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totalswag · 8 months ago

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hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena.

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest.

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder.

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows.

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone.

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you.

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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bunny-jpeg · 1 year ago

Text

my woman

capt. john price

cw: ex husband!price, jealousy, possessive behaviour, breeding, dark-ish themes, baby trapping, dark!john, proceed with caution!!

bunny says: happy birthday to me <3

you couldn't take it anymore. the stress of his job, the lonely nights, the distance was all too much for you. it broke you honestly, you couldn't be that woman for him. the idea of him coming home in a box made you overwhelmed at times.

price understood, he didn't even try to push against the divorce. but that didn't mean that he left you alone. if anything he pushed himself further into your life. that charming smile and those blue eyes, his hearty laugh and his rumble of a voice.

"c'mon, love. who's been over?" he said while standing at your front door. he stood a good head over you, he was broad as well. his eyes were cold as he asked again, "who's been over, lovie?"

you swallowed, "my sister she came over to see how i was doin'. plus, we're not married anymore, i can have whoever i want over."

price looked at you, "i pay for this place, technically i can decide who comes in and who leaves." he brushed past you and walked into the flat. hands in his jeans as he looked around.

you knew you couldn't physically kick him out, it was like an ant pushing a boulder! you stayed far back from him with your arms crossed, "john, get out."

he peeked into the kitchen before he walked in and said, "don't think so, love. i have to make sure that my girl is behavin'." he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, "oat milk drinker, now?"

your throat tightened, "i had a friend over."

price looked at the carton, "must've been over a lot, or used a lot of milk." he shook the carton, "almost empty."

your stomach flipped. after your divorce you had met a lovely man who worked stable hours and had a winning smile. but price didn't need to know that.

"you bringin' men into my home, fuckin' them on sheets i bought. you whorin' yourself out now, love?" his voice was laced with venom as he put the carton down, "everything you are, i made. from your rank when you were servin' to the home you live in." he got closer to you.

you swallowed, "john, leave."

"no, no." he closed the gap between you two. he took you by the wrists and leaned in, "no woman of mine is gonna be a cheap fuckin' slag."

"i'm not your woman, your girl or your wife."

"then maybe i didn't fight hard enough to keep ya."

your stomach flipped once more. there was something about price that broke your resolve. even after all the pain and heartbreak, he was your husband. so when he kissed you, you didn't push him away.

he picked you up with relative ease, you wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct for fear that he'd drop you. he put you down with a bit of force onto the recliner he loved so.

your face felt heated as you were about to let your ex-husband fuck you.

"my girl on my chair." he chuckled. he remembered the nights where he'd have a beer and watch the football game while you were in between his legs like an obedient little puppy.

he watched you strip of your clothes, his larger hands helped you as you struggled to get out of your sweatpants. poor girl, always needs a mans help. price knew that your limp dicked new man couldn't help the way he could.

he loved the sight of your nude, all the curves and dips. the wetness of your cunt that gleamed in the light of the room. he got his cock out of his jeans and stroked it.

"remember this, love?" he smiled down at you, "i know you're pretty familiar with it." he chuckled, you spread your legs for him like a good wife. he reached over with his free hand and ruffled your hair.

"please, john." you moaned.

he chuckled, "impatient girl, bet ya touched yourself thinkin' of me and lied to your new man about it. bet ya told him that you were more than happy to suck his limp cock. nothin' like mine, eh?"

you looked at him, "there's nothing i could find or buy that felt like you."

he laughed, a full hearty laugh then met your gaze once more, "good." he said, "i'm glad i ruined that pussy of yours. because you're my wife and this is the only cock you'll need." then leaned over you and pushed his cock into you.

you choked out a gasp at the fullness you felt. you could feel it in your stomach. you gripped onto the armrests of the seat as you tried to regain the air in your lungs.

your pussy felt like heaven to him.

the sex was brutal, your sweaty back got stuck to the leather as he held your hips and battered your sweet cunt. he liked the idea that he ruined you for other men, that no one else could make you feel the way he did.

"do you see now." he said, "we're meant to be."

you looked away, "john, please." you felt the warmth pool in your gut. he took you by the jaw and pulled you into a kiss as he continued to move against you.

"you're my heart and soul, baby girl." his voice was low and erotic, "made just for me." he wanted to get it through to you that you were meant to be with him. arousal shot through him at the idea, the best way he could make sure that the two of you would be tied together.

it fueled him to push his cock as deep as it could go. his heavy balls hit against your ass as he fucked you without abandon. your sweet moans filled his head and he could feel his grey t-shirt grow hot with sweat.

he didn't worry, next round he'd get undressed fully. for now your sweet slick would ruin the denim of his jeans. he gazed at the expressions on your face as you closed your eyes.

"that's it."

"please, john. fuck, pull out." you whined.

"can't do that, love. you're keeping me in ya. you want this too. keep a little reminder on me in ya when you call that fuckin' prick of yours to break up."

"i'm not breaking up with him." you trembled in an attempt to gain some kind of control

he grabbed you by the hair and made you look at him. his chuckled lowly, "cute, love. but no, you're going to sit there with my cum in your cunt as you call that fuckin' prick to tell him to leave you alone. or better yet, you keep my cock nice and cozy inside ya when you call."

you swallowed and whimpered, "please, john."

he gave you a rough kiss on the cheek, his facial hair was scratchy against your soft, sweaty skin, "it's either that, or he won't be walkin' ever again. i'd suggest you take the more merciful option." he let go of your hair and quickened his pace.

you squeezed your eyes shut once more and it wasn't long before orgasm pulled you under. your slick cunt gripped his cock as the euphoria rushed through you.

price was pleased with himself as a pathetic noise left your lips. he gave a few more hearty thrusts before he finished. his noises were lower, darker and deeper than yours.

"good girl." he said, "lettin' your man do what needs to do to keep this together." he pushed strands of hair out of your face, his cock still hard in you, "see, you can listen. you can behave."

"john." you whined.

he patted your cheek lovingly, "shh, not now. let it happen." his voice was so calm and cool. the tonal whiplash made your head feel murky.

why did you leave him anyway?

he then grabbed you by the hair and brought you down onto the expensive carpet. he took off he shirt while you were on your shaky hands and knees. he knew your pulse was racing.

"don't worry baby girl." he said as he kissed your sweaty back, "just gotta go a few more times... until it takes."

while re-marriage wasn't common, being mrs. price was your rightful title. especially now that your little girl was born. price got you a nice house on a piece of land out in the country. you could raise your little family in peace.

"c'mon honey." you cooed at your toddler as she tried to stand on shaky legs, "go see daddy." there was such tenderness in your voice.

who would've thought a nice house and a cute little babe would've fixed ya right up!

price watched you try to teach your little girl how to walk on the grass. your hands held her smaller ones. price smiled at the rim of his teacup. for a moment he thought he lost you, but there's no worries now. you were his and next time he wouldn't let you leave. <3

#bunny writes #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #captain john price smut #john price x reader #john price smut #john price cod #captain johnathan price #ex husband price

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thesvnandthemooon · 2 months ago

Text

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

a/n: published this on wattpad a while ago. someone said i should upload it here as well so here it is :)

summary: natasha romanoff x married!reader; nat and you used to be in love. now, years later, you're married to a wealthy man and have a daughter with him. will running into natasha change everything? (not the best description but you get the point)

warnings: none (i think)

word count: 4.9k

part 1, part 2, part 3…

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— THE ART GALLERY —

Nude-colored stilettos hit the concrete, the ground underneath still slightly wet from the rain earlier. Two little feet, clad in white ballet flats, follow. You feel a warm hand slip into yours, tugging lightly.

Nina stares at you, her eyes wide and her hand clutching the little stuffed bear she carries everywhere. Despite being used to this kind of extravagance, she's overwhelmed — and you definitely can't blame her.

A long red carpet stretches out in front of you, leading up to the entrance of the art gallery. People with cameras everywhere, the frenzy of flashing lights and clicking noises enough to irritate you. Sleek entrance doors that are open wide, allowing the chatter of the people inside to waft all the way over to where you're standing.

The large windows of the gallery glow warmly, casting a golden light onto the lush grass surrounding it. It's a modern building, long and almost box-like. Not what you would've picked, but it's not like anyone's asking you anyway.

This is Ethan's dream. It's an investment he made. It's — just like you and the girl holding your hand — more of a status symbol than anything else. Theres not much passion behind this, as its main purpose is to project sophistication and attract alliances among elite circles.

Circles you never wanted to be a part of.

What are you even doing here?

You thank your driver before closing the door of the black sedan, then you crouch down in front of Nina. You smooth her hair down with practiced elegance, catching the look in her eyes.

"It's loud", she states, pulling the teddy to her chest. "Where's daddy?"

"He's inside, honey." You straighten back up, adjusting your silk slip dress. An emerald color, matching the deep forest green of Nina's velvet attire. "You ready?"

"Yes!" She grabs your hand again, suddenly seeming more like the usual, confident child she is. At least someone isn't completely dreading the upcoming few hours, which surely will be spent making pointless smalltalk and eating food you can't even pronounce.

You smile at her, then you take a deep breath. Silently steeling yourself for the evening, you finally make your way up to the entrance.

A few staff members in chic evening attire linger by the door, greeting arriving guests and bowing ever so slightly as they recognize you. You smile, hoping they can't sense how nervous you are. Nina stays close by your side, the soft padding of her feet the only thing that's keeping you grounded in reality right now.

Honestly, part of you doesn't know what you're doing here. You're supporting your husband, sure — but, again, this is his project. You weren't involved in this in the slightest. Hell, you didn't even know about it up until two months ago, when he suddenly confessed to buying this building in the heart of Tribeca.

You were confused, as you couldn't believe he'd keep this a secret for so long. It's a big investment, after all, and you thought he'd include you in something like this.

As always, his response was defensive; it was the usual shtick of "it's my money and I'm allowed to do what I want with it and you don't care about my work anyway" — something you've heard too many times. You eventually decided to drop it, finding that an argument at 6 in the morning would be pointless and only lead to more issues.

What you're seeing now is the outcome of his idea to invest in something that's even more extravagant than his luxury condos in Manhattan.

White walls and high ceilings, a clean and polished interior. Spotlights highlight the artwork — large-scale abstract paintings, photographs of New York landmarks taken at unique angles, vibrant pop art pieces.

Nina's eyes are even wider than yours. She starts bouncing on the spot, her hand squeezing yours.

"Mommy, mommy! A bear!"

Of course. That damned bear painting, displayed right at the beginning of the main wall. It's there because of Nina, because he desperately wanted to tell everyone how he kept his daughter's favorite emotional support toy in mind for this. It's both cute and infuriating, because you're well aware that your child would rather see her dad than some abstract piece of art that vaguely reminded him of that stuffed animal.

"Looks like Bearie, hm?", you reply, gently coaxing her further into the room. You're trying to get away from all the prying eyes. You're sure you've been recognized by now.

"Yes! But it's pink. Why is it pink? Bearie isn't pink."

"No, he isn't." You shake some older woman's hand, offering her a polite smile.

Nina keeps chattering happily, taking in all the sensations around her. Classical music floating from hidden speakers, the guests — a predictable assortment of New York's elite — all dressed in tailored suits and couture dresses. The laugher is quiet but rich, as expected; you don't hear a single genuine sound apart from your daughter's little voice.

"Mommy, look! It's shiny", she whispers with a small gasp, pointing at a twisting metal piece that's catching the light just right. She's enchanted by the sculpture. At least someone here is genuinely interested in art.

"Good observation, bug", you whisper back, gently nudging her further into the room.

Unbeknownst to you, a familiar redhead stands at the far edge of the gallery, her back to the crowd and her eyes scanning over the art displayed in front of her.

. . .

Ethan places his hand on your lower back, a gesture that feels like it's rather about keeping you at a distance than having you close. Nina reaches for his sleeve, pulling at it.

"Daddy? Can we-"

"Honey, I'm talking", he says firmly, briefly touching her hair before straightening up again. In front of you is a man who's (apparently) quite important. Richard Harrington, a renowned art collector and critic, balding and in his late 60s. "Mr. Harrington, I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Y/N, and our daughter Nina."

"Pleasure to meet you", you say dutifully, shaking his hand. Nina just stares at him, slowly beginning to hide behind your leg.

"Likewise." Harrington glances at your child, who's clearly not fond of him. He clears his throat, plastering a small smile on his face. "I trust Ethan has been keeping you well acquainted with the art world?"

"Of course", you say politely, giving a short nod. You glance at Nina as her hand twitches in your grasp, her patience clearly waning. She's a child — environments like this one, forced and restricted, are the furthest from what fits her spirit. "Just a moment, sweetheart."

Nina huffs, giving the man another last, scrutinizing glare. Her hand slips out of yours during a short moment of carelessness — you're too focused on appearing both friendly and charming, trying to make this Harrington-guy think you're some picture-perfect family.

Then you realize that the warmth of your daughter's hand has gone missing from yours. Starting to panic, your eyes immediately sweep across the room. It's not that big of a building, but it's dark outside, and you really don't want to lose her in this flock of people. Thankfully, you manage to catch a peek of her velvet dress as it disappears behind a corner.

"Sorry, she- she loves art a little too much for her own good", you apologize, stepping away from your husband and the art mogul. Ethan clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Kids, you know", he says, smiling stiffly, as you've already started to go and catch up to your daughter.

Nina has always been a little artist. She carries crayons and small notepads wherever she can, drawing random stuff while sitting in the back of the car or while waiting for her food in restaurants. She'll stop whenever she sees a sculptures, asking increasingly specific questions until you're on the verge of despair. Her drawers are filled with 'art supplies' — leaves, buttons, washi tape — and the walls of her bedroom are full of her drawings. Her love for everything creative is the only reason why you appreciate your husband's decision to invest in this gallery.

Her eyes get stuck on the painting that a woman with red hair is looking at. Nina chews on her lip as she sees the info panel underneath, the amount of letters too overwhelming for her not even four year old brain to string together into words yet. She swiftly grabs the hand of the woman next to her, deep green eyes meeting her own.

For a moment, Natasha feels like she's looking at someone she met in what feels like another life. The same features, the same eyes, the same little frown on her face. So sweet, so familiar, digging up memories that she buried years ago.

Beneath the soft spotlights, Natasha's face is framed in surprise. Something vulnerable flickers through her eyes as she studies the child. She masks her surprise fairly quickly, but she still feels taken aback.

"Miss? Can you read this for me?" Then, sounding hopeful, the girl adds: "Please?"

Natasha nods, crouching down next to the child without thinking twice. This is surely a coincidence, she thinks, glancing over her shoulder. Then her eyes skim over the short text printed on the info panel, her hand still holding the girl's absentmindedly.

"It's called 'Whispers of the Wind'", she reads aloud, her usual detached tone softened. "Painted by an artist named Ciara Han. It's supposed to remind you of the sound trees make when the wind moves through them."

Nina smiles at her and Natasha feels herself falter once more. She knows that smile.

No, correction: knew. She knew that smile.

"Thank you!", Nina whispers like she's sharing a secret, still refusing to let go of the woman's hand. She has no clue who she is, but she was nice enough to read the info panel to her, and to her toddler-brain that automatically means she's a friend.

"You're welcome. But you shouldn't go walking around talking to strangers", Natasha says gently, her eyes filled with concern. "Where's your-"

"There you are!" You hurry over, breathless and apologetic, and put your hands on Nina's shoulders. The little girl looks up at you, only now letting go of the woman's hand. "You can't just wander off like that", you chide softly.

Ready to apologize to the woman next to your daughter, you look up from the child's face.

Nothing could have prepared either of you for this moment.

The eye contact sucks you back into a past you believed to be long buried, one you'd rather forget. Your breath hitches, her mask crumbles. Raw emotions, brief as the flicker of a candle, both of you too stunned to say something at first.

"Natasha", you finally say, still looking like you've just seen a ghost.

"It's been a while", she replies simply, straightening up. Navy blazer and a matching skirt, high heels that accentuate her calves. Red lips, red hair. Effortlessly stunning, as always.

You clear your throat, looking at Nina to distract yourself. "This, uhm- this is my daughter."

Nina looks back at Natasha, whose name she now knows. "Are you and my mommy friends?"

"Something like that."

You shoot her a small, bittersweet smile, gently tugging Nina to your side. "Didn't think you'd be into art, if I'm being honest."

Natasha smiles slightly, glancing at the row of paintings next to you. Han's 'Whispers of the Wind', Kozlova's 'Boundless Skies', Monroe's 'In the Absence of Time'.

No, she isn't into art. Never really has been, if she's being honest — she enjoys literature much more. A good book, maybe. That's her thing. She can't tell you why she's actually here, though.

"Didn't think you'd be, either", Natasha says, loosely clasping her hands together.

"I'm not", you admit, causing Nina to give you an offended look. "This art gallery? It's my husband's, actually. I'm just here to...support him, you know."

All of a sudden, it's like someone turned on a light switch in Natasha's head. A look of realization crosses her face. Y/N Bailey, wife of investment banker Ethan Bailey — she'd skipped that part carelessly, not deeming it of any significance. The name had been familiar, but the surname was enough to make her forget about it.

Now, she feels stupid for not checking.

"Right", she says slowly, looking at Nina again. Her eyes soften. "She seems to like it quite a bit, though."

"I know." You glance at your daughter, remembering how you found her; next to a crouching Natasha, listening to her as she read the info panel to her. "By the way, did you say thank you?"

"I said thank you." Nina nods earnestly. Natasha and you smile simultaneously, your eyes locking. Then, short lived lightheartedness of the moment vanishes like smoke.

You chastise yourself for even beginning to think that it's nice to see her again.

"Well, I'm not going to hold you up any longer. Enjoy your evening."

"You too", you say quietly, making your daughter look at you with a puzzled expression.

. . .

— BEHIND CLOSED DOORS —

Your days have been the same ever since Nina was born. More or less, anyways.

Coffee and checking the news while your daughter's asleep. Time that feels hollow, spent alone since Ethan leaves an hour before you wake up. You've convinced yourself that you're used to it, that it'll change eventually. He loves you, you love him — one day, you won't feel as lost as you do right now. All you've got to do is push through and fight for this.

Next on the agenda: showering. Waking Nina up and getting her ready for the day. Breakfast together, then driving her to preschool.

You miss her as soon as you're back in the car, her seat now empty. She'll be gone for the next few hours, which means that the hardest part of your day is about to start.

You'll do anything to kill time — go grocery shopping, do the laundry, make sure the house is nice and clean. You never envisioned yourself as a stay-at-home wife (and sometimes, you can't believe that this term is very much accurate now, whether you want to admit it or not), but here you are. Cleaning, picking up things for Ethan, doing stuff around the house.

You feel pathetic for despising a life you willingly chose. Guilt is a constant visitor, dwelling in your mind like an annoying little fly you can't shoo out of the house. Worst of all: you feel like Nina deserves better. You try your hardest to be the mom she deserves, but you can't help but feel like you're failing her in ways you can't quite put into words.

Frustrated, you buckle up and start the car. There's a sense of silent camaraderie as all the parents (mostly moms, of course) finally start to empty the parking lot in front of the preschool. Some of them are going to work, others are spending the day like you.

Despite the fact that you're not that different all, you still feel like a complete outsider.

You turn up the music as you continue driving without a specific location in mind. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel anxiously, betraying your quiet humming. Self-soothing never really worked for you.

Without your consent, your mind starts conjuring up images from last night. One thing they all have in common is Natasha.

You haven't seen her in so long. Six years, maybe even seven, have passed since your breakup. You spent all that time forgetting what you had, tucking it away so it's safe and sound, trying to get over her.

You are over her, aren't you?

You love Ethan, after all. You married him — the ring on your left hand is proof of that — and even had a child with him. He's everything you could desire in a person, but he's also nothing you ever wanted.

Sometimes, you have the feeling that you fell in love with an idea rather than the man himself. He's hard-working, ambitious, with a keen eye for prestige and profit. You secretly believe he thinks of his marriage to you as yet another achievement, something that looks good on paper. And while he does love Nina, it's also obvious that he just doesn't enjoy being a father the way you hoped he would.

Wealth, luxury, status — a family, held together by money and responsibility. Just thinking about it makes your skin crawl, especially when you remember how different it was with Natasha.

Natasha wasn't easy, and neither were you, but it was real. It was genuine affection, quiet understanding, raw love — soft and sweet and haunting.

There's a reason why it took you so many years to forget — and all it took was running into her for you to remember it all.

You look up, realizing where you've been driving. You slow down, your heart hammering, your eyebrows knitting in confusion.

The Avengers Tower looks different. The logo is gone, replaced by the words Stark Industries — glowing in neon lights, of course — and the building in general has changed. The logo, the sleek design, the parking lot where you once saw the Quinjet come and go.

Your stomach drops. You can't resist the temptation to pull over, so you do just that. Your fingers shake as you unbuckle, then you hesitantly get out of the car to confirm what you just saw.

The Avengers are gone. They've moved, moved on, moved to god knows where, a location you can't even begin to guess. You didn't keep in touch, you let the distance grow, and now there's no way for you to find Natasha.

Stop. You blink a few times, shaking your head and mentally slamming your foot down on the brakes. Your thoughts have taken an unwelcome turn, a dangerous one at that. You shouldn't mourn something that slipped from your fingertips years ago, not when you've finally settled into your own life.

Natasha isn't your reality anymore. She's your past — which is something no one will ever be able to take from you —, but nothing more.

The leather of the driver's seat is still warm when you sit down, but the hollow feeling in your chest won't leave.

. . .

"Look, mommy."

Nina is standing in front of you, holding out yet another drawing. You put the folded jeans aside before gently taking it from her, making sure not to accidentally crease the paper. The last time that happened, it ended with her throwing a tantrum.

"Wow, that's amazing", you praise her, still inspecting the drawing. It's your parental duty to commend every piece of art she hands you, but you're also genuinely impressed. The castle she drew is surprisingly realistic, at least if you consider the fact that she's not even four years old. "You even added a princess!"

"That's Rapunzel", she explains, her finger lightly poking at the blonde-haired figure. She even remembered to add that signature long braid. "Can I show daddy?"

You hesitate, passing the drawing back to her. "Daddy's working, honey."

"Please?", she begs, pouting. "I be quick."

"You'll be quick, huh?" You smile softly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. You feel bad for her — Ethan came home early, but immediately disappeared into his office. He did hug the girl right after arriving, but even that seemed hurried. "Alright, fine. Come here."

You get off the couch and scoop her up, carrying her out of the living room. You walk up the two steps that lead to the small landing, then you turn to access the main part of the staircase. Clean, minimalistic hallways that feel almost sterile, a stark contrast to the homey feel of the living area downstairs. Maybe that's the reason why your husband spends most of his time up here.

You open the door to his office, just barely catching a glimpse of him shutting down his computer rapidly. He swivels around in his desk chair, trying to appear unfazed.

"You didn't knock."

You frown, setting Nina down on the floor. She pads over to him, waving the drawing in front of his face. He glances at it, making a halfhearted sound of approval.

"I need to knock?", you finally ask, slightly disbelieving. "Are you being serious?"

"I'm working", Ethan promptly replies, patting Nina's head before nudging her back in your direction. She huffs quietly, reaching out her arms for you. You set her on your hip, your jaw clenching as Ethan continues. "You can't just burst in like that. What if I had been in a Zoom meeting?"

"Were you?", you probe, shifting your hold on your daughter.

"Does it matter?!"

"Yes, it-" You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. No fighting in front of the kid, you remind yourself — begrudgingly. "You know what? It doesn't matter, Ethan. It really doesn't."

He watches you, his lips set in a thin line. He contemplates what to say now, how to end this short argument without riling you up further.

You raise your eyebrows, still waiting. He sighs, leaning back in his chair and ruffling up his hair.

"I'll be downstairs in ten. Maybe we can watch a movie together?"

Nina's eyes widen when she hears that, oblivious to the fact that it's just a strategy to appease you. She quickly taps your shoulder. "Oh, Tangled! Mommy, please Tangled?"

You look at her and smile, your eyes softening. You feel bad that you're even thinking this, but you can't help yourself: thank god she didn't turn out to be like him.

"Sure, honey." You turn around and leave, your voice slowly turning muffled as you go downstairs. "Help me with the popcorn?"

. . .

— IN PLAIN SIGHT —

Natasha adjusts her earrings, her eyes locking on the silver jewelry through the mirror. She reaches for some lipstick — a more natural shade, one that doesn't stand out as much — and slides on a pair of glasses.

Her bag is just full enough to not raise suspicion. A taser, miniature bugs, a parabolic microphone, USB sticks and a multi-tool lock pick set. A compact mirror and smoke pellets, a customized phone — voice modulator and spoofing app included — and a cable launcher.

Does she feel bad? Only mildly.

Only because of your connection to all of this.

Still, she can't let old feelings and sentimentality stand in the way of this. People are getting hurt, whether he wants to admit it to himself or not. He's not the one who's pulling the strings, but he's financing it.

Natasha steps out of the car, inspecting the sleek office building in front of her. High-end, in the middle of Manhattan's financial district.

Her high heels clack on the polished floors of the lobby, her manicured hands keep a tight grasp on the clipboard in front of her chest. The elderly receptionist is too distracted to pay her much attention, so she swiftly dips into the elevator, joining a group of middle-aged men.

Natasha faces the doors of the elevator, her ears picking apart every detail of the men's quiet conversation. Nothing about an Ethan or Mr. Bailey, nothing that could be of use.

The elevator dings when it arrives on the floor where Bailey's office is located. She steps out, moving through the hallways with a confident elegance that makes it seem like she belongs here. Just another coworker that's on her way to start a day filled with issuing stocks and bonding shares, making rich companies even more money.

A name tag tells her that she's found what she's looking for. She hides behind a corner, pulls out her phone and matches her phone number to the lobby desk. Finally, she dials Ethan's number.

He picks up, his voice slightly irritated after he saw who's calling. "Bailey here. What is it?"

"Mr. Bailey", Natasha says, her professional tone mimicking the receptionist's perfectly. "There's a delivery for you in the lobby. The courier insists on handing it over personally."

"Is that really necessary? I'm busy."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "It won't take long. They said it's important. Something about a painting?"

"Right, right. I'll be there in a minute."

She can hear him jump up, the door to his office suddenly opening as the phone call ends. Footsteps make their way down the hall, turning quieter until they entirely stop. The elevator doors slide open with a soft 'whoosh', confirming his current absence.

Natasha puts the phone away, then she makes a beeline for his office. Door's open — how careless.

She slips inside, her eyes immediately scanning the office. It looks like straight out of a catalogue. Extremely clean, apart from his desk which is littered with files and documents. A single, lonely plant in the corner, one family picture right next to his computer. Nina's much smaller in it, maybe a year old, but you're the same.

Aside from that, nothing personal. Nothing Nina made in preschool, no drawings, no souvenirs or trinkets. It's cold, but that's not surprising.

She turns away, discreetly planting a listening device under the desk. A micro camera is hidden between the leaves of the plant, placed strategically so he won't find it even when watering it.

Natasha doesn't have much time. Getting to the lobby, asking for the courier, and then getting back in the elevator will take approximately three minutes. She quickly plugs a portable hacking device into his computer. It bypasses the encryption and starts downloading files as she simultaneously takes pictures of the documents on his desk.

Financial ledgers, contracts, and a suspicious invoice from a shipping company. She wants to take a better look at it, but the device has finished downloading data, so she unplugs it and starts cleaning up. She leaves the office, waits for Ethan to return, and then makes her way into the lobby again.

The elevator doors shut at the exact moment you close the car door.

One hand holding Nina's and the other carrying a white paper bag, you make your way into the lobby. Natasha spots you and quickly hides behind a corner, watching you through her compact mirror. The last thing she needs now is for you to spot her and blow her cover.

"Hey, Erica. Can you watch her for a moment?"

The receptionist nods, smiling at Nina. This is a regular occurrence by now — you'll come by to bring Ethan something, and Nina will stay in the lobby to avoid getting too distracted by her father. If she sees him, you know it'll be hard to leave.

"Be good for Miss Erica, okay? Mommy won't take long", you promise her, letting her sit down on the chair next to Erica's. Nina holds onto her bear tightly, her eyes immediately zeroing in on a sticky note that's barely clinging to the frame of the computer.

You go into the elevator, pressing the button to Ethan's office. Natasha makes sure the doors have closed, then she steps out of her hiding spot. She weaves through the lobby unnoticed — until a little voice cuts through the air.

"Hey! Hey, mommy's friend!"

Natasha freezes.

Fuck. She didn't think about your daughter, or that she would recognize her. She especially didn't think she'd bother enough to come over and greet her with a wide smile on her face.

Slowly, she turns around. Nina has already padded over, her eyes wide and her excitement impossible to miss. One hand clutches her stuffed bear, the other tugs at Natasha's arm.

"Hey, kiddo", she says, briefly glancing up as Erica approaches them.

"Do you know her, sweetheart?", the receptionist asks, studying Natasha carefully. She hasn't seen this woman before, so Nina's ecstatic reaction makes her feel on guard.

"She's Natasha. She's my mommy's friend!"

Natasha directs a slightly helpless look at the receptionist before crouching down in front of Nina. She tries to calm the girl down, not wanting to attract more attention than necessary. She should be annoyed that the child decided to just run up to her and make everyone aware of her presence, but she can't help but be softened by the smile on the girl's face.

"Yes, I'm your mommy's friend", she says, trying to politely disengage. "But I have to leave, honey. I have an appointment. You know what an appointment is?"

"I do." Nina nods, still holding on to her sleeve. Natasha takes a fleeting look at the elevator again, ensuring you're still upstairs.

"Good, you're smart." Natasha smiles, not hearing the elevator doors slide open. "I have an appointment soon, so I have to hurry. Be nice and wait for your mommy, okay?"

You step into the lobby without Natasha noticing, a frown forming on your face as you realize Nina isn't in her spot by the reception desk anymore. Your eyes sweep across the room — and then you see her. It gives you a sense of deja vu, seeing a crouching Natasha next to your daughter.

First the art gallery, now this. What is going on?

You hurry over without dwelling on the thought too much, a wary look on your face. Her eyes zero in on your boots, slowly trailing up your body until her gaze meets yours.

"Natasha?"

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #x reader #fanfic #wlw #marvel #fluff #light angst #moon’s fics

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missdynamighttt · 6 months ago

Note

heyy your last drabble was soo nice and fluff i loved itt if you arent busy can you please do a fic where katsuki is a a single father to a 15 year old girl (reader had passed away-dunno how) and he was cleaning the house when he found something inappropriate like drugs or sum? i wanna see how katsuki reacts...and maybe if you like some agnst since reader is dead ya know?

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ WHAT IS IT WITH ALL THESE ANGST REQUESTS... THIS MAKES MY CHRONIC LONELINESS WORSE... nyways, i hope this meets your expectations and i hope you like it 💜💜

the bakugo household was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that made katsuki's instincts tingle. his fifteen-year-old daughter, keiko, was out with friends, and he decided to take advantage of the empty house to do some cleaning.

katsuki had always been meticulous when it came to keeping the house in order. after losing you, he had thrown himself into caring for your daughter, determined to be both mother and father to her. the house was a reflection of that effort—tidy, organized, and filled with small touches of your memory.

he reached keiko's room, the door slightly ajar. stepping inside, katsuki began tidying up, folding clothes, and organizing her desk.

that’s when he noticed something unusual sticking out from under her bed.

curiosity—and a sense of parental duty—took over. he reached down, pulling out a small, hidden box. his heart dropped as he opened it to find a small bag of what unmistakably looked like drugs.

for a moment, katsuki just stared at it, disbelief washing over him. his hand clenched around the bag as a storm of emotions swirled inside him—shock, anger, fear, and an overwhelming sense of failure.

he sat down heavily on her bed, the weight of the discovery pressing down on him. his mind raced with questions like: how did this happen? why didn’t i see the signs? where did I go wrong?

the thought of keiko, his little girl, getting involved with something like this made his chest ache. memories of her as a bright-eyed toddler flashed before him, the laughter, the innocence. now, it felt like he was losing her too, and he couldn’t stop it.

anger bubbled up, not just at the situation, but at himself. he had promised to protect her, to be both mother and father, to guide her through life’s challenges. and now this?

he ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. "you’re better than this, katsuki," he told himself. "that little girl needs you. pull yourself together."

by the time keiko returned home, katsuki was sitting at the kitchen table, the small bag placed in front of him. the moment she walked in, she froze, her eyes widening as she saw the expression on her father’s face.

“dad…?” she started, her voice trembling.

“sit."

keiko sat down slowly, her gaze flickering between him and the bag.

“want to tell me what this is?” katsuki asked, his voice low but heavy with tension.

she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. tears filled her eyes, and she looked away, ashamed.

katsuki took a deep breath, fighting the urge to explode. “kei, i need to know what’s going on. why do you have this?”

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “i didn’t use it, i swear. i was just…holding it for someone.”

his jaw clenched. “and you thought that was a good idea? do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

“i know,” she sobbed. “i’m sorry, dad. i didn’t know what to do. they were pressuring me and it just—"

katsuki’s anger softened slightly at the sight of her tears, but the fear and worry remained.

“kei,” he said, his voice softer now, “i already lost your mom. i can't lose you too. we’ll get through this, but i need you to be honest with me, okay? you have to trust me.”

she nodded, wiping her eyes. “i trust you, dad. i-it's just, they were scaring me that if i didn't do it for them, i wouldn't be their friend anymore, and—"

katsuki sighs, looking at his daughter. her words... she almost reminded him of you. "i get it, kiddo. your... mom, was like that too."

keiko raised an eyebrow. its been awhile since he's mentioned you. he never really talked about you, but keiko knew he was thinking about you all the time. even if he didn't admit it.

"did... mom hide drugs for her friends, too.?"

katsuki's eyes narrow at her, clearly telling her it was way too early to joke about something like that. but, still.

"no. not that i know of, anyway. your mom was.." he sighed. "she tried her all too. to please her friends. even if they were shitty sometimes."

keiko raises an eyebrow, confused. "do you mean.. auntie mina and..?"

katsuki raises an eyebrow before exhaling, shaking her head. "no. as annoying your aunt is and the others are, no. its just.. old friends of your mom who didn't see her worth. took awhile before i helped her cut them off."

"what did.. mom's old friends do?"

"just..." he breathes, unsure how to go on. "lots of shitty things. always leaving her out, ordering her around..."

katsuki scoffs. "it was a dark place for her. even after i helped her out, she couldn't go to school without crying when she saw them."

katsuki sighs again, looking at her. "kei... as much as i love your mom, i don't want you to go through that too. she would hate that, okay?"

kei is taken aback by the new lore she finds out about her mom, not sure how to approach the multiple questions she has in her head.

"..what did mom do, when she cut them off? she didn't have friends back then?"

"yeah. your mom didn't have friends for awhile. eventually got into ua and met your uncles and aunts. and, well, me."

"what if.. what if i don't meet new friends, dad? what then?"

katsuki's chest panged a little at the thought of his daughter, all alone, with no one to talk to. but no. he wouldn't let that happen while he was here. but he knew a dad and a friend wasn't the same thing.

"kei... you have your whole life ahead of you. you're fifteen. you more than enough time to have friends."

keiko bites her bottom lip, unsure how to articulate her thoughts and worries to her father.

"dad... this is stupid, but... can we hug? its just... the last hug i ever got was probably when i was and—"

katsuki's heart squeezes at his daughters request, walking over to her daughter from the table and pulling him into a bear hug. it was awkward at first, but it eventually sizzled down into something bearable.

"even if you didn't have any friends, there's always izuku's girl and your uncle's twins... i know its not the same but i'm here for you, keiko. always."

keiko's eyes well up with tears again, hugging her father back. and as they stay there, katsuki felt relief despite knowing it wouldn’t be easy, but he was prepared to fight for his daughter’s future—no matter what it took.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

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loganficsonly · 1 month ago

Text

an independent woman

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 2: cleaning up ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

worst!logan x fem!reader, 4.3k

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you��Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: 1 SUGGESTIVE LINE, angst, mentions of alcoholism, many inner thoughts, descriptions of somatic release, laura <3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: very nervous about what you think, please let me know how i did

Logan wakes up with bleary eyes.

There is an uncharacteristic softness underneath him. Things smell different, too: a refreshing combination of musk and cedarwood, a whiff of pulp. They all betray a sense of gentleness that he most certainly isn’t accustomed to. Wade’s couch usually smells like burnt bacon and worn blankets—

Wade’s couch?

He blinks, focusing his hazel gaze on the unfamiliar plaster ceiling above him. Then he looks at the rest of the room.

Bare, save for an opened cardboard box the size of one and a half dishwashers sitting in a corner. Big enough for what little items he’s accumulated in the three months he’s been here.

Right. He officially moved in with you yesterday.

Spent the afternoon getting the place clean enough to live in. Ate pizza for dinner—his first meal with just you. Helped you unpack and move things around before deciding to call it a day. He lets out a soft grunt, slowly shaking off the sleep.

Everything smells… comfortable. You must’ve sprayed some kind of air freshener when you cleaned the bedrooms.

He knows the apartment is empty before he walks out into the short hallway. Your heartbeat isn’t home. No sounds from within the space, though there are plenty of them outside. Unlike him, the city has been awake for a while.

There’s no clock on the wall yet, but by his estimates, it’s sometime around nine. You must’ve left for work.

A rumbling hunger beckons him to the kitchen, his bare feet pattering on the hardwood flooring. He squints at the refrigerator light when opening the door. The only thing there is a box of leftover pizza from last night. You had the foresight to order more, something he’s endlessly thankful for right now.

He places the pizza on a big plate—porcelain white with a bunch of flowers on its edges, one of yours—and into the microwave. The box buzzes alive at a press of a button. His mind turns slowly, just as the plate does.

He doesn’t have work today, so he can go straight to the grocery store. Buy coffee. He grunts, feeling a little grumpier at the fact that there’s none around, putting in a mental note to text you about it later. He has no idea how you like your coffee.

That’s something he plans to fix quickly.

Because that’s what good roommates do, he quickly convinces himself.

You’ve been nothing but kind to him, so if he’s going to stock up the pantry, might as well pick stuff that you like. Right? No other reason to know your preferences.

He abandons the thought process as he feels his heart rate hitch up slightly. Instead, he resorts to making a list in his head. He’s good at that.

Unpack. That’ll take fifteen minutes tops.

Take a shower, then go out to the grocery store. If the one he saw around the block is open, that’ll also be less than an hour.

Get a clock.

That will leave him about six hours to kill until you come home. He can probably do some errands for you—he’ll have to ask. He frowns, thinking about what he should get exactly. You cook, so you’ll need spices, seasoning, oil…

His brain mentally scans the imaginary aisles of the grocery store, window-shopping before he sets foot in it—a habit, so that he can be in and out of that overwhelming place as quickly as possible. He recalls the rows of soup, canned tuna, dried tomatoes, turning to a different aisle to beverages. Soft drinks, milk…

He opens his eyes, as if broken away from his browsing, the space between his brows deeply creased. A jolt out of his musings, interrupted by a memory. Memories, rather.

Blurry flashes of his past, hazy blues and yellows and what looks like black but smears to bright red. Glimpses of faces he’ll never see again, people he’ll never be able to apologize to. Then the aftermath—nothingness and desperation, too gone to mind the jeers of heads turned towards him, scowling. The sounds of a glass bottle knocking against a wooden counter. One, then another, then another…

Until he doesn’t remember anything.

How this caustic string of thoughts surface while picturing grocery store aisles is beyond him. They were once tucked under the metaphorical rug of his consciousness, buried under busyness.

Always bigger fish to fry when it comes to making this universe a home. Had to earn money so he’s no longer squatting at Wade’s. Try to be in Laura’s life and help her adjust, though it seems like she’s taken to it like a duck to water, compared to himself.

But now, three months in? Now he hears what sounds like a small dog barking in the distance. Street chatter. Bicycle bells.

Peace. He barely recognizes it. It’s disfigured, distorted. Maybe because he punches it in the face every time he sees a mere glimpse of it—mostly by getting himself hammered.

For the first time in a long time, he feels like there are no more bigger fish. No more excuses. Nowhere to run.

A lump in his throat at the thought of facing it, the thing he’s never allowed himself.

It’s intimidating. For a man who’s faced horrors like him, that means something. His jaw tightens.

He decides he’ll do it tonight, anyway.

As if on cue, the microwave dings.

It’s about 11am. You’re in the middle of reading a document when your phone pings with a text.

It’s from Logan.

Hey. Got a minute?

You realize it’s only, like, the fifth text in your conversation thread with him. The ones above it were ‘thanks for helping me carry the groceries’ from you and a simple ‘no problem’ from him.

Real life interactions with Logan are pretty limited. Group hangouts at Wade’s are one of the ways you’d see him, but you had to share him with other people—that sounded weird even in your head. And if you drop by at Wade’s, Logan’s not always there.

That, along with the fact that he was probably already a century old when the first iPhone came out, meant that he barely uses his phone, and therefore you don’t text often.

A warm feeling blooms in your chest. Now that you’re roommates, it’s safe to assume that you’ll be talking to each other more…

Fuck, woman, can you be normal about this? your brain scolds itself.

Of course you and Logan are going to communicate more often—you live under the same roof. Frequency does not equal intimacy. Especially if you’re most likely going to be talking about mundane things like ‘the detergent is running out’ or ‘can you help me get a bunch of triple-A batteries?’.

Yeah, maybe living with your crush was not such a good idea.

Taking in a deep breath, you dial his number and put your phone up against your ear. Yes, you can talk, if it spares you from working even just a minute.

He picks up after the first tone.

A ‘hello’ grunted from the other end of the line. You realize this is the first time you’ve heard his voice over the phone.

“Hope I’m not botherin’ you at work,” he continues. It sounds like he’s outside—an overly cheerful piece of stock music is playing in the background.

“Hey, not at all,” you reply, eyes glued to your screen but registering none of its contents. “What’s up?”

“I’m at the grocery store. Want anything?”

You blink. He could have texted you that, but you’re not complaining about getting to talk to him. He’s probably just bad at it, his large hand cramping against the little touchscreen keyboard. Laura joked about that before.

“What are you getting?”

A beat. “Coffee. Milk. Apples. You like apples?”

“Yeah, I like ‘em.”

“What kind of coffee do you drink?” he asks, the question quickly following up your answer as if he had it locked and loaded.

“Any kind,” you answer easily. “I take mine with a bit of milk.”

“What about pasta shapes?”

There are static crinkles of plastic through the phone. You find yourself smiling, imagining Logan with a hand holding his phone, the other hovering a bag of linguine next to the spaghetti to see what the fuck the difference is.

“Honestly, Logan, I don’t mind most of them, you can get whatever you want,” you laugh lightly.

“Which ones do you mind, then?”

You feel a pleasant twinge in your chest. His voice sounded so low and warm and gentle just then, like he really cares. Swallowing, you find your voice again.

“Angel hair. They’ve got no bite.” You murmur.

There’s a short chuckle that provokes butterflies to flutter around in your stomach, unbidden.

“What else d’ya need?”

For a good two minutes or so, the two of you ping-pong items back and forth. You list down some seasonings and condiments. He asks for your thoughts on brands. You smile at the way he pronounces some of them—“Graze-a? Grah-za. Whatever.”—and at the fact that he’s thoughtful enough to check with you on your preferences.

Quietly giving you a choice. You bite your inner cheek. How can something so simple make someone feel so special?

By the end of going through the shopping list, it feels like you don’t want to hang up, and neither does he. There are beeps now, audible from the phone. He’s probably queueing at the checkout.

“Can I get a wall clock to hang in the living room?”

“Sure,” you reply softly.

Another silent beat.

“I’m up. Talk to you later, sweetheart.”

“See you later.”

The line is cut. You stare into your phone, slowly placing it facedown on your desk.

Did he just call you sweetheart?

You blink, focusing back on your monitor, failing miserably.

That nickname has to be a side effect of being alive for so long. He lived through, what, all the wars since the Civil War. It doesn’t mean anything, just a thing they called the ladies back then. Don’t read into it.

The echo of his voice remains, nevertheless. It takes you five minutes to lock back into the document you were reading.

There is an off-white wall clock hanging in the living room when you arrive home. Logan works fast.

You are in the midst of eating some apples—the ones in the fridge, no doubt the spoils from his grocery shopping trip earlier—when you hear the keys turn. The man in question walks through the threshold.

His simple presence made the space feel so much more comfortable, it’s almost scary.

“Hey,” you smile from your seat on the island, wondering what he did on his day off. “Did you go out for dinner?”

The first concerning sign is that there is no sliver of acknowledgement: not a nod, a grunt, and certainly not the rare small smile. He doesn’t immediately reply to you, closing the door and just standing there. Gaze taking in the bare walnut floor, before it sweeps onto you.

The second sign is his eyes. There’s something unrecognizable in them, like he got hurt but he let it happen.

“Logan?” you call out softly, unease woven in your expression. You stand up from your seat.

He takes off his boots at the entryway before moving closer to you, though not quite close. His lips part, and you can tell he’s deliberating whether or not to speak.

“I… went to AA,” he says, voice low. The words are hushed, void of his usual belligerence, a little scratchy from a dry throat.

You look at him, surprise taking over your face.

Wade has made references to the monumental drinking problem he found Logan in when they first met, but from what you can tell, Logan’s been doing much better lately. In gatherings he mostly steers clear from wherever the bottle is. Asks if dessert’s gonna be boozy. Even declines offers for beer.

His relationship with alcohol is clearly a complicated one. And it’s Logan. The fact that he not only reached out for help but also told you about it…

There’s a moment of silence, and then your feet closes the distance, walking towards him until he’s an arm’s length away.

You look up at him, almost timid. “Can I hug you?”

The hard expression on his face melts. You wonder if he thought your reaction was going to be something else other than acceptance.

All it takes is a short nod for you to gently wrap your arms around him, hands settling at the center of his back. For a moment, he’s all you perceive: the warmth of his body, his breathing, his scent.

And then there’s a gentle sensation of his own arms reciprocating the gesture, his movements slow, as if wanting for you to stop him if you’re uncomfortable. You allow yourself to lean in, a signal that it’s okay.

His chin lands softly near the top of your head, arms tightening just the slightest, and your heart just about burst.

“I’m so proud of you,” you say, muffled by his flannel shirt.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he replies.

There it is again. The second time he’s called you that today, and this time, you can feel the rumble of those two syllables from deep within his chest. It shouldn’t intoxicate you the way it does, not when this moment is about him.

You force yourself to pull away.

“We should celebrate,” you suggest, smiling.

His face morphs into an amused look—a little kink in one eyebrow and the lightest lopsided pull of his lip. At least it doesn’t seem like he’s despondent.

“Save it for the coin,” he counters.

“You know people don’t just celebrate achievements, right?” you grin, letting go of the hug. “Come on. A nice meal. We can celebrate moving in, too, just… let me treat you to something.”

His jaw clenches playfully at your insistence, biting back his own smile.

“You’re a stubborn one.”

You take that as a win. Pleased with yourself, you saunter to the kitchen, looking for something to ingest as a commemorative treat. Perhaps a bag of potato chips will do for now.

“There’s this Mexican place down the street, it looks nice—”

He calls your name, and you look over your shoulder.

“Hm?”

There’s that deliberating look on his face again that makes you stop rummaging the cabinet. When he speaks this time, he sounds almost… bashful?

“Could you, uh, cook instead?”

Your eyes widen. He wants you to cook?

“Are you sure you’d like that?” you stammer.

He places a hand in one pocket, eyes still looking into yours. “The fried rice you brought to the potluck was good.”

The potluck last month for Al’s birthday. True, the container was cleaned out by the end of the night, but you didn’t think Logan particularly enjoyed it enough to remember it.

He shakes his head, looking away, voice tight. “Forget I asked, don’t wanna bother—”

Crap, you must’ve stayed stunned for a second too long.

“No please, it’s no bother! I just… I didn’t realize you liked it.”

He looks at you sternly, pausing for a moment. “It was good.”

You nod, convincing yourself that this is real and happening. “Okay. I’ll cook, then. We should invite Laura. Wade too—”

He looks away. You examine his face, registering a change.

“Have you told anyone else?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

You feel a dangerous warmth seep into your bloodstream, travelling to your hands and feet and god forbid your cheeks. How did you end up becoming the first person to know about this, this, this exceedingly vulnerable thing that he did?

“I’ll tell Laura in a bit. Wade…” he falls silent for a moment. He hasn’t been vocal about his gratitude to the merc. It’s for a good reason, or at least that’s his excuse—a simple ‘thanks for everything’ would probably make Wade combust and blabber a series of orgasm-related jokes.

Despite that, though, he really does owe everything to the damn motor mouth. Including the fact that he’s standing in your living room right now, as your roommate, asking you to cook for him—fuck, did he really ask you that?

“I’ll tell Wade when I get the coin,” he decides firmly. The last thing he wants to do is let down yet another important person in his life.

He puts his hand back in his pocket, clenching a fist. That being said, he doesn’t want to disappoint Laura either… and certainly not you. Funny how he finds himself caring about your opinion—the person he’s known for the least amount of time.

You nod, feeling a little overwhelmed from the conversation—the good kind of overwhelm.

“Just Laura then. Can you ask her what food she’d like?” you say. “Something to go with your fried rice?”

He nods.

“How’s Friday for dinner?”

He nods again, pulling out his phone. Probably texting Laura.

“I’ll prep the stuff on Thursday then.”

“I’ll help,” he replies quickly, eyes meeting yours. When he speaks again, it’s a little softer. “I’ll buy the ingredients. And I ain’t a chef, but I can chop.”

“Please, there’s nothing much to do.”

“Then I’ll clean up,” he adds.

You frown. “Logan, the dinner’s for you, remember?”

“Just let me clean up. Least I can do.”

You put a hand on your hip, shrugging. “Fine. Leave the food to me.”

A roguish smile on that handsome face almost makes you so weak, you have to steel your legs for a second. His voice is once again that smooth, guttural baritone.

“’preciate it, sweetheart.”

Third time’s the charm. You huff, trying to appear relaxed.

“I’m going to shower,” you announce, escaping the room.

It’s a little past ten.

Logan lies in bed. His hands are holding up his phone that looks too small for him. The light from the device is almost blinding, but he doesn’t bother—not like his eyesight can get ruined or anything.

He has a text typed out. Staring at it for a few more seconds, he presses send.

Went to AA today.

There’s no immediate response, not that he expects one.

It’s really no surprise if Laura is busy.

She’s probably got it harder than him: young with a hunger to find her place in the world, mature beyond her years but still having so much to learn.

This new universe might not be that different from hers, but the struggles aren’t the same—because it’s her first time in community college. He doesn’t remember what it feels like being a student, but working and studying at the same time sure sounds like a hell of a life.

He blinks. A series of three animated dots appear on the screen as she types a response.

Just like that, they’re gone. He frowns.

And then the dots are there again, only for a second, replaced by Laura’s reply.

i’m really proud of you

Another message.

seriously, i mean it

congratulations

He allows himself a smile in the privacy of his room, before resuming to text Laura about the celebratory dinner you insisted on having. When she’s free, what she wants to eat…

She turns out to be good with Friday—less resident assistant work and assignments for her to worry about.

The answer to the second question is pulled pork. Haven’t tasted a good one in a while.

i can bring the salsa

it’ll be like a deconstructed burrito but with fried rice

Your fried rice was not just good, it was excellent. God, he hopes he didn’t cross a line, blurting the request out of the blue like that.

It was instinctive. Completely unplanned. Why did he do that, anyway? The Mexican restaurant would’ve been nice, something Laura would like.

But it’s outside, it’ll be crowded and loud… He’d rather have a conversation without the background noise. Plus, you just moved into an apartment of your own. Wouldn’t dining outside be a waste of space?

Maybe he should’ve suggested takeout instead of inconveniencing you. But you said it was your treat, and his stupid old heart betrayed himself by saying what it wanted without running it by his brain.

And what a selfish thing to want, too. A kind of gluttony that torturously gnaws at him. It’s getting harder to ignore despite his special brand of stubbornness, honed by the long, long decades. He has a feeling it’s exactly the stubborn part of him that is making this feeling grow, too.

It wants more of you.

For now it’s content with little scraps: the glimpse of your shoes at the entrance, the sight of your toiletries in the bathroom, your scent lingering around the house…

But who knows what it’ll demand next. A little more.

You, smiling at him, laughing at something he said.

Your thighs pressed against his on a crowded couch.

Your plush bottom lip between his teeth as he bites it, drinking in a small sound of pleasure that bubbles out your throat when his hand runs up your inner thigh—

He locks his phone as the conversation with Laura concludes, a cue for him to snap out of it. His mind turns elsewhere, and decides to mull over the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting he attended earlier.

That meeting was about as difficult as a thousand and one sleepless nights. At least, it felt like that when he had to walk up to the library. Adamantium bones never felt heavier.

There were about seven of them when he finally walked in, and another seven arrived after. A mixed group. Reminded him of the family he used to know. There were almost a handful who were older than him—though he’s undoubtedly the oldest despite his looks—and others who looked like they barely hit twenty.

Amidst the chatter, they were polite, asking if it was his first time and giving him a rundown of what would happen. He wasn’t the only new face, which brought him slight relief, and they assured him he didn’t have to share if he didn’t want to.

Then they sat in a circle. The chair spoke the preamble smoothly from memory—just how many meetings has he been in?—and people began introducing themselves.

His eyes are half-lidded, recounting the memory with his head on a soft pillow, but the reality felt like hard concrete.

He remembers how dry his throat felt when the room looked at him, how clammy his palms were against the roughness of his jeans.

Tension.

And yet it was a kind that he wasn’t accustomed to. Instead of one that threatens to spring violence loose, it demands a calm release.

Above comfortable sheets, he can still hear his own voice battling shakiness as he spoke.

I’m Logan… and I’m an alcoholic.

Those few words were cathartic then, but somehow he felt it more intensely as he relives the moment through memory. Pressure builds behind his eyes and in his jaw.

He knows this feeling. Why now?

Emotions wash over him in waves that build, growing stronger and taller—shame, guilt, rage, fatigue, hopelessness, the most damning anguish any man has ever experienced. Each of them sits heavy in his bloodstream, overcoming his body as his heart paces. It reminds him of that time he went back to the school, too late to save anyone.

Thump. Anger. Thump. Agony. His chest heaves.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Logan cries.

Did he cry for his friends when he saw their bodies in the mud?

Scott, Jean, Storm, Charles, Rogue, fuck, Rogue—

Or did he dive straight into the massacre, letting hatred blind him?

It’s patchy, his recollection, but the tears fall quietly into the sheets, and he allows them. He’s past the point of stopping himself.

There is no sound. Just a broken dam as he quietly shakes, tremors rushing through his body as the tears wet his cheeks and nose. He looks up at the ceiling.

Amidst the violent purge, there’s a heaviness deep in his gut, a sense of stability. The same feeling that prompted him in the morning, the little whisper of a disfigured sensation he’s long discarded. Maybe this time he’ll let peace take its place.

The same feeling when he felt the matter and antimatter currents surged through his body, each cell in him screaming as they are killed and reborn over and over again, before it stops.

The same feeling when saving Wade’s little world.

The pillow is damp now, but he doesn’t mind, because the more he lets go, the lighter he feels. A knot unravelled slowly in his chest. The memories grow kinder. Dinners with Wade’s friends. Trading stories with Laura.

Ororo laughing at something Jean said. Scott looking at the redhead—even with the vizor, you can tell he’s in love.

Meeting you. Sharing that pizza together.

He falls asleep at the memory of the hug you gave him earlier.

When he comes home from work the next day, dust all over his heavyweight t-shirt, he notices something hanging on the back of the door.

A small whiteboard. To its side is a marker, affixed to the board with a magnet.

“Hey,” you greet from the kitchen.

“What’s that?” he gestures with his chin.

“Oh.” You turn to the entryway to look at the whiteboard. You hung it up not ten minutes ago. “I thought we’d need it to write notes. Things to buy, chores to do, stuff like that.”

Heading towards the door, you grab the marker. “But I guess you can write whatever you want.”

He watches as you stand in front of him, the marker squeaking under your strokes.

You turn to him, smiling before walking away.

Logan’s heart clenches painfully—an occurrence far too often for his health, seeing that it’s barely three days since moving in with you.

He stares at your handwriting for the first time.

Have a great day ahead :)

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx

#an independent woman #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #x men #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x you

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itsastrobixch · 10 months ago

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Astrology notes

- gemini / mercury / uranus / aqua change their identity a lot online. They place a lot of importance on their online identity and as they change so does their online personas.

- Mercury dominance if well placed Learnt to talk very early and saturn mercury aspects learnt to speak a bit late or may speak with a bit of hesitation.

- chiron in 1st have deep rooted identity issues and may also not be able to relax in photos and stuff. Some may even go to the extent of not wanting to take pictures at all.

- count yourself lucky if : air signs ask for your advice.. They don't ask option from everyone. Similarly if fire signs seek you out or show you their defeated side and depressed side. They Always want people to seem them as optimistic fiery and determined but like evryone they too go through down times but they tend to bounce back faster than others.

- Mercury saturn or Mercury rx may have great conversations with themselves in their heads but when it comes out it night miss the mark or.. Like not sound as good as it did in their brains.

- all mercury /gemini dominants open 3 to 5 tabs at the same time. And don't finish a single one completely. Change my mind.

- moon pluto tumultuous emotions. Whiplash. One extrene or the other. Mood changes just with a single event. The whole room can feel the shift as well. Moon and Pluto both give out unstable, watery and intense emotions. It can be difficult if negatively aspected. Even if positively aspected it can lead to the feeling overwhelming emotions.

- People with pluto in 1st, their emotions are hidden. No one knows how they feel. Mostly i see geminis get all the credit for their glib tongues. But have you ever seen a Pluto person toy with people when they know they truth ? They'll lie so effortlessly that even the people who know the truth will start to believe the lie is the truth. Their words and their facial expressions while lying is so controlled and natural it's scary.

- Asteroid Cerea shows is how we nurture. Aries ceres is the defender of the group and people who tend to protect people who are defenseless esp animals. Taurus is the comforter. And so on. But aspects and the house in which Ceres is in also plays a major role.

- Uranus / gemini in 3rd house have lots of ideas at the same time but many are unfocused and evrything is gone in a fleet. They may have a brilliant idea but Lose it in the next second. It'll be better if they scribble down their thoughts anywhere somewhere so they'll have a basic idea of what they thought.

- I fucking admire Aries women, esp as a Libra, like how tf..? i used to have a friend, she used to do some pretty controversial shit in high school but like never once let anything get iin her way and is now a part time business woman...like come on...how are you so headstrong ? And somehow things also tend to workout for them

- every mutable person has a box full of drafts all half done and of various types but all undone. Its a mess of ideas and posts half written and lost interest and motivation along the way...but I'll save it for another day when I will want to finish it up.

- If an air sign texts you daily, they like you. Especially instant replies . 🌝

- scorpio, and Venus Pluto aspects also tend to fall for someone who is out of their grasp. they like to torture themselves like that 😂 or they'll think that they don't deserve the person they're in love with. Its Always one or the other with them.

- venus neptune contacts produce the devoted worshipper type lovers. They will worship the ground their love walks on and will turn a blind eye to their faults. This is most definitely not a healthy patter of behaviour. Please don't indulge in this.

- mercury dominants can't fucking shut their brain off. they have a lot of nervous energy. And will Always be actively thinking about atleast two things at once.

- actually now that i think about it, my bffs in high are an Aries sun, me a sag rising and my frnd a leo sun. and i still wonder why the girls didn't like us 😂🌝 if fire signs get together whether they stir up drama or not, it'll either find them or people will hold them responsible for it even if they aren't.

- gemini and Mercury dominants can imitate very well especially the accents. Their adpative ability is out of charts and a bit creepy tbh. how they change acc to people, how they acclimatise to their surroundings ax cultures, they have this ability which allows to be another person if they like.

- mars - pluto negative aspects may have r*pe dreams often even if they haven't had any such encounters.

- pluto in 1st are ironically afraid of death and illness more so than the usual person.

- 11th house sign may show how we behave online.

-geminins have this weird ability to take and soak up information from all over the place and somehow put it together perfectly . they learn stuff from disorderly messes but they seem to understand it with clarity.

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venusstsr · 4 months ago

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𝘽𝙚𝙩

𝘿𝙧 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙙𝙤𝙣 𝙭 fem 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

"Dr. Langdon has feelings for you and doesn't know how to tell you."

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 soo the last chapter left me in shock but I still like Dr. langdon 😞

I hope you guys like this!!!!

"What do you say? Do you think she will like it?" Frank asks Robby, showing him a necklace while they both change from their work clothes to casual ones.

A pink diamond rests in the center of the gold chain, looking quite expensive.

" as far as I remember, u guys are not a couple, which confuses me quite a bit." Frank sighed heavily.

"Listen, i want to tell her about how i feel every time we go on a date, thats why the collar but damn every time I’m about to do it, nerves get the best of me," Robby looked at him incredulously. "I might seem confident, but her eyes, the way she talks, damn even her perfume makes me nervous."

"You should do it. Collins told me that several doctors are interested in her; and I can't deny it, she's attractive and really good at what she does," Frank sighed again anxiously. "Don't get stuck in the 'what if?' Frank, I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck," the older one patted the blue-eyed guy's back, murmuring a goodbye.

Frank felt a whirlwind of emotions and walked quickly in the direction of the girl where he saw her about to get into her car; his conversation with Robby had stirred his thoughts, and the idea of losing the chance to tell her everything consumed him.

"Wait!" he shouted, his voice resonating with a mix of urgency and determination. The girl stopped and turned to look at him, surprised.

"Frank? What’s wrong?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

With his heart racing a thousand beats per minute, Frank approached her, trying to control his breathing. "I can't keep doing this," he started, feeling that every word was a weight he needed to release. "I've been thinking about you since I met you. Not only you are incredibly attractive, but you're also brilliant at what you do."

The girl looked at him in astonishment, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and curiosity. Frank took a deep breath and continued: "I don't want to stay in the 'what if.' I don’t want to lose the chance to be honest with you. I like you; I really like you."

Silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity. Frank felt anxiety take over him, wondering if he had done the right thing by risking it this way.

Finally, she smiled softly. "Wow, that was unexpected," she said, her tone light but genuine. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I know, I know," Frank replied, feeling a bit embarrassed by his emotional outburst. "But I couldn’t stay silent any longer."

She stepped a little closer. "Frank, I like you too."

The relief Frank felt was overwhelming. "So...? Would you like to be my girlfriend?" he asked with a mix of hope.

"Yeah" she replied with a bright smile. "I would love to."

Frank felt as if the whole world lit up at that moment. All the fear and anxiety faded away upon hearing those words. " Oh I have something for you." He pulled out the small box with the necklace inside and opened it, instantly seeing how her face lit up and flushed.

"Frank, you shouldn’t have; I don’t think I can take thi—" Frank quickly interrupted her.

"Please take it; I know you'll look beautiful in it." He took it out of the small box. "Turn around." She blushed but complied and turned her back to him while feeling Frank's hands on her neck fastening the necklace.

The atmosphere was filled with electric tension as they looked into each other's eyes as if the world around them faded away. With a gentle movement, he brought his face closer to hers, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Their lips met in a delicate kiss full of promises—a touch that started timidly but quickly transformed into a passionate connection. Frank's hands found their way to her waist as he left small caresses on her.

Leaving little kisses on her lips, they finally separated and leaned their foreheads together enjoying the little moment of peace they had created.

"I told you he'd take the first step." Perlah handed twenty dollars to Princess as they watched the scene from afar.

"Damn! I thought she would get bored waiting and make the first move," Perlah muttered angrily for losing the bet.

"Hey! We still have Robby and Dr. Collins' bet left," Princess reminded her.

#the pitt x reader #the pitt x fem reader #the pitt #dr langdon #dr langdon x reader #the pitt imagine

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literaryavenger · 2 months ago

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DOPPELGÄNGER

Summary: In a universe where Sebastian Stan not only exists but he's also your favorite actor, you swoon for him when you happen to meet him up and about New York one day, having no idea he's not who you think he is.

Pairing: sort of Sebastian Stan x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Misunderstandings. Kind of manipulative Bucky but he's still a sweetheart. Kind of naive and clueless Reader. No mentions of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.8K

Requested by: @myfavbuckyfics

A/N: I'd like to thank @myfavbuckyfics for this ask which I had so much fun writing and I'm sorry it came like almost a full year late 😭 Her beautiful idea was basically 100% done, I just wrote it out and the result is just amazing! Also, I promise I'm still working on requests and they're slowly coming. Also, my messages/ask box are always open and I'm always delighted to receive requests to challenge myself with. I'm gonna try harder to find time for writing because it really brings me so much joy, especially when I find people that read and appreciate my work. Thank you to all of you who do!

Masterlist

The first time it happened, Bucky didn’t think much of it.

He’d accepted to go out for a breath of fresh air with Steve for the first time since he joined the Avengers and moved into the Compound and he was a little overwhelmed when a group of girls came up to them, fangirling and asking for photos.

But Bucky understood, it’s Captain America, he assumed they were just excited to see Steve and asked Bucky to join the photos because he was Captain America’s friend, just to include him. After all, it hadn’t been announced yet that he had joined the team and nobody had any idea that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was back.

Then it started happening when he was alone too. Girls coming up to him and asking for photos with him. But he figured, from what he understood of the internet, that it got around that he was Steve’s friend so people asked for photos with him because it was better than nothing.

But what really puzzled Bucky was when they would call him a name he didn’t recognize: Sebastian.

That’s how Bucky found out that there was an actor that coincidentally lived in New York too, called Sebastian Stan. Sam and Scott made Bucky watch basically all the man’s movies and, as much as Bucky could agree he was a talented and versatile actor, he didn’t love the fact that they looked so similar. But what could he really do about that?

So whenever Bucky got asked for photos he would try to politely say they had the wrong person or, if he was in a good mood, he’d just pose for the photos and move on.

You’re out and about in the streets of New York when you spot him: Sebastian Stan. Just standing outside of a coffee shop, like he’s waiting for someone. You didn’t expect him to have hair that long or a stubble like that, but you did read he’d been letting it all grow for the shooting of an upcoming role.

He’s your all time favorite actor since all the way back to 2010 when he starred in Hot Tub Time Machine, but you never thought you’d ever meet him, despite living in the same city. New York is pretty big after all and full of people you’ll never meet.

You debate whether to approach him or not, worried you’re gonna bother him, but then tell yourself you’ll just say hi and, if he feels like it, ask for a photo.

“Excuse me…” Your soft voice instantly grabs Bucky’s attention, but he keeps looking at his phone just in case it’s not directed at him. “… Sebastian?”

The tentative question annoys Bucky a little, today he’s definitely not in the mood to deal with fangirls, not after he’s been waiting close to two hours for Sam because he’s late. He turns around fully intending to shut this down right now, but the moment his eyes land on you, he feels like his heart stops entirely.

She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you talk again. “Hi, I… I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, and I’m sure you get this all the time, but I’m a big fan and just wanted to say hi.”

God, he thinks it’s so cute how nervous you seem to be as you try to be polite. Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself and he’s talking faster than his brain can comprehend.

“Don’t worry about it. Thank you, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” He gives you a charming smile that makes you giggle and Bucky’s heart flutters at the sound, making him feel like the care-free young man he used to be back in the 40s.

“Could I give you a hug?” You ask shyly, dying to know how it feels to hug him.

“Sure.” Bucky answers a little too eagerly.

What the hell am I doing? I don’t like people touching me.

But Bucky’s thoughts are quickly squashed when you hug him. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do, awkwardly hugging you back, but then it hits him all at once. It’s warm and comforting and it makes him feel something he hasn’t in decades… Peace.

Right there as you pull away he decides, I can’t let her get away.

“Anyway, if it’s not too much to ask, could we take a pi-”

“Do you wanna get some coffee?” Bucky interrupts you, surprising not only you but himself too.

Did Sebastian Stan just ask me to get a coffee with him?

Did I really just ask this girl that thinks I’m somebody else to get coffee with me?

Both of your minds are racing and for different reasons, just staring at each other until you say the one word that makes Bucky both incredibly happy but also incredibly nervous: “Yes.”

Bucky tells himself that it’s okay, it’s just coffee, he’ll tell you the truth after, but the more you talk the more his resolve weakens.

Talking to you is easy, it makes him feel carefree like when he was a wide-eyed young adult, not fully tainted by the world’s cruelty yet. And it brought out a part of him he didn’t think existed anymore, the part that flirted shamelessly with you the entire time, the part that got a rush of satisfaction at every giggle he got out of you and a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach with every shade of red he managed to make your cheeks turn to.

It also didn’t help that you gushed over him, recounting every movie and tv show you’ve seen him in and how important each and everyone was to you. Bucky’s knees almost buckled [Bucky buckled lol] at the look of pure adoration in your face, that sparkle in your eye as you looked at him as if he was a real life shooting star in human form.

So he, when the date ends, as the words ‘I’m not Sebastian Stan’ dance on his tongue, what comes out instead is “Can I have your number?”

“Really?” You ask a little incredulous but he’s already taking out his flip phone, weird choice for an actor but okay, and you put in your phone number.

“Uhm, do you… Do you live close?” Bucky asks as he puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Fairly.” You say vaguely. It’s not like you think he’s a serial killer, but he’s also a man you just met. “I could… Walk you, if you’d like?” Bucky offers, feeling protective over you and wanting to ensure your safety, but also desperately trying to prolong your time together. He just doesn’t want to let go of you.

You hesitate before agreeing, thinking he is a high profiled celebrity after all so there’s no reason to doubt him, right?

You feel like you’ve fallen into a fanfiction [ironic, I know] as you not only met your celebrity crush but he’s flirting with you and asking you out.

And so starts what, for you, is a fairytale romance, while for Bucky is more like a mission, his objective clear: Not let you find out who he really is. At least not yet.

As you keep going on dates and getting to know each other, or more like he gets to know you, Bucky does his best to become the man you seem so enamoured with.

In good trained spy fashion, he does all the research necessary about this Sebastian guy, the first and only time he abused his power at SHIELD to get into someone's personal files, determined to do everything he needs to keep you.

Bucky does the most, going as far as cutting his hair when he sees the actor’s haircut is slightly shorter and carefully planning his missions for times when he knows Sebastian will be away on press tours or shooting or crap like that and, when he doesn’t have missions, he just pretends to be out of town while barricading himself in the Compound, not willing to chance you finding him up and about.

He even gets himself an iPhone, going through the painful process of letting Peter teach him how to use it because the kid is the only one Bucky knew would do so without asking too many questions.

Sometimes he feels bad about lying to you and he considers coming clean, but every time he sees his face he falls more in love with you and he keeps convincing he’ll tell you the truth soon. But that time never comes.

He knows you’re falling too and he can’t bring himself to burst your bubble, not when you look at him with those bright, beautiful eyes full of love that sparkle adorably every time he’s around. He'll be Sebastian Stan forever if it means he gets to see you and be in your life everyday.

Still, he feels too guilty being intimate with you while you’re not aware of who he really is, so he makes a point to never go too far past pecks on the lips, which you accept and reassure him profusely that you’ll go at his pace, waiting patiently like the angel he believes you are.

He’s also aware that if you saw his Vibranium arm you’d immediately know he’s not actually Sebastian Stan, and not only that but he’s scared you’ll be horrified and run for the hills when you see just how broken he is, so he always keeps it hidden.

You take notice of him always wearing long sleeves and leather gloves, but you don’t say anything about it as you don’t want to embarrass him if it’s about something he feels self conscious about, telling yourself he’ll eventually address the fact himself.

For six months everything goes smoothly, Bucky even manages to impress you with his Romanian skills, which he is more than happy to know get you fairly hot and bothered, but he keeps his promise to himself not to go too far with you until he tells you the full truth, always finding a way to come to you so he can make excuses about work stuff to not stay overnight.

But, as all good things do in his life, it comes the day where it all blows up in his face.

You’re waiting for Sebastian in front of his favorite sushi restaurant where you’re having your date but when he gets there, he almost walks past you without a glance and, thinking he just didn’t notice as he was looking at his phone, you grab his attention.

“Seb.” You walk up to him before he reaches the restaurant’s door and hug him hello, kissing his cheek like always.

Except this time, instead of returning your affections, he almost leaps back away from you. “Excuse me??”

He looks almost panicked as he looks at you like you’re crazy. “Who are you??”

You frown before you realize he’s messing with you. “Oh, nice one, Seba.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Acting like you don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry, are you a… A fan or something?” Sebastian asks confused.

“Are you gonna play the celebrity card on me after six months? Really?” You chuckle.

“Six months? What are you talking about?”

“Come, Sebastian, it’s me.” You sigh and cross your arms, starting to get over his little joke. But you have to hand it to him, he’s a really good actor. “We’re supposed to be on a date here.”

“Look, I don’t know you.” He says in a firm voice that makes you freeze, never having heard it before, you watch him take a step back like he’s afraid of you.

“Seb…” You say weakly, your arms dropping as you’re not sure what’s happening.

“Stop calling me that.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen you before in my life and I certainly don’t have a date with you.”

I can’t help but feel hurt by his borderline cold tone, feeling tears starting to burn behind your eyes. “I-”

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble,” He cuts you off. “but please stop this distasteful joke or whatever this is before I call the police.”

Just as you’re about to cry out of both hurt and embarrassment all the same, Sebastian turns around to see a man standing behind him with a sheepish look as he avoids your eyes. Bucky.

“Uh, I’m sorry man, that’s my girlfriend. She was waiting for me.” Bucky apologizes to a gaping Sebastan, the actor can’t help but be amazed as he looks up and down at a man that looks so much like him, down to his own haircut. It’s like looking in an all-black dressed mirror.

Bucky keeps his eyes on his more famous version, but it’s not because he’s impressed by the similarities. He’s determined to keep his eyes away from you, his stomach churning so much he’s convinced he might throw up any second.

He saw everything, rounding the corner just as you approached Sebastian Stan. He remained well-hidden, his feet feeling stuck to the concrete as he witnessed the encounter in borderline horror and seriously debated just turning around and running away, but when he saw you were about to cry his protective side got the better of him and he felt the need to step in and save you.

He still can’t look at you though, fearing he might have just lost you for good.

“Wow…” Sebastian pulls Bucky out of his thoughts. “This is… Bizarre.” “It is.” Bucky forces a chuckle. “You can see how she’d be confused. Have a good night.”

Bucky’s quick to dismiss Sebastian as he feels like the more he stands there the more time you have to stew in your confusion and probable anger, and Sebastian doesn’t seem to think much of a man that looks like him with the same name too. Weirder things have happened in New York.

“Yeah, sorry I yelled.” Sebastian apologizes as he opens the door to the restaurant. “Have a good date, guys.”

Once Sebastian is gone, Bucky gathers all his courage just to look at you, the shock on your face clear before you snap yourself out of it and your expression goes blank.

“Who are you?” Is all you say and Bucky almost winces at your low, cold tone.

“I–” He gapes at you, not sure where to even start as the two of you just stand on the sidewalk. He sighs and runs a gloved hand down his face. “Look, I-I know you’re angry, just… Please come inside? Give me a chance to explain?”

You scoff but he starts pleading before you even get a chance to go off on me. “Please, I just want you to hear me out. Just give me a chance to tell you the full truth. You don’t have to say anything and you can leave after, just let me get the words out. Please.”

You hesitate, wanting nothing more than to turn around and run away from what you know is a potentially dangerous situation, but you know deep down that you can never say no to Sebastian, or whoever this is that you’ve spent the last six months falling for.

As you sit down in the furthest, most secluded corner of the restaurant you cross your arms and Bucky, as he told you his name is, tells you everything. And I mean everything.

He decides to tell you his entire history from the start just to paint a full picture, displaying an honesty that he’s never had with anyone, not even his therapist or Steve. But after the way he deceived you for six months and how horrible you must’ve felt during the encounter with the real Sebastian, the least he can give you right now is full honesty.

“... And I know there’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but I was just so terrified, doll.” He sighs, his eyes lowered in shame. “Terrified you’d run, terrified you’d think I’m a monster… I know I went about it in the worst ways, but I started falling for you the moment I saw you and I was so scared of losing you that I tried to do everything I could to keep you around.” You remain stoic the entire time, listening to everything that happened to him hurts deep in your soul but you can’t bring yourself to be sympathetic right now.

The last six months, everything you went through, it was all a lie. You thought you knew who you were falling for, but you were sorely mistaken. Even the cute nickname he calls you that you teased him so much for but secretly loved how adorably old fashioned it is, now feels hollow and just wrong.

When he finishes talking, you let a moment of silence pass between the two of you before you grab your purse, jacket and leave the restaurant without a single word.

Bucky doesn’t even attempt to stop you, after all you held the end of your agreement and listened to everything he had to say. Now all he can do is watch you walk away, knowing he’s lost you for good, the one good thing he ever had, just because he’s an idiot that made all the wrong choices.

A month.

That’s how long you mull things over before you’re ready to talk to Sebas–Bucky again. You went to the Compound with surprising ease but you were met in the lobby by Captain America instead of Bucky, who informed you his best friend had spent the last month wallowing in his apartment in Brooklyn, which you wish you’d known before you drove to the once again surprisingly easy to locate home of superheroes in Upstate New York.

So here you are, knocking at the apartment Steve told you Bucky sometimes resides in when he needs to get away from superheroing.

You almost gasp when he opens the door, your eyes widening at his disheveled state. You thought Steve was exaggerating when he underlined the severity of Bucky’s current mental state, but he was absolutely not.

He has dark circles under his eyes, his beard is unkept, his hair sticking out in odd places and it looks dirty. He’s obviously spent the last month in bed, not bothering to shower or even eat by the looks of it, his eyes red and puffy giving away that he’s done nothing but cry.

“Oh my god, Bucky…” You frown, the entire speech you made in your head on the way flying out of your mind as your concern overrides your anger or logic.

“Doll…” Bucky says quietly, his voice raspy and hesitant as if he’s not even entirely sure you’re actually standing there in front of him.

You stand there for a moment before you sigh. As much as you want to discuss things rationally and maybe even yell at him, I know I can’t when he’s in this state. For better or worse, you did fall for him and you can’t bear to see him like this, so you take it upon yourself to take care of him.

You make your way into his apartment and his eyes follow your movements as you silently take his hand and close the door behind you. Without saying a word, you help him shower, change into clean clothes, order food because he doesn’t have much to cook with and help him organize his apartment as you wait for it to arrive, although he doesn’t actually have many possessions to make an actual mess so it’s mostly just sweeping, dusting and gathering his dirty clothes in the hamper.

You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, he doesn’t look away for more than five seconds at a time, and you can tell he wants to say something but you’re not sure if he even knows what.

The only moment he looks away is when you help him take his shirt off, not wanting to see the horror and disgust he’s certain will be in your face, but to your credit you don’t comment or even react to his metal arm at all or any of the scars on his body, not even the massive one on his shoulder, but what you felt was something more akin to pity.

After you’ve eaten, you take a deep breath and finally turn to him.

“Listen… I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and… What you did was… Beyond wrong.” You say bluntly. “But I also can’t deny that, despite all the lies, I didn’t fall for you because I thought you were Sebastian Stan. I fell for you for all the talks we had, the way you look at me like I’m everything to you, the way you’re so sweet and flirty and cute… And that’s still you.”

For the first time in a month, maybe in seven months, Bucky feels like he can actually breathe. Your words are like a balm to his soul, hearing you say that not only you indeed fell in love with him but you fell because of him, because of the glimpses of who he actually is and not who he was pretending to be, that’s all he needs to hope again, hope that you’re coming around.

“I… I really am so sorry for lying to you.” Bucky says quietly, his eyes wide and hopeful. “And… I know I have no right to ask this, but I need to know… Is there any chance you’d consider giving me a second chance?”

“It’ll take some time for me to forgive you.” You say after a pause. “And even longer because I trust you again… But I think I want to give you a second chance.” Bucky can’t help but beam at that, but you’re quick to give him a pointed look.

“Solely on the condition that from here on out you be honest with me. No more lies, no more secrets. Just complete honesty.” You say firmly and, to your surprise, Bucky agrees with no objections. “I promise, I will never lie or keep anything from you ever again.” He says honestly as he takes your hands in his, touching you with his Vibranium hand for the first time without gloves. “Complete honesty… I’ll always tell you everything. I never want to risk losing you ever again.”

You can’t help but melt at that and sit a little closer to him, leaning in and pecking his lips. “For the record… I don’t think you’re a monster or anything. I think you were a victim of very bad things and you’re incredibly strong for having survived that.”

Your soft words make Bucky’s eyes teary again, although this time it’s for a different reason. He can’t hold back anymore and hugs you tightly, relief flooding through him as you don’t push him away but instead hug him back.

There’s still a long way to go before your relationship is fixed, but, right now in his arms, you can feel it– Forgiving him is the right thing to do.

And what are the chances that, if you work out, you invite Sebastian Stan to the wedding, explaining he’s the reason it all happened and thanking him. And he shows up too.

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gghostwriter · 11 months ago

Note

Hi, love your writing. If you’re open to requests, maybe Prison!Spencer x fem!reader where she’s in his apartment and finds an engagement ring ? Maybe she goes to visit him? Maybe she says yes?

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established relationship; Angst & Fluff (?) w.c: 0.8k A/N: I found myself rambling throughout this and i dunno if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Nevertheless, thank you for requesting and I hope you like it! 💗 Main masterlist

Cocoa Powder. // Spencer Reid

A philosopher once said that a gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected with trials. If that was the case, these past few weeks can be viewed as the trial of your and your boyfriend’s lifetime. With him being wrongfully arrested for murder and with you attempting your best to be a stable pillar for him and his mother to lean on.

With tears brimming in your eyes, that was how you found yourself elbow deep trying to bake chocolate muffins at three am in the morning, hoping to chase the nightmares away. It had been a routine almost—pitifully sleeping for only a few hours, waking up before dawn breaks, baking or cooking depending on your feeling, putting a smile on your face, getting ready for work, going to the office, coming back home, and repeating again. And again. And again and again.

Routines that once brought you comfort, now seemed to be the only barrier keeping away well-deserved nervous breakdown. Your hands begged for a distraction and your mind whirled, wanting to help find a solution to this trial. An act that you have no say on. The rest of the team was doing their best, you trusted them, but being a civilian did not make you privy to the ins and outs and red tape that came with Spencer’s arrest. All you knew was there was a female serial killer hyper-fixated on your boyfriend—and in extension, you and his mother.

The cocoa powder was missing. The cocoa powder that you knew you shelved away before catastrophe struck. The most important ingredient nowhere to be found. You sighed, aggressively wiping away errant tears. This, this might be the breaking point that would send you to a spiral—a breakdown caused by cocoa powder. A giggle escaped your chapped lips. There could be worst triggers, really.

You steeled yourself for another search that would no doubt end up with a failure. Maybe Spencer moved it? Maye he moved it out of your reach? You tilted your head to the side, loose strands falling out of your bun. Maybe it was up high on the cupboard?

Looking back, The idea made no sense but in that moment when lack of sleep and terrors plagued the crevices of your mind, you found yourself scaling up to your knees onto the kitchen counter—no doubts or second guessing.

You stretched out your fingers, further motivated when the tips felt a foreign object just within your reach. A triumphant sigh escaping your lips when the item was finally wiggled within your palm. The very same sigh that turned into a sharp intake of breath as the warm kitchen light gave away the mystery.

A black velvet box. A ring size velvet box.

“Oh my god,” you repeated under your breath. “Oh my god.”

The temptation to sneak a peek was overwhelming, to know if your hunch was correct. A peek wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it? No, it wouldn’t but this wasn’t how you wanted to find out about his intentions. Pretty sure this also wasn’t how he planned to ask. Clambering back up the counter, you pushed it back to where it was found—wanting to save your reaction for his eyes to see and for his lithe fingers to slide the ring into yours.

Out of sight, out of mind as they would often say. So there must be some truth to it, right?

———

Wrong. The box never left your mind. In fact, it had created it’s own quarters within your brain—whispering temptations for just a small glimpse. It was all too much, really. The stress, anticipation, and secrecy made you spoil it for Spencer, an act that you’re not at all proud of.

“It’s a yes,” you blurted out as you sat down for a visit.

He raked through his unkept curly hair. “Yes? Yes to what, sweetheart?”

“I love you. Don’t be mad.”

“Now, why would I be mad?” his voice coated with sweetness, coaxing the truth out. You never did have the will to deny him anything.

“Top most shelf on the left kitchen cupboard.”

His body stiffened before slouching into his seat. A breathy laugh escaping him. “You saw?”

You nodded.

“And after all this, that’s still your answer?”

“Yes.”

A smile broke through. The type of smile that showed warmth in his hazel eyes and the same type that had your heart melting like a puddle of goo.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Spence, till death do us part.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #pau’s request inbox 💌

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moonstruckme · 11 months ago

Note

Would you pls write a tattoo artist Sirius x fem reader where it’s her first time getting a tattoo and she’s really nervous but he’s really hot idk sorry totally fine if not !!💗

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of needle

modern au

tattoo artist!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

A bell rings as you enter the shop, and you cringe internally. It seems as though now you’re committed to being here.

“Hi,” a blonde woman behind a desk greets you with a polite smile. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Oh.” You hesitate, your footsteps stalling like you might back right out the door. “Um, no.”

“That’s alright.” She waves you forward. “We have space for walk-ins today. I’ve got an appointment coming in a few, but go ahead and fill this out,” she slides a sheet of paper in front of you, “and Sirius will be out for you in a minute.”

You take the pen she offers you with a terse smile, and even your name is hardly legible with the trembling in your fingers. Sirius, you think as you tick boxes while hardly looking at them. That’s a boy’s name. Isn’t it? You’re not sure how you feel about a boy doing your tattoo. You’d always pictured a cool, tatted-up girl with a throaty voice and a calming demeanor to set your nerves at ease. You’re tempted to ask this woman if you can just book an appointment with her for later, but when you look up she’s slipped behind the curtain to the back room.

A few moments later, a different head pops out instead.

“Hello,” this new man says, grinning whilst your stomach bottoms out. Fair skin, dark hair tied loosely behind his head, and tattoos from his neck going down as far as you can see before they disappear under the waist of his pants. His grin is sharp and welcoming at once, spreading over his fine features like it’s been well practiced.

“Hi,” you manage.

“You about done with that?”

It takes him dropping his gaze to the paper under your hand before you realize what he’s talking about.

“Oh.” You give a weak laugh, pushing it toward him. “Yeah.”

“Beautiful.” He picks it up, looking it over briefly. “Ready to head back?”

You can feel your heartbeat in your mouth. “Mhm.”

He holds the curtain open for you. You turn yourself a bit sideways to avoid brushing either him or the curtain as you go through, and he makes an amused face.

“I’m Sirius,” he says, leading you towards the chairs in the back of the room. There’s music playing from a speaker in the corner, something quick and bass-heavy that’s probably meant to pump up more seasoned customers but makes your skin feel twitchy. Sirius gives you an expectant look. You blink in response. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry.” You tell him your name. The syllables feel new and awkward on your tongue.

Sirius tosses you another winsome smile. “No worries,” he reassures you, and you wonder if he gets this reaction a lot. If everyone feels this way around him, like having his full attention directed at you is a little intoxicating and a lot overwhelming. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yeah.” You sit in the chair he gestures to. “How’d you know?”

He chuckles, the sound sharp and bright. “You’re a tad jumpy, love.” You feel heat rush to your face, but then Sirius gives your calf a little pat and it all goes there instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You usually have problems with needles?”

“Not really.” You squirm a little, making sure your skirt isn’t riding up your thighs. “I just don’t have any idea how badly it’ll hurt.”

“Oh, it’s not too bad usually. Do you have an idea of what you want?”

“Um, yeah.” You get out your phone, showing him the picture you’d found. “Could you maybe do this, like, by my hip?”

Sirius leans closer to see. “As little as that one?” You nod, and he grins. “Yeah, that’ll be easy! I can do that in five minutes, gorgeous, don’t you worry.”

“Really?” you ask, hope inflating in your chest.

“Yeah, let me just…” He turns around to a small desk, drawing a careful sketch before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Alright, where do you want it?”

You pull down the waistband of your skirt, pointing to the bit of skin where your hip turns into your stomach. You hold your breath as he presses the paper to your skin. When he peels it back up, the design stays.

“Like that?”

Your reply comes out on an exhale, soft and a bit dizzy. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

“Brilliant.” Sirius looks down at his work, then back up at you. You can’t decide which makes your stomach hurt worse. “Then I think we’re ready to get started. You alright?”

You ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips and force yourself to answer before you can think too hard. “Yeah.”

Sirius looks like he can tell you’re faking it, but he blazes forward anyway, giving you a reassuring smile. “Great, just lie back for me. Like that, yeah. Cool if I roll the top of your skirt down so it doesn’t get in our way?”

You nod. He’s careful and professional as he takes the waistband of your skirt, folding it over itself until it sits beneath your hips, but still a gloved knuckle brushes up against the skin of your lower abdomen. Your heart hiccups.

“Okay, love, here’s what we’re going to do.” You look up to find Sirius’ eyes already waiting for yours. They’re lighter than you’d thought from a distance, a grayish blue like the ocean during a storm. His one hand is resting on the temporary tattoo, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat bumping through your skin. You certainly can. “I’m going to touch the machine to you for just a second so you know how it feels, and then I’ll take it off. Sound good?”

You nod again, bracing yourself. “Okay.”

“Alright.”

The machine buzzes to life, and it’s an effort not to flinch. You press your lips together in case you make a sound. Sirius’ brow pinches concentratedly as he touches the needle to the stencil he’s made on your skin. It’s over before you can process it.

“How was that?” he asks you.

You look up at him in surprise. “Fine,” you say honestly. It stung, but not nearly as bad as you’d expected, and only for as long as he was touching the needle to you.

“Beautiful.” Sirius seems as relieved as you are, his grin flashing canines. “In that case, you’re golden. Just sit pretty for me, yeah?”

You feel like he has to be intentionally flustering you now, but you don’t have time to dwell upon it before he sets back to work. The sting really is negligible, especially with Sirius’ fingers pressing into your skin to steady his touch and his elbow resting lightly against your thigh. You feel hot in all sorts of places.

Those gray-blue eyes flicker up to check on you when he pauses every now and then. “You’re amazing,” he praises. “Doing so well, love.”

It doesn’t help.

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scremogirl · 2 years ago

Text

✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵ミ★✥

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬

Yandere! Childhood friend x Hyper aware! Reader

Slight⚠︎︎warning. The reader is slightlllyyy narcissistic, you gotta squint to see it. Like always check the end for a note. Enjoy!

It wasn’t more than a day that you you two weren’t together. From third grade all the way to your senior year in high school; he was always there. To think it all started from simply sharing your colored pencils.

Micah was your best friend, you’ve done everything together. All your first were together too. Your first kiss for example.

“I-I don’t know about this Micah, just don’t want things to be weird after this,” you hesitated.

“It’s fineee, I promise. Besides, you're my best friend; nothing could ever be weird between us,” you cringed a little at the fact that your first kiss was calling you his best friend. Not that it wasn’t true, it just wasn't as romantic as middle school you thought a first kiss would be. Your first date.

You held your head in your hands staring at the floor and heaved a big sigh. Your date had just stood you up. This wasn’t the first time this happened either, guys would ask you out and then just end up flaking. When you tried to talk to him earlier in the day he was sporting a big bruise on his jaw and cussed you out. You weren’t gonna let that slide tho, so when you called Micah to come help he hurley apologized and scurried off.

“I promise it’s not you beautiful, besides, he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” it goes silent for a bit before he perks up with a loud gasp.

“I know! How about we go see the movie together? He still let you keep the tickets right?”

You even had your first together. I mean, if that isn't true friendship I don’t know what is. So, why is it starting to feel not so friendly between you two anymore? He’s been acting a little weird as of late. He’s been more handsy lately; arm always around your shoulder or waist. He’s always been like this, and you guys did have sex once, but… this is different. His grip is a little tighter and his hands fall a little lower. He comes up behind you while you stand at the vending machine down the hall from the cafeteria, burying his face in your neck. When you told him to stop because you’re in school and people will start thinking things about you two, he just shrugs and says, “Nothing that they haven’t seen before,” with a dismissive wave of his hand. He even tried to kiss you yesterday when you left his house from a sleepover, claiming that it would keep you safe on your journey home (which is literally and I mean literally, right next door).

You’re not dumb. You know he likes you. In love with you. Everyone knows that. You know that he was the one that beat up your crush. You know why he wanted to have all his firsts with you. You noticed all the panties going missing every time he would visit. You noticed all your chewed pens and leftover food being taken out of the trash. You noticed his hard-on every time you’d wear a low-cut shirt or too short of a skirt. You noticed the box of your stuff tucked away under his bed when you dropped your pen whilst you were over-studying. You saw the photo album pushed into the corner of his basement. You saw the bloody rags and knives in the bathroom cabinet. You saw the way he would look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You liked the attention and the way he made you feel. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to actually pursue him. He was your best friend and that was that. It’s not that you weren’t open to the idea of the two of you getting together, you were practically made for each other. Courtesy of him studying your insides ;) and outs. It's just the fact you know if you have him the time of day, you wouldn’t have time for anything else. Completely suffocated by his overwhelming love and attention.

That leads you to now. This is the first date you’ve been on since that incident in the beginning of your high school career. You met him in your psych class, thankfully one of the only ones you and Micah don’t share. Sure, you’ve had a couple one one-night stands and summer flings but as it denotes, they were all short-lived. This guy was different, he was sweet, funny, and paid attention when you talked; the whole package. But of course, this wouldn’t last long either. Prom was supposed to be the most exciting night for a senior. A big party with all your friends, dancing, laughing, the whole nine yards. That was until you saw your date tongue fucking another girl when you came back from getting the punch he requested. You sighed. Taking note of the not-so-discreetly placed $100 dollar bill in his suit's pocket. Of course. Just then you feel a tap on your shoulder. As you turn around you see him in all his glory. A y’all figure with his hair slicked back, one strategically placed string in the front. The dark blue suit perfectly matched your dress no matter how much you insisted that it was inappropriate because of your date. Green eyes peering down into yours with a mock of pity and astonishment. The scar on his cheek barley noticeable. He got it in an accident he had when you two were younger. He would always try to make you kiss it better, saying that it eased the pain from literally ages ago.

Micah.

“How about you and I go grab some dinner instead, hm?” The drive to the diner is silent. You two stuck out like a sore thumb in the cozy setting of the mom-and-pop shop. They’ve come to recognize you both. Ms. Dané, one of the owners of the shop would always question why you two weren’t together yet as her husband would chastise her for being so bold. Though, you could see it in his eyes just how curious he was.

You pull up to the mountain you two discovered on one of your long car rides to nowhere last summer. You spent most of it building a comfy place for the two of you to have your deep and emotional conversations. As you sit on the hill, looking down at the city and taking a bite of your burger, he turns to you. Before he could speak to you, you held up your hand effectively stopping him.

“I know,” he looks at you with wide eyes full of confusion. You take a handful of fries this time, chew, and swallow again before speaking.

“I don’t need you to lie to me.”

“He wasn’t good for you anyways,” he abruptly replies, it came out harsher than he attended it too.

“Besides, what kind of a guy would ask a girl out and then kiss another one a day later?” He huffs out an irritated laugh.

“That’s not what I meant, Michael,” the use of his full name struck a bit of fear in his heart. And pleasure to his pants.

“I know it was you,” he tries to speak but you put your fingers to his lips. Chewing on your burger and taking a sip of your soda to help push it down. The time it takes you to respond kills him, he tapping his leg and picking at the scar on his cheek anticipation. A habit he’s always had when he’s nervous or anxious.

“You know what I mean. I saw the money in his pocket,” He doesn’t wait for an explanation or care how you found out it was him. He pushes his food to the side before climbing over your outstretched legs. You’ve taken your heels off at his point, too uncomfortable to be walking up a mountain with. Micah insisted on carrying you anyways, saying that your dress was too expensive to get dirty but he gravel mud.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone else being by your side. I’m the one who's been here for you throughout everything. I'm the one who laughs with you when you're happy, cries with you when you're sad, and calms you down when you're mad. Not him. Not your parents. Not anyone. It’s always been you and me. Ever since the third grade you’ve been the one I wanted. I love (Y/n), nothing and no one can change that,” at this point his hands have a firm grip on your shoulders. Knees firmly planted into the hard ground beside you, surely his nice pants are fitted and scuffed but right now he couldn't care less. He stares deep into your eyes waiting for you to say something; anything.

For what seems like the millionth time you sighed since you met him, your gaze drops from your half-eaten burger to his frantic ones.

“Okay, Micah,” you say rubbing your thumb along the scar on his cheek. whose whole demeanor suddenly changes, this is the happiest you’ve ever seen him. Well since that day *if you know what I mean ^*. This time he grabs your food and pushes it away. You're a little sad, you wanted to finish the rest of that. You had no time to think, however, as he lays you down in the makeshift fort you’ve created. He lowers his head down, placing kisses on the column of your neck. He makes his way up to behind your ear, smelling his favorite of your perfumes. In his delusion, he can’t help to think that you wanted him to kiss you here. Placing it there to entice him in all the ways he wants you to. He rubs his cock against you, trying to get as much friction as he can. Even though it’s dark out and his suit is even darker, but the fairly lights strings up in the tiny fort help you see the pre-cum staining the front of the soft, thin material of his pants.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that. I promise this’ll be even better than the first. He could never compare to how I’m gonna make you feel,” he runs his hands up your waist, kissing the corner of your lips.

“Besides,” he starts. Eyes lowering down to your dress that has now risen to just above your lace panties

“I’m the only one who gets to see you full and dripping with cum”.

I don’t think I’m gonna turn Micah the into a full OC. If you liked it however, maybe I’ll make a couple headcanons or something. For the most part this was just a one shot. Again make sure to go check out my friends twist on the idea. ^the at is mentioned in the note above. Bye loves!

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere childhood friend #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰#✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★

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peterm4rker · 4 months ago

Text

(𐙚⋆.˚) valentine's date

⋆ 𐙚 ⭑.ᐟ [yushi x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.7k w. none, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

requested!

monday, february 10th

yushi’s hands were clammy as he walked around the hall, making him wonder if the paper he held so tightly in them would be damaged by the effects of his own nervousness.

he didn’t quite understand why he seemed to be so affected. he knew everything that was possibly there for him to know about love. he had read countless books, spent unending hours reading about the bubbly feeling in the chest; the butterflies in the stomach.

yet this was different. the feeling was more like a constant itch; the supposed tiny flying bugs like a million elephants trampling around his insides at the simple thought of you. there was something that made him completely unable to act straight whenever you were around. it was like the words got stuck in his throat, clogging it until he couldn’t breath at the expense of his dignity.

but he had always been good with written words, and he couldn’t stand the drowning feeling anymore. so he wrote five letters; tiny manifestations of the immense feelings he had for you to slip them under your door everyday until the biggest celebration of the year took place in cupid academy.

he could hear you singing through the door as he stood in front of it and his heart began to beat out of his chest as if it was attempting to reach for you. but he couldn’t bring himself to knock yet, not ready to face you. so he did exactly what he was meant to do, slipped the pink envelope right under the crack before walking away as fast as he had arrived.

it didn’t take long for you to notice it, crouching down to grab it as your eyebrows furrowed. you opened it immediately, being met with the sight of beautiful handwriting adorning a crisp white page.

with eyes just like stars and a laugh just like music. constellations I wish to stare at forever. a symphony of joy, guiding my mind through undoing the knots of my woes. — completely Yours.

you read the words over and over with a confused expression adorning your face. who on earth would send you a love letter? they must’ve confused the doors. but it didn’t have a name addressed to it, so you couldn’t really know. a part of you marvelled at the idea of it actually being for you as you placed the letter on a tiny box on your nightstand, hoping that it wasn’t a misunderstanding.

...୨♡୧...

tuesday, february 11th

yushi scribbled incoherent notes on his notebook as his eyes stayed glued to down on the desk. your presence next to him was far too overwhelming for him. he could smell your perfume, feel your hair graze him sometimes when a particularly strong gust of wind seeped through the window. but he needed to get over the nervousness, sion had only asked him a simple favor, anyways.

“hey, yn?” yushi spoke once he gathered enough courage, his voice barely audible through the chatter of the classroom. he waited until he felt you look at him, his eyes staying focused on the paper. “uhm, sion asked me to let you know he is done with his part of the preparations for the festival.”

“oh, alright. thank you” you nodded, admiring his shyness with a slightly amused expression as you tried to look him in the eyes. “is he feeling better now?” “yeah, he’s still a little under the weather but he’ll be fine.” he nodded as he played with the hem of his sleeve, avoiding your eyes as if they would make him turn into stone.

“i’m glad… and how are you doing? you seemed a little tired in the morning when i saw you.” you asked, attempting to ease his nerves and form conversation.

“oh, i’m alright” he nodded quickly, his eyes slightly widened as if your question surprised him. “i had to stay up to help sakuya with a potion.”

“that’s very nice of you” you smiled, turning your body to face him better. “you have beautiful handwriting, you know.”

and to that, his cheeks reddened like you had just confessed your undying love for him. “i get that often.”

“im glad you do, it's true.” you pointed at a specific part of the paper, the closeness allowing him to catch the smell of your perfume. “you always make your y’s like that, elegant and pretty.”

god, he was going to die.

it wasn’t till later in the day when you found the pink envelope you had wished oh so hard to receive on the floor besides the door. twice is a coincidence, maybe. you thought as you scrambled to open it.

child of the sun will you let me come close, will I be modern Icarus, or will I succeed in the suicidal mission that is to run my fingers down your spine, make you shiver like I do at the sheer sight of your radiance. — completely Yours.

that day, every letter on the little poem was carefully and perfectly drawn.

...୨♡୧...

wednesday, february 12th

yushi was two minutes away from exploding. he couldn’t take it anymore; the way your eyes lit up and your smile widened every time he was around.

he was the only one that you were supposed to look at that way. what could wonbin possibly have that he didn’t? he considered himself fairly handsome, he took care of himself and sprayed cologne every morning. so why did your eyes felt immediately drawn to the dark haired male that was always conveniently close to where you stood?

“yeah, so i went yesterday and i got her,” wonbin smiled as he lifted his guitar up slightly. yushi rolled his eyes from where he sat next to sion a couple feet away.

“he gets a new guitar every two days, what’s interesting about that?” he mumbled under his breath.

his best friend chuckled and pushed his shoulder with his “that’s what you sound like when you get new books, by the way.”

“i do not sound that cocky,” the younger boy groaned, his eyes still stuck to your figure.

“that’s because if you tried to talk to her for more than two minutes you would either start crying or die.” sion teased, although he wasn’t lying.

“i had a three minute conversation with her yesterday, thank you very much.” yushi responded without being able to hide the smile on his face, which fell immediately as he watched you approach him.

“hi guys, what's up?” you greeted as cheerfully as you always did, and just like that yushi had forgotten how to speak all together.

“all good here, just finishing the set up,” sion answered, clearly amused by his friend’s new quiet demeanor. “you?”

“same, i just had to coordinate with the band.” with wonbin, especially, yushi thought as he tried to conceal the fifth eyeroll of the last ten minutes. “now i’m waiting to go home, i have this thing that i’m waiting for and i’m kinda really excited.” you commented, albeit a little shyly as you voiced your excitement.

“oh? can we ask what it is?” sion asked curiously.

“it’s a little silly,” you chuckled, “but i’ve been getting valentine’s day letters all week so i’m trying to figure out who they’re from so i can ask them to be my valentine.”

your WHAT.

yushi looked up with wide eyes, but yours weren’t focused on his like he feared.

“just like that? you don’t even know what they look like!” sion asked, a smirk growing in his lips as he asked. he knew too much.

“i dont know, i just… the words they’re writing are beautiful and i’ve never had anyone say something to me like that” you shrugged, a smile dangling on your lips. “so call me weak or whatever.”

before sion could speak again, yushi did “it’ll be there soon.” he said, hearing his voice come out of his mouth before he could even comprehend what he had done.

“oh” you spoke, an astonished expression. he watched the cogs of your brain work for a few seconds before the look morphed into a new smile. “i’ll be waiting for it, then.” you smiled brightly at him before hearing your name being called from away. “i have to go now… bye guys!”

a few seconds passed as the boy watched you walk away.

“you did not just say that!” sion exclaimed before bursting out in laughter.

“i’m going to kill you and then myself.” the younger boy frowned, covering his face with embarrassment.

still, just like he promised, the letter didn’t take long to arrive once you made your way to your dorm.

in the silent streams of star-knit quilts you and I, dancing through our love ignoring the depths of the contradictions. — completely Yours.

your smile was wider than ever as you hugged the paper to your chest.

...୨♡୧...

thursday, february 13th.

“morning,” your voice caught yushi’s attention as you approached your shared desk.

“morning,” he mumbled, forcing himself to look at you as you sat down next to him.

“did you sleep well today?” you asked, not wasting the opportunity to talk to him before the class started.

“yeah,” he nodded, followed by silence.

your eyes filled slightly with disappointment at his dry responses, but you understood. he had never been talkative with you anyways.

the boy panicked as he caught the flash passing through your eyes, scrambling to say something, anything. “i had a weird dream, you were in it”

cupid please save him.

“you did?” you perked up, and maybe the look of excitement you gave him was worth the embarrassment.

“mhm” he nodded, dreading the fact that this meant he had to tell you about his dream. “it was about green slime looking thingies trying to take over the school.” he said, and you had to lean a little closer to actually be able to listen.

“oh shit, did i get abducted?” you asked, looking genuinely interested about the whole ordeal.

“no, you survived just fine.” a small smile began appearing in yushi’s face, the always prevailing knot in his throat seeming to be dissipating.

“was i the hero then? i totally saved you, didn’t i?” the smug look on your face made his heart flutter.

“sure, if that’s what you want” he chuckled, and it was the first time you had ever seen him so willing to talk… or well, not completely terrified of you.

“i’d like that,” you nodded, your smile completely radiant with happiness, blinding the poor boy in front of you.

he took too long to come up with an answer, being interrupted by the teacher calling for attention before he could say anything. you smiled at him before turning your attention to the professor, and yushi felt his words die on his tongue.

but he had done it. he talked to you like a normal person, even made you smile.

that day, the letter wasn’t on your floor when you arrived. however, you found it perched between the pages of your notebook.

dear siren, don’t ever let me go. let me drown in the citric smell of your perfume, as to die by your touch would be to die a happy man. — completely Yours.

he had gotten bolder, and your heart was about to race out of your chest as you finally recognized the pretty ways the y’s curled around each other.

...୨♡୧...

friday, february 14th

“you know you actually have to ask her for her to be your date, right?” ryo asked as he pulled on yushi’s hair, annoying him as his favorite pastime.

“shut up, i beg you,” the older boy asked as he swatted his hand away, fixing the strands on the mirror. “i have a plan, okay?”

“is your plan staring at wonbin until he melts?” sakuya asked, and yushi really wondered why he had ever chosen to befriend the gremlins.

“no, of course not,” yushi flicked his forehead, “although that doesn’t sound half bad.”

“he’s literally so nice, you’re just jealous.” riku spoke from his place on the couch.

“yes, so i don’t care.” he agreed, snatching something from his desk drawer before walking towards the door. “okay, please pray for me.”

and with a cheer from his overly loud friendgroup, he set path to your dorm.

he stood in front of your door for a couple minutes before he finally gathered up the courage to knock, feeling like a part of his soul died the second his knuckles hit the wood.

“be right there!” your voice rang, and he contemplated his last chance to run away until you opened the door. “oh, yushi, hi” you smiled as you looked at him.

his eyes couldn't help but roam over your body quickly, almost stopping to admire the way the small shorts you wore hugged your figure perfectly.

“hi,” he said, already sounding breathless.

“what’s up?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“i, uhm” he stuttered, trying to get rid of the knot in his throat. he had to do it, he had to be in control of his emotions if he ever wanted to succeed with you.

“it’s okay, take your time.” you reassured, finding his eyes to give him a reassuring look. “i’m not going anywhere.”

your words made his heart beat straight to a frenzy. how were you always so perfect?

“i came to give you this.” he spoke a little too quickly as he handed you the pink envelope you had become familiar with, praying that you didn’t notice the tremble of his hands.

your eyes widened with surprise at the sight. it wasn’t like you hadn’t known, but to see him standing there was a whole different level of emotion.

“thank you, yushi” you smiled, grabbing the envelope and keeping it close to your chest.

“since when have you known it was me?” he asked after a beat of silence, shyly looking at the floor.

“since the day we talked about it with sion,” you admitted, slightly amused at his shyness. “then yesterday i made sense of it, you draw your y’s funny.”

the boy felt his cheeks about to burst.

“i should've known,” he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“i liked it though, the whole secret admirer thing.” you reassured, and his smile was as soft as his eyes.

“i’m glad you did.” he smiled bigger now, his voice more firm as he recognized the glint in your eyes to be one he had imagined reflected in his own every time he looked at you.

“so… i’m guessing you don’t have a date for the festival today?” you asked as you fiddled with the paper in your hands.

“i don’t, no” he shook his head, thanking every single god out there for what he knew was about to come out of your mouth.

“okay, good.” you smiled. “wait here for a second, don’t go anywhere.” you said quickly before disappearing behind the door, leaving a confused yushi behind. “okay, i got it” you smiled once you had come back, handing him a red envelope. “i’m not as talented with words as you are, so no judgement… but you go ahead and open it.”

yushi felt like he was going to burst just because of the gesture, he cared little about how good the content was inside of it. he opened it fastly, not being able to contain the chuckle that tumbled past his lips.

would you pretty please (with a cherry on top) be my valentine’s date? ☐ yes ☐ absolutely ☐ do you even have to ask? — also completely yours.

you looked at him expectantly for an answer, immediately connecting eyes once he looked up.

“there are stickers there so you can mark your answer.” you said, and he couldn’t believe someone as cute as you existed.

he wordlessly looked for the heart shaped stickers, turning around so you wouldn’t see where he placed them. once he handed the letter back to you, you chuckled at the sight of all three ballots marked.

“perfect,” you smiled, walking closer to place a small kiss on his cheek. “i have to get ready still, but you can come in to wait.”

this was the best fucking day of his life.

𐙚 blue's corner ;; my first request guys im like this :DDDDD. i'm so happy that people like my work enough to trust me with their requests, so i really hope i you like this !! i know valentine's was two days ago but i really wanted to make this good, so bear with me please ALSO all poems by me hehehehehe 𐙚 taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @mae3xoxo 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

#tokuno yushi #yushi #nctwish yushi #yushi x reader #tokuno yushi x reader #nctwish yushi x reader #nct wish #nct wish x reader #☘︎˖˚ ⋆𐙚 blue's archives !#☘︎˖˚ ⋆𐙚 notesyushi #☘︎˖˚ ⋆𐙚 requests!!

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year ago

Text

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you think you may be pregnant and tell Peter (characters are 18+)

Masterlist

“Can I help you find anything today?”

You momentarily broke out of your stunned state and looked at the CVS employee that was talking to you. You hadn’t even heard her walk up to you from how deep in thought you were.

“Um…” You trailed off and turned back to the row of pregnancy tests in front of you. You had been walking around for the past few weeks with a strange feeling in your gut that something was different. After realizing that morning that you couldn’t remember when your last period was, you took yourself to CVS to get a pregnancy test. Part of you thought there was absolutely no way you could ever possibly be pregnant, but the other part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you definitely were.

“Did you have any questions?” The employee said when you took too long to answer. An overwhelming sense of dread fell over you when you realized you had no idea which one to choose. Your eyes suddenly filled with tears and you sucked in a sharp, panicked breath.

“Hey. It’s okay.” The employee said and put her hand on your shoulder.

“It’s not okay. This isn’t how I wanted this to happen. I wanted my first time buying a pregnancy test to be exciting and joyful. But I’m scared to death right now and I don’t even know which one to get. If I can’t even make one stupid decision on what test to get, how am I supposed to raise a human?” You blurted and looked at her desperately for answer. The young employee blinked a few times and you immediately felt embarrassed for dumping all of that on a girl who looked fresh out of high school.

“Um, I can ask my manager?” She weakly offered. You laughed lightly and wiped your tears.

“Sorry. I’m just really emotional right now.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” She told you and practically ran out of the aisle. You knew you had scared her away and assumed she’d never be back but to your surprise, a manger came down the aisle. She took a test off the shelf and handed it to you.

“I use these. They’re pretty accurate. And you don’t have to worry about misreading the little lines because it has a digital screen. If it’s your first time, you want to know for certain. And it comes with two so you can double check.” She told you. You stared at the box in your hand and for a moment, you didn’t feel as scared.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. The manager smiled at you and took a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to you.

“You’ll be okay, hon.” She assured you.

“What if I’m not?” You asked quietly.

“Don’t worry about that. Because that’s not gonna happen.”

“I’m really scared.” You admitted and clenched the box in your hand. She looked you up and down for a moment before nodding towards the back of the store.

“Come with me.” She said, and you did. You followed her to the employee bathroom and watched her unlock it for you.

“It’s a single stall so you’ll have privacy. Go in there and take the test.” She said and held the door open.

“But…won’t you be able to hear me pee?”

“Yup. And you’ll be thinking about that instead of what that test is gonna say. So go on.” She said again.

“Thank you, magical CVS lady.” You smiled in sincere appreciation before going in and taking the test. After peeing on it, you put the cap back on, washed your hands, and left the bathroom.

“I can’t look at this. You do it.” You grimaced and held the test out to her.

“What’s it say?” You asked nervously.

“I’m not touching something you just peed on. You have to look yourself.” She told you. You sighed and decided that if you were gonna check the test, it had to be with Peter. You nodded your head and put the test in your purse.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked her.

“I’m not you from the future.” She shook her head.

“Psh. What makes you think I was gonna ask that?” You scoffed. “Unless you are me from the future and already knew I was gonna ask that.”

“We are not even the same race.” She reminded you.

“Oh. Yeah. Unless in the future, people-“

“Go pay for that.” She cut you off. “And talk to your boyfriend. It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope you’re right. Thank you for helping me.” You said sincerely before going to the register.

The pregnancy test was burning a hole in your purse as you walked to Peters apartment. May let you in and your legs felt weak beneath you as you knocked on his bedroom door.

“Oh, hi, honey. I wasn’t expecting you.” Peter smiled when he opened the door.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is this about my YouTube search history? I wasn’t watching Jake Paul I just wanted to know if he still uploaded and-“

“It’s not about that.” You cut him of.

“Oh. Serious face.” Peter realized. “Have you been crying? What’s going on?”

You sighed and shut the door behind you before sitting on his bed. Peter sat beside you and took your hands.

“What’s going on?” He asked softly.

“I’m….I’m late.” You said slowly.

“For what? We didn’t have any plans.”

“No, Peter. I’m late.” You said and emphasized the last word.

“For what?” He mimicked your tone and laughed at his own joke.

“It’s not funny. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.” You said as your eyes welled up with tears again. Peters head jutted back in surprise at your unexpected tears and he immediately pulled you into a hug.

“Woah. I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said as he rubbed your back up and down.

“I think I really messed up, P. I think I’m in a lot of trouble.” You sniffled as you wiped your eyes.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“My period never came this month.”

“So?”

“I didn’t get it last month either. I drove to an all night McDonalds last night because I specifically needed their sweet tea. My emotions are all over the place.” You listed and gestured to him to fill in the blanks.

“I feel like you’re leading me somewhere but now I can’t stop thinking about how good McDonald’s sweet tea is.” Peter said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Peter, I think I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” He whispered harshly. “Like with a baby?”

“What else?”

“Hold on. Let’s not freak about before we have all the answers. A missed period doesn’t automatically mean you’re pregnant.”

“No, but this pregnancy test does.” You said and wiped out the test from your purse.

“You already took a test? Why didn’t you lead with this?” Peter asked in shock as he took the test. It was face down so neither of you could see the result.

“I haven’t looked at it yet. The magical CVS lady told me we should look at it together.”

“You went to CVS without me?” He whispered in betrayal.

“Peter. This is serious.” You whined and shook his arm.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s look at it.” Peter said and flipped it over.

“I can’t look. You do it.” You said and quickly turned your face. There was a long pause of silence that sent your anxiety into overdrive.

“Well?” You asked. “What does it say?”

“I haven’t looked yet. My eyes are shut.” He admitted.

“Oh, just give it to me.” You sighed and took the test back from him.

The word “pregnant” were staring back at you on the little screen of the test in bold letters. You read that one word over and over, half expecting it to change. You looked over at Peter and watched him peak his eyes open.

“What does it say?” He asked you.

“Pregnant.” You said and you both sat with the weight of that. There was a long silence as you both stared at the test that was in your shaking hand.

“Maybe it’s false. Don’t people get false positives all the time?” Peter asked quietly. He was white as a ghost and you knew he was just as terrified as you were.

“The lady at CVS said this brand was pretty accurate. And I told you. My period never came.”

“Okay. We still don’t have to freak out. A missed period and a positive pregnancy test doesn’t automatically mean you’re pregnant.” He repeated his words from before with far less conviction.

“I think it kinda does, P.” You said apologetically. “And I just have this feeling. I’m pregnant. I know it.”

“This is all my fault.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face up and down.

“What makes you say that?”

“I made us watch look at the full moon after Thanksgiving and it got me in the mood because I was so overwhelmed with my love for space and time and now you’re pregnant.” Peter said as his eyes welled up with tears as well.

“What does you loving space exploration have to do with the potential of our teen pregnancy?” You laughed and relaxed a little.

“Well aren’t girls more fertile during the full moon? And how is this a teen pregnancy? We’re both 21.”

“Yes, but girls are teenagers their entire lives.” You reminded him. “And I don’t think the moon has anything to do with fertility.”

“Oh, so you think it’s just a coincidence that both the lunar and menstrual cycle last 28 days?” He asked you.

“Well when you say it like that.” You mumbled. You looked down at the test again and felt the overwhelming sense of dread return.

“I can’t believe I let this happen.” You said quietly.

“Hey. This was both of us, okay? It takes two to make a baby. Unless you secretly found a sperm donor and did an in vitro fertilization and then forgot about it but I don’t think you did that so this was probably our doing. So don’t put all the blame on yourself.” Peter said and pulled you back into his arms.

“But I could have been more careful. Now what am I gonna do? I can’t raise a kid, P. I’m not ready.” You said as you cried in his arms.

“Whatever happens, we’re gonna handle it together. You won’t be alone.” He promised you.

“But we’re just kids ourselves. We don’t know anything about looking after a human being. I don’t know how to cook and you put a bar of soap in the laundry machine last week and made all the other tenants mad. We were irresponsible enough to accidentally get knocked up so how are we responsible enough to raise a kid? What if we can’t do this?” You pulled out of his arms to ask him.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “Should we tell an adult?”

“Who?” You laughed sadly. “My parents? Not unless you want my dad to put your head on a stick Lord of the Flies style.”

“Thank you for that imagery. But I was thinking May. She might be more sensitive to what you’re going through.”

“Won’t she be mad at you?”

“I don’t think so. She’s extremely sex positive. Like, uncomfortably so.” Peter said and grimaced a little. You nodded in agreement as you recalled all the conversations you’ve had with her about your “changing bodies”.

“What if we never tell anyone?” You suggested after a beat of silence.

“We’re gonna have to tell them eventually. And if we don’t, they’re gonna notice. It’s kinda hard to hide a pregnancy for the entire ninth months.” Peter reminded you.

“What if there is no pregnancy? What if I get an abortion?”

“If thats what you want, I’ll support you. It’s your choice.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You admitted. “I made this baby. I feel like I’m supposed to take care of it.”

“You’re supposed to do whatever you feel is right for you. We can do whatever you want.” Peter assured you.

“Maybe adoption?” You suggested. “I could have the baby and we could find a nice couple to raise them.”

“We could look into that.” Peter nodded.

“I don’t know if I can do that either.” You sighed. “I know adoption works for a lot of people but I think I’d always wonder about our kid. And what if I regret giving them up when I’m older? I’m not ready now but I wanted kids one day. We can make another baby but we can never remake that baby. What if I want to be in their life but they don’t want to know me?”

“I’d wonder about them too.” Peter admitted. “But we have a lot of time to think about what to do. We don’t have to make any decisions right now.”

“I want to talk to May.” You decided. “She’ll know what we should do.”

“Okay. Let’s go see her. But later, uh, an we stop at…” Peter trailed off and gave you a look.

“Yeah. Fine.” You sighed. “I want sweet tea now too.”

You and Peter splashed cold water on your faces to make it look like you hadn’t been crying before going out to see May. Peter took your hand and squeezed it as you watched her from the hallway.

“Okay, we have to be strategic about this. We don’t want her freaking out and making us more nervous. Let’s just ease her into it.” He whispered to you.

“Good idea.” You whispered back before going out into the kitchen to see her.

“Oh, hi guys.” May greeted. “I’m starting to get hungry so I was thinking of making some-“

“I’m pregnant.” Peter’s blurted.

“What?” She laughed in confusion.

“Oh my God. Peter!” You groaned and smacked his arm.

“I’m sorry. You were saying you could make us something?” He asked May. May ignored him and looked at you with an expecting glance. You sighed and pulled the test out of your pocket before handing it to you. Her eyebrows went up in surprise but when she looked at you again, she didn’t look disappointed.

“How did this happen?”She asked you.

“Well, when a man and I woman love each other very much-“ Peter began.

“No.” May groaned. “I know how this happened. But don’t you guys use protection?”

“We do.” Peter nodded. “Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” May asked skeptically.

“We don’t always have a condom handy but I have really fast reflexes.” Peter said in defense.

“Oh, really? Do you?” May asked with a huge smile as she grabbed the stick of butter beside her and launched it at Peter. It stuck to his face and everyone fell silent.

“Not fast enough, apparently.” She said finally. Peter took the butter off his face and went to clean up as you sat down to talk to May.

“Are you mad?” You asked her.

“I’m surprised.” She admitted. “But I also believe everything happens for a reason. This could be the universe telling you that this is the path for you.”

“Or, this is the universe telling me I should’ve wrapped it before I tapped it.” Peter said as he rejoined the conversation. May gave him a look and he went quiet again.

“Do you have any questions?” May asked you.

“Yes. What if it comes out covered in all the gum I’ve swallowed?” You asked with genuine concern.

“That…can’t happen.” May said slowly. “Do you know that? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“What if she farts too hard one day and gives birth in her underwear and then the baby can’t breathe?” Peter asked.

“What if I teach the baby to share and it ends up a communist?” You added.

“Oh no. We can’t have a commie baby.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“What if it’s just a giant spider?” You asked. “Or a regular baby but with eight legs?”

“Or a spider with a baby face. That would be so spooky.” Peter added.

“He’s right.” You said and pointed to him.

“No, he’s not right. Did either of you take sex Ed?” May sighed in disappointment.

“All I remember from health class is watching Inside Out.” Peter admitted.

“I love that movie. Except for the Bing Bong part.” You said and started to cry again as you thought about the movie.

“He sacrificed himself to let Riley be happy.” You said through your tears.

“Yeah, she’s definitely pregnant.” May sighed. “Who else have you guys told?”

“Just you. And some lady at CVS.” You told her.

“Understandable. I think you should decide if you want to keep the baby or not before telling anyone else.”

“She’s right. What do you want to do?” Peter asked you.

“I can’t make any decisions right now. I need to sleep on it. Can I sleep here tonight? I really don’t want to be alone with all my thoughts.” You sighed and rubbed your head.

“Can she?” Peter asked May.

“I mean, it’s not like she can get more pregnant.” May shrugged. You said nothing and went back to Peter’s room for some alone time. He was about to follow you but May stopped him and told him to give you some space. You laid in his bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long time as you thought about everything. Part of you wanted to scream for being so irresponsible but another part of you believed what May had said about everything happening for a reason. Peter came into the room after about an hour with a bowl of cut up fruit. You gave him a sad smile and sat up as he sat on the bed.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” You asked him.

“I’m kinda, I don’t know, excited.” Peter admitted.

“You are?” You asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean, obviously I was shocked when you first told me. But now I can’t stop thinking about what our kid will be like.” Peter said. You ate some of your fruit and took a moment to think about what it would actually be like to have a baby with him. You looked over at Peter and saw his big brown eyes staring back at you with full attention.

“Hopefully they’d have your eyes. That was the first thing I noticed about you when we met. Big doe eyes that can’t hide anything you’re feeling. It’s my favorite part of your face.” You replied with a soft smile.

“That would be cute. But my biggest hope is that they get your heart. And your kindness. I’ve never seen you turn someone away who was in need. You’ve taken on so many others people’s problems even when you’re drowning in your own. You take care of people. I hope our kid is like that.” Peter said, making you smile softly.

“Well I hope our kid gets your creativity.” You told him. “The things your brain comes up with never fails to amaze me. When you can’t find something you need, you make it yourself. I hope our kid gets your brains. They’ll be able to think themselves out of anything.”

“I hope so. With me as their dad, they’re gonna need a lot of help.” Peter laughed softly.

“No. You’ll be a great dad.” You insisted. “I already know you’re gonna be the fun parent and I’m gonna be the one that has to keep everyone in check.”

“But they’ll love you. It’s impossible not to.” Peter replied. “You’re where they will go for advice and comfort. They’ll come to me when they want to do some light scheming and plotting.”

You laughed and nodded in agreement as you stared off into the distance. The thought of a child that was half you, half the boy you loved didn’t seem as scary anymore. The more you talked about it and imagined what it would be like, the more excited you felt to start that chapter in your life.

“It might be kind of fun to have a kid running around.” You admitted. “One that you and I get to raise and watch grow. I always thought I’d have a kid one day. I didn’t think it would be this soon, but maybe May was right. Maybe this is what was meant to happen.”

“Maybe it was.” Peter agreed. “Maybe this is exactly when this was supposed to happen.”

“It’s gonna be a lot of sleepless nights, though.” You added when you found yourself romanticizing all the good parts of being a parent and none of the bad.

“Oh, totally. I heard it’s terrible the first few weeks. You don’t sleep at all.”

“God. I do not want that.” You laughed and rolled your eyes a little.

“Me either. It’ll be brutal.” Peter groaned and you nodded in agreement. You knew you had to consider how hard this would all be, but all you could think about was the cute baby clothes you’d get to dress your kid up in.

“I heard babies heads smell really good, though.” Peter said after you had sat in silence for a moment.

“Me too. I used to have a babydoll that’s head smelled really good. Like cake.” You smiled at the memory.

“Cake baby.” Peter replied, making you chuckle softly. You were starting to get a little too excited about the idea of this baby and had to bring yourself back down to earth.

“They smell really bad too, though.” You added. “And that’ll make us smell bad because we’re gonna be the ones who have to deal with all the throw up and poop.”

“You’re right. Ugh, I am not looking forward to that.” Peter blew out a breath. “We’re gonna have to change dirty diapers for the next few years of our lives. I worked in a daycare one summer and the diapers are never ending. And we’re probably gonna live in a super small place because that’s all we can afford and the whole thing is gonna smell like a dumpster.”

“Gross.�� You grimaced and remembered why getting pregnant this young was a bad idea.

You put your bowl down once you finished the fruit and got into the bed. You stared up at the glow in the dark stars on Peter’s ceiling as he got in beside you and shut off the light.

“Would you hope for a girl or a boy?” You asked and rolled over to face him.

“Girl.” He said immediately.

“Really? Why?”

“Because. Imagine having another little you running around. Only she’d grow up with unrelenting love and support from us. She’d be running the world by her 6th birthday.” Peter insisted.

“What would we name her?” You asked through a smile as you imagined the little girl.

“Matilda.” He answered.

“Matilda? Like the movie?”

“Not just any movie.” He prefaced. “The greatest movie of all time.”

“I can’t argue with that.” You chuckled and rolled back onto your back.

“What would you want?” He asked you.

“A boy. For the same reason. Another little you. And all those adorable little bow ties and sweater vests I see at Target. Imagine our baby in a newsboy hat and little suspenders. Ugh. I want a baby every time I pass that aisle.”

“Okay, but tiny little girl dresses? With matching bows? Imagine wearing a matching dress with your daughter to a party.” Peter said to challenge you.

“That is adorable. I would love that, actually.” You agreed and looked over at him. Peter stared into your eyes and felt less scared about the uncertain future.

“What are you thinking?” You asked and pushed some hair off his forehead.

“So many things.” Peter admitted through a chuckle.

“Me too. But I feel less panicked than I did when we first found out. The pit in my stomach feels more like butterflies now.”

“I know we have a lot to learn but I don’t feel scared anymore. I’m kinda, I don’t know, happy. Is that weird?”

“You know what? So am I. As long as we have each other, what’s the worst that could happen?” You asked.

“We could raise a brat that grows up to be a menace to society.” Peter said and instantly regretted it when you looked at him in horror.

“Oh no. You’re right. I don’t know how to teach someone to be a good person from scratch. What if our kid ends up one of those annoying kids who screams when they don’t get their way?”

“Or worse. What if our kid is the kid who says they weren’t even playing when they’re found in hide and seek? Even though they were totally playing but can’t stand to lose.” Peter cringed.

“I hated those kids.” You whispered.

“I did too. But what made them that way? I’m guessing it was their parents but how? How do we make a kid happy without raising them to expect to always get their way?”

“I have no idea.” You sighed. “And I don’t want a kid who can’t eat without watching an IPad but I also don’t want to have to listen to crying all day. What’s the balance?”

“Is there one?”

“I don’t know. Oh God, Peter. I don’t know anything.” You realized and began to panic again. You laid in silence for a while as your minds ran wild. You were both busy thinking of every annoying kid you knew in your childhood and wondered how they became that way.

“Imagine they’re a good kid, though. What if our kid is the one that sits with the kid who’s sitting alone? Or makes a circle bigger to include everybody in the conversation? You do things like that. I do too. What if they’re a good person that we can both step back and be proud of?” Peter asked into the night. You felt a tear roll down your cheek and slid into your ear as you stared at the stars on the ceiling.

“What if I’m not capable of raising a kid like that? What if I’m too young and inexperienced to teach someone else how to be good?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. I think you’ll be a great mom.” Peter said and sat up to look at you. You stared into his eyes and smiled a little.

“You’ll be a great dad.” You said quietly. He smiled and bent down to kiss you before laying his head back on the pillow.

“What do you think my dad’s gonna say?” You wondered. “How’s he gonna take it?” “

“Probably not great. And then he’s probably gonna take a bat to my head.” Peter replied, making you laugh at the honesty.

“My parents are gonna be so disappointed in me.” You sighed. “They’re gonna think I’m so irresponsible for this. What if they kick me out?”

“Then we don’t need them.” Peter said simply. “Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll always have each other. And once your parents see our squishy and adorable baby, they’ll have to forgive us. No one can stay mad at a squishy baby.”

“You know what? You’re right. We’re not teenagers. This isn’t exactly what we planned but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe this will be okay.”

“I think it will be. I don’t know anything about raising a baby but I know that I love you. And that I can’t wait to do this with you. There’s no one else I’d rather be starting a family with.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully.

“Really.” Peter assured you.

“Okay. You’re right.” You decided. “Whatever happens, it’s gonna be okay. We’re in this together.”

“We’re gonna have a cake baby.” Peter said with an excited smile.

“Cake baby!” You laughed and leaned into his side. Peter wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

You fell asleep that night with your mind at ease. When you woke up, you accidentally knocked a few books onto the floor. You sat up and looked around at the sea of baby books that Peter had put on the bed. He was sitting up as well and reading a book with a pregnancy bump on the cover.

“Morning, honey.” Peter turned away from his book to smile at you.

“Good morning. What is all this?” You laughed sleepily and picked up one of the books.

“Just some light reading.” He chuckled as well. “I went to the library this morning to get some books for expecting parents. I would’ve taken you with me but I wanted to let you sleep in since you’re making life in your body and all that.”

“Aw, wait. That’s so sweet of you, P. And incredibly crazy to think about.” You said and lifted your shirt to look at your stomach. It was hard to imagine that there was a person growing in there.

“That’s not the only crazy thing. These books are insane. Did you know babies can’t have water until they’re at least 6 months old?”

“No, I didn’t know that. Wow. You learned that in there?” You asked and curiously picked up one of the books.

“There are so many interesting things I didn’t know in here. I checked out as many as they’d let me so that we could start reading up.” Peter explained as you flipped through one of the books. You touched one of the pictures of a mother holding her baby and then touched your stomach.

“This is perfect, Peter. Thank you.” You smiled sincerely and squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s the least I could do. You’re the one doing the hard part. I also asked May to help us find a good doctor. She said we should make an appointment for an ultimate sound soon.” He smiled back.

“It’s ultrasound.” You corrected with a chuckle.

“Oh. Right.” He laughed as well. “See? I’m learning already.”

“You are. And I’m proud of you. But this is a lot of information to read.” You sighed as you scanned the sea of books on the bed.

“It is.” He agreed. “But we’re two people. And a lot of this stuff repeats between the books. I’ve read about cradle cap six times already.”

“Ew. What’s that?”

“I’d tell you but you haven’t eaten yet.” Peter mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Speaking of eating, I would love to do that right now.”

“Of course. You’re eating for two now.” Peter’s said and got out of the bed. Before you could respond, he scooped you up and carried you to the kitchen.

“Peter. I can walk.” You laughed as he gently set you down in a seat.

“I know. But I don’t want you to slip and fall and have our baby come out with a flat head or something.”

“I don’t even think they have a head yet.” You pointed out. “I’m pretty sure the baby is just a blob in my uterus right now.”

“Don’t call our child a blob. They’ll hear you.” Peter whispered.

“Will they?”

“They could. Now can pregnant people eat cereal?” Peter’s asked as he read the side of a box of Reese’s Puffs.

“I’m pretty sure they can.” You chuckled.

“Okay. Then this should be safe.” Peter nodded and poured some into a bowl for you to eat. You thanked him as he sat beside you at the table.

“I hope our kid doesn’t play sports because I really don’t want to sit through games for the next 18 years of my life.” Peter said once you were both eating.

“Maybe they’ll be like you and be a total nerd with no extracurricular activities.” You teased.

“As long as they’re not a band kid like their mama.” He mumbled.

“Watch yourself.” You warned. As you ate breakfast, you discussed all the little hopes and fears you had for your future kid. Peter theorized that the kid would be into science but you saw them being more artistic. Peter was sure you were going to have a genius kid but you imagined them more as a kid who wasn’t a natural at anything but tried their hardest at everything. The more you debated what your future kid would be like, you more excited you felt to meet them.

You and Peter decided to give yourselves a week before telling your family about the baby. In that time, you became fully confident in your decision to keep the baby. Throughout the week, you and Peter read up on baby books and spent countless hours watching mommy bloggers online to begin to prepare yourselves. You swung by Peters apartment one morning to pick him up before going to tell your parents together.

“You ready to go?” You asked Peter.

“Wait one second.” He said and disappeared into his room. When he came back, he had a yellow gift bag with some crumpled tissue paper poking out.

“For you.” He smiled proudly and handed you a bag.

“What’s this?” You asked as you reached into the bag. You pulled out a pair of little black converse, fit for a baby.

“Well, we don’t know if we’re having a girl or a boy yet but I know you love your converse, so.” He said sheepishly. You stared at the little shoes in your hands and felt your eyes well up with tears.

“Can you believe anyone’s foot can be this small?” You asked and held the baby sneaker up.

“Our kids foot is gonna be in there.” Peter said proudly and rubbed your arms up and down.

“We made a foot.” You whispered in disbelief.

“We made a kid.”

“With a foot.” You squeaked in excitement and shook the little shoe.

“Hopefully with two.” He chuckled.

“These are so cute. Thank you.” You put the shoes down and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you back for a long time and slowly swayed back and forth.

“You’re welcome. You ready to go tell your parents?” He asked once you pulled out of the hug.

“I guess so. Let me just pee first.” You said and went into the bathroom. Peter went on his phone to pass the time but noticed you were in there for awhile. Once twenty minutes had gone by and he hadn’t heard any sound from the bathroom, he knocked on the door.

“Honey? You okay in there?” He asked you. You unlocked the door and opened it so you could peak your head out a little.

“I got it.” You said with a sad smile.

“Got what?” Peter wondered. You took a deep breath but didn’t let your forced smile falter.

“I just got my period.” You told him and watched him carefully for a reaction. Peters eyebrows went up and he threw on a smile to match yours since he didn’t know how he should be feeling with that news.

“Oh.” He said and nodded his head.

“Mhm.” You nodded as well and blinked a few times to fight back the tears that were threatening your eyes. You didn’t know why you felt as emotional as you did, but at least you had your period to blame.

“That’s great, right? That means you’re not pregnant.” Peter said and kept his forced smile. He knew he should he relieved, but he felt disappointed. He just didn’t want you to know that.

“Yeah. It’s great. Now we don’t have to tell my parents anything. Because I’m not gonna have a baby.” You said and tried to force a laugh but it came out like more of a whimper.

“Honey?” Peter asked softly when he saw you fighting back tears.

“I’m not gonna have a baby.” You whispered and started to cry. Peter pulled you into his arms and let you cry into his shoulder until you could speak again.

“You’re sad?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I wanted a baby right now. But I also thought I already had one. I guess I was more excited than I realized.” You said as you wiped your tears with your sleeves.

“I don’t understand. You took that test.”

“I looked it up. A bunch of things can make you have a false positive. I peed on the other test just to see.” You sighed and pulled out the other test you had taken. A big “not pregnant” was displayed on the tiny screen. Peter looked at it for a long time and didn’t understand the way he was feeling. If you had asked him two weeks ago if he wanted a baby, he would’ve laughed and said no way. But now, he felt disappointed that positive had been false. He knew he probably wasn’t ready to be a parent, but the emotional roller coaster of thinking he was about to become one only to be told it wasn’t true left him feeling empty inside. Whatever he was feeling, it seemed like you were feeling it ten times worse. It had hit you a lot harder than you expected and you felt silly for mourning the loss of something you never actually had.

“What are you thinking?” You asked as you studied his face.

“I don’t know how to feel.” He admitted.

“Me either.”

“It’s for the better. We weren’t ready.” He said and shrugged slightly. He didn’t really believe it, but he felt like he needed to make a decision for the both of you on how to feel in that moment.

“Yeah. That’s true. We’re too young. Maybe one day we can try again. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” You nodded and smiled weakly.

“I would’ve been nice, though.” He said after a long beat of silence. Tears slowly filled your eyes as you stared down at the shoes that were not going to be filled.

“Yeah.” You said quietly as you toyed with the laces. “It would’ve been nice.”

Tag list 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

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@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

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@mathletemadison

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

1K notes · View notes

ilsanslut · 2 years ago

Note

you said male reader and I appear

boo

anyway, I’d love for your fave blue lock boys getting spanked by male reader

and I disappear now

꒷♡꒷ HIT ME, BABY!

♰ featuring: kaiser michael. shidou ryusei. [blue lock + separate]

♰ note: when i saw this pop up in my ask box i JUMPED into my desk chair with the most devious laugh ever LIKEE the joker could never. anyway, here are my baby boys getting their asses handed to them, as well as my first-ever male!reader work. (honestly i might make this into a lil series because i literally love too many blue lock characters-) enjoy!

sypnosis: naughty boys deserve to get spankings. content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. masc/male-bodied!reader. dominant/top!reader. bratty bottoms. minor dub-con? (kaiser). forced masturabation (kaiser). spanking. one cock-stepping moment (shidou). masochism (shidou). ryusei has daddy issues. one-time usage of the word ‘daddy’ (shidou). hair-pulling. cursing. degradation. punishments w/ no actual penetration. ꒷꒦

MICHAEL KAISER.

There were numerous things that irritated you about your teammate Kaiser: his superiority complex, the way he talked down to others who he saw as inferior, his inhuman skill that rivaled some of our generation's greatest, and his ridiculously good looks. But you had no idea how you of all people had become his number one target on his shitlist. It began cordially enough—or as cordial as you could be when dealing with Kaiser—but things quickly devolved into vile territory. He would annoy you to no end, from bumping into you in the hallway to stealing your towels as you were getting out of the shower, to making patronizing comments about you during practice, and even enabling his lapdog Ness to steal the ball from you during what should have been obvious goals at your games.

He was always meticulous about his appearance, so you knew he was taking extra time in the shower to get rid of the hard work he had done today to make your life as miserable as possible. You headed for the showers, which were nearly empty, but for one in the middle, front and center, fit for an emperor, with the curtain closed and the water running. You heard the faintest tune hummed in German from behind the curtain, and, without warning, you fisted the curtain in your hand and snatched it open. Panic overcame Kaiser's handsome face as he saw you, his eyes widening in response to being leered at in his most vulnerable state. There was a fleeting look of fear in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a smug glare and a pinch of his eyebrows.

“R-Really, Y/N?” Even with the sneer in his tone, you could tell it was merely a ploy to cover up the tremble in his voice. “I didn’t take you for the perverted type who—”

You did not even wait for him to finish before stepping into the shower yourself, unconcerned about getting soaked while still fully clothed, and snatching the curtain closed behind you. Seeing the look of a silent fury twisting your features, Kaiser’s expression dropped. However, before he could attempt to make a break to safety, you were shoving him against the ceramic walls cheek-first while your body and sheer mass pinned him there from behind. He grunted, struggling against your overwhelming strength as your forearm pinned itself across his shoulder blades, firmly pinning him there.

“W-What are you doing?! Get off of m—”

You silenced him with a sharp swat to his, surprisingly, bubbly ass, the sound of the hit echoing off the walls around you two, and effectively quarreling whatever rebuttal he was about to spew your way.

“I’ve had enough of your shit, Kaiser.” You snarled, emphasizing your words with two well-placed smacks on both of his ass cheeks, making him yelp with each one. You held him taut, fisting the back of his dyed hair and pulling his head back until his ear was right next to your lips. Even then, you could see the faintest trace of horror and what looked like yearning in his wide, blue eyes. For what? You didn’t know, nor did you care, right now.

“You berate me on the field—”

SMACK.

“Thrownin’ off my obvious fuckin’ goals—”

SMACK.

“And stick your dumb little lapmutt onto me, just because you know you can’t devour me on your own—!”

SMACK. SMACK

Kaiser’s teeth were gritted as he tried to hold back his sharp grunts and ill-timed moans, but no sound could be hidden from your ears within the confines of the echoing chamber. You gave him the briefest moments of reprieve, groping his abused cheeks in your large palm as your hand shook with poorly contained malice. Your hand that was in his hair jerked his head back more, pulling him slightly off of the wall so that you could peer over his shoulder, only to confirm your suspicions that yes, Kaiser was hard, and yes he was getting off to this.

“Dirty bitch,” You snarled in his ear amidst your amused chuckle. “Are you really getting off to this? Getting your pretty lil’ cock hard over being spanked like a disobedient slut you are in the showers, huh?”

“O-Oh, fuck you, Y/N. I am not—AH~!”

Kaiser let out a high-pitched, sultry squeal as you gave him another well-earned smack on his ass, feeling the pleasure shoot through his veins and making his cock jump. His face was flushing red, just like his posterior, and it was not from the heat from the shower.

“Yeah?” You breathed haughtily in his ear. “Go on then, jerk your cock for me, baby. I know a desperate thing like you is just aching to cum all over these walls, aren’t you?”

His fists balled at his sides as his teeth gritted against one another, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of letting you have your way. You merely clicked your tongue at his behavior, releasing his grip on his hair to instead wrap your large palm around his throbbing shaft and pump him yourself instead.

Grasping at your shorts with one fist to maintain balance, he choked on his own groans, his knees weakening as his body shook against your powerful one. He twisted around in your grip, trying to struggle free from your sneaky fingers, but it was no use.

“Y-Y/N, you f-fucking, ngh! S-Stop that!” He spat half-heartedly, despite the fact that his hips were practically fucking themselves into your deft digits.

You didn’t respond to him verbally, instead giving him another smack on the ass, just to witness his hips jolt and his cock twitch in your palm, drawing a sadistic cackle from your lips.

“What kind of whore gets off on being spanked, huh? You some kind of masochist of somethin’, Micha’?”

He didn’t reply—he couldn’t reply. His vision blurred and his mind went numb from the pleasure of having his rival fist his cock and dominate him completely when he was at his most vulnerable. He looked so pretty like this, with his hues rolled behind his half-lidded lids, his jaw dropped and gaping to release a steady string of moans, a line of drool pooling from his lips while his cheeks flushed a deep red from the humiliation of it all—he was perfect.

His groans grew shrill, and, before you knew it, he was utilizing your body as a rock to stay upright while his legs trembled under him. In an instant, hot, thick ropes of sticky cum spewed from his throbbing shaft and over himself and the shower walls. His body convulsed in your hand as a barrage of obscenities and things you could not make out in German fell from his lips. You laughed at him, cackled at his humiliation, the exact same way he would do to you when he would knock you down.

You didn’t stop there. You continued to pump his cock until he was well into overstimulation and fighting to escape your grasp. He eventually triumphed over you with a forceful shove, sending you reeling a few paces behind him as his weakness caused him to fall to the ground. There on his knees, he gazed up at you, his lips parted and panting, his semi-hard cock twitching languidly against his thigh, his pupils blown wide. He was a beautiful wreck, and it was all your fault.

“Yeah, nah.” You huffed, observing how his unfocused eyes suddenly widened and his lips drew in a sharp gasp as he watched you reach into your shorts with a near-feral grin on your face.

“I’m not finished with you, yet.”

RYUSEI SHIDOU

You know what happens when you feed a gremlin after midnight? That was Ryusei, except every day and 24/7. So much so that he was frequently a well-deserved victim of Blue Lock’s “Anti-Riot” electric shock. Today was one of those instances where, once again, Ryusei and Rin couldn’t see eye-to-eye on the field, leading to the two getting into a physical altercation initiated by the former. This time, they both were electrocuted, but instead of having additional staff handle Ryusei, you effortlessly scooped the male up and over your shoulder, walking off of the practice field with him. No one else on PXG dared to question it, not even Julian Loki, who just watched on with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head.

You made your way to the locker room, kicking the door open with your foot before setting Ryusei’s semi-conscious and lethargic form down on one of the benches against a set of lockers. Picking up a stray water bottle, you aimed the nozzle at your boyfriend before squeezing mercilessly, allowing a continuous spray of water to pelt against the blonde’s face. He gasped and spluttered as he awoke with a start, using his coughs to try and resist your water assault.

“Y/N?! W-What the hell is your problem? Cut that shit out!” He all but snarled at you, spitting some of the water out of his mouth.

Releasing your grip on the bottle, you stared at him impassively, thoroughly unamused by both his behavior and his language. Using the collar of his shirt to wipe his face, Ryusei took a moment to get his bearings and realized that the two of you were in the locker room and not on the field.

“. . . What happe—”

“You know exactly what the fuck happened, Ryusei.” Your sharp tone cut him off, your eyes narrowing on his now-widened fuschia ones. He looked a bit taken aback by your tone, but as he took in your demeanor and the way you were sitting with your elbows on your knees while glowering at him through your lashes, he understood that you were pissed at him.

“We talked about this, Ryu. It doesn’t matter how pissed off you get, you can’t just start swinging on your teammates whenever they annoy you!” You berated him, standing up now as you threaded your hands through your hair in exasperation.

All the while, your boyfriend sat there, scratching at his ear with his pinky and blowing off the excess nonchalantly as though you were boring him.

“Jeez, this is why you brought me here? You’re starting to sound like my old man.”

You paused, hands dropping by your sides as you felt a vein pulsating just above your eyebrow.

Is he serious right now?

Ryusei stood up abruptly, thrusting his hands into his pockets and assuming his usual slouching stance. His lips were pulled into a frown, and his expression was uninterested, as if he couldn’t care less about what you were saying right now.

Taking a step closer to you, he would say, “Y’know, lecturing me isn’t going to do either of us any good, babe. I’m going to continue to do my own thing, and you’re going to continue doing yours. There is no need to waste any of our breaths.” A sly, joker-like grin formed on his face, a hand leaving his pocket to rise to your face, rudely flicking a strand of hair above your eye, “Kapeesh?”

You were silent, fists balled by your sides, as you resisted the urge to strangle the forward where he stood. Taking your silence as compliance, Ryusei rolled his eyes and began to stroll out of the locker room, done with the conversation. That is, if you had not prevented his departure by lunging your fist forward and balling up the back of his shirt from behind. On instinct, the blonde whipped around with the intention of landing one of his infamous kicks on the side of your head, which you easily countered by grabbing the front of his shirt in one hand and his face in the other and slammed him down onto the floor.

Like a hyena trapped in a poacher's net, he struggled fiercely beneath you, hissing, spitting, biting, and snarling at you. But you persisted in your silence, pressing harder with your hand on his jaw until you were forcefully smushing his cheek against the ground, forcing him to finally submit under your brute strength. The two of you lay there for a while, Ryusei panting heavily beneath you and you glowering him down with every inch of your being, before it was you who broke the silence.

“I’m sick of your shit, Ryusei.” For emphasis, you pressed down harder on his face, relishing in the whimper that emitted from his lips while you did so. “Talking about how I ‘sound like your old man’, well, maybe I should act like him and knock some fuckin’ sense into you, huh?”

Ryusei’s eyes flashed for a brief moment, full of indignation and trepidation, but you were unyielding.

“ . . . Do it, pus—”

You didn’t hesitate to give him a quick pop on the mouth to shut him up, much to his astonishment. Before he could react, you captured fistfuls of his spiked locks in your hand, dragging him over to the benches until you could sit down and lug your 185cm boyfriend over your muscular thighs. As the reality of the situation began to settle in on him, he immediately began to struggle as a slew of curses spat from his scowling brims. However, you quickly subdued him by pinning the wrist that was farthest from you behind his back and your own leg over the back of his calves, preventing him from moving anywhere.

“Y-Y/N, you can’t be serious!”

And you were. Without a word to him, your dominant hand rose into the air before delivering a swift swat to his rear. You didn’t hold back either, knowing that with his blue lock body suit and practice uniform on, the blow was well-cushioned. Ryusei lurched on your lap, his free hand dragging his blunt nails against the bench with a startled cry. His jaw clenched, extending his free arm as far as it could go before bringing it back unforgivingly to jab it into your side.

“Let me go, you fucking sadistic bastard!”

Sadistic, huh? You seized the top of his shorts and the bottom of his bodysuit in one swift motion, yanking them down his toned thighs to expose his equally caramlized cheeks. You struck his cheeks with a series of enraged blows, striking each one with a hard spank from your thick, callused hands. In an instant, his ass was turning a vivid red, and instead of attempting to resist you, he was concentrating on preparing for each of your relentless blows. However, your pace was unpredictable. Some swats were fast and in rapid succession of the latter, while others were slow and calculated, almost as though you were trying to soothe the skin in between hits. It was abundantly evident that you were trying to teach him a lesson and venting your anger toward him. Aside from the occasional grunt or whimper from your now-silent boyfriend, this was the quietest you had heard him all week.

You gave your boyfriend a moment of respite, making sure he had not fainted on your lap. You massaged his sore ass in your palm while releasing his limp arm to grab his hair and pull his head back so you could look him in the eye.

Ryusei's normally keen eyes were now unfocused and brimming with tears, rolling into the back of his head; his cheeks were flushed a fierce red, smeared with the few tears that had escaped his eyes; and his pink lips were parted, gasping as strands of crystalline drool pooled over his bottom lip.

You had ruined him.

“Oh, Ryusei. . .” You cooed mockingly, bringing both of your hands to his face to cup his cheeks gently. As you gently shook his face back and forth to get him to focus on you, he sank to his knees between your thighs. “C’mon, pretty boy. Stay w’me.”

It took a moment, but you could finally see the life resorting in his fuschia hues, just as you felt something sticky on your calf. Glancing past the ruined face of your boyfriend, you discovered that his slender cock was hard and pulsating, its red tip drooling with pre as it adhered to your leg and soaked a tiny puddle in the material of your bodysuit. Poor mutt. He had been so turned on by this that he nearly came right into your lap, and you hadn’t even realized it.

Then it hit you. That’s why he had gone quiet—not because he was focusing on prepping himself for your swats, but because he was focusing on trying not to cum.

“Aren’t you just pathetic, Ryu? Nuthin’ more than a dumb painslut who only thinks about fighting and getting a nut off.”

His brows furrowed from your degrading words, but he couldn’t help the way his cock jumped against your calf from having you be so, so mean to him.

“You wanna get off? Wanna cum all over your pretty self, hm?”

He gave a desperate nod, babbling out whatever few unintelligible words his stupid mind could manage, but they seemed to be in needy plea to cum. With a maniacal smile on your face, you violently wrenched your partner away from you while he looked up at you with those wide, desire-filled eyes.

“Y-Yes, fuck. Y/N please. .”

You silently moved your leg between his knees, pressing the top of your cleats against his balls, observing as he practically doubled-over your leg with a high-pitched whine, his cheek pressed against your knee as his arms wrapped around your calf. Already, his thighs were quivering around your foot as he tried not to cum right then and there from the stimulation.

“Fuck yourself on my shoe, Ryusei.” You demanded, watching as he gawked at you incredulously, but your expression was unchanging. “You wanna cum, don’t you?” You quipped, folding your arms over your chest and quirking an eyebrow at him, to which he nodded desperately once more. “Then hump my leg like the dirty mutt you are.”

With a muffled groan, he did as you demanded of him, albeit with a slight bit of hesitation. He made sure he was situated well enough, the underside of his cock pressed up against your laces as he gave a few testing thrusts of his hips, each one brushing against your shin every time. He gradually increased his speed before descending into complete degeneracy. Desperate to chase his release that had been building over time, he was fucking himself against your leg while huffing, panting, grunting, and groaning. Your partner, possessed by his untamed desire, was drooling over your thigh while you watched from above. Your own cock twitched in your shorts as you admired the already fucked-out and near pornographic expression on his face.

Aiding the little masochist further, you leaned over him to place yet another swat against his reddened ass, causing a cry of pleasure and pain to emit from his lips and his hips to sputter against you.

“You like being spanked like this, don’t you, painslut?” You growled into his ear, causing a high-pitched whine to sound from his drooling brims.

“Y-Yes! Yes! Hit me more! Ngh, p-please, Daddy!”

You hissed, your cock straining against the tight confines of the bodysuit you were trapped in, but you did not touch yourself just yet. This was about Ryusei, not you, after all.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess over Daddy’s leg? Gonna cum all over his cleats? Hm, baby?”

“Hah, sh-shit! Yes, yes, yes! I-I’m gonna—mm’fuck~! C-Cum!”

A sadistic grin arose on your features, swatting another well-placed smack on his ass before leaning back on the bench, glowering down at Ryusei from over your nose. His fucked-out gaze could barely meet your own as the movement of his hips grew sloppy and his thighs quivered around your leg from the way you looked at him. He huffed, panting and drooling against your thigh as a slew of curses escaped his lips—he was close.

However, before he could enjoy the sweet, sweet euphoria of finally reaching his high, your hand threaded itself into his locks, peeled him off of you, and pushed him back into an opposing bench behind him. Ryusei gawked at you, utterly dumbfounded, as he slouched back against the bench, processing what had just happened. His cock, which was an angry red and throbbing, twitched against his thigh, thoroughly messy with pre. It took a moment, but his surprise soon gave way to frustration, and his face twisted with rage. Did you really just deny him?

“Y-Y/N, what the fu—”

“—Did you seriously think that you deserved to cum after the shit you pulled both on the field and in here, huh, Ryusei? Oh, don’t tell me you forgot that this was a punishment, babe.”

At your faux pout and mocking tone, he went silent, his face burning with indignation as his lips pressed themselves into a thin line. His eyes, despite being clouded by desire, had the faintest hints of vexation and desperation in them, which you picked up on. You rose to your feet, laughing at Ryusei's angrily pleading gaze, still desperate for his release but enraged that you refused to give it to him.

You bent over at the waist, grabbing his jaw in your palm, forcing your heated gazes to meet.

“Clean yourself up and get your ass back on that field, Ryu—and don’t you dare touch yourself, got it?”

Ryusei did not say anything in response; he just stared at you with that same disgruntled expression on his pretty face. Before long, he nodded, albeit not without the faintest of pouts appearing on his lips as he did so. You leaned in and gave his disheveled brims a quick peck before straightening up once more.

“Good. Now, hurry up,” You ordered as you began to make your way out of the locker room, however, not without casting a salacious stare over your shoulder in his direction. He was watching you go with his fists balled at his sides, his eyes begging for you to come back and let you finish. You didn’t.

“Don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head, Ryu. I’m dealing with you once practice is over.”

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #ryusei shidou #michael kaiser #michael kaiser smut #shidou smut #ryusei shidou smut #blue lock x male reader #bllk x male reader #i suck at writing endings pls god dont perceive me #vampiiebitez #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader

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itsnathateasy · 4 months ago

Text

aot characters and "will you be my valentine?"❣️

word count: 1,8k warnings: mentions of alcohol includes: eren, armin, jean, connie, reiner, bertholdt, ymir, levi, hange, erwin a/n: DON’T COME AT ME i’m not really a fan of valentine’s day either, but i hope i did a decent job with this short thingy here hehe! enjoy!

In all honesty, Eren never expected you to ask him to be your valentine and I don’t think he had any plans of asking you either. “We’re already dating, right? We’re each other’s valentines by default!” “Yes, buuut why not make it a little more special?” and then you’d present him with the most ridiculous valentine’s day gift you could lay your hands upon. I’m talking festive underwear, socks with your face printed on them and those silly cards with hearts popping when you open them. Eren isn’t the type to be surprised, let alone show it. But you got him there, and you got him good. He can’t contain his laughter at your silly gifts and he’s honestly so happy to receive them! And even though “you’re each other’s valentines by default” (smh eren🤦) he did get you a gift. It’s been wrapped and waiting for you in your side of the closet, right behind your shoe boxes. Did I mention it’s been in there for the past two weeks or so? Yeah, Eren is so pathetic for you, but he’s trying his hardest not to let it show.

You probably know this already, but Armin asked you to be his valentine in the cutest way. He handmade you a card, a quite elaborate one too, and he wrote a long ass message about how much he loves and appreciates you. He left it on your bedside table for you to find the moment you wake up, because he sadly had to leave earlier than usual. When you texted him a while later that you saw the card and that it was the sweetest thing, he had your favourite coffee and cinnamon rolls delivered to your door with the promise that “there’s more to come, this day is for you only!” The rush he was getting from spoiling you like this was insane. What could you possibly do to top his actions? It was barely 9 a.m. and Armin had already managed to surprise you twice! It made you feel like the gift you got him and the dinner reservations you’d made weren’t good enough. No matter what you’d came up with, he surely had something even greater planned. The troubles of dating a literal mastermind I guess!

Mikasa didn’t want to celebrate valentine’s day. She really didn’t want to. But then she realised you kept giving her hints about gift ideas and that you ‘had a surprise for her’ for that evening and the signs were too overwhelming to ignore. Okay, if it’s that important to you, she’d celebrate it as well. She didn’t really know where to begin at first, but, thank heavens for pinterest, she quickly navigated herself around the do’s and dont’s of valentine’s day. When you came back home, your house looked like a florist’s. Mikasa had bought a bunch of bouquets and pots and she added ribbons and hearts on basically every single item you’d ever owned. “I thought you didn’t like valentine’s day, Mikasa! What’s all this?” You honestly couldn’t believe your eyes! “Are they enough? Should I have gotten more?” For someone who was doing this for the first time, she’d exceeded all expectations!

Now, Jean… WHERE DO I BEGIN?? The boy cooked big time! Bought you a gift. Orchestrated an entire fake emergency to get you to meet him and the most romantic spot in the city and pulled his grand gesture of asking you to be his valentine. He hired drones DO YOU HEAR ME? He wanted you to remember this day! (Even though he keeps pulling grander and grander gestures each year, he wants to document EVERYTHING!). He’s doing his best to recreate scenes taken out from fairytales and plant those core memories inside your brain. He’s probably booked a restaurant too, but, to be honest with you, the entire set up he managed to create, was enough of a gift. It didn’t matter if there was a date afterwards. Waaaait… Why is your house decorated too? And why is it bursting with boxes as if it’s Christmas??? Jean’s gone overboard… AGAIN!

Connie was a bit of an ass this valentine’s date, but you can’t really blame him. He’s seen into the future and he knows his plan is bulletproof. He never asked you to be his valentine and when you asked him (rather late for your liking too, but you were really expecting him to do it first!), he said he had plans with the guys. No, for real. He wouldn’t budge. Said they’d been going over this for days. You were quite upset with him, but whatever. A galentine’s it was! Little did you know he’d made sure to let the girls know about his plan! While you were working on your galentine’s, Connie was preparing a themed date based on your favourite film/show! He’d altered the placing of your furniture (don’t expect juicy time after dinner, his back is killing him), he’s put up themed decorations, has the film/show waiting for you on the tv and even created a three course meal inspired by it! And he made all the drinks himself. Honestly, kudos to him, cause the hours he’d spent checking recipes were endless! You were so upset when the girls 'cancelled' on you last minute. You did the walk of shame home, utterly disappointed and expecting to find it empty, but… You couldn’t have asked for a greater valentine’s date!

You don’t have to ask Reiner, but he won’t ask you either. His actions speak volumes and as soon as he realises you want to celebrate valentine's day, it’s literally game over. He’s got the table set and he’s ordered your favourite. There’s flowers and balloons all over the place and he’s got some soft music playing in the background. Oh and that cute lingerie you spotted the other day while window shopping together? Yeah, that’s kind of been laying on your bed. I wonder who put it there. Reiner has plans to breach that wall, you know? Anyway, he’s being really cute about and he even made you a card! Yes, he diy’ed it! It’s the ugliest effing thing, but it’s also the sweetest valentine’s gift you’ve received in your entire life. Who else would put all this time into a single card? Reiner is acting like a schoolboy when it comes to you and you love him for it!

You and Bertholdt had a silent agreement to celebrate this day, but not go too overboard with it. The last thing you both wanted was to do all those cliché things people do on valentine’s. You’d made reservations at one of your favourite restaurants, that was quite fancy too, and simply treated yourselves to your favourite foods and some good wine. It was a lovely night overall, nothing too crazy about it, but it was the way you both liked it. You were spending time together and that was the most important thing! Except Bertholdt kinda gave in and bought you a heart-shaped chocolate box. And a heart-shaped plushie. But that’s all, he promised! He looked so precious when he admitted to ‘breaking’ his part of the deal, but that cute face was the most memorable part of your evening!

Ymir would celebrate with you, but she’d give you a hard time about it. She was determined to make you regret it. She’d probably do her best to prank you any way that she could by sending you flowers and addressing them to the wrong person or by buying you a box of candy she very well knew you disliked. Now, why would she do that you may ask. She just didn’t want you to expect the actual surprise she’d planned for you. What better way to keep you on your feet, right? And although her pranks weren’t really appreciated (you did fight about that ‘wrong name on the card’ situation) you really didn’t expect the surprise and that made it all the more special! She even baked you a cake and decorated it herself! You honestly thought you weren’t going to celebrate at all! Who would’ve thought that Ymir was simply playing games, right?

I’m so sorry, but Levi would never ask you to be his valentine. Such manifestations of affection were just pointless in his eyes, but that doesn’t mean he’ll refrain from making you happy. He’s just choosing not to participate in such a materialistic, capitalistic WHO SAID THAT holiday. He knows that it’s important to you though, so he makes sure he gives you extra care and attention today. When you returned home, you weren’t really expecting much. You’d bought some chocolate and a special edition valentine’s tea for you and Levi to try. But instead of finding a boyfriend who didn’t want to participate in the trend, Levi was running you a warm bath and had lit up a bunch of pretty candles. You smiled so big when you saw the set up! “Can we also have a cup of tea together?” “But that’s it, do we have a deal?”

Hange was so excited when you asked them! You could tell by how vividly their eyes sparkled, their excitement was the most precious thing! You decided to organise an activity together, you know, in order not to give in into those overconsumption trends. What are you if not against the system, right? You decided to book a day trip to the botanical garden or maybe a local animal sanctuary. And what an idea, because you never thought there’d be so many things to do there! Hange even surprised you with a gift, even though you’d said you wouldn’t get each other any. This gift doesn’t really count though, because they crocheted you a jumper and they spent so much time making it. (They started knitting in early January! Can you believe their dedication!?) When you came back home after a beautiful, yet tiring day, you decided to bake brownies. You hadn’t realised you’d barely eaten during the day and a sweet treat was what you both needed! It was a unique valentine’s date!

Okay, listen, Erwin is upset you asked him. He had it all planned out! Why did you have to be so impatient and ask him to be your valentine first? (He’s not really upset, he just wanted to be the man). And also, let’s be honest here, Erwin is a provider man. You get a little treat for every day leading up to the 14th and, of course, he’s booked a table at your favourite restaurant, bought you the fanciest jewellery and the loveliest attire like??? WHO IS HE? I just KNOW he’s the guy to also leave you a printed invitation on your night stand, telling you where you should meet him for your valentine’s date. He’s the most cliché of them all, but he’s never failed so far, has he? Consider yourself spoiled for the entirety of the week. And who knows, maybe longer even. That’ll depend if you’re good for him I’m afraid.

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