later, Paige’s voice called out. “Az, can you come in with me?”

She climbed in behind Paige, rounded belly making it a tight squeeze.

“We need a bigger tub.” She muttered, tipping Paige’s head for the water to soak her hair.

Paige hummed. “You planning on being in here with me a lot, huh?”

Azzi smacked her in the stomach, ignoring her question and the way she wanted to shout and beg to shower with her every night.

She was gentle as she washed the taller woman’s hair. She gentle cleaned the soot from her face and tension for her body while the conditioner sat in her hair.

After suds and conditioner drained, Azzi stepped closer, wrapping her arms around the woman tightly.

Both women could feel every part of their bodies pressing into each other. But it wasn’t sexual, it was comfort – the comfort of being seen by someone who loved you.

“I was so scared when you didn’t come home – when you didn’t call.” Azzi said, eyes filling with tears. “I learned about the fire on the news. Remembered what you said about those kinds of fires.” Her tears mixed with the water flowing down their bodies.

Paige pressed a kiss into her forehead. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Mama.”

“Then the truck came back without the sirens.” She sobbed. “I thought it was you, Paige.”

“I’m sorry. I’m right here, Az.” One hand held Azzi’s head close, while the other rubbed big circles into her back.

Azzi just gripped her tighter. “I love you so much Paige, please don’t ever leave me. I was so scared.” She cried.

“I love you too, Azzi. I’ll never leave you, I promise.”

They stood under the stream of water until it ran cold.

After they were toweled off and heading to bed, Paige was preparing to talk to the twins like she did every night. Then, she remembered something.

“So, what are Bean and Bear? Boys, girls, or both?” She looked up at Azzi.

The butterflies started again, hadn’t really stopped since Paige had been around.

“Oh, we didn’t find out. Couldn’t do it without you.” She muttered.

Paige sat on her knees quickly. “What?” All exhaustion evaporated from her voice. “Where’s the cake?”

“The kitchen.” Azzi said with a giggle. She already started sitting up, knowing that Paige wasn’t going to sleep without knowing.

The cake was on the island, exactly where their moms left it. Two wine glasses sat next to the cake, ready to reveal the biggest secret of the day.

Azzi set the camera up, choosing the film the moment for everyone who came to support this afternoon.

She spoke first. “I’m your mom, and I think you’re both boys.” She grinned.

Paige nudged her with her hip. “And I’m your Paigey. Excuse our appearances, we just got out of the shower. I had a really big fire today. But we had these cute outfits planned to figure out what you guys are.” She laughed. “Anyway, I’m your Paigey, and I think your Mama’s wrong. I think you’re one of each.”

“Whatever.” Azzi rolled her eyes, grabbing her glass and passing one to Paige.

“Okay, look at me, Mama. We push down and look on three, yeah?” Paige said.

Brown eyes locked on blue.

Flutters erupted in Azzi’s belly.

“These butterflies have been coming and going all day. And I’m not even nervous.” She giggled.

“You sure they’re not kicking?” Paige quirked an eyebrow up. “You’re 20 weeks, Az.”

“Hmm.” Azzi hummed quietly. “You’re probably right. It’s happened a lot today, but now, it’s every time you talk.”

Paige’s eyes softened and shined, “They know my voice.” The apples of her cheeks were pink with the realization.

“Of course they do. You’re their Paigey.” Azzi smiled softly.

The blonde shook her head. “C’mon, let’s do this before I start crying.”

“Okay. Push.”

The glass clinks against the cake board.

“One,” Azzi counted.

“Two,” Paige breathed.

Then together, “Three.”

Azzi gasped, holding her glass to Paige’s face. “Purple!” She breathed.

“One of each,” Paige smiled. “Just like I said,” She finished cockily.

They forgot to stop the video.

They just stood there, breathless, wine glasses sticky with frosting. Eyes going from the purple smeared in the glasses and each other’s eyes, wet with tears.

“They’re really coming.” Azzi said, voice thick with awe. “A son and a daughter.”

Paige reached up, brushing a thumb across Azzi’s cheek, swiping at a tear. “Bean and Bear.” She murmured.

She knelt silently, palm warm against Azzi’s belly. Paige lowered her voice, just for the twins. “Your mom is the bravest person I know. You picked the best one.”

Neither said anything more. The camera kept rolling. The cake sat between them, split neatly in half.

Outside, the sky darkened to velvet. Inside, they stood in bare feet and boxers, hearts racing. Not saying it yet. But feeling it.

And even though they weren’t saying it yet, the love was already louder than words.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #love on fire #elle’s fics

405 notes · View notes

acid-ixx · 10 months ago

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do i look like him?

— just another series concept. please note that talia sexually assaulting bruce is retconned in whatever portrayal i have of her. i will not tolerate any racist or sexist remarks towards her character for a mischaracterized version of her, written by some gooner.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

i don't know if anybody would be interested in a certain premise i'm planning. taylor's song, "like him" is resonating off of my body, and i've a draft written inspired off of the song featuring yandere batfam x damian's twin! reader x yandere! al ghul family.

wherein instead of being neglected, you're treated like royalty by your own family. your twin is subjected to the cruelty of being raised as an assassin. you're met with scarred hands, nicked back, and calloused skin every time he comes back from your shared room after another particularly harsh training. yet every time you worry for your older twin, he'd silence you with the same bloodied hands that handled bodies like ragdolls, gently like it has never killed, with hushed promises whispered by your ear that "this is necessary for your protection, akhi/akhti."

at first you'd be convinced that this family lifestyle is normal. your mother is doting, she is kind, she is where you learned the word mercy; unlike the fierce image she displays in public. you're often spoiled rotten with her favorite shades of clothes, and her teachings emanate within you a deep sense of loving for animals. you never truly see her cruelty for other humans, as she often makes you sit by her lap upon a seat you call a throne when you were all but a mere five year old, playing with your hair, muttering affirmations and cradling you on her chest every time you ponder too deeply about the word, 'father'.

a word you'd read from those fairytales by the library, a word you craved to know, a word forbidden to be stated by everybody within your castle-like home.

she'll call upon your brother every time your curiosity gets the best of you, and the duo would try their best to sway your attention away with playtime. either it'd be stories, or damian showing you new tricks he'd learn from masters long overthrown by your twin, or it would be as simple as talia dragging both her beloved children to the huge kitchen, demanding the head chefs to bake you and your brother's favorite dessert (a little moment to spoil your brother after a hard-earned day of training, even if damian isn't always fond of sweet confectionaries; your grin would always tempt him to take a bite of your food if it means spending a day being himself).

it seems even damian plays along with the sick fantasy of not acknowledging the possibility of an alive father figure to you. not like you'd be aware of it, too caught up with your grandfather teaching you about rare species' on the verge of extinction, his (rarely) soft gaze fixed on the way your small body would gently pat the face of his wolf companion, or your brother constantly vying for you, his younger twin's, attention, eliminating all possible rivals who could potentially act as your future playmate that only he has the privilege for, or how your mother seeks you, her youngest baby, out, for a day of rest after another mission, doting smooches on your face, her lipstick smearing all over the soft chub of your cheeks, dismissing your pouts

a perfect family, with not much left to desire for your part.

so why is it that talia would often hear damian complain about your sudden fixation about a father figure? you'd mumble, something about one of your servants who mentioned visiting her father for vacation, a man who works as a merchant for his family; you asked them what your father's job was, what his name was, "why isn't he here at the family dinner?"

you asked, with wide, pitiful eyes, a feature long foreign for hardened assassins, but associated only with you. a quality nobody in the league dares to criticize; your gentleness the only thing keeping their leaders sane, keeping most servants alive as you find precious each and every single living being; not exclusive to animals or plants, but to humans too.

you're the league's only hope for reprieve, for softness in the moments of emboldened duties and priorities. you're the fingers that caress on calloused skin and the lips that kiss bloody scars. the hearth that warms even the coldest of hearts.

which was why nobody attempted to answer you, no matter how much it breaks your heart; because nobody wanted to ruin your soft and kind heart, or see the sullen droop in your eyes, or red, sniffling nose.

yet once ra's heard the confession of you being aware of what a father is like through the mouth of your servant, he'd immediately demanded another assassin to eliminate whoever dared mentioned such preposterous concepts to his grandchild.

throughout their rage, throughout damian nuzzling his head on the crown of your, muttering that whatever his baby sibling is sputtering is nonsensical, mere fantasy, arms encasing your entire body. he'd cradle you, run his hands against your hair even with furrowed, always angered brows; all the same questions lingered in the back of their minds:

is your current family not enough? why is it that the more you grow, the more you... wear the same expression of stubbornness, a quality your mother is sure you've adopted from you... father.

she may not be the best mother, taking both you and damian away from the arms of bruce wayne after she had learned about her pregnancy after a night spent together with the man, but she did it for the sake of her children; for your future, too.

bruce wayne will not be a good influence to you. if he tries so much to subject you into becoming another one of his robins, destroying your innocence, your perception of the world into a bleak portrayal of lackluster colors— ra's wouldn't hesitate to destroy the entirety of bruce's home.

and the manor is nothing! nothing, mind you, compared to the castle you call your home. only you deserve the richest of the rich, the shiniest jewels and the best treatment in the world. what more can gotham offer you? what more, if not for broken bones and bruised knees?

and so they settled upon ruining your perception of your father, with no known face to be plastered upon your memory, no known source, or picture— at such an early age.

if you yearn so much for a father, why not paint the image as dark as the cowl he wears?

why don't they feed you lies about him never wanting you and your twin in the first place? you'll be given opportunities to call an empty line, hoping your father would pick up, would respond and tell you that he's coming for you. they'll give you time to write letters, even if it takes your crummy fingers hours to finish a dedicated letter for your father, after years of being unable to meet him; it causes all the more ache in your mother's chest, witnessing her beloved youngest stay up late, whispering whimsical wishes about how excited you are to read your father's reply to you.

all your mother could do was kiss your forehead as she sat by your side, and rub your delicate cheeks with her fingers, mumbling that her baby should sleep now.

your mother never lies to you, no?

at least, not outright in your face.

damian, hates seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, but he's the very same twin who comforts you every damn time you fall to your knees after discovering that the letters you sent to your father's locations were long since unanswered — even if they're all hidden away in a vault of every possession you thought you lost. he'll pick you up with his trained body, and you'll melt even further into his form, shivering at the prospect that you're an unwanted child in the face of your father.

soon.

soon, you'll learn to despise bruce with every being of your soul, and learn to only reserve the association of warmth for your only family. you'll be the spoiled royal of the al ghul, and you'll come to find yourself grateful that you're raised without his presence, deluded into thinking that he abandoned you, that he never truly cared in the first place.

you love your family, you hate bruce wayne.

he is not family.

he is not your father, he lost that status long ago right after you thought he'd ignore all your calls, your messages, letters, gifts, every and any signal sent to the man you once called your father right after learning his name. he made you hope, he left the light flicker once flickering within you now blown away, leaving only an empty husk of your wanting to meet your father.

you hate bruce, you hate him so fucking much, you're ashamed that he's even your father in the first place— even if he's the very same man working tirelessly, day and night, to save you, once he caught news of what his children looks like, and locks eyes with your hopeful ones, a rare sight amongst the imagery of assassin. he plans to retrieve you, to save you, from the castle you call your home; truly what you call your cage.

little did you know that you are more like your father than you are with what you call your family.

— heavily inspired by @anxiousnerdwritings portrayal of twin!reader.

a/n: i honestly don't know half of what i wrote. i'm out of my mind, and i'm honestly not confident with the outcome of this concept. if people do like it (leave comments, or inputs, or whatsoever) i might post a chapter about this (since i do have one written in my drafts a week or two ago). if not, i'm dropping this and leaving it as a concept mostly, a one-time thing at best. so if anybody does like this, please do tell me. i do have a lot in store for this concept, specifically the way manipulation works within this family convincing you the other side is evil; i've been through this once w/ my family actually ngl, so writing this was a bit fun.

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glitch-but-ya · 1 month ago

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Can we get a girldad!Sylus fic !! Very wholesome tooth rotting fluff

GIRLDAD!SYLUS HCs!!

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!! I'm not too keen on having children, so I'm not sure if I could do it well enough!! Sorry for taking soo long :( I'm just busy! Not sure if you asked for HCs or a fic, but honestly I don't have time to write a fic rn! I hope you don't mind anon!!

I don’t think fatherhood was in Sylus's plans. The N109 zone is no place to raise a child if you want them to have a happy life. That, paired with the risks his profession poses to both him and his family, makes me believe he wasn’t too sure about being a father either. But when it happens, though? He’ll embrace it with the warmest heart.

I’m confident Sylus cried when he held her for the first time. I know it’s been said before, but I’ll say it again—he’ll genuinely shed tears.

He’ll be hesitant to hold her in his arms, afraid of hurting her in any way. Was he supposed to hold her like this? Was he putting too much pressure on her head? What if she wiggles and falls from his hand? What if she fell? Of course, he’s read books and skimmed through countless articles about the proper way to hold a baby, and he’s practised with dummies and pillows as well. But when the real thing appears? The knowledge vanishes from his brain. And the only thing he can focus on is her. His angel.

He probably doesn’t even hold her until he’s told it’s safe.

At home, he changes everything. He dulls the edges to make the furniture baby-proof, and brightens up some areas with lights and colours. The dim, gloomy atmosphere is almost entirely gone. There are toys scattered across the floor, alongside plushies, pillows, and strollers everywhere. And honestly, he doesn’t mind the change at all.

I feel like he might consider raising her outside of the N109 zone. Although he wants her to be strong, I don’t think he wants her to be like... him, to say the least. I don’t think he wants her to follow in his footsteps. And I believe he would likely keep his profession a secret from her. Even if you don’t mind raising a miniature crime lord. He would rather she took after you. He would want her to be strong, but not from suffering—although despair is where strength is usually born from.

Spoils her, but never spoils her rotten. Of course, he’s happy to give her the world. He has so much—what’s the point of owning it all if you don’t spend it on your family? But I believe he’d teach her the value of things as well. And that sometimes, you don’t always get what you want. She would never lack a thing, but she would also not have the world at her fingertips.

I think that after the inclusion of a partner and a child in his life, Sylus would become... kinder. Not in a way that reshapes his character entirely. But in a way that makes him think twice before pulling the trigger now. He knows what it’s like to have a family. To want to do anything for their sake. Even soil his hands with dirt or crush the world in his palm.

After your daughter is brought home, Luke and Kieran would become big brothers—voluntarily! They’d be more than happy to abandon their jobs to run around their little boss all day, for more reasons than one. The reason why I believe they’d be particularly attached to her is because of you two, of course, but also because they haven’t really gotten to experience a real childhood and would certainly wish that such a fate wouldn’t befall their little sister as well. They would do everything to ensure that she grows up happy, lacking nothing that makes up a normal childhood. One where she wouldn’t have to feed off of scraps and suffer bullets every day, merely to survive. (MY SHAYLAAA)

Sylus probably takes frequent breaks and hands over his duties to the twins just to spend time with his daughter! She could blurt out a little “Ba!” and he would be at her beck and call (she’s not even a year old yet).

Talks to her ALL THE TIME!! Scenario: She’s sitting on his lap as he works or watches TV, and at this point, she’s at the age where babies start attempting to talk. But their words usually come out in incoherent coos and blahs. The moment she opens her mouth and starts blurting out the most random noises, he drops everything to reply to her: “Mmm-maa!” “Oh? Really? Tell me more.” “Aboo!” “That’s a bold claim.” “Gah-bleh!” “Interesting theory. I’ll consider it.” “Paaa!” “A valid point. I’m proud of you.” And you’re just lingering by the doorway, puzzled.

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queen-of-signs · 19 days ago

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🧱What's Holding You Back? Who Are Your Enemies? 👀

Disclaimer: This is a collective tarot reading, so please keep in mind that it may or may not resonate with everyone. Take what resonates with you and feel free to leave the rest. Trust your intuition as you receive the messages. I'd love to hear if this reading resonated with you, so please feel free to let me know in the comments. (LGBTQ+ friendly) No sugarcoating!

Pile 1 -> Pile 2 -> Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Pile 1

Some of you are ready to move or change jobs, but you keep holding on to what’s familiar. Comfort zones are your prison. You want control over everything, but the truth is, you don’t always let life flow. You’d rather cry under the sheets than admit you need help. Your focus slips (you have the attention span of a toddler), you care too much about what people think, and you start things without following through. You take on other people’s problems and leave your own hanging. Savior complex. Your “friends” toast you in public and trash you in private. Even when you’re close to success, you stall yourself. You stop at the finish line and call it “not the right time.” Instead of building real happiness, you reach for quick distractions that don’t last and leave you empty. Honestly, you’re blocking yourself more than anyone else is. Also, those few people around you don’t mind because if you stay stuck, they don’t have to face their own growth either.

Bottom Line: You’re tripping over your own feet and calling it bad luck. The people around you don't care either because your stuck energy makes their mediocrity look normal.

💌For astrology and tarot readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

Pile 2

Pile 2, your pile is giving me messy relationship vibes. If some of you are in a "relationship" right now, I'm sensing that you're pretty aware it's not good for you in the long run, and also one partner is for the $$$, or it just seems toxic or transactional. There is no real emotional fulfillment here. Either you wanna stay committed to that "relationship" or a situation where you are obligated to behave or live a certain way. The ship you're in right now is sinking and you'd better find a lifeboat and jump off, or you will really regret it later. Someone's playing on you and messing with you behind the scenes, and you might already know who they are or be in denial. Some people around you are with you to gain something from you. They can be loyal to you, but are they honest? User vibes around you. A few of you may feel dead inside or feel like a deflated balloon. Your soul is screaming for you to "leave". Whatever the situation you are in right now, it's completely out of character for you and has thrown your whole life off track. Until you really let go of that relationship or situation, your true love won't show up and don't even dream about meeting them. The cards are showing that your happiness is just around the corner. A soulmate or a twin flame connection would enter your life once you completely get rid of whatever situation you're facing right now.

Bottom Line: You’re stuck in a situation/relationship that’s all take and no give (either money, status, sex, or all three). Until you cut it off, real love and real happiness won’t even come near you.

💌For astrology and tarot readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

Pile 3

Pile 3, you are your worst critic. I know there is one or two people in your life that's making your life a hell, or might treat you like a doormat, or are really undermining you. Is it your father or a boss? If not, a few of you who chose this pile may have a troubled relationship with your father or be entirely absent. A man - Gemini/Leo/Aries energy. His mercury can be in Rx. They may make you feel small and useless. You have the fear of going broke or what-ifs if you step out now. You’re more capable of independence than you admit. You doubt your own decisions and let guilt hold you back. I'm sorry, but a very few of you here could be from a dysfunctional home or have had an abusive childhood. Some of you may develop pessimistic thoughts or even su*cidal thoughts. Hope is 100% there for you, and you're close to shining on your own way. The Divine is waiting for you to bless you with its blessings.

Bottom Line: That boss or that father figure isn’t “guiding” you, they’re clipping your wings. The second you stop doubting yourself and walk away, you’ll see you’re stronger, freer, and destined for way more than their control, and you deserve happiness.

💌For astrology and tarot readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

Pile 4

Pretty independent energy here. You’ve built independence, but sometimes you hide behind it to avoid closeness. The Divine is pulling the strings in your direction and fate’s trying to spin in your favor, but you keep slamming on the brakes. You’re dragging something that should’ve ended long ago. It can be the project you abandoned or something you haven't finished yet...Also, I don't know why, but someone around you may be going thru a divorce or might be involved in an affair. It seems like you know who it is and if not, it will be revealed to you soon. Someone is dishonest in their life. Not you...you seem to be single. Whoever that person is, karma is getting to them fast. They are gonna pay for it. Yes, it would affect you personally. You are guarded and you're emotionally unavailable right now, not bcoz you don't believe in love but the fear of choosing the wrong person. You’re so guarded, even divine blessings need a password to get in. For a few of you, if you have a person in mind and are wondering if they really like you, yes, they do. The truth or the answer you’ve been waiting for is about to cut clean through. But they are hesitant to approach you, thinking you might reject them. You’re crawling forward like a tortoise and wondering why your love life feels stalled.

Bottom Line: You’re solid on your own, but you’re dragging dead weight and guarding yourself so tightly that blessings can’t reach you. The liars around you are about to eat their karma and your only job is to stop stalling and let the new chapter in.

💌For astrology and tarot readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

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jazziejax · 4 months ago

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𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Michael B.Jordan x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - The Sinners premiere…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of gross bodily fluids, twin nephews, rpf…

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I don’t know why I wrote this, I had an idea (that I still might do, because it invoked trailride MBJ…) and I felt like I needed context to the characters connection, so I wrote this. But it was also commenting to get different dynamics and creativity flowing. Sorry for any grammar mistakes or spelling errors.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,314+

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝟐��𝟐𝟓

“Will you stop rubbin’ your hands on the dress? You’re gonna get the fabric all spotty with your sweat.” The southern lily from the older woman next to her rang out in the black SUV. Her words were aimed at the woman sitting next to her, whose gaze was focused on the passing New York scenery out of the tinted window.

“The dress is black, you wouldn’t see it anyway.” The woman responded, not taking her eyes away from the yellow cabs she still wasn’t used to seeing, and she always had the same thought whenever she saw them soled by. Do people still even use taxi’s?

“Well, first off, the dress is a dark navy blue.” The woman next to her added, not missing a beat as she stared at her extremely nervous sister. “And second, not matter what, those camera are gonna catch those spots of oil and sweat.”

“Mentioning the cameras is not going to make me feel any less nervous, Ebony.” The other woman spoke back up, turning her head away from the window, blinking as she took in a sight other than the moving city, in what felt like hours. Her eyes automatically connected with ones that mirrored her own. The big brown orbs of her sister, a woman with a face so similar to hers, simply blinked as she pursed her lips.

“I want trying to make you feel any less nervous. I’m just telling you the truth so you’re not angry at the world later when you see photos of spots on your dress.” The woman, Ebony, answered sassily. “Ivory.” She added at the end, moving the girls walker comment.

Ivory rolled her eyes as she let out a small groan, slumping back in her seat and training her eyes back out of the window. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” She groaned.

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t eat.” Ebony grinned, moving her hand over to give the woman a small pat on the arm. Ivory cut her eyes to her sister, giving her a lethal side eye as she blinked hard. “I can throw you stomach acid.”

“You can only do that when you’re sick.” Ebony stated.

“Well I had a pop tart last night as a midnight snack and I still haven’t pooped out of sheer nervousness.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna throw up a pop tart.”

“Can you two quit your fussin’?” Another voice chimed into the conversation, causing both women’s eyes to move to the passenger seat of the SUV, where a teen girl that sat, dressed all nice with her make up and hair did. Her body was angled to look back at them, and she gave a sheepish smile at the cold glares she received in response. “Sorry.” She said, letting out a small laugh before she sat back in her seat correctly.

“Well I’m not.” Another voice chimed in, but this time from behind the women. It was a male voice, though not anything deep. The sister in the front didn’t even tune to look back at him, and he didn’t seemed to care as he continued. “I don’t want to hear about vomit and poo right now. And especially not my TT’s.” He said, letting out a small groan.

Ebony looked back at that, looking her son in the eye. “We’re all family here, Nasir, you can hear about your aunts bowl movements. It’s totally normal.” She said, and the car was instantly filled with laughs, though the woman was very serious.

“Yeah, Nas, don’t ruin the familial mood with your antisocial behavior.” Another male voice chimed in. Nasir sucked his teeth as she looked over at the male next to him, who shared his exact face. “Shut the hell up, Cai.”

“Uh!” Ebony, Ivory, and the girl in the front seat, all chimed in simultaneously, turning to look back at him.

“What your mouth, mister.”

“Nasir, you might be grown, but I’m still your mother. Don’t you use that language in front of me, you hear?”

“Oooo.”

Nasir smacked his lips, his down turned eyes blinking as he looked between his aunt and Mom. “My bad.” His eyes the drifted to the girl in the passenger seat, who was looking at him with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Moriah, quit being annoying. You’re acting like a child.” He hissed.

“It doesn’t matter how I act, I’m younger than you and you’re a man. Deal with it.” The girl deadpanned, not even bothering to acknowledge a response as she turned back around in her seat. Facing forward again made her glance over at the driver when the car started slowing down. She pursed her lips at the older white man. “Sorry about my family, they’re a bit country and immature.” She apologized playfully, in a tone that was meant to be low, but she knew her nosy family was listening. And it wasn’t like the statement wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Moriah!” The girl heard the entire back of the car yell at her, but she ignored them as she watched the old man chuckle. “It’s fine, car rides like this are my favorite. Better than the silence or whatever they play on the radio nowadays.” He said, his Italian accent a bit thick and something unlike Moriah’s ever heard with ear won ears. She was fascinated being in the Big Apple.

“Well, I’m glad you find amusement in this circus.” The nineteen year old girl continued. “So, how long you been doing this here job?” She asked.

“Not long, not longer than most. I’ve been driving around celebrities for about eight years now.” He said.

“What’s it like?”

“Rich, stop questioning him. That’s rude.” Ivory said. “Yeah, you sound like the police.” Cairo added from the far back, not even looking up from his phone. The girl was about to turn around in her seat, for the hundredth time again, to say something smart or her brother, but was stopped by the older gentleman speaking. “No, it’s alright. I like the question.” He stated. “The jobs not all too bad, but I’ve always been sort of an…observant man. And the stories that I have?…Let’s just say that my daughter love them.” He said, causing the car to erupt in light chuckles. “You all remind me of my family.” He added. “Very authentically yourself. I like that about you.”

“I don’t.” Ivory added, a small smile on her face as she looked out the window. Moriah let out a small gasp at that, looking back at her aunt. “What?” She asked, and though she tried to mock offense, the grin that was appearing on her face gave away her joke to those who knew before she even said it. “Why can’t be ourselves, huh? Why can’t I be me? Are you ashamed of us?”

“Very.” Ebony and Ivory said at the same time, and the car was instantly loud with laughter from them, though the joke might not have been fully understood on Ebony and the drivers end. And it seemed that was just the moment that was needed before the family had to exit the car, the vehicle slowing down making them privacy to the premier that was happening right outside. Moriah let out a small gasp again, moving to roll down her window a bit, and the loud city instantly met their ears over the already boisterous hustle and bustle that was New York City. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m at a movie premiere!” Moriah squealed with a large grin on her face.

Ivory, who was looking out of the window at the crowd full of screaming fans and flashing cameras with a dar away look in her, let out a small hum. “Me neither.” She mumbled. She blinked as the car pulled closer and closer to where they would have to get out and then walk the carpet. They pulled in beside some other cars and a gentleman in a black suit with an ear piece walked over and opened, Ivory’s door. They pulled in girl looked back at her sister one last time, knowing they would have to get it at another spot and then walk the carpet with her.

“The dress is black, not navy.” She said before getting out and closing the door behind her. And through she was nervous, her face held a small grin as she placed her hand on the man’s arm and he began to lead her away, all while she heard the sound of Mariah’s faint laugh since her window was still down.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The second Ivory’s heel touched the pavement, the world seemed to shift. Flashes from cameras exploded in front of her, bright and blinding, like tiny bolts of lightning striking her from every direction. The sound of the crowed became a muffled roar in her ears. A mixture of excited screams, shouted questions, and pulsing music from somewhere nearby all vibrated against her chest.

For a moment, she just stood there, feeling rooted to the spot almost like a deer in the headlights as she waited to step onto the carpet. And as soon as she did, it was like switch had been flipped as she beamed and waved at those around her. She tilted her chin up, pasted on a small but dazzling smile, and stepped fully onto the carpet.

The flashes only intensified as she moved forward, one slow and careful footstep after another, her hand gently skimming the fabric at her side to make sure she didn’t trip. Her dark…navy or black—she still wasn’t sure—dress shimmered under the lights, the silky fabric catching in the breeze.

“IVORY! IVORY, OVER HERE!”

“WHO ARE YOU WEARING?!”

“LOOK THIS WAY, BABY!”

The paparazzi were barking her name now, their voices cutting through the chaos. Ivory turned her head toward the shouting, her smile widening into something more natural, though it was mainly out of the pure nervousness she was feeling, showcasing her silver fanged grills. She adjusted her shoulders the way Ebony had instructed a hundred times — roll them back, open your chest, make yourself look taller — and tried her best not to blink against the assault of camera flashes. She struck another pose after pose, just a simple shift of her weight to one hip and a tilt of her head — and heard the reaction: a louder flurry of clicks and a few whistles from the crowd. She even gave a then a better show of her plated teeth, bringing her manicured nails up to pull lightly at her glossed lips, showing her silver canines, top and bottom. Another frenzy.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of how big all of this felt. But Ivory found herself laughing. A soft, genuine little chuckle that she tried to suppress but couldn’t quite keep inside.

And just like that, it wasn’t so terrifying anymore.

A man with a clipboard approached, motioning her forward toward the backdrop where more photographers stood.

Ivory walked with careful, deliberate steps, remembering every tip Ebony had crammed into her brain: small strides, no stomping, soft hands, relaxed face. She reached the backdrop and turned slightly, letting the train of her dress fan out behind her as she poked her leg out of her slit. The photographers barked at her again:

“TO YOUR LEFT!”

“GIVE US THAT SMILE!”

“SHOW US THE RING!”

Ivory blinked. Ring?

Oh — right. She had thrown on a few pieces of jewelry last minute, including a silver ring she wore on her right hands middle singer, one that she stated prior was her and Ebony’s good luck charms. She was surprised someone even revered that, and who ever said that had obviously done their research on her prior. She lifted her hand a little, showcasing the ring without making it obvious she had no clue what she was doing.

More flashes. More shouting.

The nerves were still there, fluttering like birds in her chest — but now, something else joined them.

Excitement.

Pride.

A growing sense of, Hey…maybe I belong here after all.

And even as she had that thought, those words quickly morphed into an all too familiar voice. One that’s been saying those exact words to her for months now. One that paired with a handsome face and brought her a warm feeling to her heart. She turned as she was posing, and it was as if her thoughts simply conjured him up. She spotted the familiar face out of the corner of her eye, but soon an another staff member waved at her, signaling it was time to start the walk down the carpet for interviews awaited.

Ivory gathered her courage, gave one last smile to the screaming crowd and the flashing cameras and turned toward the next part of the night.

Behind her, the flashbulbs popped like fireworks.

Ahead of her, the adventure of a lifetime was just beginning.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Ivory’s heels clicked softly against the carpet as she made her way toward the first interviewer. A woman with a sparkling microphone and an even sparklier smile waved her down, and Ivory paused in front of her, smoothing a hand over her hip.

“IVORY!” The woman chirped brightly, already grinning. “You look stunning tonight! How are you feeling?”

Ivory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, the nerves turning into something easier to carry. “I’m feeling…a lot, honestly.” She admitted with a soft laugh. “It’s overwhelming, but exciting. Like — I don’t know — stepping into a dream you didn’t even know you had until it’s right in front of you can be a bit much but it’s still something I appreciate. ”

The interviewer warmly at her. “Wow, that was so beautifully put. And might I say — your dress is everything! Absolutely to die for! The teeth?!” She complemented, causing Ivory to smile as she laughed. “Thank you, thank you.” She said, bowing her head a but at the woman in acknowledgment to her compliment. “Who are you wearing tonight?” The interviewer asked.

“Uh, it’s a Schiaparelli haute couture by Daniel Roseberry.” She responded in a soft one, feeling weird telling that information. This was her first time having to or simply being able to say things like that, and she still feeling the nervous buzz from being on the carpet. “It’s custom, we wanted something that sort of fits the edgy scheme of the film.” She added with a nod. The interviewer nodded with a polite smile before continuing and the rest of their time didn’t last even a few minutes until Ivory thanked her and moved forward to the next stop.

The second interviewer was a tall man in a sharp black suit, holding his mic a little closer to Ivory once she stepped up.

“Ivory, you’re having a huge moment right now. This is sort of your big acting debut, so tell us, what’s been the biggest pinch-me moment you’ve experienced so far?”

Ivory thought for a second, the lights glinting off her grills as she smiled thoughtfully. “Hmm, Honestly…it’s the people.” She said. “Being in rooms with like minded creatives and actors I grew up admiring, Like Delroy Linda and Omar Millar, and realizing they’re just people with dreams just like me. Very kind people. Some others have even become friends.” She hesitated for a heartbeat as her smile widened, her mind flickering to a particular someone. “People I hold dear to my heart now.” She finished, her grills nipping at her lips as she smiled. “So, yeah. It’s the people, definitely.” She nodded.

The man leaned in, intrigued. “You’re smiling, are there some names you wanna drop there?” He asked with a grin.

Ivory laughed, flashing her silver canines. “Not yet.” She teased. “Gotta keep a few things to myself.” She said, and they shared a small laugh before he asked her a few more questions and then she was onto to the next.

She moved on to the last interviewer, who was waiting for her at the far end of the carpet. This woman was about her age, deep brown skin and sharp-eyed. She greeted Ivory warmly. “Miss Ivory.” She said, her voice smooth and practiced. “Congratulations. I have to say — you are truly a vision tonight.”

“Thank you so much.” Ivory said shyly as she poached a hand on her shoulder. “You look amazing as well.” She then gave the woman a small curtsey that made the her chuckle. “Now, I have to ask.” The interviewer continued, tilting her head slightly. “We’ve seen the trailer, we’ve seen the leading man.” She began, causing Ivory to let out a laugh, already knowing where this conversation was going. “And we’ve seen the reviews about how sexy this movie truly gets. So me, and the people, want to know if the rumors are true and your character is involved with a certain main character?” The woman asked, amusement clear on her face. Ivory laughed, a genuine laugh leaving her lips. “Oh wow.” She chuckled, her silver fangs poking at her bottom lip as she grinned. “Uh, I can’t say.” She answered with a shrug. “You’ll honestly have to watch the film to see. I know the trailer shows moments between Michael and Hailee, but there’s a clip of me and him in there, but you all will have to see how it all plays out.” She said.

The interviewer hummed before looking back at the camera behind her. “There it is guys, she’s gonna be getting steamy with Michael B. Jordan.” She said and Ivory’s cheeks warmed at that as she laughed — and before she could figure out how to politely stir the conversation else where, a familiar hand gently touched the small of her back.

She turned — and there he was.

Michael.

Looking heartbreakingly good in a sleek blue suit with black lapels, a grin spreading across his face the second their eyes met, showing his similar silver fanged grills. “Sorry to interrupt.” Michael said, his voice low and warm, but easily picked up by the cameras. He slid his hand from her back to gently take her hand, lifting it to press a kiss just above her knuckles. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” He said to her, looking her in the eye. Ivory grinned up at him, not saying anything but a soft ‘Hi’ that the microphone caught.

The interviewer blinked, delighted — as did the few from the crowd that caught the sight of their main man.

“No interruption at all.” The woman laughed. “In fact, you having perfect timing. We were just talking about you.”

Michael smiled as he turned to the interviewer, never quite letting go of Ivory’s hand. “I just couldn’t let her stand here answering questions about me without at least showing my face.” He said and Ivory let out a soft, slightly breathless laugh, looking up at him in a way that said more than any words could. The interviewer, picking up instantly on the energy between them, smiled knowingly. “We were just speaking on your characters potential connection in the movie and you two seem very comfortable together. The people out there want more of this bond.”

Michael squeezed Ivory’s hand gently, his thumb stroking the back of it like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “She’s the absolute best. My best girl.” He said simply, looking at Ivory, not the cameras. “I’m her biggest fan.” He said, knowing that the words would affect the girl. Which was proved right by the way she ducked her head at his words with a large smile on her face. The crowd nearby let out a soft chorus of laugh, as well as some aww’s, and the flashes from the cameras picked up again when she looked back up at him.

#michael b jordan x black reader #michealbjordan x reader #michealbjordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #micheal b jordan #michaelbjordan #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan #jazziejaxwriting

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standfucker · 1 year ago

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Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand.

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how.

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle.

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were.

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought.

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest.

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.”

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you.

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside.

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition.

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter.

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #rosinante x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #x reader #blackbeard x reader #marshall d teach x reader #zen writes

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peanutpinet · 8 months ago

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OK HAI I HAD AN IDEA FOR INNOCENT READER X SYLUS (or normal reader), so. innocent reader and sylus just had a baby (like around crawling age) and mc is cooking and the baby just crawls off because she saw sylus for like 2 seconds and follows him into a meeting and sylus notices her (she starts babbling) and he laughs as his daughter is now apart of the meeting and when mc finds them shes knocked out on sylus’ chest while the twins coo over her (maybe covered in bloodddd)

Little Dragon - Father Sylus x Mother Innocent Fem Reader

A/N: Hi anon, thank you for requesting! Sorry it took so long and if the story doesn't match your request exactly but I hope you still enjoy the story

Question, do you guys think I should make this into a series? If so, would you guys like to send in more requests of Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader? Let me know!!

Also, imma need to know what you guys think of Caleb's return? Did not expect a blunt yandere/possessive theme for him like, can 22 January come any sooner?!

Warnings: fluff, slight aggressive tone (not sylus), implied "torture", overall wholesome story of Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader with their lil dragon

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credit goes to the image's respective owners.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry for not being able to help you for dinner. A sudden meeting came up but I’ll make sure to make it up to you” Sylus murmured as he wrapped his large arms around your small figure, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you were cooking dinner

Though it’s been years since you first dated and two years since you both got married and had a baby girl, you still get goosebumps whenever Sylus is close or does anything intimate

“Sy…it’s okay…but can you like umm, get off? You’re umm…you’re distracting me. I need to cook” you stuttered while you felt Sylus’ warm laughter right at your neck, sending a wave of goosebumps all over your body

“Oh sweetie” Sylus tightens his hold slightly around your waist, not so much that you couldn’t move but enough for you to know his slightly attachment towards you. “Even after all these years, you’re still easily flustered. I thought you would have gotten used to me being clingy”

Sylus pressed a soft lingering kiss on the side of your neck right between your neck and shoulder. “What would your business partners or enemies think off when they see you being clingy like this” you barely uttered, trying to keep composed while Sylus chuckled and gave you a lingering kiss on the side of your neck before reluctantly pulling away

“Who cares about what they think? As long as you and our lil dragon are always with me, I could care less about what everyone else thinks” Sylus mentioned, now standing beside you, rubbing your shoulders

You looked over at Sylus smiling and kissed his cheeks while you were on your tiptoe with Sylus’ hand around your waist to stabilize you. “We’ll always love you, sy. You’re both our first love, our protector, our home”

Hearing you say all this, Sylus couldn’t help but gently hold your chin and softly kissing your lips. To him, your lips were more addicting than anything he had ever tasted; including his collection of wine. “You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that. It makes me want to just forget about the meeting and spend more time with you and our lil dragon”

Hearing Sylus’ words, you turned off the stove and turned to face Sylus. “I know love. But you also need to handle your businesses. You have to make sure that everything is running smoothly. I’ll reward you with lots of kisses afterwards yeah?”

Hearing your bargain, Sylus smirked and pulled you closer. “That better me a promise, sweetie. You know what I do to liars” Sylus leaned down so his lips were right by your ear as he nibbled them a bit. “I’d punish them”

Feeling the heat rushed to your cheeks, you immediately shoved him backwards. “Okay okay, I get it. Don’t forget to kiss your lil dragon before you go to your meeting”

Sylus let out a rough sigh as he kissed your cheek once more before walking to the playmate where your daughter fell asleep after playing for a while. Seeing your daughter sprawled across the playmate with her crow and dragon plushie, Sylus kneeled down and lifted her, bringing her closer to him as he placed a gentle kiss on top of her head, nose, and cheeks.

“Sorry lil dragon. Daddy got some work to finish off but I promise I’ll finish up quickly to come back to you and mommy. Don’t trouble your mommy okay? Otherwise, daddy is going to get punished by mommy”

Sylus chuckled as he gently placed his daughter back on the playmate, making sure to not wake her up as he pulled her blankie on her then slowly got back up and headed to his meeting room; not knowing that his daughter was actually awake when he kissed her.

Neither you nor Sylus noticed but when your daughter felt Sylus’ lips on her face, she started to wake up but knowing your daughter, she was quite a calm baby that sometimes the both of you would often miss when she was awake unless one of you actually paid attention closely.

Without either of you knowing, your daughter crawled to follow Sylus into his meeting room which he didn’t close, allowing her to crawl into the room which didn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the room, including his business partner.

“W-what the? A baby?” Sylus’ business partner and men who were on guard, worried that Sylus brought in additional security all of a sudden

“D-dadda!!” the baby crawled over to Sylus, ignoring the presence of powerful men in the room because she only had one thing on her mind and that was getting to her dad

“What on earth is the meaning of this, Sylus?” his business partner scowled

Sylus didn’t even bother to reply to his business partner and kneeled on the ground, waiting for his daughter to crawl over to him before scooping her up and praising her for crawling. “That’s my baby girl. Such a strong and resilient little one just like her mom”

The baby giggled in Sylus’ arms as he sat back in his chair, letting his daughter cuddle with her father, ignoring the unpleasant stares in the room and played with Sylus’ necklace. “What? Never seen a baby before?”

“No. More so irritated that our conversation is interrupted. You’re not the only one that’s busy around here” his business partner scoffed and Sylus held back using his evol when his daughter is around

“Is that so?” Sylus tried not to sound irritated to not scare his daughter as he patted her back, bringing her to his chest where she snuggled closer

“One can never be so sure with you, Sylus. Who knows, that little menace of a child might actually be someone that’s shapeshifting. Or is this part of your plan, Sylus?” the business partner went on to the point that Sylus’ daughter cried as she was able to detect that she was being called out and insulted

The moment his daughter cried, that was Sylus’ breaking point. He cooed his daughter, telling her sweet things in her ear while patting her small back, making her cuddle him like a baby koala to its mother.

“The deal is over. See to it that these low lives are punished for talking about my daughter like that” as Sylus stood up, both Luke and Kieran along with his other men pointed their weapons at his business partner.

“Come lil dragon, how about we go play for a bit, yeah?” Sylus cooed his daughter who giggled and snuggled her cheeks against his while Sylus brought her to his special room in his office that he built when you were pregnant with his daughter

Sylus built the extension room to his office specifically so that you can take care of your daughter if you ever got bored waiting for him during a meeting or anything else. Sylus made sure the room had everything that you would need. A big enough bed, baby clothes and essentials, a small connected bathroom (when we say small, Sylus meant the size of a regular apartment bedroom) along with some books and toys. But the best thing about it all was that it was babyproof, soundproof, and safe from potential disaster.

By the time you finished cooking dinner, you went over to the playmate, about to wake your daughter up when you realised she was nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, you frantically rushed to Sylus’ meeting room where Luke and Kieran were cleaning up the place and pointed at the extended room. Without wasting anytime, you opened the door to see your daughter fell asleep on Sylus’ chest while he patted her small back, watching some cartoons for babies.

You smiled at the sight, walking closer and grabbing a blanket to wrap around yourself with your husband who welcomed you with an open arm and smile and your baby girl.

Sylus kissed the side of your head, apologising for not bringing your daughter back when he noticed her coming into the meeting room. “Sorry sweetie, I can’t help it when she crawled all the way to me and even extended her little hands at me. You know I’m weak for her and you”

Smiling, you shake your head and kissed his cheek. “As long as there’s no violence or cursing in front of her, right?” Sylus immediately shook his head. “Never. Not while I’m around”

“Then all is good” you laid your head on Sylus’ shoulder while he used his free hand to stroke your hair. “By the way, where’s your business partner? How did they react when they saw our babygirl in here?”

Sylus stopped stroking your hair for a moment before giving you a shrug. “That’s non of your concern sweetie. But I’ll tell you this much. Anyone who made our lil dragon cry will get the wrath of her dragon father”

Shaking your head, you decided to not further question him and enjoyed this moment with your little family while Luke and Kieran secretly cooed at the sight, taking lots of pictures to keep for all of you.

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mlchaelwheeler · 3 months ago

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Will's Powers in S5: A Deep Dive (lol)

After starting a rewatch of s1-4 since the s5 teaser drop, @frodohaven and I feel like we've cracked (a bit of) the code for Will and his powers in S5.

There's been much speculation that Will has fire powers due to the constant "fireballing" he does in the DnD campaigns and the fact that the upside down (UD)'s weakness is fire. While this is close, I'm like 99.9% sure Will actually has electricity powers, most likely acquired during his time in the UD. It's also possible he was born with them, but I'm not going to get into the origins of his powers here, that's for another time.

The Evidence:

All the way back in 1x01, Will manages to contact Joyce by phone from the UD. This is likely the first time he's using his powers, and he doesn't really know what he's doing. However, it's possible the UD is able to enhance his powers, allowing him to communicate with Joyce mere hours after being taken. The phone call ends with lightning coming out of the phone, zapping Joyce and burning the phone. Will most likely lost control of his powers when the demogorgon nearly caught him, as heard through the phone call. Throughout S1 we see Joyce damage a lot of phones due to the electricity.

Later in S1, Will is able to communicate with Joyce through a bundle of christmas lights. We know lights are inherently tied to the UD, as Joyce and Hopper make the christmas lights spark for Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve in 1x08 as they traverse through the UD. What's interesting about Will though is that he's directly able to control the lights. He causes them to blink "once for yes, twice for no." He makes all the lamps in his bedroom shine in sync when Joyce asks him to do it. He spells out "R U N" with the christmas lights when Joyce talks to him. These aren't random light occurrences that come from proximity like we saw from other characters. Will has a real control over electricity from the UD.

While most of the evidence is from S1, there's a reason for that. As Will isn't aware he has powers yet, being in the UD (for the entirety of S1) is likely how he's able to manifest his powers so easily. He's possessed in S2 and in the normal world in S3-4, so he doesn't have the UD acting as a conduit or enhancer anymore. He's still connected to the UD, hence his "spidey sense," but isn't able to tap into his powers just yet.

Will's Powers Vs. El's Powers

Something very interesting that's become a motif throughout the entire show is the dichotomy of El and Will. In S1, they are constantly mistaken for each other. They switch places almost exactly: Will disappears, El appears. El disappears and Will reappears. They become siblings and are most likely mistaken for twins at school in S4. They've always been 2 sides of the same coin. How does this fit in with their powers?

In 1x02, there is a flashback to Hawkin's Lab in which El, presumably after using her powers, is thrown in a closet and locked inside. Why can't she just escape? If we look closely at the closet, it's lined with metal walls and a metal floor. It seems to be copper, a conductor of electricity. So if copper acts as an inhibitor for El's powers (which was never brought up again in the show after S1, which is interesting...) what enhances them? Water.

We see many many instances of El relying on water to enhance her powers throughout the seasons. In S1, she is submerged in a water tank. She walks in water in The Void. She needs a pool in order to find Will in 1x07. She needs the running shower water to find Billy in 3x03. She needs a sensory deprivation tank (NINA) in 4x05 to regain her powers. She needs a makeshift pool from a freezer in 4x08 to save Max in the UD.

Why is this important? Let's look at this in regards to Will. If El and Will are 2 sides of the same coin, opposites, maybe their powers work the same way. The inhibitor of El's powers, copper, would be the enhancer of Will's powers. As a strong conductor of electricity, copper would perfect sense as something that would enhance Will's powers once he is able to use them in the normal world. Perhaps this is what will allow him to channel his powers and save the day. More on that below.

Let's focus now on water, the inhibitor of Will's powers if it enhances El's. One thing that's well known about the UD is that there is no water there. That's always been interesting and unexplained. If Will did in fact create the UD (or shape it into the UD the characters interact with in the show), he subconsciously made sure to exclude water, something that would dampen or inactivate his powers. It's been hinted at multiple times by the ST official twitter (especially around S4) that "water is dangerous" or there's "no water available" or there's a lack of water overall. Why specifically focus on this when it didn't impact S4 much?

How Will This Play Out in S5?

From the teaser that dropped last week, most of us have noticed that Mike and Will are both shown to be fully drenched while all the other characters are bone dry. While Will's isn't clearly visible in the screen cap from the teaser, there was a pic posted on the ST official account of Will soaking wet that has since been mysteriously deleted.

While we don't have a lot to go on for S5 yet, we do know that Vol 1 will include episodes 1-4, and Vol 2 will start with episode 5, meaning episode 4 is going to end of some kind of crazy cliffhanger. What better cliffhanger than Will realizing he has powers? 5x04 is titled "Sorcerer."

From the teaser, it's clear Mike and Will will be spending most of the season together. It's been theorized that they will go into the UD at some point on a solo mission. We know from S4 that there is a gate to the UD at the bottom of Lover's Lake, which the older teens use to travel to the UD by swimming down into the gate. It's possible that Mike and Will use this gate to enter the UD at some point in 5x04.

Once back in the UD for the first time since he escaped from there in S1, Will could experience a resurgence in his powers. Being back in the UD will likely also cause Vecna to realize Will is there, and he will be an easy target. Will and Mike make their exit back through the gate in Lover's Lake, but as water dampens Will's powers, it may be even more damaging to him now that he's just realized his powers. He may go unconscious underwater and Mike may have to drag him to shore and revive him. It may be the reason Will seems to be unconscious or "out of it" in the screen cap from the trailer (above).

It's likely some part of this "power's realization / unconscious Will / Lover's Lake gate" will be the cliffhanger between Vol 1 and Vol 2. When we pick back up with 5x05, Will, Mike, Joyce, and Holly's friends seem to be at some sort of military checkpoint or base. The teaser shows the military have tried to close up the rift (with metal) but something is breaking out of the UD, possibly following Will (and Mike) after they escaped from the gate in Lover's Lake.

It's also important to note 5x05 is titled "Shock Jock," possibly a reference to electricity and Will finally using his powers. After being weakened by the water in Lover's Lake, perhaps something (copper? metal?) is able to enhance Will's powers, allowing him to finally manifest his powers in the normal world against whatever monster is breaking out of the rift. It may even lead to the infamous shot of Will from the end of the teaser (below). If he's unable to fully control his powers, he would want Mike and Joyce far away from him if he's fighting the UD monster with electricity.

As a last note, it's also important to bring up the final showdown with Vecna. While this won't just involve Will (El will likely be there too), the show does start and end with Will. Vecna came for him first. He was specifically targeting Will in 1x01. Will is going to have to fight him. Back in S4, there was a flashback of Henry Creel becoming Vecna, in which he is absolutely fried by lightning. While this wasn't Will at the time, it's possible this was foreshadowing to what will defeat Vecna once and for all.

After all, lightning starts fires, and it's been shown time and time again that Vecna and the monsters of the UD can be stopped by fire. Will's speciality is casting fireballs, so it's likely his powers will be a major contribution to the end of the UD and Vecna.

While much of this is simply speculation, there is a good amount of strong evidence that suggests Will is going to have powers in S5, and electricity seems like a plausible choice. It's also worth mentioning that on Mike's official playlist, the song "Are Friends Electric" is listed, which could be a nod to Will's powers. It would also support Flickergate, for all my insane theorizers out there!

Edit: I realized @threemanoperation has also theorized something similar here. Please also go read this analysis!

#guys i'm SO back (to my insane theorizing)#hadley thank you for helping me come up with this bc. dang we popped off with this one i think #byler #will byers #stranger things #stranger things 5 #sarah.txt #loverslakegate #flickergate

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stellaspectral · 25 days ago

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The Quiet You Bring (fluff/mild angst)

💙 Bayverse Leonardo/Female Reader 💙

A/N: This is a commission I’ve done for @bkwrm523 💙🐢

Enjoy!! 😊

CWs: Fluff, mild angst, mutual pining, themes of low self-esteem & insecurity, hurt/comfort, confessions, first kiss, and a happy ending. All characters are aged-up.

The sound of the lair is something you’ve grown to love.

You can pick out the humming of Donnie’s servers from his lab, the clatter of Mikey in the kitchen attempting some culinary monstrosity, and the rhythmic thuds from Raph’s room where he’s pulverizing his punching bag.

It’s the sound of home.

You’re on the couch, with April sitting beside you, scrolling through her phone as she does some research for a news report she’s working on. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be drawing. But your pencil has been still for the better part of ten minutes. Your gaze, as it so often does when you’re here, has drifted and snagged on a single point of focus.

Leo’s near the entrance to the dojo. He’s performing a series of kata, his twin katanas a blur of silver. He moves with a lethal grace that seems utterly incongruous with someone of his size and bulk. The light catches the intricate patterns on his skin, intense concentration etched onto his face.

He’s now practicing a move that could disarm a dozen armed men. Yesterday, your biggest challenge was navigating a self-checkout machine that kept insisting there was an ‘unexpected item in the bagging area.’ A sigh, soft and wistful, escapes you before you can stop it. It’s soft, but April catches it.

“Staring at your boyfriend again?” she teases, her eyes still glued to her phone, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

Heat floods your face, a mortifyingly swift blush you know is turning you the color of a ripe tomato.

You snap your head back down to your sketchbook, your pencil suddenly feeling clumsy in your now sweaty hand. “He’s not my boyfriend, April,” you mumble, the words sticking to your tongue. You shade a section of your drawing with far more vigor than necessary, nearly tearing the paper.

“Could be,” she says, finally looking over at you. A knowing, slightly exasperated smirk plays on her lips. “You just have to, you know, actually talk to him. Form complete sentences. Make eye contact for more than two-point-five seconds.”

“I talk to him!” you protest, your voice squeaking on the last word. And you do. You’re the queen of monosyllabic communication. You say “Hi,” and “Thanks,” and occasionally, a daring “Good night.” Landmark conversations, every single one of them.

April just raises an eyebrow. “Honey, I’ve seen you have deeper conversations with your houseplants. Seriously, what’s the hold-up? He’s a good guy.”

You risk a glance back at him. He’s finishing his forms, sheathing his swords. For a moment, he bows his head as he regulates his breathing. He’s the leader. The responsible one. The one who carries the weight of his entire family on his shoulders. He’s noble and serious and so devastatingly handsome in a way that makes your stomach do frantic little flips.

“That’s the problem,” you confess to April, your voice thick with a hopeless sort of admiration. “He’s not just a ‘good guy.’ He’s … Leo. He fights aliens and robot-samurai and saves the city on, like, a biweekly basis. He’s a hero.”

You look down at your own hands, at the smudges of graphite on your fingertips and the chipped polish on your nails. You think of your small apartment, your part-time job at the library, your perfectly normal life that was so completely and irrevocably upended the day you stumbled into April’s world—and, by extension, the turtles’.

“And what am I?” The words tumble out now, a torrent of insecurity you can no longer contain. “I’m just … me. Ordering coffee makes me nervous. I trip over my own feet on flat surfaces. He’s … he’s so completely out of my league it’s not even funny. We’re not even playing the same sport. He’s in the Super Bowl and I’m in the stands, spilling soda all over my lap.”

April gives you a sympathetic look. “I don’t think he sees it that way.”

“How could he not?” you sigh, finally closing your sketchbook. “It’s just a fact.”

You don’t notice the change in the room. You don’t see the way Leo, who had finished his cooldown and turned to head towards the kitchen for a bottle of water, had frozen mid-step. You don’t see the way his shoulders tense, and his eyes widen just a fraction. Because he heard.

Every self-deprecating word.

He remains perfectly still—listening until April changes the subject and the two of you are deep into another conversation. Only then does he finally move, a troubled expression on his face as he heads back to his room.

The next few days are … strange.

The change in Leo is almost imperceptible at first, so subtle you’re convinced you’re just projecting your own ridiculous hopes onto him.

When you all gather to watch a movie, he doesn’t take his usual spot in the armchair. Tonight, he bypasses it completely and settles on the couch. Not right next to you—that would probably make your heart combust on the spot—but close. Close enough that his arm is only a few inches from yours where it rests on the back of the couch.

Your body is ramrod straight, your popcorn forgotten, your entire being focused on not accidentally brushing your hand against his. And so, you spend the entire two-hour runtime of the cheesy sci-fi flick acutely, painfully aware of his proximity.

A few nights later, the strangeness escalates. During dinner, while Mikey is proudly presenting his latest masterpiece, Leo speaks. Directly to you.

“Did you finish that book you were reading?” he asks. His voice is a low, pleasant rumble.

You jump, nearly dropping your slice of pizza. A week ago, you mentioned the book off-handedly to Donnie. You’re floored that Leo not only heard but actually retained that information.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer, your eyes darting down to your plate. “It was … it was great.”

“What was it about?” he presses, his tone genuinely curious.

Your mind goes completely blank. You can’t remember the plot, the characters, or even the title of the book you’ve spent the last few days completely engrossed in. All you can think is, Leo is talking to me. Don’t say something stupid. Don’t say something stupid!

“Space,” you finally squeak out. “And, um … feelings.”

Raph snorts from across the table. “Sounds deep.”

Leo shoots his brother a glare that could melt steel before turning his attention back to you, his expression softening. “It sounds interesting,” he says, and he sounds like he means it.

Mikey wiggles his eyebrows at you. Donnie simply pushes his glasses up his nose, a flicker of something curious in his eyes as he observes the interaction.

The small, focused interactions continue to pile up.

He asks your opinion on a strategic problem he’s mapping out, valuing your “outside perspective.” He makes a point of saving you a cup of the good tea Master Splinter keeps for special occasions. You even receive a compliment on one of your sketches, with him telling you that you have a way of “seeing the beauty in ordinary things.”

The invitation to the dojo was the most terrifying, though.

“I need a spotter,” he’d said, his voice even.

You stand awkwardly near the door as he goes to the center of the mat and moves into a one-handed handstand. The sheer power required is breathtaking. He has muscles of corded steel, and his entire body presents a study in focus.

“You see?” he grunts, his voice tight with effort. “Tell me if my alignment shifts.”

You have no idea what proper handstand alignment looks like, but you nod anyway, your mouth dry. “You’re … you’re good. Very … straight.”

A low chuckle escapes him, causing him to wobble for a second. “Eloquent as always.” He isn’t mocking you; his tone was warm, amused. He holds the pose for another ten seconds before landing silently on his feet. “Thanks. It helps to have someone watching.” He gives you a small smile that makes your knees weak.

Each small gesture is a fresh wave of confusion.

Your shy, insecure heart can’t process it. A part of you—a hopeful, fluttering part—thinks that maybe April was right. But the much louder, more dominant part of your brain—the part that has been in charge for most of your life—screams that this is all an elaborate act of pity. He overheard your pathetic little confession and now he feels sorry for you.

He’s just being nice, trying to make the timid little human girl feel included. The thought is so mortifying it makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

The breaking point comes a week after your conversation with April. You’re in the kitchen, trying to wash your dinner plate. Sometimes, you swear the faucet has the pressure of a fire hose. You’ve sprayed a fine mist of water all over the front of your shirt. Frustrated and embarrassed, you let out a huff of annoyance.

“Need a hand?”

You spin around, your heart leaping into your throat. Leo is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual ease that you find utterly captivating.

“N-no! I’m fine,” you stammer, turning back to the sink and scrubbing at your plate with unnecessary force. “Just … wrestling the faucet. It’s winning.”

He chuckles. He pushes off the doorframe and walks towards you. The kitchen suddenly feels claustrophobic. He reaches around you, his body a solid wall at your back, his large hand easily gripping the nozzle. With a simple twist, the water pressure evens out to a gentle, manageable stream.

“It sticks sometimes,” he says, his voice soft and impossibly close to your ear. “You have to know the trick to it.”

You are frozen solid. Your entire being is focused on the scant inches between your back and his plastron. You can smell the clean, freshly washed scent of his skin, of whatever body wash he uses. It’s intoxicating and completely overwhelming. Your brain has officially short-circuited.

“Thanks,” you whisper, rinsing your plate in record time and practically launching it into the drying rack.

You need to flee. Now.

You turn to squeeze past him, your eyes to the floor. “I should, uh … I have to go.”

“Wait.”

His voice is gentle, but it stops you in your tracks. Reluctantly, you lift your head. He’s looking down at you, his blue eyes searching your face. There’s no pity in them. There’s something else, something you can’t quite decipher. It looks like … frustration? And something softer.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks, his voice quiet.

Your throat closes up. “What? No! Why would I—I’m not.” Your denial is weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.

A sigh escapes him. “I heard you,” he says, his gaze unwavering, pinning you in place. “That night. On the couch. I heard what you said to April.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

The floor beneath you might as well have given way. Every ounce of blood and color drains from your face, leaving you cold and clammy. You want to run, to scream, to teleport back to your apartment and never show your face here again. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable letdown.

“You think I’m out of your league,” he states.

You can only manage a tiny, jerky nod, your eyes still closed. You can’t bear to look at him.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice still soft, but with an undercurrent of command you can’t ignore.

Hesitantly, you open your eyes. He hasn’t moved. He’s still standing there, looking at you with an intensity that steals the very breath from your lungs.

“You’re wrong,” he says simply, bluntly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“You’re wrong,” he repeats, a little more forcefully this time. “You have it completely backward.” He steps closer, forcing you to crane your neck to maintain eye contact. “You see this?” He gestures to himself. “You see a hero. A leader. You know what I see when I look in the mirror? I see the mistakes I’ve made, the times I’ve put my family in danger, the pressure of trying to be what everyone needs me to be.”

His voice drops lower, becoming more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “My brothers … they’re my entire world. But they look at me and see the Leader. Raph sees a rival to challenge. Donnie sees a strategist to consult. Mikey sees the fun-police who needs to lighten up. Splinter looks at me and sees the dutiful son, the one who must uphold his honor. They all need something from me constantly.”

He pauses, his eyes boring into yours. “But you,” he says, his voice softening again, “when you look at me … I don’t know. It’s different.” A small, fond smile touches his lips for a fleeting second. “You look at me like I’m just Leo. When you’re here, you bring this … quiet with you. A sense of peace.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if steeling himself for an ice-cold plunge.

“You think I’m out of your league? Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to talk to you? I’m trained to face down adversaries. I’m not trained for … this.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “I spend ten minutes trying to work up the courage to ask you about a book, and my heart is pounding harder than when I was facing down Shredder. You think I’m some perfect, noble hero? You make me so nervous I can barely think straight.”

You stare at him, your mouth slightly agape, your mind reeling. Your carefully constructed reality—the one where you are the insignificant, star-struck human and he is the unattainable, heroic mutant—is shattering into a million pieces. He’s nervous? Around you?

“You—you’re serious?” you breathe.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” he says, his gaze fierce and true. “The reason I started talking to you more wasn’t pity. It was because I heard you say you thought you weren’t good enough, and it was the most fundamentally incorrect thing I had ever heard. I wanted to prove you wrong. I wanted to show you that I see you. The real you. The one who has the gentlest, most peaceful soul I’ve ever had the honor of knowing.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. But also tears of disbelief, of overwhelming, heart-swelling relief.

“I … I like you, Leo,” you say, the confession finally, finally breaking free. “I like you so much it physically hurts sometimes.”

A slow, breathtaking smile spreads across his face—and it’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. “Good,” he rumbles, the sound full of its own relief. “Because I really, really like you, too.”

He lifts a hand, his large palm moving with incredible slowness, as if giving you every chance to pull away. He gently, reverently cups your cheek, his thumb stroking over your skin. You lean into his touch instinctively, your eyes fluttering shut as you savor the contact.

“So,” he murmurs, “just to be perfectly clear … we’re in the same league?”

You open your eyes, a watery laugh bubbling up from your chest. “Yeah, Leo,” you whisper, your hand coming up to rest on his wrist, feeling the powerful tendons beneath his skin. “We’re in the same league.”

“Good,” he says again, and then he closes the small distance between you.

His kiss is nothing like you could have imagined in your wildest, most vivid daydreams. It’s not fierce or demanding, or clumsy. It’s tentative, and gentle, and so unbelievably sweet it makes you dizzy. You melt into it, all your fear and insecurity and self-doubt dissolving, replaced by a radiant, soaring happiness that feels bright enough to light up the whole lair.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. You stay like that for a long, perfect moment, just breathing each other in. It’s just the two of you, in your own quiet universe.

From the doorway, a loud voice breaks the spell.

“FINALLY!”

You both jump apart, your faces flushing. Mikey is standing there, a grin stretching from ear to ear, giving you two enthusiastic thumbs-up. Peering over his shoulder is Donnie, who adjusts his glasses and offers a satisfied smile. And leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, is Raph. He rolls his eyes dramatically, but you can’t miss the ghost of a genuine smirk playing on his lips.

“Took you long enough,” he says, before shaking his head and heading back towards the dojo.

Leo groans, hiding his face in his hand for a second in embarrassment. But when he looks back at you, he’s smiling. He takes your hand, his fingers lacing through your smaller ones, a perfect, comfortable fit.

“Sorry about them,” he says, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “They have no concept of privacy.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, your own smile so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “They’re your family.”

“Welcome to the family then,” he says.

He leads you back to the couch, sitting down so close your knees touch. There’s a movie playing, but neither of you is watching.

“So,” he says, turning to face you fully. “Now that we’ve established we’re in the same league …” He looks down at your joined hands, a contemplative look on his face. Then he looks back up at you, his eyes full of a warmth and affection that makes you feel like the most cherished person in the world. “Would you be interested in seeing a game? With me? Not in the stands, though. Maybe a private box?”

“A private box?” you laugh.

“Yeah,” he says, his gaze soft. “My favorite rooftop, a couple of pizzas, and no brothers allowed. How’s that for a first date?”

You lean your head on his shoulder. “Sounds perfect.”

#my writing #completed commissions #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse leo #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse leo x reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #not posted on ao3

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thehoodsweetheart · 3 months ago

Text

A/N: I had this work in my drafts for a while and decided to put it out. I would love feedback. It’s a bit on the rough side and lengthy. (Probably should have been 2 Parts but I rolling with it). I’ve said it before and nothing has changed, my characters/readers are black.

Word Count: 4,410

StackxBlackOC

Warnings: Profanity, drama, tension, toxic arguments, angst, betrayal

Summary: Anastasia left town before the SmokeStack Twins skipped town to chase dreams in Chicago with secrets and a broken heart. What was meant to be a short trip back to Houston, TX turns into a reckoning with the past she thought she buried.

The bassline of "Before I Let Go" by Frankie Beverly and Maze blasted through the speakers as if on cue when Anastasia “Stacey” Prince stepped into her father’s house. Normally that was a signal that it’s about time to leave the cookout. From the litany of cars that filled the driveway and trailed down both sides of the street, the party was in full swing. Plenty of red Dixie cups in hand, conversations trying to beat the music's volume, dominoes, spades, the NBA finals on one of the tv’s drawing a crowd were all signals that this served as a reunion of sorts.

She silently thanked God the house had the air conditioner on despite the frequent traffic in and out of the home. She was no stranger to heat or humidity, but she had gotten spoiled living in the mild yet warm weather of Los Angeles. She did not miss that Texas heat, actually southern heat generally. When her parents divorced while she was young, her mom took their kids back to her hometown of Ladera Heights, part of the Black Beverly Hills of Los Angeles, CA. Stacey and her brother spent most of their time in LA but winter and summer breaks in Houston or Slidell, Louisiana with their dad. She had a love for Texas though. That love had brought her back for college at TSU. Her brother on the other hand was sent to live with their father when he was in high school due to too many fights.

The smell of barbecue filled the air thick enough to choke somebody. She gripped her sons’ hands tighter as she made her way through the crowded house trying to also maintain a hold of a gift bag. The two seven year olds were practically dragging her to get to the backyard ready to play with the kids. Through the crowd they could see the bounce house and other kids chasing each other around it. Stacey offered a warm smile and small hellos to her relatives and her father’s friends before she heard his boisterous laugh.

“Slow down. Y’all don’t even know where y’all goin!” Stacey fussed at her hyperactive boys in a hushed voice. They were far less interested in the introductions to family that arguably they should have already known. The boys were eager to play.

“Whoaaa! There goes my baby girl. And who are these big boys dragging her around?” His light brown eyes gleamed as he stretched his arms out wide. The boys laughed and jumped into his arms in excitement. Richard Sr. tickled his grandsons making them squeal deep dimples accenting their snaggletooth smiles. “Hey Sweets.” He leaned, placing a small peck on her forehead.

“Happy Birthday Dad! Why didn't you tell me you were having a party?” Stacey chastised him.

“Get that stick out ya butt! It’s just a cookout. You look like you’re dressed for a party anyway. Maybe not this one…” He motioned to her outfit. She wore a black cottage core House of CB dress with black mules.

“Oh whatever. I just wanted a heads up…and I’m always fly.” She stated a matter of factly pretending to toss her hair over her shoulder since it was too short in her fresh bob. She held up a little burgundy bag with gold cursive embossed writing. “Your gift.”

Big Rich smirked, taking the bag. “You must be doing real well. Cartier for your old man? You shouldn’t have.”

“Just say thank you.” Stacey muttered as she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes scanned the open floor plan of the two story home. She shifted her weight on her feet taking in her surroundings.

The truth was this was more than a birthday gift. This was a peace offering for the guilt of hardly coming to visit Houston within the last seven, almost 8 years. Stacey had visited three times, two of which she did not bring her twin sons. Those two visits were also within the same year and considered ‘girl trips’ for the weekend. Richard Sr would travel to Los Angeles to visit them frequently but he never held his tongue about his disapproval of his daughter not visiting him.

—

“When’s the last time you came to see your old man? I think you should come to Houston for at least the weekend, if a week is asking too much of you.” Stacey’s father glanced down at his iPhone to watch his daughter’s reaction via FaceTime. The thought of Houston pulled a sigh from Stacey. Her lips turned up into a smirk matching her father’s expression. He had anticipated an eye roll from his stubborn daughter.

“Which weekend are we speaking of? I need to check out my calendar and the twin’s schedule. I might leave them with mom.”

“You ain’t gotta leave my grand babies. They can hang wit their grandpere. Your fine ass mama can come too though.”

“Please Dad, you know she has a new husband.”

“I ain’t never cared about a punk ass nigga.”

“Now why does he have to be all that? He coo’ to me. He treats her well.”

“Sound like you switchin sides sweets. I never thought I’d see the day. My only girl would utter favor upon the opps.” Richard Sr. shook his head in disbelief, committing to acting as if his feelings were hurt. Stacey let out a goofy laugh covering her mouth.

“Daddy, I would never betray you. Scouts honor.” She held up a crossed middle and index finger.

“I don’t know if I want you to visit me no more. Just send the boys.” He continued his act of discontent.

“They ain’t coming without me. We’re a package.”

“Package my ass. Return to sender. You were just saying that you were going to leave them wit your momma.” He shook his head. “You want my card info so you can get these tickets now?”

“I don’t need your money Dad. Thank you but your daughter is fully capable of—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… you can pay yourself. I don’t want you to though.”

“You just want to make sure I actually come. I know you.”

“I know you too.”

“I’m not that flaky. We’ll be there for your birthday.”

—

“Mhm…You lookin’ for somebody?”

“No, not at all.” She lied. There was an unsettled feeling at the pit of her stomach that she struggled to decipher if it was anxiety or intuition. She was looking for the reason why.

“Well let me make you a drink. You look like you need it.”

The twins had broken free from their grandfather running towards the backyard as Stacey’s big brother opened the sliding doors. They screamed “Hey Uncle” in unison as they hurried to the bounce house. Stacey’s older brother, Richard Jr looked down at them eyebrows raised as he took a step back with a chuckle as they ran out. He held his arm out to usher a heavily pregnant Annie walk in before him. He grabbed a bottle of Dussé from the kitchen cabinet giving his sister a quick wave before returning outside. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him as she accepted the cocktail from her dad.

Stacey’s eyes went wide with excitement seeing her dear friend that she considered like family. She practically completely zoned out from whatever her dad had been rambling about. Annie was the big sister Stacey wished for. They met when Annie moved from the Delta up to Houston. It was merely a coincidence that Annie was married to one of the two demons that did business with Stacey’s father and brother. A smile crept into your face taking in the image of her. Her tight coils pinned up into an updo. She wore a yellow flowy maxi dress that complimented her deep complexion and offered some cleavage for view. Stacey knew her husband had to be close behind. She prayed his twin wasn’t. She anticipated them to appear with bated breath.

“Hey Mrs. Annie!” Stacey beamed.

“Stacey?! Now this is a surprise. Ya Pa finally got ya down here. Why you didn’t tell me you were coming?!” Annie smiled with a hand on her hip. Stacey’s dad patted her shoulder as he walked away. The women pulled each other into a warm embrace. Stacey broke the hug to rub Annie’s swollen belly.

“Mmm. He did. The point was for it to be a surprise! I can’t wait to meet your baby girl.” Annie had revealed to Stacey over a recent call that she and Smoke were expecting a baby girl.

“You and I both. I’m bout sick of this heat bein pregnant.”

”Tell me about it. I was miserable. I don’t miss none of that.”

”Speakin’ of…Those was your boys almost knocking your brother over?” Annie knowingly asked. You chewed your bottom lip and nodded. She offered a sympathetic look. “They look just like ‘em too. Ain’t no hiding that.”

”They’re good boys. A handful though with all that energy but as charming as can be.” Stacey watched them go into the bounce house before returning her attention back to Annie. ��Let’s get you a seat somewhere. You don’t need to be on your feet.” Stacey changed subjects leading Annie to the couches in the living room where there was less of a crowd.

“Don’t you start fussin over me too! I get enough of that from the guys.” She fanned Stacey off as they sat down. Stacey twiddled her thumbs.

”Does Smoke know?”

”You asked me not to say nothin. I respected that.” She tapped Stacey’s knee.

Stacey should have known. If she could trust anyone it would be Annie. In fact, Annie was the first to know about Stacey being pregnant. She ran to Annie in a panic and hysterics not knowing what to do. Stack and Stacey had already broken up. The last thing she wanted was him to think she was trying to trick her way back into his life. Especially when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

The benefit was Smoke was a man of few words. Stacey could easily be a topic he didn’t inquire much about. They also left for Chicago after she moved to LA, buying her much time. Annie understood why Stacey kept the twins a secret. Annie accepted her husband and all that he was whether she agreed with it or not. She knew Stacey struggled to accept the lifestyle the SmokeStack twins had because it was too much like her father’s. They were caught up in drug trafficking, gang wars, robberies, and a slew of other crimes. Her family flipped that drug money into legal businesses that proved to be lucrative, but she knew they played both sides. Her father moved like a ghost with a deadly hand and the twins were no different. Stacey even resented her brother didn’t strive for a more clean and narrow life.

“I never got a chance to properly thank you for everything.”

”We family. You didn’t need to.”

”Oh but I do. My request was selfish.”

Stacey left early enough in her pregnancy that no one knew she was pregnant before she left. She moved back to Los Angeles somewhere between being lovesick and a heartbroken puppy, tail tucked and head down. Elias ‘Stack’ Moore was her first love. What started as a teenage crush of her brother’s charming best friend, led to a secret or “private” courtship, then blossomed into a whirlwind romance. It ended up being a hot and cold and often toxic relationship. All in all, during their last encounter, Stacey saw a side of Stack that she never wanted to see again. Her heart rate quickened just at the thought.

”What you gone do today cuz they all here?”

”I guess I can’t avoid it forever.” Stacy tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

”Avoid what?” Smoke spoke up causing both of the ladies to jump a bit in their seats. Annie put her hand on her chest. He eyed Stacey with an expecting look. Stacey shook her head taking a gulp of her drink.

”Nearly scared me half to death…Hey Smoke.” Stacey let out a nervous chuckle.

“How you been Stacey?” Smoke squinted his eyes as his eyes shifted between you and Annie. He half waited for you all to answer his initial question. Smoke had come into the house to look for Annie after noticing she didn’t return outside with RJ. That’s when he caught the tail end of their conversation. He could tell from the women’s body language that they were shaken from the thought that he even heard that much.

“I’ve been good. Nothing worth complaining about. What about you? I see congratulations are in order.” Stacey tried not to shrink under his studying gaze.

“Thank you. Glad to hear you good.”

Much later in the backyard…

Richard Jr. leaned against a beam of the patio watching his nephews play. Her older brother never questioned it. In his mind, the twins could’ve been the result of a rebound relationship. His gut told him differently each time he saw them over the years. He just knew it wasn’t none of his business. Stacey never asked nor cared for his opinion when she started messing with his friend, so what happened after he left alone. Never spoke of it.

The twins slid out of the bounce house whispering to each other. They shot each other dimpled smiles before walking separate ways. The youngest of the two walked over to the patio where the coolers were. He used his small hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. The heat caused him to frown. He rocked on his bare feet trying to wait for the large masculine figure to move. The man was hunched down digging into the ice for longer than the little boy’s patience could stand.

“Excuse me sir! Can I have a Sprite?” The little boy asked cutting to the chase. Stack stood up to his full height, turning to find the little boy who was in a rush.

“What about a water?” Stack offered, cocking his head to the side.

“Nah…I asked for a Sprite.” The little boy protested.

“Your mama let you drink soda?” Stack raised and eyebrow.

“If I finish before she see me then she won’t know.” A mischievous smirk eased on the little boy’s face, his dimples in tow. Stack chuckled, shaking his head at the little boy’s antics.

“How about a CapriSun?” Stack bargained.

“2 CapriSuns and you got a deal.” The boy hustled.

“If you that thirsty then you should take the water.”

“The other one is for me.” Another small raspy voice peaked up from behind Stack. He walked around to his brother’s side giving the tall man a once over.

“Y’all boys twins?”

“No…I just met him today.” The twins laughed in unison. The blind could see the boys were identical.

Elias chuckled low. “Y’all came out the womb negotiating, huh?”

The taller one stuck out his hand. “I’m Ezra.”

“EJ,” said the other, following suit.

Elias blinked. “EJ?”

“Elias Jr.,” the boy corrected. “But nobody calls me Junior except my granddad. And just when he’s mad.”

The bottle nearly slipped from Elias’s hand. His smirk faltered.

“Elias?” he repeated, voice just a little offbeat.

“Yeah,” Ezra said proudly.

Just then, the glass sliding door slid open. Stacey stepped out into the glow of the string lights—phone in one hand, small plate of cake in the other—then froze.

There was her past, standing face to face with her future.

Shit.

“Ez. EJ,” she called quickly, tone clipped. “Go inside. Wash your hands and sit down. No soda.”

The boys groaned in unison. “But—”

Stack stood there, eyes shifting from the twin boys to Stacey then back to the boys. He took in their features. Their small jaw lines a miniature version of his own. The dimples, slight arch in the left eyebrow.

“Now.” Stacey ordered.

They knew that tone. Both darted off, leaving Elias staring after them with his jaw clenched and something unreadable in his eyes.

Stacey approached, keeping her expression neutral, calm.

“You want some cake?” she asked lightly, nodding at the plate. “Red velvet. From Aunt Marlene. You still like that?”

Elias didn’t take his eyes off her. “Elias Jr.?”

Stacey paused, lips tightening around a calm smile. “It’s a popular name.”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “Stace.”

She tilted her head. “Don’t start.”

He took a slow sip of his drink, then lowered it deliberately. “You naming one of your kids after me is wild as hell. But what’s crazier? You showing up here with me-sized children and thinking I wasn’t gonna ask questions.”

“They’re my kids,” she replied.

“Didn’t say they weren’t. But I know my math. And I know my face. And Ezra? He got your attitude and my sarcasm.”

Stacey’s expression didn’t move. “You’re reaching.”

He stepped closer. “You know who they belong to, Stacey.”

“Does it matter?” she said, voice lower now. “You told me to stay away from you. You made it very clear.”

“Don’t flip this,” he snapped. “You vanished. Had my sons without telling me. Let your dad visit them in L.A. like it was some secret mission—”

“Because I didn’t want you in their world,” she cut in, sharper. “And I didn’t want them in yours.”

“Funny,” he bit back. “Since they damn near walked straight into mine.”

Stacey looked away. “They don’t know who you were.”

“They will,” Elias said. “Soon. But you? You and I—we’re gonna talk. For real. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you—”

“Dinner,” he interrupted, jaw flexing. “Tomorrow night. My spot. I’ll send the car.”

Stacey folded her arms. “I’m not on your payroll, Elias.”

He grinned, wolfish. “I know. That’s what makes this fun.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say no.

He leaned in, his voice dipping. “Bring your pride. But bring the truth too. I want it all.”

And just like that, he walked away—cooler than the bottle he left behind, but burning hotter than the grill smoke behind him.

Stacey stood still, heart drumming under the surface. She had just lost control of the narrative if she ever was in control of it.

And dinner was less than 24 hours away.

Stacey crossed her legs slowly, deliberately. Her black silk dress clung to her like it had secrets of its own. Her lip gloss was perfect, her expression was not. She stared across the table at Elias like she was staring down a man with a loaded gun and history told her, in many ways, she was.

But she wasn’t twenty-three anymore. And she didn’t flinch for men like Elias Moore. Even if her pulse said otherwise.

Elias sat like sin on a throne. One hand resting on a lowball crystal glass of scotch, the other draped over the back of the booth. Smug. Rich. And ten times more dangerous than when she left him.

He sipped slowly from his glass, jaw tight, a diamond-studded watch glinting under candlelight. No jacket, just a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, showing off forearms veined and tensed. That same smirk people mistook for charm rested on his mouth. But it wasn’t charm tonight. It was fury held hostage behind an attempt to show good manners.

Stacey had accepted his invitation. Begrudgingly.

Elias looked her up and down.

“You clean up nice,” he said coolly, though the heat in his chest rose like smoke. “Didn’t think LA would turn you into a cloud engineer-slash-tech princess with investment portfolios and twin sons named after your past.”

Her jaw tensed.

She shifted in her seat across from him ever so slightly, graceful, composed.

“I didn’t come here for your sarcasm, Elias.”

“No?” He leaned forward, forearms on the table. “You’re here to explain why the hell I met my sons next to a bounce house and a f**king Capri Sun cooler.”

“So you invite me to dinner? For that…” Her eyes scanned the closed restaurant that only milled with a few staff members.

“I wanted to catch up without any interference. Seeing you yesterday reminded me how much I missed your company.” Stack smirked, deepening his dimples.

“I call bullshit, but I’ll leave it alone.”

”Don’t pussy out. Say what’s on your mind.”

“I know you want to really know why I did it. The truth is I was scared and young. I might not have known much about life yet, but I sure as hell knew about you. Men like you and your brother. Men like my father. I knew if I didn’t want to get forced into a decision that I didn’t want to make, then I would have to take agency of my own life. I had to protect me and my babies. And from what I heard, I wasn’t the only one to skip town.”

“So what? That was a fuck me while you ran off carryin’ my sons? They my kids too right?”

“I—I heard you threatening one of your little conquests to have an abortion. I saw how you treated women you didn’t want any more. Look how you did Mary. What made me different?”

“You know that I love—loved and cared about you. I was crazy about you.”

“Sure had a funny way to show it. Our last conversation you told me to stay away from you and you didn’t want to hear anything from me ever again.”

Elias flexed his jaw feeling himself grow more frustrated with this conversation. He ran his hand over his face exhaling. Men like you and your brother. Men like my father. Stacey’s words echoed in his mind. He respected Big Rich but the SmokeStack twins were a different kind of beast. They were relentless in their dealings and everyone knew not to cross them. That didn’t stop people from trying. Elias was careless with women because he could be. Stack was boystorous, while Smoke preferred to move like a ghost. What's the consequence when you can make shit disappear? she knows not to provoke a man of their word. He told her never to speak to him, so she didn’t. He didn’t do it out of spite or anger. He wanted to protect her.

“I want a DNA test.” He said deadpan.

Stacey nodded at the request. It was equally understandable yet unexpected. She chuckled bitterly, turning her head to the side to gaze out of the vast window beside her. The night view of the city’s lights played as an excuse for her to formulate her response. She straightened her posture before peering into Stack’s chocolate orbs.

“Ok.”

“Ok? That’s all you gotta say?” Elias narrowed his eyes like her indifference was a bigger betrayal than silence.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Fine! Take the test! It won’t change shit for me. I didn’t come looking for you. I don’t have shit to prove!” Stacey allowed her irritation to slip out.

“Lower your fuckin voice.” he gritted

“Stop cursing at me.” She matched his tone, pointing a freshly manicured finger at him.

“Still a brat. I oughta bend you over my knee and spank you.” Stack bit his lip revealing his gold fangs. Stacey scoffed, rising from her seat, yanking her dress down.

”I don’t even know why I came here. Bye Elias.” She turned, but didn’t make it two steps.

“Anastasia.” He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to.

Her full name slid from his tongue like a knife in velvet. It was rare, intimate, intentional.

She froze.

For a second, the restaurant blurred.

She was twenty-three again, barefoot in his penthouse, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else.

Elias had whispered that name against her collarbone like it was sacred. And then later, he’d said it like a curse.

The memory hit like déjà vu she didn’t ask for.

Elias stood slowly, chair scraping softly behind him. No rush. No threat. Just presence: weighted and sure, the kind of stillness that says don’t test me.

“Sit down.”

Her jaw clenched, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she buried it. That name still had teeth. She hated that it still fit in his mouth like it belonged there.

“We’re not done,” he added, quieter this time, like a fact more than a warning.

And just like that, Anastasia sat.

Not because he told her to.

But because some part of her still remembered what it meant when he used her real name and it burned.

“Once I get that paperwork, I plan on showing up for them. I’ma try to do right by them.”

”You’ve always tried, Elias. Tried new ventures. Tried new cities. Tried new women.” She took a sip of her wine, slow and deliberate. “Trying was never your issue.”

He glances away feeling the gravity of her words.

“You were a collector of beautiful things. Acquiring more for the sake of having them, which isn’t to speak to their value or what you deemed them to be…” Stacey set down the glass.

“Are you saying that I don’t value—“ she cuts him off, shaking her head.

“No…and yes? Possibly. You wage value in proximity to your ego. If you’re the first one with it, or if it's one of one. The more rare the better right? Until the next thing becomes the object of your affection…I won’t pretend to know your inner workings or who you are now though.”

“Are we talking objects or women?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Ahh Stace! You wound me. You think so poorly of me. Everything has value. Every woman has value. They also have a role to play. I possess the power to assign those roles. It’s made the most prideful and self proclaimed ‘virtuous’ bend to my will.”

“There’s Stack.” She referred to him as his street nickname.

“Don’t do that.” His jaw tightens.

Stacey leans in, locking eyes with him.

“Why not? You taught me how to compartmentalize.”

They stared at each other—wounded, proud, still burning. Finally, the waiter appeared to pour wine. Neither looked away. Just as the door of the private dining room closed behind them, Elias leaned forward again, voice lower now.

“After tonight,” he said, “don’t think you can walk out of my life again without a war.”

And Stacey—chin high, eyes locked—simply said:

“Then let’s not make it a war.”

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