#and like yeah i was still crying but it wasn’t harsh scary can’t breathe crying it was gentle quiet crying

[that-was-anticlimactic]

you know, after all these years, absolutely nothing calms me down nearly as well as the song “quiet” from the matilda musical

[ramp-it-up]

...And Forever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

AU: MCU A/U, after TFATWS

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Alternate MCU facts/timeline, lies, cursing, angst,  oral, (F, M receiving) fingering, spit play rank kink, size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), sex on a pool table, semi-public sex, a special surprise, stalker-ish behavior, almost Dark!Steve? Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: I am an MCU nerd but not a timeline detail gal. Please forgive me if the timeline is off. This is an alternate universe and a work of fiction. Please have fun with it! This is the second part to Always.  Enjoy!

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

You opened your eyes to see that you were in what looked like a break room. There was a coffee machine, a round table with five chairs, a row of lockers, two Captain Americas, and a Winter Soldier.

There was some strange conversation going on.

“Then who gave me the shield at the lake…?”  

Sam was questioning Steve, but he stopped talking when you started moving around.  You must have still been in the wedding venue, because you saw the name of the historic building on various items in the room. 

You scowled up at Sam, Bucky and Steve.

You moved to sit up and Steve was at your side. “Easy…”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You squinted at Steve. His hair was shorter and he was clean shaven, but he was still gorgeous. Those blue eyes were full of concern. 

You raised your hand, and he held it, holding it and caressing it as you raised it to his face.

“Is it really you?”

Steve smiled ruefully at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You held his cheek and looked at him, bringing your other hand up to the other side of his face. He smiled at you. 

You grabbed him and hugged him hard, and then pulled back again as he held you in his arms. He moved back and pursed those ruby red lips. 

You had this irresistible urge to...slap the shit out of him. And so you did.

The sound reverberated in the room. Steve just stared up at you, with that fucking beautiful face, and then smiled, rubbing his jaw as if it hurt. 

But you knew it didn’t. And you were tired of the bullshit.

Sam and Bucky moved to calm you down, but you were too quick for them, pacing to the other side of the room. 

“All of you can stay the hell away from me. Y’all have some fuckin nerve. Especially you, Steven.”  

Your Houston accent was shining through with your anger.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that was harsh. But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You pointed at Steve.

“Fuck you.” 

You were seething, especially when he raised his eyebrow at your comment. But he quickly fixed his face when he saw the rage on yours. You looked at Sam, who just looked down, and at Bucky, who looked like he was in pain.  

Fuck thier feelings.

“I deserve your anger. I didn't tell…” Steve tried it. 

“You don’t deserve a got damn thing. Not even my anger.” 

Steve was stone faced at your vitriol. You were shaking, trying to control your emotions and not cry.  You were so hot. You fought to keep your voice steady.

“I thought you were dead.” It came out as a ragged whisper. But you knew everyone heard you.

Your voice was low, even, and scary. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes. Your own were brimming with tears.

“I thought you were dead and that they didn’t want to tell me.” 

You waved your hand at Bucky and Sam. And you waited until Steve looked you in the eyes again. 

“I thought you were in prison, that someone, on some alien star, forced you to play some sick gladiator games. Or that HYDRA was still around and they turned you into an agent for them. Or that you lost your memory in the blip. So many scenarios played in my mind, Steven.”

Steve knew better than to talk. This was his time to listen.

“But I never ever once thought that you chose this. Never thought it was your choice to leave and to stay away.”

“Listen…” Sam started speaking.

“Shut the fuck UP, Samuel.” 

If you had Bucky’s knives, all of them would be seriously injured right now.  

“You knew that he was alive and you didn’t tell me. Despite me begging for any kind of information.”  

Sam just pursed his lips and returned your glare.  You were right.

You went and stood in front of Bucky.

“James…” 

He looked at you, those pained eyes making your stomach flip.  

“How could you?  You knew?”

He just stared at you. Retreating into not speaking.

Steve spoke up.

“Yes, I left. Yes, it was my choice.  I thought I could… Well, let’s just say that hindsight is 20/20 and you can’t ever go back. I swore Sam and Buck to secrecy and I asked them to take care of you.  This all just got out of hand.  Didn’t it Buck?”

You watched Steve in disbelief and you swiveled your head toward Bucky and Sam again.

“You both lied to me. And Sam. Did you tell Steve to come back and ruin my life?”

Sam scoffed, offended. “No. I didn’t. S.H.I.E.L.D gave Steve quarterly updates.  You and Bucky happened so fast…” 

You ignored his explanation.

“But you knew exactly where he’d gone.”

“Yes.” Sam was cornered.

You turned back to Bucky. 

“I asked you a question earlier. Did you know?”

He nodded, imperceptibly.  “Doll… I…”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You knew?” Your heart was breaking even more than it was.

“Yes, but it’s complicated. He didn’t come back, at least not the way he left, and I thought it was a done deal. I thought he found…”

You interrupted him. 

“What. Happiness?” 

You turned back to Steve. “Is that what you were looking for, Steve? Happiness?”

“Sweetheart, you made me happy, I just had the chance to finally settle some unfinished business.”

You nodded.

“So James here took advantage of your little vacation to get with his best friend's girl while you explored your other options. Cool.”

It was not cool.

“Do you remember when you asked me if you could trust me, Steve?”  

He just gave a little smile and came to stand before you, looking down at you in that way of his.  He was trying to shake you. You were unshakeable. You raised your chin and looked right in his eyes.

“What you don’t understand is that you can’t pick and choose the pieces of life that you want, Steven.” 

You moved away from all of them. Steve stepped toward you, but stopped when you held up your hand.

“I’ve lived my life for everyone else, for this country, for as long as I can remember.  I deserve a little piece of life, Sweetheart.”  

Steve really believed what he was saying.

“What about me? Do I get a choice?”

Steve looked around at his two best friends, who were now best friends, and his best girl.

“You’re right. I think you should. You should choose.”

Your mouth hinged open. You spoke at the wall, then looked at Bucky.

“What about you, James? Do I need to choose?”

Bucky walked in front of you

“No Doll. You don’t have to choose.”  

You looked up into his eyes.  Damn, he looked so handsome in his bespoke grey suit that he chose for the wedding. And the tie that you gave him set off his eyes.  

“I just….  I just wanted a piece of happiness too. I knew you were Steve’s girl.”  He took both of your hands in his. 

“I don’t deserve you. When Steve didn’t come back, and you and I connected, I couldn’t help it. I was just going to keep an eye out, but…”

He gave you that cute little side smile of his.  And then he kissed you. It was short and sweet and oh so hot. You looked up at him, shook to the core. And then he ruined it all.

“I love you Doll. It was nice while it lasted.” 

Bucky was giving up. 

You nodded and backed away. Not believing this situation. 

“Ok. I’m making my choice.” 

You raised your chin and looked at Steve and Bucky.

“I’m not some fucking marble that you pass around, play with, and trade with your friend.” 

You took a deep breath.  “I choose me.”

You were gone in a flash, before they could even register it.  And although they ran, they couldn’t catch you before you were out of reach.

-----

Three months later, you walked through the late August soup of Houston heat to the bar, pausing when you thought you heard footfalls behind you. You used your speed to zip along to Willy’s; you were safe there.

You were back sharking with the best of them.  But your training was put to good use.  You never got burned and you never got caught.  You were making a good living.  

There were a jumble of misfit super humans who had gathered there with you.  You were a leader now. And you were doing well on your own. It was a life.

You already knew he was coming, and maybe that’s why you moved to the back room to play.

You were prepared, but when you felt him, you still lost your breath.  But you recovered quickly, straightening your spine, despite the fact that he was standing so close to you.

You looked at the dartboard on the wall across from you and chalked your cue.

“Don’t you have other things to take care of? Other wheres? Other whens maybe?”

You learned more about time travel since you’d left New York, and you understood more of what happened. 

The Avengers had access to time travel.  If only you could go back… but no. You were stronger than those men.  You could live with your decisions. And move forward.

“No. What I need to take care of is right here. Right now.”  

His deep growl stirred something inside you, and you fought your body, which was becoming moist at his proximity.

You bent over the table, super soldier dick poking you in the ass before you drew your pool cue back sharply into his stomach.  Abs of steel met the cue and nearly broke it.  He just stepped aside and shook his head at you.

You turned your head to look into his aqua blue eyes and you fell in love all over again.  Shit.

You gave up and turned around, leaning back against the pool table, because he wasn’t giving an inch, not moving from your space.

You scanned the room and your people were watching, but keeping your distance. They all knew who he was, and your history. They gave you space, but wouldn’t let you be hurt without a fight. You nodded at them and they all went to the front, giving you more privacy.

He nodded in their direction. 

“People fall under your spell fast, I know that all too well. They trust you.”

You lifted your head. “I’ve never done anything to make them not trust me.”

He sighed.  “Point taken.”

“Why did you come here?  I know that you’ve known where I was. Sam must have told you.” 

“I’ve known where you were. How could I not? I didn’t need Sam to tell me. It’s not like you were trying to hide.”  

He cocked his head at you.

“But the reason that I’m here, now, is that I’ve always been slow at math. And I just put two and two together.”

You smirked up at him. “You’re right. This is home. A leopard doesn’t change her stripes.”

He just chuckled at your evasion.

“You wanna play a game?” 

His eyes followed you, undeterred by your challenge.

You walked around to the other side of the table, leaned over and gathered the balls to be racked. 

You held two in one hand and looked at him.  He smiled and the electricity at the small of your back was everything. He slowly walked around to you as you racked them.

He took in your form (including your ample cleavage) as you bent over the table and your mouth as you said the word, “Break.”

“I’m tired of playing games, Doll. I’m just here to win you back.”

You turned around and faced him, looking up at him, now aware of his smell.  You closed your eyes and inhaled leather and metal. You opened them again and his eyes were blazing.

“James.. I”  

Bucky grabbed your face, hands gently cradling your head, and cut you off with a kiss, his lips gentle at first. Then his hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto the table. He slotted himself in between your thighs, your bodies separated by the same brand of black denim. 

His lips and tongue seemed determined to possess you. Bucky kissed and felt your body like he hadn’t in a lifetime. His hands roamed you like they were starved from touching you. 

Your hands were on his neck and in his hair, relishing the feel of him. You’d  missed him so fucking much. You drew apart, and his breath fanned your face as you two panted together, his forehead resting on yours.

“I am never going to let you go again.”

“James…”

“Hold on Doll, I’ve got to say this.” 

He smiled and gave you another quick peck.  You nodded, solemn.

“I said the wrong thing back in Brooklyn. I don’t care that you were with him first. I don’t care if you think that you might want to be with him. When I fell for you, I fell harder than I ever have. Even from the train.”  

He was whispering the words you wanted to hear months ago, causing you to cry.  But a lot of things caused you to cry lately. 

Bucky smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in that adorable way that you loved. You opened your mouth to speak and he kissed you, silencing you again. You responded with a smile. He continued.

“I know that you think that I folded and just gave up on you on our wedding day. I was just thinking that I don’t deserve you. Especially next to Steve.  I mean, you won’t find a better man.  But in the time since, I’ve realized, even though it’s hard. I’m a good man too.”

“You are, James…”

“You helped me come to terms with everything that’s happened. Sam has helped me deal with everything I did...and I’m not perfect, and neither are you, but we can be perfect for each other.”  

You nodded, smiling a little.

“I’m in love with you and I deserve you. You deserve me. We deserve each other.  And I’m not saying this because I think you saved me. But you are the strongest woman I know, enough to be with me when I am weak. I figured out that I can be strong for you too. I have to be now. I am so sorry that I let you walk away. But I’m not going to let you out of my sight now, even if you don’t want to be with me.  But I am asking you, again. Be my family. Make one with me. Choose me.”

You shook your head as tears fell from your eyes.

“James Barnes, there was never ever any choice. It’s you. It will be you. Forever.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief and started kissing you all over your face, down your neck and into your cleavage.

“I was scared shitless, Doll! I love you so much,…”

You kissed him now, your hands under his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. Next, you went under his shirt, feeling his nipples, playing with them as he shuddered. Then your hands went up to one cold shoulder and one warm, grasping them as he ground his hard jeans covered crotch into yours.

“Too many clothes.”

You ended up helping him pull his shirt over his head. You trailed your hand back down his abs to the button on his jeans.

“I missed you James. My hormones are going crazy, Baby…”  

His eyes got wide as you popped the top button and bit your lip.  Bucky moaned.  He was about to explode just being near you.

“Th-that’s what we need to talk about…”

“Talk later. Fuck. Now.”

Bucky looked over your shoulder to the other room. To his surprise, the door was now closed.

“Wow, they…”

You hopped down from the table and got on your knees in front of him.

“You gonna let me suck your dick or not James?”

He looked down at you smirking up at him and could feel himself leaking in his jeans.  Three months of his hand had been torture, thinking of you.  

It seemed as if he unfastened and pulled himself out without knowing.  For a moment he feared mind control. 

But it was just love and lust.

You grasped him, testing his girth and admiring how your fingers did not meet around his cock.  

“Mmmmmmmm,” you moaned while you thumbed his tip, collecting the pre-cum and lubricating him as you pumped.

He stared at you, slack jawed and sexy as he watched you.  He reached down and put his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

You commanded him. “Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky locked eyes with you and watched as you licked your lips, opened your mouth, and spit on his cock.

“Fuck.”

You pumped him a couple of times before you opened wide and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of his wide, smooth, hard unit in your mouth.  You pulled off of him with a pop.

“Damn I missed this dick.” 

Then you deep throated him again, making Bucky have to hold on to the side of the pool table as he held your head while you spluttered around him.

“And I missed your pretty little mouth, Doll. Damn.”  He watched as you did it a few more times.

When you looked up and  he saw your ruined face, Bucky went feral.

He pulled you up by your shirt, pulling it over your head and wiping your face with it.  Then he kissed you.

“Fucking love how you do that, Doll.”  

He started kissing down your chest, pulling your breasts out of your bra, pinching and rolling your nipples gently, a little more carefully than usual. He looked at you knowingly as you squirmed in pleasure.

“I’ve been doing my research.”  

Then, he leaned down and suckled them with that mouth until you almost came, writhing in his arms. Bucky unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down, kneeling, and staring up at you as you leaned against the green felt table.

You stepped out of your jeans and panties and watched as his flesh hand glided from your ankle to your ass, palming it and then sliding back down as he lifted your thigh on his shoulder.  You shuddered as you could feel his breath on your cunt.

“I’ve been dreaming of this.”  

His eyes held yours as he leaned in for a kiss, then a long wet lick of your cunt.  You grabbed his brown hair as his blue eyes hypnotized you and as he ate you out. When his metal fingers came up, whirring, you started begging.

“Please, James…please…please…..”

He laughed, mouth still fucking your pussy. He pulled away, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers began pumping inside you, the vibration driving you up the wall.

“Are you begging me to stop, or to continue, Doll? Talk to me.”

“Unnnh, unnnnh, oooohhh shittttt. Don’t ever stop.” 

And then you came all over his face,  Bucky slurping it up happily.  He stood up, taking you with him and maneuvering you so that you could feel his thick tip at your hole before it breached you. 

Bucky’s cock stretched you out and made you see stars as you slid down his thick pole while he was standing up, pumping inside you as he deposited you on the table.

You wrapped around him like a vine as he held you, cock pounding from the feeling of being inside you again. He pulled back to kiss you again.  He was grunting in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Fuck you feel so good...Fair warning, Doll. I’m not going to last. Been too long.”

You let go of him, and leaned back on the felt, arms braced behind you as you replied, “Just fuck me James.”

Bucky took in your body, from where you were connected up your torso to your breasts and the beautiful fucked out look on your face and started moving.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk.”  You took him, looking down to see the impossible stretch.

“Yeah, look at that. Looks and feels so damn good, doesn’t it, Doll? How the fuck are you so… so… fucking… tight….?”

“Yes, fuck, James, FUCKKKKK.”

All nerves were in your cunt as you went down to your elbows, and then to your back flat on the slate table, pool balls going everywhere.

Bucky pulled your hips off the table and really started digging in, hips snapping at a frenzied pace as his metal hand slid down your body. You could tell that he was almost there.

“Cum with me Doll.” 

When that metal thumb touched your clit, it was over.  You came as soon as you felt his white hot ropes of cum drench your walls. You closed your eyes for just a second, and then opened your eyes wide.

‘Why am I curled up on a pool table after being fucked by my 106 year old fiance? What is life?”

Bucky laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head and helped you off the table. He looked around, going to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine.

“You good?” 

Bucky eyed you as you got your clothes together.  He leaned next to you as he watched you drink the water.

“Baby okay?”

You ducked your head, smiled and grabbed his hand, putting it on your slightly rounded stomach.

“Yeah. I can feel him moving around.  Can you feel that?”  

Bucky just stared at his hand, then at your face.

“Not really… Him?”  He was astounded.

“That’s normal. I’m gonna be able to feel him before you can, And yeah, Him.”  

You turned more fully toward Bucky and he took you in his arms.  

“I had all kinds of tests, to make sure that he was okay.  I wanted to know if… if what they did to me would affect…. “ 

You shook your head, then smiled up at Bucky.

“He’s healthy.  I’m 20 weeks. I figured we’d call him Jamie?”  

Bucky beamed at you and nodded. 

“How did you know?”

“Well, I figured out that you didn’t faint at the wedding just because of Steve. Why didn’t you tell me, Doll?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you really asking me that question?”  

Bucky blanched and you decided not to be salty. 

“Well, At first, I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I was so happy that you asked me and didn’t know.”  You beamed at him. “ But then…” Your smile faded.

“I’m an idiot, Doll. Forgive me.  It’s me and you. And Jamie. Forever.”  

You two shared the kiss you missed at the altar. It was going to be okay.

“Now, let’s go get some food. I know you’re hungry.”

You laughed as you punched his arm. 

“Ass. But you’re right.” 

You two walked down the street to Ninfa’s Restaurant hand in hand. Bucky turned his head and gave an imperceptible nod as you two passed by an alley/

Steve returned the greeting as he stepped out and watched you and Bucky make your way down the street.

“That’s okay Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Buck’s a good man. But I know you’ll choose me. In another time.”

He walked to the quinjet, which was pointed toward New York.

-------

Did Reader make the right choice? What do you think about the surprise?And what the what is Steve thinking? Let me know if you liked it by commenting or reblogging!

Tagging:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou  @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @fineanddandy @olyvoyl @chaoticsteverogers@txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83 @curlyhairclub @spookyparadisesheep @keepingitlokiii​ @weaselbeedisneygeek @toofab4utheatrediva

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

want more? my masterlist.

taglist tingz :) 🏷️  want to join? fill out this form.

th + pp taglist: @spideyspeaches @strawberrytom (no smut) @turtletaylor98 @parkerpeterparker2004 @peterbenjiparker @kelieah​

permanent taglist: @mayrapreciado20​ @tomhollandlol @roseke​ @supremethunda​ @wonderfulfluffer​ @farfromtommy​ @mamaparker28​ (no smut/tw) @pxxerfect​ (no smut) @seutarose @pixiedustsupplyco​ @itssmadelyn​ @white-wolf1940​ @woopwoopwoop222 @chrisosterfield​ (no tw)

th taglist: @lmaotshollandd

[haechanniesunflowers]

Ateez reaction to you being hurt

notes: I'm feeling angsty today

Seonghwa

He had a hard day, practicing for hours on end for Ateez's 10th year anniversary concert. He wanted to get home and pour his heart out in front of you and just spend time with you. But he came home and you weren't there much to his dismay, but he waited for you. It was raining heavily. He called you again and again but you weren't answering making him anxious and adding to his frustration. Three hours later, the rain still hadn't stopped and he was scared and furious. The bell rang and Seonghwa opened the door. You stood there, completely drenched in the rain. He stepped aside to let you in. You walked inside and got to the living room when he pulled you by your arm to make you face him.

"where the hell were you? And why weren't you answering your damn phone?" he tone was harsh.

"Seonghwa please, not now I-"

"no we need to talk about this now! answer me! Do you know how worried I was? And I was already frustrated to begin with!"

You lowered your head and let the tears spill but it seemed like the rain water was dripping down your face.

He shook you arm to pull you, making you lift your face and roughly pull out of his grasp. That's when he saw the tears.

"I had a bad day too! Okay? My awful coworkers took credit for my project that I worked so hard on! And on top of that I locked the car with the keys, my wallet and phone inside! And I had to walk home because I didn't have any money for a bus or a cab! There! Got your answer!"

Seonghwa's eyes softened at your words and he tried hugging you but you pulled back.

"no I'm not in the mood and I'm drenched"

You went to your room and locked yourself in the bathroom to cry in the shower.

Hongjoong

The track he was working on was almost ready and he wanted you to be the first person to hear it so he called you to invite you over to his studio.

"hey babe what are you doing?"

"nothing much Joong. What's up"

"can you come over in the evening? I want you to listen to my song"

There was a pause from your end.

"hello? Baby can you hear me?"

"ye-ah Joongie. I'm busy these days, I'm so sorry. I'll try to come after the next week."

"no that's okay, you don't need to put your work aside. I'm free today since I finished the song, I'll come over. How does that sound?"

"I'll tell you in a few hours, okay?"

Hongjoong felt something was off so he quickly got done with his files and saved the track and packed up. He drove straight to your apartment and knocked on the door. You didn't expect to see Hongjoong at the door so you hid behind the door after opening it. He eyed you suspiciously.

"are you okay?" he asked, pushing the door slightly to get inside.

"yeah why do you ask?" you spoke nonchalantly, standing in the akimbo pose.

"you're acting... unusual"

"nonsense"

He slid it aside and took you towards your bedroom. He found it unusual how you were walking slowly and stopped.

"you're hurt." he stated and his suspicion was confirmed when you didn't answer.

"I slipped and sprained my ankle. I didn't want you to worry so I didn't tell you and I didn't agree to meet you"

He picked you up and laid you on the couch, snuggling next to you.

"I'm here to take care of you" he whispered and turned the TV on.

Yunho

Yunho is always in a good mood when he gets to see you. He wants to make the best use of the time he gets to spend with you. So during his break, you guys went to his home town to meet his parents but you stayed in a hotel even though he insisted that you stayed at his house. But you were a woman of principles and didn't think it was appropriate to stay at your boyfriend's house before marriage. He came to pick you up in his car and took you to an amusement park. You guys took roller-coaster rides and other scary looking rides too. He asked if you wanted to eat something and proposed the idea of going to a restaurant but you you told him that hotdogs from the vendors in the park would be nice and that you wanted to stay there longer and get on more rides. After eating you two took that discovery ride. While getting off you felt a little dizzy and tripped on something and fell. Yunho quickly helped you up and asked if you were okay and you told him yes, even though your ankle hurt a lot. After the fun time, he drove you back to your hotel. As you got off, you winced in pain and knelt to the ground, clutching your ankle. He worriedly got out the car and came to your side.

"your ankle is swollen" he spoke, concerned.

"it's fine, I can manage"

"are you kidding me? Why didn't you tell me you're hurt?"

"because I didn't want to ruin tee date"

"you can't stay here y/n, you're coming out with me"

"I said it's okay Yunho, I'll take painkillers and an ice pack, I'll be fine"

"I'm sorry you got hurt"

"you don't need to be sorry babe" you said and kissed him.

Yeosang

Yeosang wanted to go skateboarding with you but you didn't know how to ride a skate so he took it upon himself to teach you even though you gave the idea of him skating and you cycling next to him but he said no. He took you to a nearby park and helped you learn for over a month. When he deemed you ready, he encouraged you to ride it on your own with him holding your hands or your waist. You took a deep breath.

"you can do this" he smiled.

"I hope so" you replied and steadied yourself.

"I can already see us skateboarding down the road. I can't wait"

"okay here goes nothing"

You gained momentum with your foot pushing the board forward and continued with a steady pace.

"I'm doing it! Yeosang I'm doing it!" you cheered but made the mistake of looking back towards him which made you lose your balance since you were relatively new to this. You fell on your back but broke your fall with your arm.

Yeosang rushed towards you and helped you up. You yelped in paid when he grabbed your arm.

"it hurts so much" you shook.

He took you to a hospital where the doctor told you your wrist was dislocated.

He felt awful and blamed it on himself. He stayed by your side before and after your surgery and even helped you with your daily life stuff until you got better. You were happy to spend a lot of time with him and told him it wasn't his fault.

"you are never riding a skateboard again. Like ever."

San

You were visiting Namhae to meet San's family. He always talked about them and told you how important they were to him so you paid them a visit, knowing it would make San the happiest.

You were sat on the couch, chatting with his sister while the TV was on. It was a random drama which none of you were interested in, rather wanting to talk about girl stuff.

"Sannie is a sensitive one, though he doesn't show it" his sister let you know.

"I know, I have never seen him cry. I used to think he doesn't care but then I found out that he's just very good at controlling his emotions."

You two were indulged in the conversation and didn't see San entering the room with Byeol in his arms.

"Y/N I want you to meet our family's master"

You and his sister giggled.

"Byeol, this is Y/N. I hope you come to terms with the fact that your position as the girl I'd die for has been taken by her."

You were a blushing mess and had butterflies in your stomach. San was always kind and loving towards you. And as if Byeol had understood what San had said, she started acting up.

"can I pet her?" you asked, earning encouraging nods from the Choi siblings. You stretched your hand you gently pet her head but Byeol acted first and violently scratched your hand, drawing blood.

"Byeol no!" San whined as the cat hissed at you and ran to the other room.

You clutched your hand tightly, trying to soothe the pain but it came in waves and burned. San worriedly came closer to you and him and his sister examined your hand. There was definitely blood coming out of the claw marks. They had to take you to the hospital to get you tetanus shots.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, your hand is ruined and you're in pain because of me"

"not because of you Sannie, it was Byeol but you can't really blame her, she an animal after all"

Mingi

Mingi took you to the dance studio to show you the new dance he choreographed. He was happy with it and spent a lot of time perfecting it and wanted you to see it. You were supportive of his ambitions as a rapper and a dancer, aside from Ateez. He was grateful for you for being by his side and understanding the time and effort it required. You never complained when he was unable to make time for you sometimes, knowing that he was working hard. The bond you shared was strong and you two were inseparable.

"okay I'm gonna start, queue the music"

And with that he started dancing. You were in awe of the way his body moved and how effortlessly he executed the difficult moves. You clapped when he finished.

"wow Mingi... this is... wow... I'm so proud" you were at a loss of words.

"come on I'll teach you the floor move, it's the easiest"

It was the easiest, for a trained dancer that is. You both didn't realize how difficult it actually was. You, because you weren't a dancer and Mingi made it look like a piece of cake. Mingi, because it came naturally to him and he had insane body control so he thought it was actually easy.

He taught you how to slide using your core strength. You didn't have a strong core to begin with, so you landed on your knee and pain shot up in your leg. You clutched it and let out a whine. Mingi took a look at it saw it reddening.

"I'm sorry for making you do this" he shook his head.

"nah I shouldn't have said yes" you smiled, not wanting him to be upset.

"let's get you home"

Wooyoung

He kept his artist of the month news a secret from you. He wanted to surprise you with it. So when you saw it on twitter you called him and congratulated him.

"this is huge Woo, I'm so proud of you!"

"I know you're rooting for me. I want you to come at the practice session we're having, just so we can perform on stage too"

You agreed to come and dressed up for him. When he saw you enter the studio in your black jeans that hugged your curves and the loose green cardigan which you styled and tucked in from the front. You had your hair down and mere sight of you took Wooyoung's breath away. His dancer friend from bb trippin' knew about your relationship but some of the staff was different that day and didn't know who you were.

Your eyes gleaned, watching Wooyoung dance. He was in his element and looked ethereal. The practice session ended and before you could run to him and hug him, you saw another woman, a staff member get close to him, handing him a water bottle and wiping his sweat off with a cloth. You were stunned but didn't think muhh about it, since his job required him to be around other women too. You watched from a distance how she talked to him for some time and subtly placed a hand on his thigh, giggling and telling him he did well. You were hurt to say the least. He didn't spare you a glance and then talked to her as if you weren't in the room. You didn't ruin the mood for him at the moment but were screaming internally watching her flirt with your man in broad daylight and him going along with him.

After the session ended, his choreographer called him to discuss important matters with him and the staff started leaving. You noticed how the same woman was hanging around, until another senior staff member told her to pack up and leave. After the discussion, Wooyoung came running to you.

"did you like it?" he asked excitedly.

"the performance? yes. The little show with that staff woman? absolutely not"

His face fell at your words.

"baby listen, I had to let it slide. It's not like I could've swat her hands away and tell her to go away. Having good chemistry with the staff results in good performances. Please try to understand"

"I don't know Wooyoung. And this is just what I saw. I can't stop imagining what else goes on since I'm not around all the time"

"I want you to trust me. I'm all yours. No one can take me away from you. No one. You don't know the hold you have around my heart. You don't know what you do to me. It's you and only you. Never forget that."

Jongho

If there's one thing in this world that Jongho liked doing the most, it was comparing how strong he was compared to you. No, you didn't even compare. You didn't even come close. He loved lifting you like it was nothing, tightening jars on purpose so you would ask him to open them for you and lifting the furniture with one hand while you both cleaned. He also loved arm wrestling with you with just two of his fingers of his non dominant hand, while you struggled to win with your dominant hand.

You both sat in the middle of the living room. Jongho challenged you to arm wrestling and the loser would have to clean the dishes. He wasn't even trying while you were shaking by using the entire strength in your arm. He got a little cocky when his hand got tired and decided to end it with a bang. He used intense force and your hand landed on the table with a thud. You pulled it back and rubbed it. He didn't fully realize how hard he hurt you until he saw just how red the back of your hand was. He immediately apologized but you got up to give yourself first aid, not responding to him. He followed you to the kitchen and tried helping but you shoved him aside.

"leave me alone"

"I'm sorry I hurt you. Let me help"

"Jongho please just leave me alone right now"

He felt awful to have hurt you and after you went to your bedroom, he did the dishes. You had invited him to stay the night at your apartment so he was glad he could be around to make it up to you.

He came to you some time later and apologized again and took responsibility of his actions.

"you scared me Jongho"

"I'm so sorry, I'll be more careful I promise"

[winterscaptain]

co-regulating.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: following balancing out, an anon asked about aaron and mom’s first time after her recovery, so here it is!! our first fic of 2021! and it’s smut. who’s surprised? not me!! i’m doing blog housekeeping this weekend, so let me know if you want to be on taglist!

words: 1.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, creampie, very soft, quite tame), mentions of canon-typical injury and recovery, language

summary: “scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” - cormac mccarthy, all the pretty horses. au!march 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You turn off the lights, crawl into bed, and slide under the covers, immediately rolling halfway onto Aaron and pulling his lips to yours. 

He makes a little surprised noise and takes the back of your head in his hand, his other arm wrapping around your lower back. You run your fingers up his abdomen under his shirt, finally landing with your palm over his racing heart. 

“Did you take your meds?” You whisper against his mouth. It wasn’t like him to forget, but his pulse had to be higher than a hundred. That might be alright for someone actively running a marathon, but for a fifty-two-year-old stabbing survivor with chronic health issues due to said stabbing it was less so. 

He laughs. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really. You’re fucking tachycardic.” 

He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. “That’s your fault. And yes, I did take my meds.” 

You hum. “Good.” 

“Any reason in particular you ask?” He’s still the picture of fond skepticism - eyebrows raised and a little smile curling at the corner of his mouth. 

You shrug. “Just got some clearances from physical therapy today.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mhmm.” Your hand slides down past the waistband of his sweats, palming his cock through the fabric. He hisses through his teeth, his hips tipping up, searching for more contact. 

His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him over his pants, your touch gentle and slow. He swallows thickly, his breath stuttering for a moment. “Are you allowed?”

“I have to take it easy,” you tell him. “But I’m allowed.” 

He reaches down for your thigh, brushing up to your ass, and he inhales again, sharp, when he realizes you’re wearing one of his shirts and one of his shirts only. You oblige him and shift to straddle him, settling down against him and circling your hips for just a little friction. 

Aaron’s fingers play with the hem and a little flash of anxiety jolts through your belly. He sees it in your face and lets go, dropping his hands to your hips. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head. “Just got nervous about the scarring. I’m fine.” 

Aaron tilts his head to the right, studying you. “Do you want to leave your shirt on? It’s okay if you do.” 

“I know.” You take a deep breath and remove your shirt, your ribs only pulling a little as you lift your arms over your head. “But I’m good.” 

Of course he’s seen you - he’s the one who dealt with your wound care when you got home - but this is the first real sex you’ve attempted since your injury. It’s silly to feel insecure, really. Aaron loves you from top to toe and you know it. He’s also got scars of his own, and you know they don’t impact the way you see him, but it’s new to you. 

Scary. 

Aaron’s hands slide up to your waist, his right thumb just brushing the angry, raised scar over your left side. You run your hands down his arms, coming to rest on his forearms. The pair of you just sit there for a moment, breathing together. 

Co-regulating. You remember. That’s what this is called. 

“Can I turn on the little light?” He asks. 

You nod, knowing he can see you. One of his hands leaves you and stretches, sliding the dimmer on the bedside lamp just bright enough that you can see each other, but not so bright that it’s harsh. 

His eyes soften as they wander from your hips, up your abdomen, and finally meet yours, watching him look at you. He wets his lips as he shamelessly checks you out and heat floods you from head to toe. You know he can feel it when you start to throb between your legs, your center pressed against his hardness. 

“There you are.” His hands slide up, reaching your chest, brushing over your nipples with his thumbs. “I missed you.” 

You smile, despite yourself. “Hi.” 

When you nod, he presses his hips up into you and you lift up, giving him space to slide his pajama pants down enough to free his cock. 

You settle back over him, grinding without letting him enter you as you slide against him. Bring a hand to the back of his head, winding your fingers in his hair while your other hand rests on his shoulder for balance. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Aaron’s head tips back and gentle hands guide your hips back and forth, coating him in your arousal. His next words come through an almost-desperate gasp. “I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

There’s something in his voice that makes your breath catch, brings tears to your eyes. His eyes snap open and meet yours, his hands leaving your hips with fingers open and palms out. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I think this is what the kids call catharsis.” 

He laughs a little and sits up, kicking his pants all the way off and gingerly pulling both of you to the top of the bed so he can lean against the headboard and bring a leg up behind you. “C’mere, honey.” 

You melt into his chest, picking yourself up a little and slinging your arms around his shoulders. You feel his hand between you, guiding himself into you. 

You tense with a little hiss through your teeth, and he stills. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” You kiss his cheek. “Just gotta go slow.”

He presses his cheek to yours, his other hand brushing over your back. “Okay. At your pace, sweetheart.” 

You finally sink down with a deep breath, taking all of him. 

The hand that was between you slides up around your back, finding a place at the back of your neck and holding you close. Aaron barely moves, thrusting up into you just as far as he can without jostling you too much, taking all your weight on his hips while supporting you with his thigh. 

You take a shaky breath, the tightness in your throat hanging on until you let yourself cry into his shirt. Nothing hurts more than it should given your injuries, you’re not sad, but you missed him. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, pressing his lips to your shoulder. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

He doesn’t say anything else. The hand on your hip begins to guide you so he can pull out further before sliding back in. You whimper. 

The feeling of him moving within you is achingly familiar; he feels more like an extension of your own body than a separate being. 

There’s no hurry, no rush, no aim in his movement. Neither one of you tries to get anywhere, preferring the proximity to anything else. You literally can’t get closer to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel the pleasure and pressure behind your cheekbones, in your aching ribs.

He’s a perfect fit. Always has been. 

You tuck your face impossibly further into his neck, your lips locked to his pulse point, as your tears subside. 

His heart rate has slowed significantly, beating steadily, without haste, under his skin. He wraps further around you, the hand on your hip crawling up your back to meet the other between your shoulders. 

He doesn’t mean to, but he crushes you a little to his chest and you flinch, your ribs twinging. 

Immediately, his hands disappear and he stills. You lean back and press your palms to his chest for stability, breathing as deeply as you can with your eyes squeezed shut until the pain passes. You open your eyes to Aaron’s concern, guilt coloring the lines around his eyes. 

Bringing your hands to his face, you rub the tension away with your thumbs. “I’m okay, love. Just a little gentler. It’s okay.” 

His eyes flutter shut, but you keep your eyes and hands on his face as you lift yourself again, feeling the intoxicating drag of him against your walls before you drop back down. He lets out the breath he was holding as he bottoms out again, his hands returning to your waist. 

You lean forward, your foreheads meeting and noses brushing. His hands drop to your hips, guiding them to that angle that always leaves you both wanting for air no matter the pace.

Without fail, you find it together and the ribbons of pleasure curl up your spine, unhurried and gentle. You let out a breathless moan and Aaron steals it from you, capturing your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you drop your hands from his face to the nape of his neck, your fingers winding into his hair. 

The pace never changes, remains slow and meandering, even as you both get closer to the edge. You almost don’t want to finish - didn’t think you would, really - but the pleasure nevertheless builds in your lower belly, your walls throbbing in time with your heart.

Aaron’s thumbs pass back and forth over your skin where they work your hips against him. 

You reach your peak first, his precision and consistency tipping your body into a rush of pleasure that takes your breath and your vision. Aaron never frees your mouth, swallowing your cries as they leave you. 

“Good, baby. Just want to make you feel good.” It’s a mumble as he finally wanders away from your lips, wandering down your jaw. 

His command of your body prolongs your orgasm, drawing it out to a constant dull hum that thrums through you. 

Aaron never falters for a second. You know he’s entirely focused on you, but he told you once that the focus only makes it better. The effect of your pleasure on him is clear when you open your eyes, even weighed down as they are by sensation. 

Aaron’s eyes are closed, his breath leaving him in time with his movement inside you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. You fall forward into him again and his arms wind around you, gentle and mindful. 

His orgasm seems to surprise him a little, his hips and breath stutter as he thrusts up and pulls you down by the hips, spilling deep into you with a short groan. You gasp at the pressure, the last dregs of your own orgasm fluttering through you with renewed purpose. 

The two of you continue to move against each other as you come down, your body feeling looser and almost without pain for the first time in three months. Aaron’s hands trace up your back, smoothing over your skin and setting it alight. He softens inside you, but doesn’t leave your heat. 

Aaron curls forward, pressing his lips to your collarbone and wandering down your chest. You let yourself tip back, supported by his hands, as he continues down your body until he reaches the new scar. His lips pass over it three or four times before you feel a firm, but gentle, kiss right over the center. 

He straightens, bringing a hand to your face. “I love you.” 

The words sound so simple in his mouth. They make you smile. 

“I love you, too.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @dwellingsofrosie @pinkdiamond1016 @aaronhotchnerr @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @ssa-morgan @violet-amxthyst @capricorngf @pan-pride-12 @mandylove1000 @joanofarkansass  @cevanswhre @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @mandylove1000 @jeor @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @crazyshannonigans @ceceguajardo-blog @brittanymcsharry

[strawberri-blonde]

Amortentia - Fred Weasley

Summary: Your classic enemies to lovers.

Warning: Curse words.

Feeling the piece of paper hit your face for what felt like the Millionth time; your tolerance was long worn down. You went to grab your wand but Hermione stopped you by resting her hands into your wrist but it didn’t stop the anger that was filling your soul as you looked over at the Weasley twins. “Y/n, no.” The twins laughed as they saw the glare upon your face.

“Merlin, I’ll gulge your eyes out with my wand, Fred!” The older twin chuckled making George share a laugh as well. Heat filled your face and reached your ears making it feel as if steam was coming out. Hermione saw the anger that resisted in your expression and slowly took your wand from your grip worried for the Weasleys.

“I’d like to see you try sweetheart.” An aggravated  squeal left your lips causing the whole class to turn in the direction of the two tables earning the attention of a certain Professor. The twins kept laughing while Hermione nudge you to the front of the class where Professor McGonagall resigned with a stern look.

“If the two of you are done flirting, then it’s time to get back to the lesson.” You instantly felt your cheeks overflow in a deep red while Fred tried to cover his embarrassment with a light smirk but George didn’t fall for his tricks. He bump his shoulder against Fred’s making the boy blush before shoving his brother back somewhat harder. “Boys.”

“Sorry, Professor.” After the Weasleys apologied McGonagall stared them down for one last time before continuing.

Shaking away your insecurities, you grabbed onto the your quill and began to concentrate on today’s lesson while mumbling out, “idiots.”

-

You clenched your books in your hand as you glided down the halls with ease, your mind was so concentrated on the fact that lunch was going to be served soon that you didn’t notice the human being that you bumped into. “Oh, I’m sorr-”

“Watch it mugblood.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as the insult spewed from the blondes lips. Tears started to form but you wouldn’t dare let that snake see you cry. Before you could respond someone grabbed your shoulders and moved you to stand behind them. “Why don’t you shut your mouth Malfoy before I make sure you can’t speak again.”

Draco let out a laugh making his minions do the same while you looked up at Fred in confusion. Why was he helping you? “What a Weasley, trying to shield a mugblood. Makes sense.” You tensed at the harsh word again, causing the red head to fume. “Your whole family should be qualified as mugblood yourselves I mean-” Draco’s word were literally caught in his throat as Fred stepped forward with his long legs and wrapped his lanky but strong hands around the pure bloods throat.

Your eyes increased in size and worry filled your soul but not for Draco, who was getting his windpipe crushed, but surprisingly for Fred. He could get in so much trouble. When the minions saw the scary expression on his face they ran away too scared to turn up like Draco. “Fred.” You clasped his robes into your hands and tried to yank onto the fabric as hard as you could but the boy was like a rock. “Fred let him go.” What sounded like whimpers left Draco’s mouth as Fred seemed to ignore you completely. “Please.” Hearing your plea, the Weasley turned towards you and looked at your defeated expression and softened his gaze. Letting out a sigh, he dropped the boy to the floor with no hesitation.

“If you ever,” he continued as he bent down to Draco’s level. “Speak to Y/n again. I won’t stop.” Your heart raced at his words and you stood perfectly still as Fred straightened his posture and put a hand behind your back to motion you away from the mess he made. His touch was so gentle that if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t feel it.

As you both turned the corner, you clenched your books towards your chest. “Thank you for that, but I had it covered.” Fred let out a laugh and bumped into you slightly to joke around.

“Oh, I bet, but I really wanted to strangle that swamp arse.” Rolling your eyes you stepped onto the staircase and before you could grab the hand rail, the motion of it moving caused you to fall into his arms. “Darn, Y/n I didn’t figure you the type of girl to fall in a boys arms.” Hearing the cockiness, you pushed off him and took a step up and gripped the rail into your hand. Once the stair was set, you walked up the top and greet the portrait of the singing fat lady. Her silk pink dress flowed as she turned to look at the two of you and her eyes widen. “Pass- bloody, you two are standing beside one another and aren’t arguing?” You blushed whiled Fred laughed out the password.

“Caput Draconis.” With confusion in her painted eyes, she opened the door to the Gryffindor common room. Comfort washed over as you took in the cinnamon scent and saw the warm fire. “Maybe I’ll save you a seat in the dining hall.” You blushed as you looked down at your feet before looking at at the handsome man. “Can’t have anyone ruffling your feathers but me.”

You smirked and nodded your head, “but you huh.”

“Yeah.” Fred stuffed his hands in his pockets to stand a little taller. “But me.”

-

Ever since that day you and Fred and been a little more civil with one another... Okay, a lot more civil. At first so many people thought you both were joking; that it was some big prank because after all the years of straight arguing all of a sudden you like each other?

You let the huff escape from your lips as you went over the potion you were going to do in Professor Snape’s class but Fred wasn’t doing much help as he stuffed his face with countless of chocolate frogs. Giving the boy a sharp look, Fred laughed at your expression. “What?”

“You’re making a mess.” You closed the spell book while Fred bit off the head of the chocolate figure. “You’re going to get chocolate everywhere.”

A mischievous smirk made its way to the Weasleys face as he turned to you. “Oh you mean like this.” You gasped at he wiped some milk chocolate onto your noise without thinking of the consequences. “Or this.” You mouth closed its gap and instead an ‘are you serious,’ expression took its place as he wiped a line of chocolate on your right cheek. “What about this?” You sighed as he now spread the dark sweetness to your left cheek.

“You done yet.” Fred tilted his head and squinted his eyes and clicked his tongue against his cheek. He lifted his thumb and slowly pressed it on your bottom lip, teasingly sliding it across making your breath get caught in your throat. You both seemed to be in a trance as your eyes never left his and all of his attention was on your lips.

The room grew hot as your hearts race from the need of each other. Slowly you slipped the tip of your tongue out and licked away the sweetness and took his thumb into your warm and wet mouth. Fred had to clench the couch cushions to surpress himself from pouncing on you. The way you swirled your tongue around his thumb sent him in a frenzy. Seeing his eyes darkened from hunger you let him go with a pop. “How should I get the rest off?” Fred went to reach for your waist but the door to the common room opened with Harry, Ron and George coming in. You pushed Fred away from you sending him to the floor and your cheeks were flooded red from embarrassed that you let your hormones take over your mind like that.

The three boys looked at you two in confusion and Ron was the first to speak. “Y/n, why do you have chocolate all over your face and Fred, bloody hell mate. Get off the floor.” Fred sat up with a huff and George started to laugh quickly understand his frustration and you became a blubbering mess.

“Um, I-I um...” you got chocked up and gestured towards your spell book. “We, um... I-I.” And just like that you took off disguarding your supplies and ran up to your room hoping to hide away from embarrassment.

-

“So Ron told me about last night.” You rolled your eyes as you added ingredients to the spell.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whispered back checking to make sure Professor Snape wasn’t looking because you really didn’t feel like getting yelled at by him today.

“Um, huh.” Hermione squinted her eyes and let a smirk take over as you pulled away from the spell and reached for your book but then you remembered how you left your book in the common room.

“Past.” Like as if he could read your mind Fred held your book in the air and waved it around making you giggle. You reached out to snatch it but the Weasley lifted it higher making you stick your tongue out to him.

“Freddie, give it.” This was the first time you’ve given him the nickname and it made him almost cave in.

“Come and get it.” You rolled your eyes at his words and looked to make sure Snape wasn’t looking before ever so slowly getting up from your seat to grab your book but right as you were about to snatch it, you stepped on a weak board having it squeak. In a flash Severus Snape turned in your direction having you look like a deer caught in head lights.

“What are you doing Ms. Y/l/n?”

“Um.” You mumbled not liking having everyone’s eyes on you.

“It’s my fault, Professor.” Fred stood up and gestured towards her book. “I took her book and Y/n was just trying to get it back.”

“Why is it?” He questioned stepping closer to the pair. “Every time there’s a noise or argument it’s from you two. Granger.” Hermione snapped her head up giving her attention to the older man. “Switch seats with Mr. Weasley.”

“Um which one sir?” Snape snapped a glare in Fred’s direction.

“Mr. Weasley you will sit in Ms. Granger’s seat and partner with Y/n and you two will learn to exist together and not argue.” Confusion went around the room because everyone took notice as to how great Y/n and Fred have gotten along. I guess Snape didn’t get the memo.

You shyly say back down and waved Hermione bye and internal screamed when Fred took a seat to your right. “Alright, everyone get back to the potion.”

Fred bumped you shoulder and handed you your book to which you took with a smile and opened it to the page you needed. “What are we making anyway?”

Shaking your head, you mumbled out. “Poor Hermione.” You added the last ingredient and began to stir. “It’s Amortentia it spells like whatever you’re attracted to.” You pushed Fred’s chest and laughed. “But with all of your cologne I can’t smell anything.” Fred rolled his eyes playfully and pulled you into him.

“First of all I could say the same Y/n, I mean did you broke the whole bottle on yourself and second, I was in a rush so I couldn’t put my cologne on only my deodorant.”

You two laughed at each other saying how the other is lying when Snape raisies his voice at the two. “You’re smelling each other from the Amortentia you idiots.” And just like that your smiles dropped and you both stared intimately at one another.

“If we weren’t in class right now I’d so kiss you.” Fred widen his eyes then signaled to George. Hermione looked worried as George pulled out some random vile from his robes and poured it into the potion. Green mist sprung loose and this horrible smell filled everyone’s noses. Fred grabbed you’re books along with his with one hand and grabbed your wrist with the other to pull you out the class. You couldn’t stop laughing at Fred pulled you down the halls and he dropped your books to grab your cheeks into his large hands.

As your eyes met, and heavy breathes collided you both smiled widely at one another. You were the first to make your move as you stood on your tippy toes and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him down for the kiss. Fred caresses your skin as he felt your soft plump lips move heavenly against his thin ones. Heat pooled between the two as the kiss deepened. Fred licked the bottom of your lip for entrance and instead of accepting you pulled back with a giggle and grabbed his hands and pulled him behind you guiding him through the halls laughter filling wherever y’all went. Once when two reach the Gryffindor commons rooms laughter did appear once or twice but it was mostly filled with your sounds of passionate love.

[benedictscanvas]

all the wrong places [6/7] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

---

Chapter Six - Plain and Simple

He lets Rossi’s words ricochet around his mind for the rest of the day. As he packed up their stuff at the police precinct and laughed at Derek’s insistence on just how excited he was to get back to Savannah. As he pretended to be asleep on the jet with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair. As he drove the two of you home. As he listened to your breathing even out, staring at the ceiling, unable to stop his mind from racing.

Rossi was right. And annoying. And right.

He was still thinking about it when he arrived at work the next morning and Hotch called him into his office within two minutes of his arrival. He looked at you confused, but you simply shrugged, pushing him towards the office with insistence. He shut the door behind him when he entered.

“Everything alright, Hotch?”

“Sit down, Reid.”

Well, that wasn’t a yes. He sat down regardless and waited patiently for Hotch to start talking. Hotch was taking his time, walking at what felt like a snail’s pace to his chair, sitting down, getting comfortable-

“Sir? Is something wrong?”

Spencer wasn’t as patient as he wished. It was something you frequently said you found adorable, but nevertheless it was something he should perhaps think about working on in the future.

“Frankly?” Hotch said, which wasn’t the answer Spencer had been expecting, “Yes, there is something. This upcoming proposal of yours. I’m worried it’s affecting your work.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve tried to propose...four times now?”

“I think it’s five…” Spencer mumbled and Hotch tried not to grimace.

“Clearly you’re getting in your head about it and worrying too much. Since this is on your mind, I wonder if you’d like me to keep you apart on cases, just for a while.”

“I really don’t think that’s-“

“It’s a suggestion, Reid, not a declaration.”

Spencer paused before he answered again. On the one hand, the ring in his satchel had become heavier and heavier as time went on. Looking at you without blurting out every single plan he had for the two of you in the future was becoming harder with each passing second. Was his ability to do his job being hindered by being around you all the time?

No. He was sure that wasn’t true. Since being with you, the both of you had only gotten better at work. You understood each other without having to try, you listened to each other’s thoughts without question, you knew how to keep your relationship professional. Hotch’s worries were unfounded.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think that will be necessary. Y/N and I have always worked well together and I don’t think there’s any evidence to the contrary in recent months. Unless you see it differently?”

“No, I don’t. I was only offering the option, Reid,” Hotch looked vaguely amused, if Reid had gotten anywhere with reading the stoic face he had grown accustomed to over the years, “A personal question, but why do think you’re struggling with this so much?”

Spencer sighed. Sunk into his chair a little further.

“When I first decided to propose, I wanted it to be objectively perfect. I calculated the risks of every proposal scenario I could think of, deliberated over which combination would be worthy of becoming the moment we’d talk about for the rest of our lives. Then I just froze. Every time. I froze, Hotch.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Rossi said Y/N wouldn’t care how I did it because she’d just want to marry me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make her cry, you know?” His eyes went wide as he realised how that sounded, “Not like that, just…”

“I know why you freeze. Because you’ve let everyone else get into your head. You’ve tried out everyone else’s ideas before your own, right?”

“...right.”

“So ignore everyone. Except Dave, maybe, since that’s the only solid advice this team has given you. Ignore everyone else and just think about Y/N. You know her better than anyone. If you think about it, about her, then you’ll know what to do.”

“But how do I-“

“Back to work, Reid, I’ve got paperwork to be getting on with.”

“But-“

“Goodbye, Reid.”

There was no room for argument, since Hotch’s eyes were already on the paper on his desk, hauling a large document in front of him and letting out a small huff as he picked up his pen. Spencer sat there immobile for a few more seconds. Waiting. Hotch did nothing to acknowledge him again.

There was nothing to do but leave.

Hotch looked up as he heard his door softly click shut. He smiled, if only a little. If bringing Spencer into the office occasionally to threaten to split the two of you up in the field gave him the push he needed to propose, he might make it a regular arrangement.

---

“What was that about?”

Spencer had made a beeline for the coffee machine as soon as he left Hotch’s office, if only to give him some time to get a story together as to why he’d been called in there. But as soon as he returned with a coffee in each hand, one of which metaphorically had your name on it, you asked him outright.

“He just wanted to check that my shoulder wasn’t still painful.”

“And it isn’t, right?”

You looked almost scary when you were being protective (though it wasn’t like he didn’t love it).

“As I’ve told you 34 times, no it isn’t,” he smiled, handing you your coffee with a small peck to the top of your head. You grimaced at the coffee, unexpectedly, but as you pulled out the two coffees from behind your own back, he grinned.

“Wanted you to have caffeine in case Hotch had been harsh,” you said, grinning yourself. Spencer chuckled a little, taking the coffee you’d made him with a hum of gratitude and walking to his desk with his two coffees. He knew that maybe he should give one of them away, but somehow he didn’t have the heart. That ring was feeling heavier again on his shoulder, and he was grateful for the relief when he shrugged off his satchel and placed it far too tenderly on the floor beside him.

With that the two of you got to work, spending most of the next half hour greeting the rest of the team as, one by one, they trudged into the office with caffeine of their own. With Hotch firmly buried in his paperwork and Rossi such a terrible influence on you all, by the time everyone was into work you had dissolved into friendly chatter rather than work.

“I swear, it’s going to happen this time. Nothing’s going to get in my way.”

“You told her that last time, Derek, and then you were away for two weeks on a serial case. You gotta stop making such big plans!” Penelope argued but Derek shook his head.

“You’ll see babygirl, this one will pan out.”

“You know, from everything I’ve heard about Savannah, I think she might prefer a quiet night in rather than some grand gesture you can’t follow through on. It’s those little moments where you make time for her that she’ll remember,” you tried, because Penelope was right and everyone in the room knew that except the one person that needed to.

“You really think so?”

“I know so, Morgan. You know, once, Spencer prepared a fort for the two of us? A whole ass fort, with the sofa cushions and sheets and every blanket he could find. It’s one of my favourite memories.”

“It is?” Spencer asked, his mind only reeling a little bit. He’d done that on impulse, thinking it might be the perfect combination of comfort and nostalgia that you needed to take your mind off a particularly bad case involving children you’d been on the week before. He’d never known you’d remembered it so much.

“Definitely. Even if it was so small we both got sore necks sitting inside for too long. It was amazing,” you were looking at him, stars in your eyes, but you quickly shook your attention back to Derek, “I’m not saying build Savannah a fort, that might be a me and Spencer thing, but you get my point.”

“I guess I do,” Derek scratched the back of his neck, at least beginning to rethink his elaborate ways of letting his girlfriend down, “Thanks, Y/L/N.”

You nodded a ‘no problem’ just as Rossi remembered where you all were and suggested everyone get back to work. Spencer sat back down, but his mind was all over the place. Hotch said if he thought about it, thought about you, then he’d just know.

Maybe the trick wasn’t just thinking about you, but actually listening to you.

---

“Stopping to get takeout on the way home was the best decision ever,” you said, halfway through a mouthful, “It’s times like these I’m glad to have such a genius boyfriend.”

“You know not every decision I make based on my status as a genius, right?”

“Yeah, whatever, eat your food, babe,” you insisted, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you sat on the sofa side by side. Your legs were curled up against his side, Spencer resting his other hand on your leg as he ate. There were moments of idle chatter between the two of you, but since there hadn’t been time to eat earlier in the day, you mostly concentrated on getting the food in you as quickly as humanly possible.

That was, until you decided to break the silence.

“Hm,” you began, then a good few seconds of thinking later, “Never mind.”

“You know you have to tell me what you were thinking now.”

“No, really, doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N…”

“Seriously Spence, forget it.”

“I’m physically incapable of forgetting it Y/N,” he said bluntly, “Just tell me. It won’t be as weird as you think.”

You paused.

“Okay. Just hear me out then,” you said seriously, turning in your seat so that you were facing him properly, leaning an elbow on his knee and your chin on your fist, “What if we got married?”

Ah.

Now that, that had not been what he had expected. He hardly managed to respond through the lump that had formed instantaneously in his throat, his airways closing in.

“What?”

“I’m just asking, what if we got married? I mean, I love you and I’m pretty sure you love me. There’s no one else I want to be with, ever. So...why not?” When he didn’t say anything, you continued on, though far less sure of yourself, “I know we’re not exactly traditional but it would make sense, financially, right? And maybe...it might be a little romantic?”

“A little r-romantic?” He stuttered out, face drained of all its colour. This wasn’t in the plan. This was not in the plan. He may not have had a plan, but whatever this was, it wasn’t the plan.

Your face fell.

“Sorry, this isn’t the way to propose is it? And talking about the financial benefits of marriage definitely isn’t romantic,” you frowned to yourself, no longer looking him in the eye, “And honestly, maybe marriage isn’t something you see as romantic anyway, seeing as you probably know all the history that included the woman belonging to the man and everything, so maybe you don’t even want marriage?”

The infliction in your voice on the last question, the way your pitch changed, he could tell you beginning to get really nervous. Like what you’d just said might ruin your relationship that could never be ruined. But he wasn’t even thinking straight, because you had just asked him to marry you and he didn’t even get a chance to do it first. To do it right. He blinked rapidly as he looked at his lap.

“I don’t think-“ he began, but stopped himself, “I’m not sure-“

“You know what? Please forget I said anything, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. Pretend it never happened, please Spence,” you said, already getting up from the sofa, distancing yourself from him, picking up your plate with a half-eaten dinner and making towards the kitchen, “I think I’ll turn in for the night, I’m beat. Night Spence.”

You hardly looked at him as you passed him to go to the bedroom, but he saw the flash of unshed tears in your eyes as you scurried by. He opened his mouth to speak, but for once his ability to process the situation that had just taken place was at an all time low. Instead, he scrambled to fetch the ring from his satchel near the door, wanting nothing more than to ask you right there and then—

“Y/N, wait-“

He held up the ring box as he turned around, but the bedroom door had shut with a click.

You’d just asked him to marry you and he hadn’t said yes.

Well, fuck.

---

A/N: i’m aware this is six months late! all the apologies and i hope you enjoy this next chapter, i’ve nearly finished our beautiful fluffy finale to the story that should have finished long ago. lots of love to anyone who managed to make it this far! i wish you all a wonderful week <3

taglist if you’re still interested! (ily all regardless)

@mrs-dr-reid @soda610 @alexxcorona113 @thupidalethea @may-beforejune-afterapril @ilovesupersoldiers @hurricanejjareau @mortallythoughtfulgurl @aperrywilliams @saranyx@anotherspencerreidblog @thegayestdestielshipper @burkgolden @zozolee @sargent-barnes​ @halseysunset​

[onceuponaloonatic]

Can you update the misahyo au?

of course !!

In the nearly twenty years of being with Sana, Jihyo had never come home to her crying. Sure Sana had cried plenty once she was home, and while she wasn’t at home, but never once had Jihyo come home to Sana sobbing. It seemed today was a day of firsts.

After dropping Nayeon off, Jihyo had taken her and Nico home, too far into her head about what Sana had told her to really listen to Nico and engage with her on the ride. Once they got home, Jihyo helped Nico out of her car seat and brought her inside. She helped her with her shoes and then told her she was going to check on Sana and Mina. As awful as it made Jihyo, she just needed to see Sana. She needed to see how her wife was and she needed to hold her. Even if it meant she left Nico by the entry to their house, standing awkwardly by the locked front door. (Jihyo had made sure to check that it was locked the minute she and Nico were inside. Jihyo finds Sana on the couch. She’s curled up in a ball, and a mess of tears. She meets Jihyo’s eyes and Jihyo can feel her heart shattering at the sight of her wife so absolutely destroyed. Sana looked so scared. Jihyo was with her immediately. After a quick check to make sure Sana was okay with a hug, Jihyo wrapped her up so tightly. She didn’t want to let go. She ended up holding Sana. She needed to be here for her. Of course she wished Mina was here too, but right now she could only focus on Sana.

“Mama?” The moment is broken when Jihyo sees Nico standing there staring at the two of them. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“N-Nico.” “What’s wrong with mommy?” Sana sobbed harder at the questions, cuddling closer to Jihyo. “It-it’s nothing baby. Why don’t you go play upstairs? Mommy is just a little sad about… Big kid stuff.” “Mommy okay?” Nico asked, the tears spilling over as she watched Sana fall apart. Jihyo’s heart somehow broke even more at the sight. “Just go upstairs please.” Jihyo knew she was being too harsh, but she couldn’t keep three people from completely falling apart. “Mommy… Mommy okay?” More tears spilled out from both Nico and Sana. Sana shook in Jihyo’s arms while Nico stood in front of her, both on the verge of getting much worse. “Nico- please just go upstairs.” Jihyo sighed.

“No!” Nico screamed, more tears coming out as she started sobbing. “Mommy okay?” “Nico…” Sana muttered from Jihyo's arms. Nico stayed for a few more seconds before running off, and Jihyo made sure to follow her long enough to know she went upstairs. Jihyo sighed as Sana shifted closer to her. She was still shaking in Jihyo’s arms. “Babe can you-go make sure she’s okay?” “I will in a bit but I need to make sure you're okay first.” Sana shifted closer to Jihyo, burying her face into her chest. Her breathing was starting to even out, and Jihyo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sana calming down a bit.

“I’m fine.” Sana insisted. “No love you're not, and that’s okay. It’s really scary. And you need to feel that fear and sadness. You are a mom, but you're also a person Sana. Burying your emotions even if it is for Nico isn’t going to be good in the long run. It’s going to hurt you and Nico.” Jihyo started drawing small shapes on Sana’s back, pressing kisses to her head as she thought about what to say. It was scary, for all of them. In Jihyo’s arms, Sana took a few shaky deep breaths, slowly regaining control of her mind. “You’ve been a mom for as long as I have, how are you better at it?” Sana muttered once she was calm. As she came down, she felt exhaustion creep in. “I’m not better at it.” Jihyo muttered between kisses to Sana’s hairline. “I just think we need to be our best for her. And sometimes to be our best we need to take some time for ourselves.” “Look at you, such a good mama. I married the right person.” Sana joked, settling against Jihyo and closing her eyes. “You and Mina.” “Mina….” Jihyo sighed. “I’m-” Jihyo and Sana were both surprised when the doorbell rang. Jihyo felt Sana immediately tense up again, all of the tension returning to her body and her face went from sleepy to scared in seconds. Jihyo took a deep breath, knowing it was probably not Sana’s parents. They had no way of knowing their address. Momo’s mother wouldn’t tell them and it’s not like they had talked to Sana since they got arrested. Even with that knowledge though, she still couldn’t help the tension building up inside her. Jihyo made Sana stay on the couch, and the minute she’s gone Sana is grabbing a throw pillow for comfort. Jihyo had to get on her tip toes to properly see through the peephole and Sana would have laughed at her if she was in a better mood. “It’s just Nayeon and Momo.” Jihyo announced to Sana, seeing her wife relax. She couldn’t blame her, Jihyo felt relief flood her as well as she opened the door. “Hey guys, now’s not a great time so-”

“I know. I’m here for Sana.” Momo looked like a woman on a mission as she interrupted Jihyo. “My mom told me what was going on and to check on her.”

“She’s in the living room.” Jihyo knew Momo could be protective, especially when it came to Sana. They had been friends for so long, and Momo was some of the only biological family Sana had left. She knew Momo was one of the best people for Sana right now. “And I’m here for Nico.” Nayeon announced. “Nico?” Jihyo asked. “I’m guessing you guys upset her.” Nayeon moved inside to take her shoes off and Jihyo closed the door behind her, immediately making sure to lock it. “I-how did you know?” Jihyo asked, genuinely surprised. “We have a special bond.” Jihyo looked at Nayeon accusingly. “Alright alright, Mina texted me she was really upset.” “Mina?” “Apparently she went to Mina after you told her to go upstairs. She told Mina what happened and Mina told me.” Nayeon explained. ��I can take Nico if you want to talk to Mina… I know you're trying to give Mina her space, but I think it’s time you guys talk.” “Did Mina say anything to you?” Nayeon sighed and nodded no. “She doesn’t have to. This is one of the longest episodes she had in a while, and it’s affecting all of you. With this stuff with Sana’s parents going on, I think you guys need to sort out what’s going on with Mina like now. It’s hurting all three of you, and it’s hurting Nico. This is one of her first times being around Mina when she’s like this- I’m sure she’s confused and scared and it’s stressing her out. When you add Sana on top of it, god I can only imagine how scary it must be at her age.” Nayeon explained. “Maybe that’s why she was so upset earlier when Sana was crying…” Jihyo thought aloud. “I have a feeling that contributed. I think it’s also pretty disorienting to come home to your mom having a breakdown and your other mom basically telling you to go away. She’s three Hyo, she isn’t exactly capable of completely understanding things like anxiety and depression and breakdowns. You did the right thing sending her upstairs, but I also think you could have handled it a little better.” Nayeon sighed. “But that’s okay. You guys are learning. A big part of parenting is learning. You're going to make some mistakes along the way and Nico’s going to be mad at you or upset for a bit, but as long as you make it right it will all workout.” “Thanks Nayeon Unnie…” Jihyo sighed. Nayeon really was one of the best people in Jihyo’s life. As much as she complained about the older girl, she and Jeongyeon had always been Jihyo;s rocks. “It’s easy to have perspective on stuff like this when you are on the outside. But really as hard as it is, at the end of the day it’s up to you to make the decisions you think are right for Nico.” Nayeon put a comforting hand on Jihyo’s shoulder. “Now, I’ll be upstairs with Nico. You might want to give Momo a minute alone with Sana, you know and I both know Momo knows things about Sana neither of us will ever understand.” Nayeon explained.

“Yeah, you're right, I’ll go check in on Mina… I’m sure she’s rattled.” Jihyo sighed.

“Sure. And Hyo, make sure you don’t take on too much. You tend to do that sometimes.” Nayeon sighed, letting go of Jihyo’s shoulder. Jihyo followed her friend upstairs, Nayeon immediately went to Nico’s room. Her door was open, and in passing Jihyo could see her with her face buried into her giant stuffed bear Sana had insisted on getting for Nico’s third birthday. On a trip to Costco, Nico had seen the giant stuffed bears and absolutely fell in love. Convincing her to let go of the bear was one of the hardest things in the world to do. She had thrown a huge fit and Jihyo had to take her to the car. After a full blown meltdown, she had an asthma attack in the car. After that, Nico seemingly forgot about the bear. When her birthday was coming up, Sana had decided it would be a good gift for her, despite the fact they had already picked out quite a few gifts for their little princess. Nico had nearly died when she saw it on her birthday. She jumped up and down and almost had another asthma attack when she came downstairs and found it in the living room.

“Mina…” Jihyo found her wife in the bed. Mina looked like she was crying, her form shaking under the covers. “Love, it’s me again.” “I’m starting to think you might live here.” Jihyo could’t help but crack a smile at that. At least Mina could still crack a small joke. “Maybe I just really like the girls that live here.” Jihyo responded, moving closer to the bed. “Nayeon’s with her right now. Momo is with Sana.” Jihyo sat on the edge of the bed. She reached a hand towards Mina, but stopped herself midway. “Hey love… You don’t have to talk about it yet, but we- we can’t keep this up. Nico can’t- I can’t- I don’t want to rush you my love but we can’t do this forever. Maybe just, can we talk about making things a little better?” Mina was quiet at that, snuggling closer to the covers. Jihyo hates seeing the tears on her love’s face. “I- Nico told me something was wrong with Sana.” Mina’s voice was hoarse. Jihyo made a mental note to grab her some water later. “Yeah… But it’s- we should talk about you first.” Jihyo sighed. “Please my love… It hurts all of us to see you this way.” “I-I’m sorry.” Mina started sobbing some more. Jihyo hated it. She hated knowing Mina was in so much pain. “No no baby it’s okay. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel like this. We just- we love you. And we want to help you feel a little better.” Jihyo muttered, tangling her fingers in Mina’s hair. “You don’t have to be perfect Mina. None of us expect that from you. Me, Sana, Nico, none of us expected you to be perfect. You know that, right?” Mina’s silence was the answer to Jihyo’s question. “Love, none of us expect you to be perfect. You’re already doing so good. We are all so proud of you.” “Nico too?” “Of course. Nico thinks the world of you, but she knows no one is absolutely perfect.” Jihyo muttered. “She loves all of us so much. She loves you so much.” “What about today?” Jihyo gently moved all the hair stuck to Mina’s face away. “You and I both made mistakes today baby. But it’s okay. She’s fine- I should have texted you and warned you she was in a fragile mood. The last few days… Haven’t been ideal for all of us, her included. Nayeon is with her right now. She told me everyone is going to make mistakes and part of parenting is learning. None of us really know what we’re doing… Do we?” “No.” Mina couldn’t help but giggle. Her crying had stopped, and Jihyo was more than relieved to see the small crack in Mina’s face “Exactly. We can make things better, but we both need to put in a little effort, okay?” Jihyo swiped her thumb across Mina’s cheek. “Mm-kay.” “Okay?” “Mm-hum.” Jihyo continued swapping her thumbs across Mina’s cheeks. “I want to see Nico.” “You don’t have to love.” “I want to.” Mina sat up, reaching for one of Jihyo’s hands. Jihyo immediately held it. “Okay.” Jihyo smiled. “Let’s go.” Mina held tightly to Jihyo’s hand as they made the short journey to Nico’s room. Her door was closed, so Jihyo knocked on it. At Nayeon’s “come in” Jihyo slowly opened the door, keeping eye contact with Mina to make sure she was okay. At Mina’s insistence, Jihyo opened the door. “Hello.” Nayeon greeted them. Nico was in Nayeon’s lap, her face buried in Nayeon’s stomach. “Hey Nico, we have some visitors.” She seemed calmer, sleepily cuddling with Nayeon. “Hey sweetheart.” Jihyo led Mina to sit next to Nayeon and their daughter. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you were worried about Mommy. And that was sweet, but um the thing with mommy, it was adult stuff. I know you want to help and that’s really sweet of you.” “And I’m sorry too baby, I- haven’t been feeling well lately and I shouldn’t have gotten mad. Can you forgive Ka-san?” “Katsu?” Nico looked up from Nayeon, tears still lingering on her cheeks. “You want Katsu?” Mina couldn’t help but giggle. “Uh-hum.” “Alright, you can have all the katsu curry you want.” Nico brightened a little, reaching a hand out from Mina. The two held hands and Mina brought Nico’s hand up to kiss it. “I love you.” “I love you too ka-san.”

[babiesdreams]

The mirror +18 Doyoung Hogwarts au Part 2 This 2 fics are important. Really, read them if you wanna keep up w/ everything

Part 1 is in here (For context). Alsooo, as I said in the first part, I do not stand by what the Harry Potter creator says/thinks about the trans community. Don’t hate on trans people, trans lives matter.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: sexual content, fem1 reader

It’s been weeks and you were really dying to know what Doyoung saw on the reflection of the mirror, but he always refuses to tell you. At this point you really believe it must be something really embarrassing, since he wasn’t talking about it. 

Your best friend, Donghyuck, has been telling you how you shouldn’t trust him. The Gryffindor boy always hated on Slytherins and Doyoung always got on his nerves. The two of them were constantly fighting about completely unimportant things. 

“I’m sure he saw your dead body” Haechan says with a creepy tone.  “For god’s sake Donghyuck, he’s not the devil. He’s just a student” He chuckles “You know who else was just a student. Yes, you got it. Tom Riddle” He says in an ironic tone that really gets on your nerves. “He doesn’t want me dead okay?” You say angrily.

“Who wants you dead?” Doyoung says from behind of you. “What did you see in the mirror?” Haechan says getting closer to him, trying to intimidate him, but Doyoung’s eyes are only looking at you with a serious yet hurted expression. “You told him?” He says slowly. “I-I didn’t mean to-” You stutter, trying to explain yourself but he just furrows his brows and walks away, completely furious. 

“Fight me you stupid” Haechan shouts at him but he doesn’t seem to care as much, his body turns back, looking at the Gryffindor boy and he simply says “Aqua eructo” Pointing his wand at the boy. Inmediately a jet of water emerges from the tip of his wand, wettening Haechan’s body.

“See? The devil” Haechan whispers once he’s gone. You hit his arm, completely mad at him, but also wasn’t all the fault on yours? Weren’t you the one who told him about that personal and intimate moment?

“I gotta go” You say, holding tears from falling down your cheeks. You get to the girls bathroom, to hide from everyone around. Your tears quickly start floading, in between loud whines. Moaning myrtle’s ghost starts talking to you instantly almost like tears and cries called her soul everytime.

“Who made you this sad?” She coos at you. You look at her, kind of disgusted, knowing how annoying she could get sometimes. “I don’t wanna talk” You simply whisper. “It was a boy right? Boys are so cruel” She says crying out loud. You look at her fiercely and shout “GO” 

She shakes at the fierce and scary reaction. “Leave me alone” You scream at her. She ends up leaving with loud cries that get to your mind, making it hurt like crazy. Gosh you hated that annoying ghost.

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

You’ve been trying to apologize to Doyoung for weeks in different ways, but he always found a way out, not even wanting to look into your eyes. So you decided to go with the harsh way. “Petrificus totalus” You say pointing at Doyoung’s figure. 

His body petrifies under the effect of the spell. His expression turns into an angry one before it gets frozen. His body surprisingly mantains the balance, which is rare on victims under this spell.

You start off explaining yourself. “I wasn’t conscious of how much that moment meant for you. I really thought you would talk about it with your friends too. I just... He’s my bestfriend, and I know he can get really annoying sometimes, but he’s a good guy. He was just scared, since you were a Slytherin, and he doesn’t really trusts Slytherins... I’m so sorry Doyoung. I should hae never done that, or even pressure you to tell me. I just don’t wanna lose you. I have been so afraid of losing you this past weeks. I had to petrify you so that you would listen” You say, as tears start appearing in your shiny eyes.

“I love you Doyoung. And It fucking hurts okay? I don’t know what to say or do to make you stay. But if I can do something, anything, please tell me... I really can’t imagine my life without you” You cry out, looking at his petrified angry expression. “Renervate” You finally say pointing at him with your wand. His body slowly returns to its natural form. 

His expression in no longer angry but sad. “You can do whatever you want. I just wanted to tell you” You say as you turn your back to him, wanting y¡to leave the room. Now filled with embarrasing moments for you. “I wasn’t mad” He says, stopping your steps. “I was just hurted. But you couldn’t know why. You don’t know what I saw” He explains.

But your tears don’t stop falling, His words wouldn’t stop your mind from blaming your actions. It wasn’t your fault? Yeah sure. You couldn’t know? Why would that even matter? You revealed an intimate moment between you two without his consent.

“Are you listening?” The boy says worriedly. “You deserve to be mad at me” You say controlling the tone of your breathy voice. “I’m not mad” He shouts “I don’t care” You answer, also screaming. “You should be mad. You should be hating me. Why aren’t you?” You shout at him and he looks at you with a serious gaze. “Because I love you”

His words replay in your mind, like something that you needed to hear, yet you were to scared about. “You want to know what I saw in the mirror?” He says, almost tearing up, but you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter anymore” you whisper as your lips get closer to his. Your lips collide together in a explosion of feelings.

“I missed you” He says under his breath. “Me too” You simply reply.

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

It’s been a couple of hours since Doyoung forgave you and your heart was already fluttering around. His arm pulls you into a room, an empty room, and instantly everything that happened that night replays on your head.

Doyoung’s lips are leaving wet marks on your neck, making your body shake due to the pleassure. “Let’s take it slow this time” You whisper at him and he nods. His black hair really looks great with the rooms lighting. His dark chocolate eyes are fixed on your lips, your soft and moist lips. 

His thumb caress it softly as if redrawing them. They tear apart slightly, leaving a gap in between your top and your bottom lip. “You look perfect” He says looking directly at your lips. “Stay by my side” He whispers in your ear and you simply nod.

His thumb slowly enters your mouth, getting wet with your saliva as it does. He’s completely focused on fucking your mouth with his fingers in a very sexual way that he forgets about everything else. Your mind is also focused on the slow movements of his finger passing through your wet lips over and over again. Your tongue moves slowly, caressing the tip of his finger as he keeps inserting it in.

You swear you could just have  cum right there by the mere actions of a finger in your mouth, which was quite embarrassing. The way he moves tho... He doesn’t need a spell to control you, his words are more than enough. His free hand finally travels along your curves, The way his fingertips brush your skin makes you shake slightly, in anticipation.

He reaches your cunt, drawing a straight line through your clothed folds. His thumb is fully inside of your mouth, not moving now. His lips get close to your neck, pressing a soft kiss on it “I love you” He whispers against your skin before his tongue licks it off slowly. “I fucking love you” He repeats and you can’t contain yourself from humming against his thumb.

He chuckles, knowing exactly what you wanted to say, and keeps going. His tongue getting dangerously close to your breasts. Your hands fastly remove your clothes from his way, wearing only your underwear now. “Good girl” He growls against your collarbone. He licks his way down until he reaches the limit of your bra. 

As if reading his mind you unclip it, letting it fall down right after. His lips trap your left nipples, sucking it in slowly. His teeth slightly caress your skin as he dows, making you gasp. His lips slowly get away from your chest, making your nipple slide out. He then straight up bites the sensitive skin. His teeth are gentle tho, only making you feel a slight hint of pain in between all the pleasure.

His hand is still on your cunt, drawing circles around your clothed clit, making your panties completely wet and uncomfortable to wear. If his thumb wasn’t on your mouth you’ll be moaning out loud, letting the whole school know just how good he’s fucking you. But instead you’re only able to hum around his wet digit.

His fingers slide your panties down, letting them fall to the ground, the sensation of the cold air and the relief of not having a wet spot brushing your cunt is absolutely perfect. You don’t have much time to think about it tho, because his fingers quickly enter your dripping wet pussy, slowly yet deeply.

You wanna scream his name so that he knows just how much you’re enjoying it, but it doesn’t seem to be needed by him. He can tell just how much you’re enjoying it purely based on the wet fluids coming out of your cunt. 

His mouth finally atacks the other nipple, that was completely abandoned. His lips repeat the actions he previously did with your other nipple. You let out a whimp around his thumb, which he gets out of your mouth, leaving a wet trail of saliva connecting his digit to your lips. It’s a split second though, just before he gets his index and middle finger inside, filling your mouth again.

You hum in protest but he doesn’t really listen. His fingers get faster inside of you, curving themselves as they do, instantly making your body shake out of pleassure. His actions come to a stop shortly after as his fingers slowly pull out of you, making some of your juices fall to the ground from his fingers.

His fingers get out of your mouth as well. “On four” He simply orders, and eventhough you wanna protest you simply obligue, getting on the said position fastly. He’s busy removing his clothes, on your back. “I love you too Doyoung” You are finally able to reply as he gets undressed. The boy chuckles at your cute confession.

“I know baby” He says kneeling down and inserting his tip in you. You whimper loudly and he sighs. “You have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get us expelled” He says and you nod as if understanding, but deep down you know you will not be able to control sounds from coming out of your mouth.

He puts his hand on your mouth making your body follow his arm. Your back touches his chest slightly getting the boy’s sweat on you. His dick gets inside of you fully as you do. His hips move fast as if he had been retraining them all this time. “Have I ever told you how good you look like this?” You shake your head and he smirks. 

“You look perfect like this, when I fuck you” He whispers in your ear, leaving goosebumps all over your body. And it’s true, the way the lights reflect on your body, as it shakes, covered by shiny sweat is really a mesmerzing view. “Now you are gonna cum for me as I do okay?” He says softly and you nod, already feeling a wave of arousal coming.

Your body shakes when you feel his hot cum filling you out. “Fuck” You whisper loudly once he removes his hand from your mouth. He pulls out of you, letting his cum fall to the ground and he sits down, catching his breath back in.

“I need to tell you” He says in between heavy breathes. “About the mirror” He starts saying with a shaky voice, but his figure starts dissapearing without he even noticing. You gasp in surprise, not knowing what was happening. “I saw” His breathy voice says just before his whole body vanishes away.

You’re really shocked, not knowing what to say or do or think. You never saw this kind of magic before and he for sure wasn’t controlling it. Your eyes keep looking at the spot where his body used to be, thinking to yourself if all of this had been just your pure imagination tricking your brain. 

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

To be continued.

Masterlist –requests open– How to request?  Check out your score.

[shoichee]

Oblivious!reader as Aomine’s Crush

May I request for an HC or Fic, you can choose, of like…Aomine’s crush is like the MOST OBLIVIOUS person and at least the same year as sakurai. Daiki teases them to be flirty but they think he hates them so they go to basketball practice crying looking for ryo because aomine “hates” them but daiki just butts in and tells them in frustraition? If only you’re okay with it though hahahaha

@thirsthourdemon hi!! sorry it took so long woooo thank you for stopping by this blog and sorry it took so long D:

Oblivious!reader x Aomine Daiki

[Headcanons]

Note: as much as my head is FILLED with the urge to write a fic, my uni classes said “hell no.”

so you can be a bit dense and while Aomine finds it really really cute at first…

endearing and cute… only for the first few weeks he’s tried to make a somewhat attempt to hit on you ever since he saw you smiling at your class president in the hallways

but after that,,,, well,,,,,,,,

you were very close friends with Sakurai, his mild, but responsible personality meshing perfectly well with your slightly airheaded personality

what does that mean? well, you would sit on the benches to watch Sakurai practice while you were either A.) doing your homework and being absolutely oblivious to the curious (or less than decent) stares or B.) eating Sakurai’s extra bentos he would sometimes pack that day because you would sometimes forget your own

this doesn’t bode well for Aomine, especially since he ditches practice 24/7 and every time he tries to look for you after school, he could never find you for some reason

until he showed up to practice that one time to steal an octo-dog from Sakurai’s bento when he saw you talking with the coach, trying to earnestly learn more about the sport

ohohohoho, his smirk grew and he’s having the wildest ideas in trying to get your attention

*proceeds to rip off the entire backboard and glances to your figure to see you wide-eyed*

*also waits outside the gym with a confused Momoi until everyone except you and Sakurai leave*

Aomine also tells Momoi to scram, also subtly glares at Sakurai

both leave but both give each other the look before they both hide behind the bushes to eavesdrop

there was no way in hell Sakurai would leave you alone to Aomine, even if he was someone who wasn’t confrontational

Momoi, on the other hand, even if she was pissed he name-called her, didn’t trust him to be on his own devices, especially with someone as sweet as you

“So you’re the one Wakamatsu has been ranting about,” you said tilting your head up as you took in Aomine’s appearances for the first time

“Huh? Yeah I guess,” he flippantly grumbled, scratching the back of his head as he averted his gaze away

you gasped, bringing Aomine’s (and the eavesdroppers’) attention back to you

“Wha…? Where’s Ryo?”

“…” - everyone right now

as you cluelessly look around your surroundings, Aomine steps forward to clasp your wrist and slightly tug you towards him to get your attention back on him

“Tch, forget about him for a second.” Aomine makes a harsh frown before remembering that he was supposed to make a good impression

your eyes curiously dropped to his hand on your wrist

“Aomine-san… Is there something wrong with my wrist?”

“Huh?? No, obviously not you idi—(y/n)—” he coughs out in an attempt to cover up his mishap but you don’t seem to notice

“Wahhhh, I have to look for Ryo!” you said, your brows furrowing. “He’s probably waiting for me right now! Ah, I’ll see you later, Aomine-san!”

and you dash from Aomine, breaking free from his loose clutch on you

Aomine just stands there dumbly, watching you until you leave his sight before he kicks the dirt in irritation

meanwhile, Sakurai leaves the bushes to chase after you and Momoi huffs as she stomps to him, pushing Aomine from behind

“Ow—what the hell?”

“Mou—I can’t believe it! You can’t just treat everyone like that!”

“Hah? You never nagged me about this before. Besides, don’t you people like that kinda stuff?”

“Ugh, Aho-mine! You lack delicacy! You have to be romantic and sweet if you like the person—!”

“Who says I like (y/n)?”

“It was as clear as day, stupid!”

meanwhile…

Sakurai is gently scolding you for getting yourself into a “possibly scary” situation although you don’t really get it

“What’s scary about Aomine?”

“E-e-eh?? Lots, (f/n)!! Did you not see him beat up Wakamatsu-san and rip off the hoop??”

“Well, I dunno, Ryo…” you started. “He seems out there, but I think he’s a nice guy.”

“That’s what you say to every person you meet.”

“Hmpf! Not everyone,” you pouted

“Just… just be careful, okay?… I worry for you…”

…

for the two weeks, it was a pattern of Aomine waiting for you outside the gym after every practice, while Momoi and Sakurai begrudgingly hiding to eavesdrop, ready to intervene if needed

that said, both are inwardly cringing at Aomine’s attempts at “flirting” while everything just seems to fly over your head as you blink and politely smile

“You’re not half-bad looking, y’know?”

“So who’s the other ‘half-bad’?”

“What?”

“What?”

You would tilt your head innocently at a flustered but frustrated Aomine

if you listen hard enough, you could hear a loud worried sigh and an “Ahomine!” from a distance

or another day:

“So there’s a movie at 5 tomorrow, and I got an extra ticket. Wanna go?”

“Don’t you have Momoi?”

“She has practice.”

“Don’t you have practice, too?”

“….”

or another day:

he decided to take Momoi’s advice in being more “forward” but showing enough romantic gestures to get the point across… but the only thing he could settle on without getting too sappy was the kabedon

“A-Aomine-san! What’s wrong? Can you stand properly? Do you need to go to the—”

“Shut up already, (y/n),” he drawled, before he tried to lean in closer to your face…

but then you slapped your hand to his forehead and leaned even closer to his face to try to feel his temperature

oh, but your lips—too close—too close—help—

“Oh no! You are burning up!”

Aomine was ready to faint right there and then

…

“You need to tell her and be honest, Dai-chan!”

“Shut up, Satsuki. Non’ya business.”

“It is, Aho-mine!” she huffed. “(y/n)-chan is my friend too!”

he groans as he sits up from his napping position at the rooftop before he stretches his limbs and walks to the gym

…

“Aomine-san! You’re coming to practice today?” you turned to the blue-haired ace at the doorway in surprise

“Nope, I’m sleeping.”

“Huh?”

he languidly walks to your side to steal your onigiri

“Wha—?”

“Thanks for the food, shortie.”

“Ah?”

and he gives your head a few firm taps before he leaves the gym before a Momoi unceremoniously bursts into the room, wheezing

“Is Dai-chan here?…”

you shake your head “no” in response, still in a stupor at processing what just happened, and Momoi just dashes back outside to track him down

…

“A-Aomine-san!” your fingers barely grazed the pencil as he held it up way above his own head. “Could you please… give that back?”

“You can get it back if you manage to get it,” he said, with a mischievous smirk on his face

“Wh-why meee?” you whined, as your breath shortens out of exertion

“You’re the only one who could cure my boredom.”

“Aho-mine! Give it back to (y/n)-chan!”

“Tch, fine…”

…

yeah, he’s just been calling you various names, stealing things and taunting you to get it back by running FULL SPEED IN THE HALLWAYS, knowing FULL WELL YOU COULD NEVER CATCH UP

“Dai-chan, can you stop messing with (y/n)-chan? You’re so childish, sheesh!”

“Didn’t you say to be honest? They’re short, right? And I’m just playing with (y/n). You know that.”

Momoi wants to kill him right there and then

“Ugh! I swear, you’re so dumb! We might know you don’t mean these things, but does (y/n)-chan know? Besides, you’re not being honest with your feelings to them at all! Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

…

“Ryo,” you sniffled to him one day. “Do you think Aomine hates me?”

“W-well, as much as I stay away from him… If he hated anyone he would make sure they know it…”

“I knew it! Was it something I said?” you gasped. “Maybe I’m the reason why he never went to practice. Maybe my presence annoys him—”

and you’re ready to break down in the middle of the hallways at the possibility of having someone hate you because of your obliviousness to your own insensitivity

“N-no! (f/n)-san, it’s not that!” Sakurai uncharacteristically firmly says. “Why don’t you talk to him to sort it out?… I’ll walk you to him but…”

despite your reluctance, you figured it was the best course of action, and you were determined to at least apologize to him

well, you were until you turned around and walked smack dab into the touou ace

as you rub your nose to ease the pain and look up to the person, ready to apologize, you freeze

uh oh, did he hear the entire thing?

you mad dashed to the opposite direction but he immediately chases after you, leaving a concerned Sakurai in the dust

of course, you were no match for his long legs his agility and you were soon tackled by him when you were both outside the classroom buildings

as he tackled you, he cradled you into his arms as he twisted his body to take the brunt of the fall

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I’ll get off right no—”

he fully locked his lips onto yours

“Shut up, already.” he frowns before continuing, “I never hated you, stupid.”

“You… don’t?”

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue in irritation but he still pulled your cheek affectionately

“O-ow! Why don’t you go… to practice then?”

in response, he sighs and says, “it’s a long story, but I’ll tell you at Maji Burger… how’s that sound?”

“O-oh! I didn’t bring money today!”

“I meant as a date. You, me. Between us. As a romantic thing.”

“R-r-romantic!?”

“Do I have to spell it out?” he sighs loudly. “I like you, shortie.”

“H-hey!”

[bluegarners]

Dick comforts a dying civilian. He wishes he didn’t have to lie to do so. 

~oOo~

“You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

That’s what he says. What he swears. The dying man, hardly a man, couldn’t be a man, he’s barely an adult, he’s so young, so young, only nods his head at the lie. It’s a sure movement, confident and trusting, and Dick has to force his mouth shut in order not to take it all back.

The asphalt is cold, it’s barely eleven thirty, but there are no stars or street lamps to help soothe the roughness of it all. The ink that oozes out and stains the black is staining his suit as well. It coats his hands and fingers, breaks through his knees, slides under his feet. Despite the pebbles that press into his shins, Dick can only focus on how soft and slick blood is.

Blood is soft.

“My name’s John,” the young man offers. Red stains his teeth in a grin that reminds Dick of his own. “Nice to meet you, sir, uh, Nightwing.”

He knows he’s not really supposed to listen to the scanners. Old habits die hard, and even though Batman’s disapproval is almost enough to keep him away, Dick’s fingers still twitches to his retired radio. It’s how he got here. It’s why he’s here now.

“Hi, John,” is all he can really offer, too focused on keeping his hands in position. Too focused on trying to slow the stream, the bubble of life that keeps pouring out. Upper left side of the sternum. Exit wound out from the third left rib. Estimated time of sixty, maybe ninety seconds, since the shot. Too late. Too late.

“My sister’s name is Rita,” John says, and his eyes are wandering across Dick’s masked face. “She’s thirteen.”

Dick nods. Digs his fingers into the small hole further. The ambulance is maybe two minutes out. Maybe more. The call only just came in.

“What’re you doing?”

Finally, Dick shifts. John has brown, unremarkable eyes. “I’m stemming the blood flow. You were shot.”

“Really?” John is genuinely surprised. “When?”

Dick presses his hands down a little harder. “A few minutes ago. Tell me more about your sister, John.”

“Why was I shot? Who did it?”

“I don’t know,” Dick responds. “You said Rita was thirteen?”

John smiles, eyes scrunching up. “Yeah,” he sighs. “She’s going to turn fourteen next month. An actual teenager.” He adds, softer, “She’s growing up too fast.”

“I know the feeling,” Dick agrees, thinking of his own teenager. Damian, indeed, was growing up too fast. He was almost up to his shoulder now. “Any plans for a birthday party?”

The blood isn’t stopping despite the pressure. It keeps seeping through his fingers, a warm envelope compared to the dry cold.

“She wants-” John coughs, chest caving. “She wants to go to Disney World. Go see Mickey Mouse.”

“That sounds like fun,” Dick cheers, trying to calculate how much time is left. John’s green coat is soaked, drenched, and Dick knows if he were to squeeze the front, it would dribble. 

John jerks his head and his eyes are roaming. There is little color in his face, lips parted in desperate gasps. The shock from before is steadily going away. The adrenaline is leaving, but everything else is fixed in place.

“Am I,” his voice cracks, “Am I dying?”

“No,” Dick reassures. “You’re going to be fine.” He presses down harder.

John whimpers. “Stop, stop. That hurts.”

“I know,” Dick soothes. “Everything is going to be okay, John. Look at me. You’re going to be okay.”

A lie.

The younger man doesn’t look at him though and he bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t feel my hands,” he admits. “I-I don’t feel very good.”

“Help is almost here, John.”

Another lie. He can hear the orders going back and forth in his ear. There’s traffic. It’ll be another three minutes until an ambulance is free.

 “Just stay calm. Deep breaths. Breathe with me, okay? In and out.”

John is trying his best to copy the exaggerated movements, lungs stuttering and shaking. The panic is setting in though. The panic and the desperation.

“What am I gonna tell Rita?” he asks like he’s expecting an answer. “What am I gonna tell mom?”

Dick doesn’t know. 

“We were-- We were all gonna go together, you know? She’s turning fourteen but she still wants me around and I don’t understand why but-”

John coughs again. It’s weak. 

“I’m scared,” he whispers. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Dick opens his mouth again to spew some half-hearted reassurance or answer that’s just lies with a pretty bow atop. He stops though. John is staring at him with dirty brown eyes. There’s nothing special about them. Nothing notable. There are no flecks of gold or amber in them that catch the light. There’s no stony wall of indifference built behind them. The whites of his eyes are splattered with burst vessels and strain, and they hide nothing.

But John has brown eyes that stare at him, stare into his soul, and beg for honesty. Truth.

Dick can’t bring himself to use harsh words though. Can’t bring himself to form the sentence ‘You’re going to die,’ because that’s cruel and too blunt and death is so personal. Dying is too intricate to be put like that. You can’t explain death.

Dick’s died before. Only a minute or two of complete nothingness, but death nonetheless. He remembers the moments leading up to it more vividly than he does the moments after. His body hurt, ached in a way that he was sure he’d never feel the same again. His throat was sore, deep gouges and scratches still oozing blood. He could barely see out of his left eye, nearly swollen shut, and his wrist were throbbing. 

Most of all, though, Dick remembered suffocating. Remembered Luthor’s clean, clean face. There wasn’t a speck of dirt or blemish on that man. His teeth were a perfect white and his eyes were filled with apathy. Luthor’s metal gauntlet smelled like oil, and he could sometimes taste it on his tongue during the worst nights. The pill was small, shoved down his throat so efficiently, but the very idea of medicating like that again leaves him shivering.

He struggled. He did. Dick struggled as much as he could, muscles screaming and heart crying out. At some point, he recalls looking for Bruce. Looking for a small comfort in his despair. A familiar face to ease the panic.

There was only Luthor though. Luthor and his pearly white teeth and apathetic eyes. 

His lungs had burned and it had spread to the rest of his body like he was on fire. Dick’s last moments, his death, his murder, was filled with nothing but horror and pain.

Dick hadn’t wanted to die. Dick hadn’t wanted to know he was going to die. There was no hope with that. No sense of faith for another outcome. Fruitless as it may have been, Dick had wanted to dare for a savior.

No, Dick would not be cruel. He could not be.

“Nightwing?”

His name is hardly a breath out in the open air. The wheezes have stopped. Blood still pours and pours and pours. His suit is stained. The ground is soaked.

“It’s not scary,” Dick says, leaning closer. It’s truthful, this time. Dying wasn’t scary. Everything up until death was. “It’s like falling asleep.”

“I’m not ready,” John rushes to say. “I--I don’t wanna be alone.”

His eyes keep flickering closed, slowly fluttering open every few seconds. Carefully, cautiously, Dick removes his hands. Alleviates the pressure. There is an awful suctioning noise as he releases his fingers from the wound. John doesn’t notice.

“You won’t be,” Dick whispers, taking the other man’s trembling hand into his. “I’m here. You won’t be alone.”

“You said it’s like falling asleep?” His voice is hardly a rasp. “I go to sleep and it’ll all be just a dream?”

Death was a dream for Dick. A nap in oblivion. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and then opened them and gasped. That was it.

“Yeah, just a dream. That’s all it is.”

“And after...” John trails off, pausing for such a long time that Dick doesn’t know what to do except to continue to hold his hand. He speaks up again though, eyes flickering to find opaque lens staring back at him. “What happens after?”

There’s a wailing in the distance, close enough where the high pitched whines sound like hope and the flashing blue and red lights look like safety. There’s too much life around him though. Too much of it leaking into the asphalt and draining out of that green winter coat. John stopped shaking awhile ago. His grip lessened, and even though his eyes were meeting Dick’s own, Dick knows that he was no longer seeing.

On some level, Dick knows it’s too late. It was already too late when he arrived. John, this man that barely looked over twenty one, with a chipped tooth and boring brown eyes and a thirteen year old sister named Rita, had the misfortune of Nightwing arriving too late.

“After?” Dick repeats, squeezing the man’s hand. “Well, that’s the easy part. After, you wake up.”

He doesn’t see the exact moment brown eyes become dull, doesn’t look at his watch to confirm the precise second of when John takes his last breath, but he does know that sirens flood the dim street thirty seconds later and that it is much too late to do a thing about it.

He lets go of John’s limp hand, briefly considers wiping his gloves onto his already smeared suit, and allows two paramedics to swarm the quickly cooling body. He waits for police to arrive, watches as they drape a black tarp over Rita’s older brother’s body, and declare it a homicide. Even throughout the questioning, of which they let him off relatively easy considering the sheer volume of-- of life splattered all over him, Dick lets them do their jobs.

He leaves with little fanfare, grappling away from the scene and flipping through rooftops.

The radio in his belt feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. The static in his comm is loud and screeching, and for a moment, Dick entertains the notion of flinging it out into the night. Throwing the cheap device into darkness, watch it plummet and shatter. 

The sirens are soft, muffled with distance, but the taste in his mouth takes him back as if he never left. Copper. Oil. Dirt. His own sweat. A dry pill.

See, the thing is, Dick isn’t very good about being honest. He’s tongue and cheek most of the time, quipping and tossing around puns as distractions and ice-breakers. When people go to him for guidance, they aren’t looking for his honest thoughts. They’re looking for leadership. They’re looking for advice that’ll help them through their trials. Most of the time, they just want hope.

John was looking for hope.

Call him an optimist. Call him a pessimist. At the end of the day, there’s still water in the cup, and that’s all that matters, right?

Dying was not like falling asleep. It wasn’t taking a little nap and floating in forever. You don’t wake up from death. It wasn’t a dream that you don’t remember after opening your eyes. It wasn’t a nightmare that leaves your heart beating out of your still chest.

Death was nothing. Nothing.You aren’t supposed to come back from nothing.

You aren’t supposed to wake up either, and yet here he was. 

Dick isn’t very good about telling the truth. He’s a very good liar. A good actor. Manipulative, some would say. He prefers to see the other half of the coin. He doesn’t like the darkness or the grim. He tolerates it all, yes, but he’s a good liar. Good enough to fool himself.

Sometimes, Dick wonders if he ever actually woke up.

Thoughts like these are dangerous. They lead down a rabbit hole that’s difficult to claw out of. He’ll do it again, shovel through his own thoughts until his nails are broken off and the tips of his fingers are raw, but he can’t let himself ever succumb to it all again. 

Death wasn’t like a dream, but it took all the same. It took memories from him. Those short, precious, important minutes he spent dead took away a lot of things. And he gets so angry when he can’t remember the good things.

He gets so furious when he has trouble recalling his first birthday at the Manor. He feels an unbridled rage when he doesn’t know off the top of his head when Jason got adopted. These dangerous and purging flickers of loathing for himself shove everything else aside when Tim talks to him about certain missions that he knows he should know like they happened yesterday, and yet even the thoughts of it are fuzzy and woven with cob webs.

He’ll never forgive himself for forgetting what it was like to hug Damian for the first time.

Death, trauma, it all stole from him, but he was also lucky enough to wake up. 

Blink. Gasp. Breathe. Taste ash and inhale smoke.

John had brown eyes. Rita is turning fourteen next month. 

The radio call requested emergency services for a neighborhood disturbance at eleven twenty five. Nightwing arrived on scene at eleven twenty eight.

The blood under his fingernails will take three showers to get out.

John bled out and his life now stained every part of Dick Grayson.

These are things Dick will remember. 

Death is not a dream, so this is the price for making it one.

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♥ ◦∘ Peter Parker - Everything Happens for a Reason ∘◦ ♥ ◦∘

A/N - I only wrote it a couple of months ago and due to the close nature of it, I haven’t uploaded it anywhere. I hope you like my first (10k) Peter Parker fic. I know that the timeline doesn’t make sense, but in all honesty, Endgame and FFH messed it up plenty so I just kinda placed this in no-mans-time. And I know the compound was destroyed during Endgame, so just bear with the fact that I’ve made it so that Strange and his wizards rebuilt it for survivors :)

Warnings - making out and shadows to sex, SWEARING, bad parenting, mentions of grief, mentions of injury and disability, angst, death of parents etc. Also, don’t read if you haven’t seen endgame because it’ll be spoiled in the first paragraph of this. 

Summary - Stark!reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and the retirement of your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step-mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason. 

IT'S BEEN JUST OVER THREE MONTHS since the final battle, and therefore just over three months since you said goodbye to the only three role models you had for the most important five years of your life. Well, the three are debatable. 

Your dad had died, still holding your hand, after saving humanity like he always did, allowing the burden of the Stark name to fall onto you at long last. Your uncle Steve - tutor extraordinaire - had officially retired and moved away, and you haven’t seen him since the final goodbye, leaving you more and more doubtful every day you’ll ever see him again. And your aunty Nat let herself go, she pushed herself away from that cliff, and let uncle Clint live, to help give you a better life, but what Nat didn’t realise was that you lost them both that day, because Clint hasn’t been back since. He’s never coming back now from the trauma, the man who was more of a father than your dad ever was.

It was quite possibly the worst period of your whole life, but then again, when half of the world is destroyed before you’ve even hit puberty, you don’t really have much to hold it against.

But here you are again, stuck in your room in the semi-rebuilt compound, grounded by FRIDAY while the step monster and child are at the lake house, living happily ever after. What the issue is, you don’t know. All you did was get a piercing... and be rude to Peter. And Sam. And everyone in the building- ok maybe she has a point, but hey, you’re grieving the loss of everyone major in your life, and you can barely do anything for yourself.

It’s like five years ago all over again. Everyone you’d grown accustomed to, your friends, your mom, your idols - even if they weren’t dead, they were lost for a long time - and your crush. The one and only Peter Parker. Much to your surprise, you got over most of the deaths pretty quickly. There wasn’t much to understand - they were gone and they wouldn’t come back no matter what, so what good would worrying and crying do? Obviously, as a young girl, this was the wrong response, so this is when Pepper got her name. “Don’t be so insensitive! Those were your dad's best friends, people he worked with for years. Those people were his family, and mine, and yours.”

You scoffed at her, the way you always seemed to do. “Yeah, ok. But my mum died, and am I making a fuss? No. She died for a reason, they all did,” and under your breath, you added “I still just need to figure that reason out.”

You held back from the obvious “they were my family too” bullshit, because your dad never believed that, even when you spent most of your time at his house with the Avengers instead of him. It wasn’t that you hated your mom or your dad, you loved them both equally and spent time with them both, but when one dies and one goes missing and spirals into lord knows what after going missing in space with a blue alienoid, everything gets a little complicated and stops making sense. Spending more time with your dad was scary too, seeing the intricacies of Avengers life in a capacity which you didn’t understand for a long time growing up. That only lasted for a year before he took off and made you be a tennis ball in a flawed game between him and Rhodey. Every weekend for five years you drove from the compound to the lake house. You lost out on a lot from that, and your dad didn’t even seem phased, because he had Morgan. 

But beneath all of the hatred that had made you so rebellious since you turned fifteen, there was something deeper.

Considering how stone faced and resolute you are and always have been, considering how harsh you are about the realities and never getting caught up in mindless emotions, no matter how much you claim that your grieving time was over the second that you pushed your dad's heart away, mere weeks after feeling his pulse drop as you laced your fingers with his, no one would believe that it was all a lie.

Every night since that snap more than five years ago, you’ve done the same thing. Make a cup of hot chocolate (an iced decaf latte if it was summer), and you’d take it to bed and just cry until you could no more and simply fell asleep. You weren’t even sure why you cried, because after all there wasn’t really any reason to. The world was moving on, albeit slower than before, and your life  was about as much locked into place as it could be with Tony Stark as your father, but the crying just felt obligatory. After ten, FRIDAY always turned off in your room, that was the agreement your mom had with your dad whenever you stayed there, although you weren’t sure why it made a difference, and it just stuck, so no one saw the pointless tears, no one heard, and no one cared. The only one who ever did care enough whenever you cried had been snapped away, and now he was back, you were just another repugnant face in the crowds, or so you’d guess with the way he looked down upon you.

 “It’s ok dad,” you said with a completely straight face, your hard eyes locked onto his, your entire being completely void of emotion, “you can go to sleep.”

He squeezed your hand with his forefinger and middle finger, very lightly, and he just croaked out his final words to you, “my beautiful Sloane, so brave.” So quiet that they were only decipherable to you.

“Life functions critical,” the Irish accent rang in your ears.

Pete had already said his goodbyes, but now it was Pepper’s turn as she wiped your dad's tears away. This time you should’ve been there for each other, a support for one another, after all, they were losing him together and were in the same boat, but sometimes even grief can’t bring people together. 

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be ok..” she pleaded. 

Your dad's eyes moved from yours to hers, a sluggish movement that took the remaining life from him. He moved his lips to form two words that broke your heart, because you knew that they were directed at all of you, and they meant so much more than anyone else could understand. Those words were his attempt at making up for being such a shit dad. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Pepper kissed him. “You can rest now.”

You didn’t even look around to see anyone else’s face , especially not Peters or Peppers, because as soon as his pulse stopped and his skin slipped from your grip, his body cold, you knew that the chapter of your life with your father in it was over, so you pulled your mask back over your face, and strutted away, as far as possible. You ignored your limp completely, because with all of the numbness, it was like you couldn’t even feel the pain. Except you didn’t disappear, no way, you couldn’t. You watched as they all knelt for him, for the man who missed all of your firsts in life, who was absent when you needed a father and a friend and a leader, and even though you were chronically broken within, every terrible emotion gnawing at you, screaming at you to just feel something and express it; you didn’t. You suppressed it all, and walked away. And of no surprise to you at all, no one followed, or even noticed you were gone.

After all, Tony Stark died for a reason, and at least this time you knew what that reason was. 

 “Miss?” Someone’s snapping their fingers beside your ear, driving you mental but also snapping you awake from whatever dream that was, reliving the scariest day of your life. “Miss, you fell asleep at the table. We’re clearing it for dinner, please.”

You roll your eyes up at him, instantly recognising Pete’s voice, but you just don’t care. He doesn’t even know who you are. So you scoff, the way you did at Pepper so long ago, and you leave without a second glance.

“Are you a relative of Nat’s? I- I heard someone was coming over to stay...” his voice yells down the corridor.

“You can’t be serious Peter. You don’t recognise me at all?”

And with that, you snatch your water bottle from the edge of the counter with your spare hand and resolutely stamp off down the corridor, your feet loosely wading in your docs with your crutch assisting you along the way.

You’re leaving soon, so you won’t have to deal with him. But you still have another year or two of high school to compete with, and with your tutor gone - your dad refused to send you back to school after the snap, so it was left up to whoever wanted the job, and Cap wanted it a lot more than he did, so you spent your weeks driving from the city to the lake house after finishing the weeks tutoring, to spend time with your ‘family’ - and now, you seriously doubted that anyone else would want the job. Bucky is too hormonal and grieving the loss of his best friend, Banner is freaking you out, Clint is off the grid from another breakdown and it’s like he’s not even human anymore, Wilson is too busy with his new training regime and fighting Buck, and Scott doesn’t know the first thing about what you need to learn thanks to his ditsy persona. Which only leaves Pepper and Rhodey, and which forces you to go back and live in the lake house, away from the shambles of the rebuilt compound, all thanks to Strange and his wizards.

Maybe this is what you need, because now you don’t have to see Pete and get offended every single time he forgets your name and doesn’t have a clue who you are.

That night, you skipped your crying routine, and felt no better nor worse off for doing so. You simply dosed up on your painkillers and drifted off to sleep, filled with irritation and dreams of a mousey hero.

 For the next couple of days, you’d just gone about your business and avoided the funny looks from all of the other Avengers at your foul demeanour. None of them that were in and out of the rebuilt compound ever really took notice of you anymore, and you weren’t sure that any of them recognised you anymore, not with all of the piercings and hair dye and the crutches. After all, the last time most of them knew you, you were an annoying child who watched them work and ate dinners with them, and your dinners consisted of smiley face waffles and chicken nuggets. And besides, you were perfectly able back then, and you often had little friends over, or your mom would pop in to say hi on your way home. There’s no chance of that happening anymore. Bucky had recognised you, smiled at you, and occasionally made jokes about you being crippled together, so with any issues you could just turn to him, but this Peter thing annoyed you too much to talk about it, and you didn’t know why. 

Speak of the devil-

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, standing just behind the sofa and hovering awkwardly.

“I don’t care,” you say, all of your words merging and slurring. You signal to the seat beside you yet far enough away for him not to be a bother, and he takes it.

“So h-how are you?” 

You watch him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye, because you can just feel his eyes on you, namely on your tits that had suddenly appeared in the last few years. 

“I’m fine thank you, Peter. It’s not like no one knows who the fuck I am and I’m living in a literal post war, dystopian, apocalyptic world all alone. How are you, Spider-Man?”

He blanches before your eyes, and you can physically see any words die in the back of his throat.

“I-I’m good.”

Everything stills for a little while, and the only sounds are what's playing on TV and Peter’s occasional swallows, making his Adams apple Bob in your peripheral view. He doesn’t dare look at you, and you can just sense his agitation, mainly from the way he fidgets and weighs the sofa cushions down weirdly with his weird spider legs. 

It only takes half an hour for you to wear down and ask him the burning question, his presence beside you enough to make your skin tingle in anticipation and anger bubble within, not to mention the girlish sense that overwhelms you, so contrasting to your dark clothes and self-given bridge piercing. 

“Why don’t you speak to me anymore, Peter? Do you seriously not recognise me?”

His eyes fall and his face turns sallow, and he stammers over a few consonants, unable to form any real words.

“I’m Tony’s daughter.” You announce, facing him head on. “Y/N Stark.”

Only after you’ve said that do you realise that he’ll have absolutely no clue what you’re saying, but you can see the cogs whirring in his head as everything is pieced together. His eyes lock onto yours, and they’re the one feature you haven’t changed about yourself in the years that he was gone.

“I changed my name last year, I used to be-”

“-Sloane Stark.” he finishes with you. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, too lost in them after he’s been without them for so long. Something’s clicked inside, but scepticism overtakes him. You grasp your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck, all the loose ringlets in different shades tickling your neck, but it reveals a thin, pale, bumpy scar on your skin; a thin and jagged line that runs from the base of your ear to the start of your clavicle. You’ve had it since you were 11, when Peter first became a regular at the compound and you began to play together, but then an accident happened, and Peter stayed by your side as you got the stitches, holding your hand. 

Finally, he cottons on, and you can see the tears welling up in his chocolate brown orbs.

“Sloane…”

He virtually leaps from his seat and throws his arms around you, completely overcome with all kinds of inexplicable feelings. Love seeps from his body into yours, he clings to you, and even buries his nose into your hair, taking a deep inhalation before sighing in contentment. Even when the average hug time has passed, he doesn’t release you, and keeps his arms wrapped like a koala around your shoulders, his body slowly getting closer and closer towards you and for some reason making you blush. Your arms remain limp around him, and your forefinger traces figures on his lower back, but you don’t squeeze him as much as you did when the surprise of his cuddle attack first hit you. 

He eases himself away, but still keeps his hand on your arm, a gentle and warm presence. 

It doesn’t hit you for a while that it’s the first hug you’ve received in months, and the first one from Peter in five and a half years.

“I’m guessing that you didn’t snap away like the rest of us then…?” he asks shyly. 

His spare hand immediately retracts and rubs the back of his neck anxiously, just the way he used to, but only now do you understand why.

“Nah, I didn’t,” you say, “Sadly I was stuck here in this shambles of an earth, dealing with everyone else's depression and having a little sister forced upon me. I couldn’t even go to school, it was awful.”

His face falls into a deep frown and he searches your face for any sign of your words being cynical, but he finds nothing.

“W-why did you change your name then?”

You shrug, for what feels like the hundredth time in his presence, “Sloane is an awful name, it means ‘raider’ in bloody Irish. None of my family is Irish, my dad suggested the name when he was drunk, and my mum couldn’t think of anything better. Y/N makes me feel like me.”

He nods understandingly and doesn’t push the matter, so you offer a half smile and move your attention back to the TV.

“Why did you change you?” he asks all of a sudden.

The question instantly ingrains itself into your brain, and makes your heart ache. Why would he ask such a thing? Doesn’t he understand what's happened? Why does he even care? But the last thought makes you sick to your stomach, because you know that he always has cared and he always will, he promised you that the first time he was babysitting you and you got all het up over something on the TV. Maybe a part of him knew that it was you all along but he just couldn’t broach the subject, or maybe he didn’t and he thought you’d been snapped away and you simply hadn’t returned. No matter what it was,you knew that you couldn’t blame him, but as his question bounced around your brain and repeated, you had no idea what happened, but you felt any compassion shrivel up, your heart grew cold, your demeanour turned harsh, and your kind response died in your throat. You look him dead in the face and straighten yourself up, your eyes devoid of all feeling.

“My mom died, all of my idols and my family and school friends died - Scott, Buck, Sam, you - and my dad was never the same again. I was left with him and the step monster who, who for the record doesn't even like me because of my mom, and Morgan came along, so they forgot about me, and I only stayed three days a week because the rest of the time I was stuck here with a depressed Nat and  counsellor Steve, and the latter had to teach me everything I needed for the finish of middle school and my freshman and sophomore years, which was hard in itself. Dad was so depressed, he wouldn’t listen to the words I said about the other Avengers, so apart from Steve tutoring me, I basically raised myself for two years, without friends or anything, and they were two of the most important years of my life . Everyone forgot about me. I was just turned fifteen and more adept at coping in this world than any adult I’ve known. I hated my name and what came with it, and I never really liked myself, that's always been the case. I hated my appearance and I had no one to make me feel nice when you died, because you always told me that I was pretty, just like a princess, and you kept me sane. Fuck, Pete, you held me together, and all of that faded when you died, because as soon as you were gone, everything else around me crumbled.” You inhale a sharp intake of breath, and move to stand, snatching your crutches from the floor. “Long story short, while all of you were gone, I grew up. I’m 17 now, I may be different to how you remember but at least I feel comfortable now. I really did grow up peter, and you need to start doing the same. My dad is never coming back.”

And just like the days before, you scurry off back to your room and bury any inhibitions beneath your pillow, leaving Peter in the living room, completely crushed and left to mull your words over alone while he waits for May to get home.

 Five days later, and you can’t take the silence anymore. Peter practically hides and runs for shelter each time he hears you approach, you saw the footage on FRIDAY’s cams. It really upset you for the first two days, but with each shy, rushed smile and fleeting glance he takes at you, each one that makes your stomach do little flips, they just remind you how cruel you were to him, how brutally honest, when Peter needs more time to heal than you do most likely, as your dad meant more to Pete than he did to you, and if anything then that's a reflection on Tony. He wanted a son. Maybe Peter feels guilty, mabe he’s sad, maybe he just straight up doesn’t like you, but whatever it is, you don’t fucking like it, so you’re preparing for the move in two days time. Far earlier than planned. 

With each piece of clothing you fold, with each piece of metal shrapnel you toss into your jewellery box, with each eyeliner you tuck away in a bag, you run everything that's happened in the past week through your head. You called Scott up to see how he’s getting on with Hope and Cassie, you spoke to Laura - no longer a secret - who just told you that Barton is in almost as bad a place as before, just without the machetes and with a lot more crying and whiskey, you spoke to Rhodey for an update on the lake house/new home situation and put all of the plans in place, but you did shut down his heartfelt offer to be another father figure, starting with a controversial suggestion to send you to therapy or rehab for your ‘lashing outs’, and you’d made amends with Sam who was surprisingly okay with your whole new thing going on, and he said he loved your vibe and gave hair dye suggestions, making you rethink your decision to leave all over again. Bucky had taken you shopping, hoping for retail to cure both of your depressive episodes, but it didn't really help even if the long, deep conversation over milkshakes at a nearby diner did help, and he cradled your head in his lap as you told him you’d miss him more than the others. He told you that you were being stupid about Peter and that the kid really likes you, but you retorted with a scoff, saying he’d never fancy you the way you fancy him.

Ah, yeah, that revelation, the one which makes you throw a sweater full force into your open trunk, sitting at the base of your bed. With a loud groan, you throw yourself dramatically down onto the bed and savour the soft comforter for one of the last times; after all, the place will probably be gone, along with the remnants of FRIDAY by the time you return, if you ever go. 

“Where are you off to?” Peter asks from the doorway, his voice inquisitive and startling you from your angered daze. 

He must’ve seen your bags half packed in your room, lying out on your bed beside you. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes thin and bullet-like.

“I’m leaving.” You snap rather viciously, and prop yourself up on your elbows. “The Cap’n has gone, and I’ve been out of school too long to go back. The Step-Monster needs to ‘tutor me’, and I need to teach the little brat.” You’re referring to Morgan, but Peter doesn’t seem to pick that up by the looks of his furrowed brows. He certainly looks relaxed though, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Why can’t you stay here?” Peter asks and You shrug, unsure how to respond. “I- I’m sure Mr Falcon would help teach you, or- or Wanda?”

Shit, Wanda. You’d practically forgotten she existed from how much of a recluse she was now. You should probably go and check on her or at the very least have a chat with her. She was dead for five years, just like Vis, but when she comes back she’s still not over him after months? Sounds fake but ok...

“Wanda has even less of an education than I do.” You retaliate with a foul attitude and an even fouler taste in your mouth, turning your back on him when you stand, and going back to your packing. You try your best to ignore his presence, but you can just feel him hovering metres away, itching to do or say something to you.

“Well then you can stay living here and enrol in Midtown High with me. We’d be the same year now and I could show you the ropes.”

Ok now you know he’s fucking with you.

“Peter, I can’t go to midtown.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been out of co-ed for too long, let alone education, as I haven’t had any since like fucking February, and I’m too traumatised and crippled for them. How would that look eh? Y/N Stark enrolling for junior year after the death of The Tony Stark?” Peter goes quiet. “And anyway, it’s not like I have the brains, at all. I’m not smart like you, Peter. I’m as thick as two short planks. I got my mom’s brains and some of my dad's abilities. I can chuck on suits all I like, I can build shit all day, and I can play sports like no one's business; or at least I could.” Having your one ankle completely useless is a complete bummer, maybe even more so than losing everyone, because now you actually have to live with being this way. They don’t have to live. “But the second you give me a math equation, I’m gone.”

“Couldn’t you live with your mom then? Mr Stark said she doesn’t live too far out of state, nowhere near as far as the lake house.”

“My dads fucking dead Peter, he doesn’t control shit anymore” You find yourself shouting, your eyes burning into his with a fire of fury behind them. “My mom came back after the snap but she hasn’t answered any of my calls, and she fled the house when I turned up on her goddamn doorstep. She ain’t no option anymore, my authority is Potts.”

He gives you a sad smile but slinks away. No surprise there, last time he saw you, you were twelve years old and tugging on his trouser leg to get him to play basketball with you. You didn’t have anywhere near this level of anger, and you’d never have dared scream at him, let alone repeating the words that hit him like daggers mere days ago. 

 The next day comes too soon, and you’re just chilling , finishing up the last of your packing, and trying to ignore anything pushing you to stay. Why did your chat with Peter compel you to want to stay here instead? What is it about him that always brings you full circle, and makes you feel like that love struck child again?

From your mirror, as you’re adjusting your blouse and switching out your nose stud, you see Peter approaching, steadily advancing down the corridor. Twice he stops, and takes a step back, as well as turning and looking the other way as though doubting his decision to come into your room, but when you see his knuckles come in contact with the wood of your door, as he knocks gently, and the sound floats into your ears, making you turn around to see his meek smile with his head hung low.

“You can come in Pete,” you exhale, “I won’t bite your head off.”

He chuckles lowly and advances towards the bed. He gestures, and you nod, giving him permission and hobbling over to join him moments later. He seems flustered, you can tell me by the way he’s struggling to maintain eye contact and the manner in which his hands are convulsing in his lap. Seeing him like this makes you uncomfortable, and you can even feel bile rising in your throat. 

“Peter, I-”

“No, Y/N, please let me, I mean, I wanna talk.”

You smile and bow out, allowing him space to align his thoughts with his words, after all, you’ve known that it takes him a while to do that, but it’s necessary in any kind of emotional situation with someone as awkward as Petter; just the thought causes butterflies to flutter around in your stomach and windpipe.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, for nagging you and insisting, and for asking you those questions and trying to make you stay. I just, I really just don’t want you to leave. I was insensitive, and I should’ve recognised you beforehand.” You can feel tears pooling behind your eyes, and it takes all of your willpower to not let them fall. “I just want you to do as well as you can, and I wish you all the best, I just wish I could’ve gotten to know you better  before it was too late; ok Stark?”

His lips quirk into a smile, yet his voice breaks as he calls you Stark. It physically hurts to hear him say that, and you want to tell him that it’s okay, and he has every right to be upset and grieving, and you know you shouldn’t have shouted at him and gotten so defensive because after all he’s one of the only people you can let your guard down around. You just want to say that it’s not his fault, except you can’t find the words.

“Why can’t you stay?” He asks sincerely, even a touch of desperation there.

Your heart drops to your feet at his expression, and your next words come out as a hushed, pained whisper, your words slow and detached. “I have no reason to stay.”

He nods dejectedly, almost like he’s giving up on something, and he even moves to stand up while your eyes are glued to the way his muscles ripple with each movement, but halfway to being upright, he changes his mind and turns towards you.

The next thing you know, you feel the soft pressure of his thumb on your chin, followed by the pads of his fingers on the soft skin underneath, tilting your head up to look him in his gorgeous eyes, like molten honey in the soft sunlight of your bedroom. Just the sight of his lips slightly parted causes your mouth to go dry, but you don’t have too long to think about that, because all of your thoughts dissipate with the featherlight pressure and sweet, intoxicating taste of his lips on yours. His nose nudges your cheek ever so gently. It’s barely there, and over far too soon, it still makes your head spin. Christ, you’ve been waiting for that to happen for upwards of five years, and it was just as beautiful as you hoped it would be.

“How about now?” He inquires, a stark contrast of shyness and courage written all over his face.

“Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll find out?”

You fist the fabric of his t-shirt and pull him towards you, leaving Peter shocked by the strength in just one hand, seeing as he finds his body hovering above yours just seconds later. He looks hungry, already ravishing you with his eyes as you kiss and kitten lick just below his ear. He holds his weight up but leaves no time to press his lips against yours, urgently, passionately. You moan a little at how desperate he is to get his hands on you, the way he knots one hand in your hair, splayed out on the pillow beside you, the way he’s senselessly grinding his crotch onto you. You don’t mind at all, especially not the breathy calls of your name he lets out when you knot your legs around his lower back to pull him closer. It's a primal desire that keeps you moving. His tongue glides across your lower lip, prying its way in, and you just let it happen, too caught up in the moment to do anything else.

“Pete, fuck…”

Your one hand slides under his shirt and runs across the ripples of his abs, you savour the way he tenses beneath your touch, the way the scars feel tenders beneath your hungry touch. You other hand threads into his soft brown locks. You pull gently and elicit the most perfect guttural groan from him.

“Y/N,” he almost pleads, and his lips move to gently suck on your jawline. 

You’re surprised that he isn't calling you Sloane, but you certainly aren't complaining. Your name from his tongue does things to you that you can’t even explain.

You dance your fingers from his hair across to his face, and push his cheek gently. Your eyes are thin, focussed on him, but Peter’s pupils are heavily blown with lust, leaving only a faint rim of golden brown around the edge. 

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps out, and your stomach coils in desire. Your face must look so pouty, so wanton, but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Fuck me, Peter.”

He looks like a deer in headlights momentarily, but gets over it quickly, attaching his lips back on yours and allowing his tongue to roam your mouth, savuring and swallowing every whimper and moan that escapes your pretty lips.You let your hand, the one still beneath his shirt, skim over his muscles to where his heart is, beating at a double pace, thrumming gently beneath your hand. It makes your ego inflate tenfold, knowing that you’ve gotten this flustered and needy.

Just as you’re really getting lost in the pleasure, Peter’s hand cupping and massaging your breast as his mouth works wonders on intoxicating you, you hear a rather loud cough from your doorway, and everything stops. You and Peter both freeze at the same moment, and you drop any stance, fully detaching yourselves to glance at who’s there.

“You kids should be careful, and next time, close the door.”

And with that, Bucky’s gone from view as quickly as he appeared, leaving you both with a mere glimpse at him in his sweats with a coffee cup in his hands, no doubt filled with earl grey tea being the old lady he is. 

In the heat of the moment, you’d both forgotten to close the door and turn FRIDAY off. And Rhodey can access all of the footage. Fuck. Oh well, you’ve already been caught once, why stop now?

You wrap an arm around Peter's shoulders and pull yourself up until you’re straddling his lap and upper thighs, eagerly rubbing yourself against the material of his jeans to try and get some kind of friction. He slides an arm around your waist, and you move in to kiss him, only for him to turn his head the other way. 

The moment couldn’t have been lost from Bucky’s playfully snarky comment, could it? You want nothing more than for him to kiss you again, earnestly, fervently, but he doesn’t even spare you a glance, not even when he pushes you from his lip and stands up with his head in his hands.

Apparently he doesn’t feel the same.

“Crap, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? Y/N…”

He even begins to pace, that’s when you know that he thinks he’s fucked up.

“You know why I shouldn’t have done that right, don’t you?” he asks, stuttering random syllables in no specific order, but you do notice that with each pace, he paces his way closer to your open door.

“Yeah,” you lie, but you’ll work that out tonight, “I get it. But it’s fine. And I need to pack…”

He smiles nervously, and with a few careless gestures and no words, he stalks into the corridor and closes your door behind him. You can hear him lettering a long-held breath out. 

All of a sudden, you feel completely sick to your stomach. Why would he do that? It was so God damn cryptic. One second he’s apologising, asking you to stay, pashing you senseless, and the next he’s keeping as much distance from you as possible, apologising, and treating you like a child.

That’s when it hits you.

He feels like he’s kissing the old you. You grew up without him there, and in the space of what was merely a nap to him, you grew five years older, grew tits, matured, changed every aspect about yourself, and developed a sex drive; whereas he didn’t change one bit, he’s still the same peter that he was when you were an aggravating child, crushing on him from afar and trying to be like him. He feels predatory at kissing you, because all he’s ever known you as is a child, and this is all new territory, a territory he’s too scared to broach because he can’t get permission from the man himself.

Maybe that’s why your dad had to die, so that you’d never end up with Peter, and that’s Earth punishing you for some godforsaken reason.

So you just lie there, far salty tears involuntarily dripping down your cheeks as you sit there and think. Will you ever just be fucking happy?

 Happy’s set to pick you up at noon today, and after a night of scarcely five hours of sleep, you are not in the mood for anyone and their funny business, especially not Peter, and you aren’t exactly peppy for the hour long drive to arrive there with the Bimbo and the Brat. Well, at least everyone has low expectations of you, so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue when you simply scowl at them and flip them off until you chuck yourself into the car and wave them goodbye for the last time. You’re not sure if the gravity of the situation has hit you yet, maybe you’re repressing it, or maybe it simply just does not bother you, the same way that most things don’t.

You don’t even bother with your appearance, and stick to black trackies and a cropped tank top, with a mildly colourful button-down open over the top. Seeing as your docs are packed in the ‘hide from Pepper’ box, you toss on your worn down black converse and begrudgingly throw your hair up in what you hoped would be a messy bun but ends up looking more like a lopsided half-up ponytail, so you snap the hair tie and throw it away. Hey, that’s an easy way to deal with the Peter issue. Snap him in half and chuck him in the trash where he rightfully belongs after yesterday. 

All you have for breakfast is an iced coffee, and justly so, no one dares even make eye contact with you. By ten, all of your bags are out in the hallway, and not a single personal affect is left in your room. You say a quick goodbye to FRIDAY, and hobble out into the living room, where you spend the next almost two hours either staring blankly ahead of you and ignoring what’s on the screen, or picking at your crutches while you analyse the previous day with Peter. No matter how much you want to hate him, you can't refute the way he made you feel, completely under his control, so willing and malleable, so eager and hungry and loved.

 Happy pulls up at 11.55, and you begin to help him load everything into the car, but get refused after two bags and therefore two trips downstairs after you nearly fall face first and your crutches slip from your arms. The rest is down within seconds by Sam and Bucky.

You said goodbye to Wanda a couple of days ago when you popped in for a chat, but she’d still made her way out here, so you give her a quick hug and wish her well, and you see that May has made her way out to see you off, but Peter is nowhere to be found which makes your cheeks burn with anger.

“I’m so sorry for now knowing who you were my love,” she tells you, running a hand through your hair, “Peter told me all about you before it all happened, he said you were such a cutie, and I know that he would’ve made more of an effort had he recognised you.”

You chuckle softly, hug her, and simply don’t reply. What are you supposed to say to something like that? Bucky and Sam appear back at the top of the stairs and advance towards you, knocking each other out of the way in a playful battle to hug you first. Sam wins by tickling Bucky just beneath his ribs, and bear hugs you, making you feel like a baby koala. 

“Use protection next time, and please, God, shut the door.” He whispers in your ear, making you jump away, your jaw slack, utterly aghast, but he just laughs at your expense.

“You told him about that?” you accuse Bucky, shoving a finger at his chest.

He raises his hands in surrender and even lets out a chuckle before cuddling you, his metal arm somehow a comforting presence around you. 

“Of course I did, Doll. It was too good not to tell.”

You swat him gently on his chest, but instead of pulling away just yet, you bury your face in his t-shirt for possibly the last time. 

“You two kids get along, or I might have to come here and whip your asses.” you glance between Bucky and Sam, making them laugh, but they nod nonetheless and step backwards to join May, allowing you to leave. You grasp your crutches and let your arms fall through the rests, your hands slipping around the handles like second nature, and you start to make your way out. Something that resembles hope begins to blossom in your stomach, so you muster all of your courage and take a fleeting glimpse over your shoulder, but much to your disappointment yet not very much surprise, he isn’t there. You feel something within your chest physically break, and with the pain all over your body, emotional above all else, stemming from betrayal, you wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t your heart strings. Oh well, you tell yourself, and in recovery from bowing your head down in embarrassment, you hold your shoulders high with any remaining pride as you take the few steps to the door, ignoring the tears that begin to fall. Your tears are possibly the most confusing thing about this ordeal, you never cried before, not from emotion at least. 

“Stop- Y/N, wait, please Sloane…” you hear breathless shouts, followed by hurried footsteps on the linoleum. Instantly, you recognise his voice. “Please stop, I’m begging you.”

You halt your steps, and prop your crutches against the wall, but are slow to turn around, and even when you do, it takes you a moment to actually meet his gaze. His eyes hold all of the hurt he’s feeling. He hardly slept, you can tell by the red rims and deep, sallow bags. The warm chocolate colour is slightly murky, something of an anger in them, maybe even a sense of loss.

You can’t track anything more, because you take one step forwards, and he begins to virtually sprint towards you, his hair bouncing as he dashes across the floor and entwines his arms around you like vines, relentlessly squeezing you and ceasing to let go. He simply just stands there, glued to the spot, holding onto you, and once more you feel the tears well in your eyes. You’ve never been hugged this way, not by anyone, so you make the most of it and gently grasp his t-shirt to draw him impossibly closer, his scent enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and adoration. He moves one hand up to knot in your matted hair, and buries your head closer into his shoulder, which you welcome, even if you’re wetting the shoulder of his shirt with your tears. You lose count of the time until you let go, just savouring the way he holds you so lovingly, and you don’t particularly ever want to let go. All of the rest of the world has disappeared. But still, you both detach yourselves just a little, and you find your lips mere inches away from his perfect lips. Without another thought, something otherworldly takes over, and you find your lips planted together in the most intimate way possible. The tip of his tongue barely has to swipe your lower lip before you grant him access, and as you do, your mind and soul proclaim thanks to the gods. He tastes like heaven and cherry pie - his favourite - and he feels even better. The way his tongue dances with yours is like a massage, second nature, and God, you never want it to stop with how crazy he’s making your mind go, let alone the flock of butterflies fluttering around your stomach. His one hand shifts to the small or your back, and you find yourself wrapping your arms even tighter around Peter until your hands touch, and you have him held in place, in the most perfect position, the one where you know he belongs.

You separate, gasping for air and gulping as much down as you can in such a short amount of time before his hands are in your hair again and he’s kissing you just as sweetly, yet hotly, as before. The sensual way he gazes at you makes your insides turn to mush in seconds, and you have to look away even before he kisses you again because you fear you shan’t be able to keep his gaze if you ever want to leave this place with your heart intact. This kiss isn’t as long, you realise that as your hands drop to his waist and stay there lightly, feeling the skin above his hips rippling beneath his tensing muscles. His body shifts, as does his grip on you, and he starts to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, just small, precious pecks that keep your heart beating with joy and longing. Just the feeling of his lips kissing away your tears as he hovers above you makes you feel alive at long last, and he makes you feel more cherished than you ever imagined you could.

“You need to go, Happy’ll start honking for you any second.” he breathes, the softness of his breath running your eyelashes and allowing your eyes to flutter clothes, his freckles disappearing from your view for a second. Then, as if on cue, Happy's horn resounds. “I’ll walk you down.”

He looks so crestfallen as he pulls away from your and passes you your crutches, keeping a safe distance. And although you both know that everyone saw, it doesn’t matter, and no one says a word, they all just observe quietly, but you can tell that they’re smiling down on you both. You can still taste your salty tears mingled together pressing on your lips, the taste of just indescribably, distinctly Peter stuck in your mouth, a taste you never want to stop tasting. 

When Peter crushes, you oblige and scramble onto his back as he carries your crutches, and the walk down the stairwell to where Happy’s parked on the sidewalk is a silent one, but it’s still comfortable. There are so many things the two of you want to say to each other, but it’s too hard to express them given that you’re about to be shipped off somewhere that he’ll probably never make your acquaintance again, no matter how much he wants to spend all of his time with you. You’re more conflicted than you’ve ever felt, so stressed, so hurt, but at the same time you’re so happy that you got to make those memories with Peter before you leave, elated that you made up with him, pleased that you got to feel him kiss you one last time. 

When you reach the concrete, Peter gently places you down on your feet, and he puts your crutches into the open door at the back of the car and proceeds to stand nervously beside you, his hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. You have your head down, anxious beyond comparison, just staring at the gravel, until one of Peter's hands comes out from where it was and takes your trembling hand into his palm, his fingers slowly tangling around yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. He switches his gaze over to you and catches your eye. He smiles briefly before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. 

“I’ve fancied you since I was eleven,” you tell him, “That’s almost six years, that’s a long ass time.” a brief hint of humour creeps into your pained, quiet voice.

He just chuckles and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, making you smile, despite the pain of the situation. He speaks to you real soft. “I know.”

Your hand feels like it was meant to fit in his and sends a new sort of warmth shooting through your body, but it doesn’t last long before he’s helping you into the backseat of the car and reluctantly removing his nimble fingers from their grip around yours, and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead for good measure, a kiss you’ll always treasure.

“Don’t,” you plead, feeling a sob suddenly choke your throat when all that’s left are his fingertips grazing yours. “Don’t let go, Peter, please.”

It’s difficult to remain stoic around Peter now, it’s like everything just completely pivoted the day he kissed you, and if you’re honest, you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to be the hateful girl you once were, just longing for him to come back. Now he is back, you don’t have to wait anymore, and he can help you be your old self again. If only he’d just hold your hand forever, and you could actually be together.

And then it hits you. You need Peter almost as much as you need air to breathe, and if he lets go, you’ll be lost, and it’ll feel like it did for five whole years, you’ll be lonely and isolated, and even in the few days that you’ve had him back in your life, that feeling has completely dissipated and been replaced with an albeit confused elation and a warmth of love. 

“I have to,” he whispers back his eyes already red, “I have to let you go. It’s what Mr Stark would want.”

He pulls away and closes the door in one swift movement, turning his back on you. You see his mop of brunette curls slip down from view when you peer out the window, hot tears burning your cheeks. You know he’s sitting on the side, his head in his hands, but you can’t look that far, so instead you listen to the soft purr of the car as it comes to live, and you let your laboured breath steam up the glass that your hands are placed on. As you begin to pull away, your final glimpse at your old home escaping you, you see Peter waving frantically and beginning to job alongside you, only stopping once you exit the driveway. Thanks to the tinted windows, you know he can’t see you, but you see him anyway and wave back before your pain overwhelms you. That happens the second he’s gone from your peripheral vision, and your chest caves in loud, wrenching sobs that’ll leave you in pain for days. 

Is this what it feels like to have your heartbroken? 

Of course it is, you know this, but all of the times you’ve felt it before, it still hasn’t felt this bad. You know that it’s happening for a reason, that God is punishing you this way for a reason, but no matter how hard you try, it just seems endlessly painful, and all for nothing. What could possibly be the reason for this?

You’re so locked in your thoughts that you barely realise that Happy has slowed the car down, and is looking over his shoulder at you, trying to bring you back down by asking how you are and how you feel. Did he not just see that display?

“If I was allowed to stay,” you slightly pant, your teeth gripping and your first clenching of their own accord, “then it could’ve been me and Peter. Just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be as I was growing up. But everything happens for a fucking reason, right?”

Happy just swallows and mumbles something incoherent before sliding the glass back over and starting up at another steady speed. You don’t know why you’re so... angry all of a sudden; you shouldn’t be angry, you should be upset and almost grieving, crying for the loss of an old home but excited for a new one. But yet, what’s the point in all of that? You’ve felt those emotions plenty of times in your short life, and you always thought you felt them for a reason, but where the ever loving fuck is that reasoning right now when you actually need it? 

Grieving has lost its effect on you by now, and your mind feels hostile from all of the thoughts whirring around. You’ve had the same thoughts every time someone died - every time you thought your dad died, when your mom died, when Peter died, when everyone else just turned to dust. Then you felt them all over again when your dad died, for real this time, but what was the point? Nothing good ever came of it… nothing except grieving for Peter. You felt the same way you do now, only now it's somehow worse, yet he isn’t dead. You grieved for him more than you did your own mother, because he cared, because he actually paid attention, because he told you that you were pretty for the first time in your life. He always treated you like a person, like an equal, even when you were just a clingy child, vying for someone's attention when neglected by both of your parents because they had better things to do. But even now, now he recognises you again, he’s treated you like an equal, maybe even put you on a pedestal after you were extremely terse and treated him horribly. He still kissed you and cared for you and loved you-

SHIT.

You love Peter. Surely that must’ve been obvious for a long time, but now you’re finally admitting it. You really, genuinely, wholeheartedly love the little shit. Your stomach churns with nerves, and your mind tells you that you’re insane, but your heart… your heart has known all along, despite how much you fought it, and it’s now telling you to go along with it. You’re so… overcome with emotions that you don’t even know where to start or how to react or even try to begin to suss them out to deal with them so you do what feels like second nature the past few days, and you begin to cry, unable to choke it down any longer.

“Turn back happy,” you plead, “Shit! I said turn back now Goddammit!”

“I can’t, Sloane, you know I can’t, bosses orders.”

His words just hurt you more, if that was even possible, and pile something new onto the burning pile of emotions battling for territory within your exhausted brain. 

“Happy, turn back right the fuck now, or I will scream until the glass breaks.”

When he does nothing, your sobs become harsher, and something in your throat snaps, forcing you to become hysterical. It’s something primal that takes over your body, a demon's force, because God knows you wouldn’t usually have this in you. You scream. It’s just a shrill sound to begin with, until your heaving chest and tears break through, and make it into a full hysterics game.

“HAPPY! TAKE ME HOME, TAKE ME TO PETER!” you screech, and you repeat the same words until you can’t breathe any longer, but even when your lungs fail you, your hands don’t. 

You clip your seatbelt undone and begin punching the glass. It starts off just to be the dark tinted window separating you from happy and the wheel that would allow you to drive home, but even though the glass begins to wobble, it isn’t enough, so you move to the windows, your knuckles and palms coming in contact with the night shaded glass again and again until they’re rattling and even beginning to crack, but the second you feel you can, you release the most bestial, guttural scream that you can muster, and punctuate it with a rough shove to Happy’s chair.

You want to stop, but with all of the loss you’ve been through, you just need this one thing, this one person, this one place to feel complete, and none of it’s happening. It’s unspeakable, indescribable the way you feel, the turf war that’s occurring all over your body driving you insane. 

“Just take me to Peter,” you finally beg after what seems like an eternity, collapsing completely into your seat, “I need him, Happy. I need Peter, please… please.”

You’re drained, dehydrated, hurt, and it doesn’t seem like that’s going to change any time soon. You’re driving away from the only happiness you’ve ever known to live in the arse end of nowhere with two people you hate, and so a void just takes over everything that previously embodied you, and you succumb to the emptiness, your last thought being of all the tears you’ve cried over one boy, the only one you’ve ever loved, and now you can’t even tell him that. 

It was hard to grieve for someone, only for them to come back, the same way it was hard to grieve for someone who never gave a toss about you. That's what you’re finding so hard about all of this. But now, none of that matters, because he’s gone.

Two months later

The doorbell to the house rings for the third time today, driving you utterly up the wall. First it was the postie with some kind of oversized parcel for Morgan, then it was Happy, here again to help outside and be a ‘watchful eye’ while Pepper is out grocery shopping, apparently since they still don’t trust you rough to take decent care of your own sister.

“MORGAN!” You yell from your place at the back of the house, knowing that from her spot on the sofa in front of paw patrol or whatever shit she’s watching, she’ll hear, “Get the fucking door!”

“Mummy told you not to say bad words, Y/N.” She shouts back, and you can practically hear the signature Stark smirk in her words, although it should be far too early for her to actually be making that face.

That’s one thing they got right with Morgan, though, at least she calls you by your actual name instead of fucking Sloane, even if Pepper does ‘accidentally’ slip up and call you by that awful legacy name from time to time when you really annoy her, say by breaking a vase or some china, or screaming at her using all of the profanities you can think of. She’s really regretting taking you in, now, because you’re simply that much of a handful that she had Happy and Rhodey actually build a quiet room for some respite. You’re still in the rebellious phase, and you don’t seem to be leaving it any time soon, although you have let the dye in your hair grow out and you haven't bleached it… yet, and some of your piercings have naturally closed over, although that was more so that Morgan wouldn’t continually take a metal detector to your face. 

Abrupt, your thoughts escape you, and you can’t catch the thread, because after multiple attempts of Morgan’s to click open the reinforced vibranium locks on the doors (Rhodey’s suggestion), and the shifting of a stool to allow her to climb to it, you hear a shriek and some mess of words that sound like ‘Peter’. But no, that's simply impossible. You’re imagining things in your annoyed state, knowing it would’ve been a lot faster and quieter if you just made your way over there yourself. 

“It’s for you!”

Now this peaks your attention. No one has been to see you in the whole time you’ve been here, nor have you ever gotten mail. No one comes to see you, so maybe your ears didn’t deceive you.

You leap up from your seat and begin charging to the door, running as quickly and carefully as you can over Morgan's toys, but you’re also careful to not aggravate your injury. One good thing that came from your time there - the only good thing - is that you were able to work with your dad's remaining technology and do intensive physio, resulting in your mobility improving tenfold, also meaning that now you can not only walk but kind of run without assistance. But that doesn’t matter as soon as you see the man standing in the doorway, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and an expression of pure delight on his puppy-like features. 

“Y-you can walk?” he blubs, his cheeks red with joy.

The flowers fall from his hands onto the deck, and your eyes fill with tears as your hands fly up to your mouth, only just containing your sobs. Your whole being is overcome with happiness like you’ve never felt before, and it seems like all of your depression since you left him has melted away, and a new you is born.

“You came back for me…” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, and in response, he draws his lips into a tight line to contain his smile, and nods his head at you, soft brown curls falling into his soft eyes.

“Why are you sad, Y/N?” Morgan asks, and tugs at your shirt, but you don’t even realise, because the sight of Peter coming towards you is all that you can see and feel, and you begin advancing towards him too, until you collide in a heated kiss. Everything just seems like a tangle of limbs, a clash of teeth, and a battle of tongues. You’re too wrapped up in the feel of him, the passion of the moment, the intimacy of the kiss, that you don’t notice that Peter’s already got you picked up with your whole body tied around him. He tastes utterly delectable, the same as before, and his tongue feels incredible as it sweeps your mouth.

“Morgan-” you pant, “Go find Uncle Happy in the yard, now.” When she doesn’t move, you open your eyes to glare at her, stunned and traumatised into silence with her mouth slightly agape. You can’t bear detaching from Peter’s lips for even a second, so your words are all rushed. “Morgan get out now, I can see him there, in the yard, go!”

The little squirt smiles wryly up at you, but does as she’s told, and scurries off into the mass of flowers and perfectly cut grass. Seeing her gone, you let out a long held breath and smile into Peter’s passionate kiss. All of the love floods back to you, and you feel whole once again. But before you can get too caught up in the sappiness, Peter is already blindly stumbling through the house and kicking the front door closed behind him. Your fingers in his hair, you guide him to the couch.

As he kisses you so tenderly, even in the heated moment, you finally understand what everything was for. Every trial and tribulation in your life was teaching you, helping build you up for this very moment, where it all makes sense.

Everything in life has been for a reason, and that reason is this very moment. The thought makes you smile, but nowhere near as much as Peter’s own smile does.

[shipmistress9]

8 -hiccstrid 😊💜

HICCSTRID

8. Interrupting with a kiss

This is actually a story idea I was pondering over for a good while now. But it fits this prompt, so I had a great excuse to finally write it down. ^^

Fateful Heights

Speak of the devil and he shall appear…

Hiccup couldn’t help but marvel about this saying as he threw a cautious glance down into the gaping abyss below his dangling feet. Or, well, the rest of the funfair, but it certainly felt like a gaping abyss…

Earlier, when they'd waited in line to get onto the Drop Tower, they’d all joked about how scary it would be to get stuck at the top. Then, when Snot, Legs, and the twins were getting onto the first ride while he and Astrid had to wait for the next round, he’d joked about how it would actually be funny to watch them get stuck and get sick now. It had been mainly to interrupt the awkward silence between him and Astrid, the girl he’d had a crush on since forever. But she’d laughed and agreed that it would be hilarious to watch.

Now, however? Now, it was him and Astrid being stuck on this stupid tower. For ten minutes now, the thing hadn’t moved even one inch. Every now and then, the operator called up instructions or reassurances over a megaphone, but in all honestly, that didn’t help the feeling of dread in his guts one bit.

It wasn’t even the height per se that bothered him. He absolutely loved heights. Snot had even jokingly commented before that Hiccup got high on heights, and, well… he wasn’t so far off. Of all the rides they’d planned to go on today, this one was the one he’d been looking forward to the most.

No, it wasn’t the height that made him feel queasy. It was the sense of helplessness. To be out of control and at the mercy of someone else, something else.

The wind, usually a highly welcome sensation when blowing around his face, now made him clutch so tightly at the handle that his knuckles stood out white. One person a few seats to his right had dropped their shoe, and it had taken a disturbingly long time to reach the ground.

And it was no exaggeration when he thought that the only thing keeping him sane was Astrid sitting next to him.

“Hey, look over there,” she now said, her hand awkwardly pointing to a spot on the horizon. “There’s a ship coming in. I bet the people on the ground can’t see it yet, not even those right at the harbour.”

His eyes followed her finger and his quick mind did the calculation without him even having to think about it. “That’s a bet you would win,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, to not show how scared he truly was. “My guess would be, that it’ll still be up to three hours before that ship is visible from the pier.”

Next to him, Astrid shifted in her seat and somehow managed to peer past the safety harness to throw him a bemused look. “You’re such a nerd,” she eventually chuckled.

Hiccup blushed, but wasn’t too bothered by her comment. He was a nerd; no point in pretending otherwise. And as long as she said it like this—with the undertone of teasing affection instead of as an insult—she could call him whatever she wanted, anyway.

A few minutes passed in relative silence. Around them, people were chatting, crying, one even screaming, but Hiccup did his best to blend them all out. Instead, he focused on Astrid who was humming to herself. It was a little off-tune but somehow still the most relaxing noise he’d ever heard.

“Hey, look!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I found the other’s.”

Hiccup glanced down in the direction she indicated.

“Over there, between that building with the red roof and the yellow-and-blue-striped tent.”

“Ah, yes, I see them.” Hiccup thought for a moment, the map of the funfair before his mental eye. “They probably got themselves an early dinner. The building is the pizzeria, I think.”

“Huh...” Astrid grunted, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he could imagine how she would narrow her eyes right now. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re locked up here, possibly about to fall to our death, and these idiots are eating!”

“At least, they didn’t get popcorn,” Hiccup muttered. He liked his friends, but at least Tuff wasn’t beyond finding their situation entertaining. Snot probably too.

Astrid snorted. “They know better than to risk that. I’d haunt them for the rest of eternity. Hey, do you think I can spit onto their pizza if I aim well enough?”

Again, Hiccup’s mind did some quick calculation out of reflex before he shook his head. “I’d say you can’t,” he said regretfully. “Not to insult your aim, but from this height and with the wind, it would be all but impossible to predict where your spit lands, if it reaches the ground at all. And as much as I’d pay to see Snot’s face when you ruin his pizza like that, I wouldn’t wish the same fate on anyone else.”

Astrid sighed. “Fair enough. But if he gives me the slightest reason, I will hit him.

“I won’t stop you,” Hiccup chuckled. He was unable to fully put his feelings into words, not even inside his head. But he knew that without Astrid, he would have gone insane. How she managed to be so lighthearted in their current situation was beyond him, but her jokes and generally good mood were all that kept his own despair at bay.

Their rescue didn’t take too long after that. Maybe it had just been an error in the software, but from one moment to the other, they were moving again. Initially, there was even more screaming, some surely fearing they were all going to crash to their death now. But their decent was slow, gentle, and only a few minutes later, they were all back on solid ground.

On shaky legs, he and Astrid were ushered to the side, to a hastily erected tent where medics were waiting for them to make sure everyone was physically unharmed. Mentally might be another question, though.

Once he and Astrid were allowed to leave, Hiccup let out a deep breath. “Oh, what a trip. I always loved these Drop Towers, but now, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to—”

He broke off when Astrid suddenly grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t a gentle one, teeth digging into his lips from how hard she pressed herself against him.

Hiccup was stunned, unable to react other than let his hands land on her waist. Of all the things he’d expected from this day, Astrid kissing him had been even further down the list than getting stuck on a ride. But here she was, clinging to him, and he even thought he could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. Hiccup was still trying to comprehend when she released his mouth and instead buried her face against his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Oh, Gods,” she gasped, voice nearly breaking. “I thought we would surely die here.” She was shaking he now noticed, and so he wrapped his arms more firmly around her, holding her in a comforting embrace. Did this still count as comforting, though? It was meant to be comforting, at least.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to soothe her. “We made it. Nothing happened, we got off with no more than a fright.”

Astrid’s grasp grew even tighter. “How did you do it?” she gasped. “How did you manage to keep so calm up there? I was so scared that my brain stopped working completely. I think I was babbling the entire time but can’t remember a thing I said. But you? You even did math up there. I…” She trailed off, took a deep breath, and calmed down at least a little again. “Without you staying so calm, I would have gone insane.

Hiccup, still caught in how surreal this situation was, awkwardly patted her back. “Honestly, I was just as scared. Only coped because of all the jokes you made.”

Laughing a little shakily, she eventually pulled back. “Looks like we both helped each other then.”

She turned and made a step toward the exit, but Hiccup couldn’t let her go now. Not with like this, with this one moment hanging between them. “Astri?” he called her back, picking up all his courage as she glanced back at him. “Why did you kiss me?”

She blushed and, ducking her head, swiped a strand of loose hair out of her face before she answered. “You… didn’t miss that, huh? Of course, you didn’t.” She let out a weak chuckle. “It’s… I—I wanted to ask you for a long time and promised myself that, should we get off that tower alive, I’d do it. But I guess my mind skipped a few steps there. I-I’m sorry, we can pretend it never happened if you—”

She didn’t get the chance to say any more. Hiccup bridged the distance between them with one step, cupped her face with both hands, and pressed his lips to her mouth. This kiss wasn’t as harsh as the other had been, soft and gentle. Astrid didn’t need long to catch up, her lips twitching into a grin before she kissed him back. It was a chaste kiss, sweet with only lips. But as her arms slid around his waist, Hiccup felt as if this had to be the best kiss of his life so far.

When they parted, Hiccup let his forehead rest against hers, unwilling to part just yet. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen,” he murmured. “I’m glad it did.”

Astrid nodded, then pulled away and threw him a warm smile. “Okay. So… should we go back to the others now? But I warn you, I stand by what I said. Or at least I think I said something like this. If your cousin makes even one stupid comment, I’ll hit him.”

Chuckling, Hiccup reached for her hand, inwardly rejoicing when her fingers closed around his without hesitation. “Again, I won’t stop you.”

[moonlightflower21]

Has mafia Leo ever almost lost a brother? Bloodied, on the brick of death, trying to keep him awake until help arrived?

twice. raph and mikey though the latter hit a little closer to home. and i'll show you that one.

it was a horrible brutal battle in the mafia, knives and guns were the only thing that could be heard. blood painted the walls and the floors, shirts had been ripped and thrown about. wails and cries echoed throughout the room but leo's sole objective was to find his brother and go. he didn't know how bad it went.

donnie secured raph but the youngest turtle was missing and with every second that ticked by, the pain in leo's heart twisted further. the fear coursed his veins, adrenaline pushing him forwards through the mountains of bodies. he didn't know if they were dead or alive and he certainly wasn't sticking around to know.

"mikey! mikey where are you?" his voice is rough, thick with emotion trying to find a shell. to find a figure of green anywhere but he can't. while a normal level headed person, the idea of his brother being alone and bleeding out makes his anxiety spike up to the stars.

"bro..." a weak whisper calls from the other side and leos heart drops to his stomach. first with relief and then horror.

"nonono... no fucking way...." he doesn't know whether to cry or scream, running to cradle the terrapins head close to his lap.

"donnie?? i need a medic pronto. get the ambulance here now!" the commanding voice of leonardo fills mikeys ears but his eyes are so heavy. his body simultaneously feels every emotion and then numbness. was this how he went? down in battle, surrounding by one of his brother?

"don't you dare close your eyes, mike. you hear me?? keep them open" leo jolts him awake, his teeth clamping down in his bottom lip to reduce the emotions threatening to drip down his eyes.

"i don't know if i can do this..." mikey wheezes, harsh breaths being taken in but it seemed none of the oxygen reached his lungs.

"you can and you will. this isn't how you die, not like this" leo tries to remain calm but the stupid medic still hasn't arrived and it's scary how he can see the life being sucked out of mikey by the minute.

"fuck, where are they??" the fear is obvious, leo's eyes brim with unshed tears. and for the first time in a long time, mikey can see the sheer panic on the leaders face. he wants to reach out and comfort him but his arm doesn't cooperate.

"remember.... remember that album?" how mikey is still talking blows leos mind but its a welcome distraction.

"yeah, the christmas album. you made me make a cover art for it" despite the tears rolling down his face, he chuckles. the singing was off key and horrible but it was their home. it was their comfort, their distraction

"will you finish it? i want it to be finished" mikey looks up to see the leader look confused and worried.

"no. you're the one that's going to finish it. we made a promise that night, all those years ago, to protect one another. and i'm not going to let you go easily" leo applied some more pressure to mikey's plastron but the blood continues to spill through his clenched fingers.

"but if i-i don't, i need you to finish it... promise?" mikey's cough rattles leo's heart, the blood staining his cheek makes him feel like a small boy all over again. helpless and vulnerable, something he promised himself he would never feel.

"i promise..." leo murmurs, his shoulder softly shaking as sobs overcome his body. the walls were closing in, the sickening smell of iron filled his nostrils and the once strong body of michelangelo was weakening with every breath.

"i love you bro. tell raph and donnie that too" he tugs at leo's sleeve, something he used to do when he was a young child afraid of the dark. afraid of splinters wrath. and it hurt just as bad as it was seeing this all over again.

"i will, i love you too" leo's fingers stroke his brothers head, his tears falling on the skin. the grip mikey had loosened, a content smile on his lips. one last breath and his body had stilled, prompting leo to nudge him again.

"mikey?? mikey! michelangelo this isn't funny, awaken at once!" leo's voice wavered, the lump in his throat threatening to cut off his oxygen supply too. heavy sobs racked his body, his lip no doubt bleeding from the intense pressure applied to it.

"medic!!!" he roared over the ear piece, his hands shaky while he tried to stop mikey's wound. the rest of the clan ran through the doors, sprinting to the duo. the medical team took mikey from leo's arms, placing him on the floor.

the brothers watched the youngest of them all so pale and so small, so damaged and broken. and they couldn't even help him.

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 7

Did I forget to update this for the last couple of weeks? Yes, yes I did. Oops. Anyway, hope y’all like chapter 7 🥰

***

The moment Leo’s skate hit the ice he knew he was not alone in the rink, he could hear their faint voices drifting down from the upper levels of the stadium. A smile tugged at his lips as he did a warm up lap around the ice, eyes scanning the seats, searching. They had been here before, sneaking in trying their best to hide amongst the plastic seats, but Leo knew they were there. He could feel their eyes watching as he performed. He knew it was only a matter of moments before they noticed he was on the ice but until then he had the upper hand. Leo’s sharp eyes caught sight of them, Finn's bright hair a flaming beacon that instantly drew attention to where they were slouched over in an attempt not to be seen.

“You know,” Leo said loudly his voice ringing out through the stadium as he came to a hard stop directly in front of their section, “if you insist on sneaking into my practices the least you could do is come say, ‘Hey’” Finn and Logan’s hushed chatter instantly fell silent as their eyes snapped to Leo down in front of them.

They were too far away for Leo to see the flush that raised on Logan’s cheeks, but he sure as hell could imagine it.

“You may as well come on down,” Leo continued, “I don’t bite… much.”

There was an indignant sputtering sound before Finn's voice came echoing downwards, “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Leo chuckled and began skating again warming up his muscles as Finn and Logan made their way down stairs towards the rink. When they finally made it to the boards Leo grinned at the sheepish looks on their faces as he drew closer stopping hard where they were standing.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” both Finn and Logan said at the same time, making Leo chuckle again.

“So, what brings y’all to my practice today? Surely you didn’t lose your phone up in the stands,” Leo asked with a soft smile.

“Ah, no- I just- well we just…” Logan said stumbling to find a valid excuse as to why they were up in the stands.

“We wanted to see if you would like to hang out,” Finn finally said, “right Tremz?”

Logan glanced up at Finn with a relieved look, “Yeah, exactly. We didn’t have any way to contact you and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh- um I see,” Leo wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“So would you? Wanna hang out with us?” Finn asked earnestly.

Leo felt his heart stutter at the warmth in Finn's melted chocolate eyes, and he wanted too. Leo yearned to know these men better, he still didn’t know why, but something deep within himself was calling out for them.

“Yeah, I think I would. It’d be fun,” he grinned at the happiness that flooded Logan’s features at his words.

You’re moving on already? Suddenly it felt like ice had been injected into his veins by the thought that echoed in his mind. Did it really mean that little to you? You’re pathetic, looking for attention anywhere you can get it.

“Leo?” Logan’s voice was soft, a hint of concern hidden somewhere in it.

Leo blinked pulling himself back into the moment, “I’m sorry?”

“Can we get your phone number?” he said again, Leo actually processing the words this time, “That way we don’t have to stalk you at the rink?”

“That is unless you like us watching you practice,” Finn said with a wink, and if Leo didn’t know any better he would say it was almost flirtatious.

Leo felt a hot flush rise on the back of his neck, “Um, yeah. Can I?” he asked, holding out his hand for Logan’s phone.

“I’ll send it to Fish,” Logan nodded towards Finn as Leo handed his phone back, “we’ll text you, and see about hanging out, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Leo answered, still a bit dazed from his harsh thoughts.

“Well,” Finn began a bit hesitantly, “I suppose we should go, let you get back to practice,” he held onto the boards and leaned his weight back, like he was trying to convince his body to leave but he didn’t really want to.

“Or you could stay,” the words had left Leo’s mouth before he had a chance to realize what he was saying, “I mean- if you want to- you don’t have to- sorry I said anything,” Leo rambled.

“Would that be alright?” Logan asked, “For us to watch?” his sparkling eyes looked up at him and suddenly Leo felt his anxiety ebb away in warm, sun drenched grassy fields.

“Yeah, it would. For a bit. My coach doesn’t come in until later so you’re welcome to stay until then,” Leo couldn’t look away from Logan’s face. The soft pull of his smile, the warm tan of his skin, the little cluster of freckles right where his jaw met his neck, Leo wanted to suck on them.

“We’ll stay then,” Finn’s deep voice pulled Leos eyes back over to him, “keep you company while you practice.”

Leo fought the flush creeping farther up his face as he nodded, “Alright, good. I should get back to work then,” and with that Leo skated back out onto ice before he could let anything else embarrassing slip out of his mouth.

He breathed deep calming breaths as he skated another lap to finish warming up his legs before finally settling at center ice. Leo felt a zinging under his skin at the feeling of their eyes following him, watching him. He didn’t understand why he was so nervous it’s not like this was the first time people had watched him skate, it wasn’t even the first time these people had watched him skate, but something in the intensity of their eyes made him want to show the deepest parts of his soul and hide under a blanket all at the same time.

Leo relaxed into the slide and scrape of his skates, he let his body flex and move, each stretch of his arm each point of his foot, pulling him back onto solid footing. This was what he knew, skating, he could move like this for eternity, as he let Logan and Finn move to the back of his mind. Methodically, Leo worked through each element of his routine, analyzing each jump, each pose, the way his blade would catch on the ice looking for the imperfections. At even the smallest of missteps Leo would circle back and repeat until it felt correct, then begin again. He skated until his lungs were screaming, until his muscles began to ache, until he could feel blisters forming on his feet.

“Leo, stop.”

Leo looked up with a gasp at the sound of his coach’s voice, suddenly he was filled with panic as he turned to where Logan and Finn had been watching, but he was only met with empty space, suddenly disappointment flooded through his veins.

“What are you looking for?” Madam Maxine’s heavy accent carried over the ice, causing Leo to spin around to face her.

“Nothing,” he said and skated closer to where she was standing.

“I like your perfectionism,” she said, handing him a water bottle, “I’ve been watching you practice for a while, to see how you work on your own. You catch your own mistakes.”

“Um, thank you,” Leo replied, still trying to catch his breath and fight away the disappointment at Finn and Logan’s disappearance.

“You still need to work on your emotional expression, I can see it in your face, you calculate each jump, each turn, but I understand that will take time to remedy.” Leo nodded listening to what she was saying, “You could be more aggressive in your elements though. You should include a quad closer to the end, and in the combination.”

Leo spent the rest of his practice discussing how he could improve his program, he was a bit nervous to try the new elements Madam Maxine suggested, it definitely increased the difficulty level. Once he finally made his way off the ice and into the locker room, Leo pulled his phone out of his bag to find several messages there.

(You’ve been added to a new group):

(UNKNOWN): Hey! This is Logan :waving emoji:

(UNKNOWN): Finn :Fish emoji:

(Logan): Sorry we left without saying goodbye

(Finn): We saw the scary French lady coming and didn’t want you to get in trouble again

(Finn): Thanks for letting us watch you practice

(Finn): You’re incredibly talented

(Logan): SO talented I think I’d break an ankle if I tried even one part of that

(You): You guys are sweet, and it was probably for the best that y’all left before Madam Maxine got there, she can be a bit intense

(Logan): So we gathered

(Logan): I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared of my own language before

(You): You speak French?

(Logan): Oui

(Logan): It’s my first language

(Finn): A fact he likes to hold over my head because I can’t understand what he’s saying

(Logan): Tu as juste peur que je dise de la merde sur toi

(Finn): WE’RE IN TEXT FUCKER I CAN GOOGLE TRANSLATE!

(Finn): I KNOW YOU’RE TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME!

(Logan):: laugh cry emoji:

Leo laughed at his phone before slipping it back into his bag and gathering his things to head to the shower. These two just kept getting more and more interesting. Leo had no idea what they might bring into his life but somewhere deep inside he was excited to find out.

Read on AO3

***

French translation: You're just afraid that I’m talking shit about you

[what-the-fic-khr]

is this really an Among Us AU?? fucking maybe

character/s: gokudera hayato and sawada tsunayoshi (lambo, sasagawa ryohei and yamamoto takeshi make an appearance in the bonus bit)

word count: 1,214 (main: 923, bonus: 291)

warnings: death, blood, weapons, violence, mentions of a possibly deformed human ish, yeah. bonus part is not any of that and points out that it was just a game lol

prompt: Tsuna was so, so nice. He was their kind captain. (it’s an Among Us AU y’all I’m so sorry lol)

“Stupid fucking wires, stupid fucking suit...”

Hayato let out a soft grumble, eyes narrowing when he felt wires slip out of his hands again.

“God, I can’t see fucking shit...! Fucking...”

Wearing a suit for his safety on the ship was naturally understandable; anything could happen and if he didn’t have it on he’d be in danger. But, that meant he couldn’t wear his glasses and he couldn’t see through the thick glass shielding his eyes on his helmet.

It was bullshit.

“Fuck this!”

It meant things like connecting messed up wires became ten times harder than it had to be, and he was tempted to remove the dumb helmet and gloves just so he could do it properly. The ugly colours didn’t help him at all.

His scowl deepened when he heard a soft meow, but he didn’t bother looking down at his feet knowing well his helmet gave him limited vision. Uri could rub against his legs impatiently as much as she wished, but it didn’t get the job done any faster.

“Oh, Gokudera-kun!”

He jumped a little at the sound of a voice, but relaxed when he recognised it as Tsuna’s.

“Are you doing the wires?”

He nodded once, eyes narrowing as he strained to see the colour. It had to be blue. They were definitely blue.

Tsuna shuffled around behind him quietly, blinking his big brown eyes slowly. He wasn’t really fond of the wires, either.

“Do you need help?”

Hayato huffed loudly, and Tsuna couldn’t help his small laugh at his frustration.

“I’m fine, Tenth... It’s just being difficult.”

They’re wires, Gokudera-kun, Tsuna thought in amusement. He wouldn’t bother upsetting him further, though.

He took a step closer, humming when he heard the pattering feet of Natsu running in after him.

He watched Hayato continue to struggle, wondering if he should even talk. He was trying to focus, after all.

“You shouldn’t do tasks alone, you know,” he spoke up softly.

The imposter hadn’t escaped Hayato’s mind; not for a second. He would’ve heard anyone else walking up behind him. However, Tsuna has been surprisingly light on his feet.

Huh.

“Don’t worry, Tenth. I’d be fine if the bastard showed his face to me, anyway.”

His gaze shot to the side for a moment when he heard Natsu and Uri run off, his sight catching up a second after. They were always running around; they were awful at staying still.

At least Roll stayed still.

“Ehh, but still... They’re an imposter for a reason, aren’t they?” Tsuna asked. “They could be anywhere. It’s awful. Hah, it gets me nervous doing anything...”

“Oh, if you’re worried, you can stay with me!” He waved his momentarily free hand before carefully picking up the last wire. “Then we can move on to the next task together.”

Tsuna smiled widely at this, shoulders slumping in relief. “That’s good! Being alone is kind of scary, so I wouldn’t want you to be on your own, either.”

Tsuna was so kind. Hayato smiled a little at this, nodding in agreement. He was always so wonderful to everyone; he’d become the captain of the crew for a reason. He was so warm, and welcoming. He was lovely, with such a soft heart—

Cold. Cold.

Olive eyes widened for a moment before his gaze started to blur, a harsh breath tearing from his lungs.

“Hah...?”

His gaze moved around frantically, and he shifted his foot when the item in his back was removed– it was so cold, so sharp, sharp, sharp.

His voice was muffled by blood when he hit the wall of the ship, feeling the blade get shoved in harder the second time, the third, fourth, fifth.

It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, so bad.

He slid down the wall with a croaky gasp for air, and vaguely felt hands lower him onto his back and then remove his helmet.

Olive met chestnut, although it was all so blurry.

“T... Tenth...?”

Tsuna blinked slowly, so very slowly as he watched Hayato’s expression blank.

“Sorry, Gokudera-kun,” the brunet murmured softly. He spun his knife around before wiping the blood off of steel and onto a red uniform.

“W-Why?”

“Ah? I just... really don’t want to be a captain, you know?”

Tsuna cracked a grin so wide that it could’ve split his face in half, and with teeth so sharp that they could crush bone if he tried.

“I also don’t really feel like playing with humans, either.”

His eyes had shut when he grinned, and Hayato wished he had never reopened them, watching slitted amber stare down at him.

“For what it’s worth, Gokudera-kun, you were a pretty good friend while it lasted,” Tsuna cooed, petting his head gently with his clean hand.

Hayato couldn’t make out much at this point, but he did see the glint of silver lifting above him.

“Please... Don’t...”

He was so kind. He was meant to be so, so kind. Had he been the one who had killed the others? In cold blood, while shedding fake tears at the meeting table?

They were fake. Why?

It hurt.

Tsuna’s tongue pressed against his cheek to stop himself from laughing, a sharp point hidden by pearly white.

“Sorry.”

Hayato felt steel for barely a second in his chest before a searing pain burst up into his throat, trying to come out in a cry but only croaks and gasps took its place. He couldn’t breathe. It was cold. What was cold?

He couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t see anything.

It hurt.

———

“H... Huh?”

Hayato stared at his computer screen blankly for a few moments, taking in his little character, sliced in half, dead on the floor and a pet mulling about.

What the hell?

‘Defeated’.

Oh. He’d been the deciding kill.

Suddenly he could hear everyone over his headset, and his eyes narrowed. It was just everyone yelling about the imposter.

“Tenth, it was you?!”

Light laughter echoed into his ears, and he slumped back into his chair as they all returned to the waiting room.

“Sorry, Gokudera-kun!”

“I didn’t suspect you for a second! Are you serious?!”

Tsuna had played the imposter -they’d decided on one so the newbies could get a grasp of the game at first- and he’d played them all like fools.

“You’re so good at this, Tsuna!” Takeshi chimed. “I believed every lie you told us!”

“Ehh, I don’t feel good about lying, but...” Tsuna would get yelled at by Lambo, of whom was watching, if he messed up while the imposter. Lambo was pretty picky about games.

Hayato was quiet, listening to the others praising his apparent skill at the game that Lambo had taught him about. He tapped a knuckle against his thigh, pursing his lips.

Tsuna was a very, very good liar.

God, he was so glad Tsuna was actually a good person, and they were on the same side. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if they weren’t.

“Oh, Lambo wants two imposters...?” Tsuna spoke up. “Is that okay? He’s on my phone so he can join.”

Ryohei snorted lowly. “Sure! It’ll be way better with teams!”

“Feh, as long as we aren’t imposters together,” Hayato grumbled. “Anything is fine, Tenth!”

“Ah, okay! Let’s play, then!”

Tsuna was very, very good at lying.