#the whole team must be absolutely ecstatic right now

[mileapokp1677]

Three Steps to Win You (CH 29)

Title: Three Steps to Win You

Rating: M

Pairing: Daddy Chan/Tankhun, Kinn/Porsche, Vegas/Pete

Category: M/M, AU Nerd-Jock

Summary: Accidentally, scientist Tankhun Theerapanyakul embarrassed footballer Captain Chan "Daddy" Knight in front of his coach, teammates and fans. He had to fulfill three tasks from the captain before his apology was accepted.

Chapter 29

(Tankhun POV)

Saturday Morning -- The Theerapanyakun Residence

"Thirty-three... thirty-four... thirty-five... thirty-six," counted Tankhun in a low voice.

"P', are you baking!? They smell so good~," shouted Kim, who ran into the kitchen and stopped in front of the long kitchen table, exactly where Tankhun laid out three dozen gluten-free mini banana muffins with dark chocolate chips on top, fresh out of the oven. "Banana Muffins?"

"Yes, sweetie, and don't touch them!" warned Tankhun.

He was so ready to smack Kim's hand with his spatula if his youngest brother ever dared to grab one muffin.

"Just one, please~ P', you baked so many," cried Kim. "You know they're my favorite."

"You think I baked enough for the whole squad of BSFC and the coaches?" asked Tankhun to Kim, sounding very serious.

"Yes, P', more than enough," replied Kim as he looked at Tankhun with a big smile on his face. He looked so happy and... relieved?

Hmm, that's weird.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like that!" stressed Tankhun, pointing at Kim's face. "You look so ecstatic."

"I'm just happy, P'," said Kim, still smiling. "I'm one hundred percent convinced now that you really care for Cap."

"Oh, really? And why's that?"

"You never bake for people that you don't give a damn about," stated Kim calmly. "This morning, not only you baked for him but for the whole squad of BSFC. You must care for him A LOT."

Tankhun was stunned.

He could feel that his face was getting hotter, but still, he didn't want to give in, "Don't be silly, Kim, I bake for your football team all the time."

"Because you love me, right?"

Tankhun closed his eyes. He had to admit that Kim was absolutely right. However, before he could even say what was on his mind to Kim, his youngest brother was no longer standing in front of him. Not only that, but the muffin which was located in the top left corner was also missing.

Oh, that little shit!

"Kim Theerapanyakun, get your ass back here!" yelled Tankhun at top of his lungs.

******

(Tankhun POV)

Kim just stopped his car in front of the Hattrick when a new message notification rang on Tankhun's cell phone.

Ding!

New Message from Caramello.

Caramello

Just head straight to the training ground. I have your coffee here with me.

Tankhun's reaction to the text should have been normal. After all, the Captain, for five days straight, had provided him with hot coffee that was made according to his preferences. But, he'd be lying if he didn't say that his heart melted over Chan's sweet treatment the whole week.

There was absolutely no doubt in Tankhun's heart that he must have smiled silly at that time, because Kim, his beloved baby brother, had no trouble at all guessing whose message he had just received.

"So, what did the Cap say?" he asked. "That he already ordered your coffee for you, he asked us to just head straight to the stadium?"

Tankhun just nodded his head firmly. He didn't even trust himself not to embarrass himself by screaming and singing an aria about love in front of his brother if he opens his mouth right then.

"Aaw~ that is so sweet," stated Kim as he started the car and drove toward the BSFC Training Ground.

Instead of responding to Kim, Tankhun chose to turn his head towards the window. He needed to hide his blushed pink face, for he just couldn't stop smiling. And he refused to look silly in front of his youngest brother.

Karma was truly a bitch.

******

(Chan POV)

Saturday Morning -- the BSFC Training Ground

Chan repeatedly looked at the back door of the stadium, but the person he was waiting for still didn't appear.

Where the hell is he?

Tankhun's hot americano had been delivered by the Hattrick delivery service just now and was still steaming hot in Chan's hands. He wanted this cup of coffee and himself to be the first things Tankhun saw when he arrived here.

Yes, yes, he was aware that he was super whipped ( indeed ), but he didn't feel embarrassed at all.

Did I send the message too late to Tankhun?

Nah, it was impossible! He texted Tankhun at exactly 7.30 AM. Maybe Kim was still parking his car. Not long after, the sound of a door opening was heard. Chan could hear the sound of footsteps approaching him.

"This way, Doctor Theerapanyakun," said Sol, the security guard, to Tankhun, who followed behind him with Kim, holding three blue-colored medium boxes in both hands. "Coach never allowed food on the pitch area, so I better take you to the locker room."

"Okay."

Food?

"I'll take them to the locker room myself, Sol, thank you," said Chan. "Good morning, Tankhun... Kim..."

"Good morning, Chan."

"Good morning, Cap!"

"Of course, Cap," replied Sol. "Good day, Doctor Theerapanyakun."

"Good day, Sol, thank you."

"CAP!!! I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT!"

Kim shouted so loud his voice echoed in the corridor, as soon as Sol left them.

"I GET TO PRACTICE WITH YOU AND THE WHOLE TEAM!"

"For God's Sake, KIM! Inside voice, please!" yelled Tankhun as he grimaced. "I can't exactly cover my ears now."

"Oops, sorry, P'!" said Kim to Tankhun who could only shake his head.

Chan couldn't blame him though, Kim did yell super loud. Nevertheless, you could still see clearly, on his face, how happy Tankhun was for his brother, no matter how hurt his ears were at that time.

"Are you ready?" Chan asked the young footballer.

"YES! NO! I don't know!"

Chan just laughed at Kim's antics and then reached out his hand toward him.

"Give me your duffel bag, and I will put it in the locker room," said Chan before adding, "Just follow this corridor straight to the pitch. Pete and the rest of the boys are waiting for you there. I've already informed the coaches, so there shouldn't be any problems."

"Thank you, Cap!" shouted Kim -- thank God not as loud as before -- before running down the corridor toward the pitch. "I'll see you on the pitch!"

"Aren't you going to be late for practice?" asked Tankhun. "Just show me the way to the locker room, I can handle it by myself just fine. Give me the duffel bag."

"Let me help you, Tankhun. Don't worry about practice, I'm always the last player to get to the pitch. Captain's privilege," replied Chan. "Give me those boxes, so I can hand you your coffee."

Chan put Kim's duffel bag on the floor and waited until Tankhun finished stacking the boxes safely in his right hand before giving Tankhun his Americano.

"To your left," instructed Chan. "What's in these boxes? They smell so good."

"My gluten-free banana muffins."

Whoa, he baked?

"You baked?"

"Yes, for the boys," answered Tankhun calmly while sipping his coffee.

"Just for the boys? Ouch!" teased Chan.

"Don't be ridiculous, Chan! You're one of the BSFC boys too, aren't you? Besides, I baked enough for everybody," said the Doctor nonchalantly but refuse to meet his eyes.

Oh, my sweet bratty stubborn baby...

"After you, baby, the second door on your left."

The Doctor sauntered in front of Chan with his signature swag, and Chan was charmed, for he absolutely loved the way Tankhun walked and moved. He was like a supermodel, very graceful and magnetic. He also had a pair of legs that were on par or even more beautiful than those models'. Those legs were now clearly visible before the Captain's eyes.

Did he even wear pants?

Because, as far as he can see, Chan could only see Tankhun wearing an oversized blood-red hoodie and classic black & white checkered slip-on Vans and nothing else.

"Stop being perverted, Chan. Of course, I'm wearing pants," said Tankhun, who stopped in his tracks and turned his face to look at Chan.

"I said it out loud, didn't I?"

Tankhun just grinned and continued his walk toward the locker room.

So busted!

The locker room was empty when they opened the door. Don and the other coaches were already on the field. Chan better hurries before Coach gives him an extra lap.

"Are you ready?"

"One moment, please," cried Tankhun. "Let me take off my hoodie first."

The first thing Chan saw when Tankhun, who was standing with his back to him, unzipped and lowered his red hoodie was the large number 3 and his last name KNIGHT on Tankhun's back.

Is h-he wearing the BSFC jersey with my name and number on it!?

Chan started to get dizzy. However, when the scientist turned his body around to face Chan and take off the hoodie completely, the Captain almost fainted. Because Tankhun... his baby ... he... he was wearing the jersey that used to belong to Chan. More precisely, the official away uniform of BSFC that the Captain had used in a match. Chan was 100% sure of that fact because he was the one who gifted Kim with that particular jersey when he came to Theerapanyakun's residence back then. It was his signature on the left side of the jersey right above the BSFC's badge, god damn it!

Oh, God... Oh My Fucking God!!!

Both of them had almost the same height, but completely different body shapes. Chan's shoulders and chest were wider than Tankhun's. Not only that, but the Captain was also more muscular, while Tankhun was very slender and lithe, with delicious curves in all the right places. Their differences were so obviously seen when Tankhun was wearing Chan's jersey like this. The sleeves of the BSFC white uniform barely touched Tankhun's elbows, and the hem of the shirt fell slightly above the middle of Tankhun's long and slim thighs.

Suddenly, all these unholy thoughts invaded Chan's mind. This was even worse compared to when he saw Tankhun wearing his BSFC jacket at BOC Stadium. It must be because of the minuscule pants that -- allegedly -- were worn by Tankhun but couldn't be seen at all!

Chan couldn't help himself but imagine Tankhun walking around his house bare feet, wearing his jersey, and only that... Chan started to pant... he was gulping hard... his blood was boiling... and he could feel something down there was starting to wake up...

I'm doomed!

"Cap?" called Pete, who always had perfect timing, suddenly popped his head into the locker room.

Make that double doomed!!

Chan only had two options, and neither was good for him, but if he had to choose one... Chan grabbed Tankhun's body in front of him quickly as lightning and then turned their position 180 degrees so Tankhun was the one facing his co-captain, while Chan and his "condition" hid behind the Doctor.

"Yes, Pete?"

Even his own voice sounded strange to his ears. Did he really sound like a strangled person? Or was it just his imagination?

"Coach asking for you," answered Pete as he walked into the room.

Purely on reflex, Chan pulled Tankhun's body backward towards his own body, so that their bodies pressed against each other. His intention at that time was only to use Tankhun's body as a shield, but -- without realizing it -- Chan had made matters even worse for him.

"Chan?" whispered Tankhun, his breath caught a little.

And that was the moment when the great Captain of BSFC realized what he had done.

FUCK!

TBC

#daddy chan #tankhun theerapanyakul #chantankhun #kpts fanfic #fake dating #au nerd jock #kinnporsche #vegaspete #kim theerapanyakul #everybody is a footballer #team as family #kpts

[lewdo]

Nicholas Latifi being interviewed after finishing P8 at the Hungarian Grand Prix and scoring his first ever points in Formula 1

#I’m happy for him #the whole team must be absolutely ecstatic right now #I couldn’t find any other gifs of him and he deserved to have gifs of him #nl #nicholas latifi #formula 1 #f1 #williams #my edits

[spooderboyandtincan]

You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it. 

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him. 

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind. 

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away. 

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane. 

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores. 

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts. 

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open. 

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch. 

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time. 

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.” 

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent. 

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone. 

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.” 

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?” 

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag. 

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers. 

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too. 

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention. 

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably. 

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him. 

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT. 

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk. 

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

 Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.” 

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents. 

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes. 

No, they think at the same time. Not yet. 

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.” 

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers. 

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering. 

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay. 

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip. 

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!) 

#chapter 1/2 #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #anxious thoughts #panic attacks #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug #tony stark needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #other tags to be added #no st*rker #st*rkers dni #my writing

[alisonsfics]

Keeping Secrets

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Request: “Can I request a Derek one, where the reader and Derek are together and both work for BAU and they are on a case where a whole family was murdered including the children, and it's hard for reader to keep her emotions in because she recently found out she was pregnant but hasn't told Derek yet and only JJ knows.” - @lovingthereign25

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: case details

The team was currently on the jet, flying to the next case that had been assigned to, in Cleveland, Ohio. Hotch handed out the case files to everyone. You opened it and saw a picture of a family that had been murdered, brutally.

“Oh my god” you exclaimed, under your breath as you quickly closed the file. It wasn’t like you were some monster that didn’t normally get affected by crime scene photos, but currently it affected you a bit more than usual.

You were pregnant. The only one who knew was JJ. You and Derek, your boyfriend of three years, had been trying to have kids for a while. When you found out, you were absolutely ecstatic.

You wanted to tell Derek more than anything in the world, but you just wanted to tell him in the most perfect way you could. You wanted it to be special, so you had waited.

But, when you were sitting in your bathroom, tearing up. You had to call someone to share the good news with, so you called JJ. You had made her promise to not tell Derek, and currently he had no idea.

Derek, who was sitting next to you, saw your reaction to the picture. He placed one hand on your thigh and began to rub his thumb in a circle, attempting to calm you down. Derek was always hyper aware of how you were feeling, and he was always there to make sure you were okay.

The team began talking about the details of the case, and you eventually were able to look at the picture. That didn’t mean that it didn’t create a giant pit in your stomach, because it definitely still did that.

The team arrived at the police station and began to set up your room. “JJ and Y/N, I want you to go to interview a relative of the family. She’s the grandmother of the children, on the maternal side” Hotch told you, before leaving the room.

You felt like you were going to puke. You couldn’t fathom the idea of talking to a woman who had just lost her daughter and her grandchildren.

You left the room with JJ and she pulled you to the side. “I can take someone else, if you don’t feel up to it” she told you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I can still do my job” you assured her.

Your biggest fear is that the team would treat you differently once they found out you were pregnant.

“Y/N, you could barely stand to look at the crime scene photos. That doesn’t make you any less of an agent, just stay here” JJ told you, encouragingly.

“Okay” you said, walking back into the room. “Hey Derek, can you go with JJ? I have a theory that I want to run over with Spencer” you said, completely lying. Derek gave you an unsure look, but agreed.

Once he left, Spencer and Emily were the only two in the room with you. “Are you okay? You seemed different on the plane” Spencer asked you. “Yeah, I don’t know why, but this case just feels different. I can barely stand to look at those pictures. I wasn’t the right person to talk to the family” you told them, being partially honest. You knew exactly why this case felt different.

The three of you started to work on a preliminary profile. You three had come up with a few theories, but nothing seemed to fit perfect yet. Until, you finally had an idea. You were about to call Hotch and tell him you were ready to deliver the profile, when Derek walked in the room with JJ.

The both seemed frustrated and defeated, and you couldn’t figure out why. “What’s going on?” Spencer asked you, also noticing the shift in their behavior.

“Another family was just found murdered in their home. The unsub has completely changed tactics. They were precise before and now they were messy. None of our profile fits” Derek said, sighing.

You felt nauseous. While the team had been struggling to come up with a profile, another family had lost their lives. It was hard to not blame yourself, maybe if you had figured it out sooner, they would still be here.

You could feel yourself starting to tear up, you tried to calm yourself down, but you just couldn’t.

The only thing you could imagine was the fear that those children must of felt. Or the terror the parents must have had watching their children in pain. It broke your heart.

How were you supposed to bring a child into this world when you knew about how evil this world really was?

“Y/N, you okay?” Emily asked you, noticing how upset you looked. “Umm yeah, I just need a minute” you said, turning to leave the room. “Y/N, wait” Derek said, walking over to you. JJ tried to stop him, but he pushed past her and followed you out of the room.

“You don’t have to do this, go help the rest of the team. I’ll be fine, Derek” you told him, not trying to be dismissive, but you knew you couldn’t tell him the real reason. “Something is up with you, I know something is going on. Just let me help you” he told you, interlacing your fingers.

“Why does something have to be going on. I got emotional looking at crime scene photos, okay? Children were murdered, that isn’t okay. I think I had a pretty normal reaction to seeing something like that” you said, defensively.

“Come on, let’s go talk” Derek said, putting his arm around your shoulders and walking into an abandoned conference room.

“Talk to me” he told you. You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t get those children’s faces out of your mind. “They were too young” you whispered, finally letting your walls fall down.

“I know, and we are doing everything we can to catch this sick bastard and make him pay for what he did to those families. But I have to know what’s going on with you” he told you, holding both of your hands. “You want to know what’s going on? While we were here, failing to come up with a profile, this guy took more innocent lives” you said, emotionally.

By now, you were on the verge of completely starting to cry. Derek pulled you into his arms and held you tightly. “Shhh it’s okay. I know you’re upset, but you cannot blame yourself. You can blame the unsub and be really angry at him, we all are. But don’t blame yourself” he told you, reassuringly.

After you had calmed down, Derek pulled away from you. “Are you really okay?” He asked you, sincerely wanting to know. “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s get back in there, I want to catch this guy” You told him, wiping the tears from your face.

Derek didn’t really seem convinced by your answer, but he knew that you would tell him when you were ready. You both rejoined the team and began to work more on the profile. By the end of the day, you had brought in a suspect for questioning.

You were in the conference room when Hotch and Rossi brought him in the front door of the police station. You felt a mixture of emotions. You slightly felt relieved because you may have caught the guy that committed these crimes. You also felt disgusted looking at someone that could have committed unspeakable crimes.

You, Derek, Spencer, JJ, and Emily were all standing outside of the interrogation room when the suspect confessed the crimes to Hotch. You started to feel the tears in your eyes again. The way the unsub talked about his crimes with a smile on his face made you sick to your stomach.

You tried to discreetly wipe the tears from your eyes, but you were unsuccessful. Derek noticed right away, but didn’t want to make a scene.

He put his arm around you and led you back into the room the team had set up in. It was now empty because everyone was watching the interrogation.

“I know you better than anyone and I know something is wrong. You’ve been acting off all day. What aren’t you telling me, babygirl?” He asked you, concerned.

“I’m pregnant” you blurted out, not being able to conceal it anymore. Derek just stared at you, not being able to comprehend what you had just told him. But after a few seconds, he had cupped your face.

“Are you really pregnant?” He asked you, in complete shock. He had a single tear rolling down his cheek. You just nodded and smiled at him.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. He held you tighter than he ever had before. “I can’t believe this! This is the best day of my life” he whispered, as he held you close. He stroked your hair and you could tell he was starting to cry.

“I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you, but I wanted it to be perfect” you told him, honestly. He pulled away from you and cupped your face again. “It is perfect, in every way” he said, kissing you.

You could feel some of his tears fall onto your face. Derek smiled as he kissed you and eventually pulled away. “We’re going to be parents, babygirl” he said, with a smile on his face. He kissed you on the forehead and pulled you in for another hug.

“Are you happy?” You asked him, as you both pulled away. “Are you kidding? I am thrilled, I’m through the roof” he said, picking you up and spinning you around.

Then, the rest of the team walked in the room and had confused expressions. “What’s going on here?” Rossi asked you, chuckling to himself, just from looking at the goofy grins on both your faces. You looked over at Derek, nonverbally asking if you could tell them.

He nodded and smiled at you. “We’re having a baby” you exclaimed, smiling at the team as you watched their faces of shock. Slowly, each one of their faces lit up.

“Congratulations” they all said. Emily was the first one to pull you into a hug. “All of you, come here” you said, and soon you were surrounded by all our your best friends in a massive group hug.

You all finally pulled away from each other. “So how are you feeling?” Spencer asked you, smiling at you. “I feel fine, I haven’t had any morning sickness or anything yet. But we could not be more excited” you said, as Derek put his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

You looked up at your boyfriend, who was beaming, and the rest of the team, who were all smiling, even Hotch, and you felt truly content. Everything felt perfect and at peace.

taglist: @reniescarlett @thelovelyrose @shyinadarkplace @azghedaheda @millipop18 @airiloveskuromi-chan @ssareidbby

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#Derek Morgan x reader #Derek Morgan #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds #fanfiction #Derek Morgan fic #Derek Morgan imagine #Derek Morgan imagines #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfiction #Derek Morgan request #criminal minds request #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #requested #requests open #fluff #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #Spencer Reid #David Rossi #Aaron hotchner

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (3/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic)

word count: 3,986

authors note: part three!!!! I'm honestly so happy with how this is turning out so please leave feedback and lmk how I'm doing! thank you all so much :)

warnings: swearing, super soldier serum injection, needles, drinking

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

recap: You picked at your nails, anxiety swallowing you whole, “and what if you don’t make it back, either?”

“I will.”

-

It had only taken you 5 days to make up your mind: either go with Steve as he finishes out his mission with the army or wait in Brooklyn upon his return. “Well,” you always bit back, “if you return.”

You did not want to stay in Brooklyn and wait for Steve to come back. You had done that with Bucky and after learning his tragic death, you needed to go with Steve. You didn’t care who you had to fight – you were protecting Steve Rogers and looking after him, just like James would have wanted.

Peggy Carter immediately welcomed you and seemed somewhat relieved when you had met with them outside your apartment complex, bags packed and ready to go. She had given you a soft smile and a nod, making you feel more at calm with your decision. However, before you left, you needed to say goodbye – just in case.

Dressed in a tie-neck floral dress, you headed across the street to where Grover was, selling newspapers once again in the early morning. However, when he wasn’t on the sidewalk, he was in your apartment, holding you as you cried for Bucky. Grover had helped you open Bucky’s files and put on his dog tags; he was there while Steve was sorting out your arrangements with Peggy. He had your snot stains on his nicest shirts that you always apologized for, and he had carefully placed the dog tags over your head; Grover was certainly one of your rocks when Steve needed to grieve on his own, which you understood.

Noticing your approaching figure, Grover stood up and shooed people away from his stand, meeting you halfway. He noticed your solemn look, “you goin’ with Mr. America?”

With a nod, you wrapped your arms around the older man’s neck, his chubby arms meeting your waist in a split second, “I have to, Grove. I needta’ keep my promise to James, and watch after Stevie.”

Grover tightened his grip around you and squeezed, much like a father would, “sure that super soldier can’t do it himself? Looks more than capable.”

You shook your head against his neck, “I promised – I promised James; you know that.”

Grover pulled away, resting his hands on your shoulders, “I know you did, kid…but that don’t mean it still pains me to see ya go…Come back here, the both of you, in one piece – ya hear me?”

With a nod, you squeezed Grover’s hand on your shoulder and went back to where Steve and Peggy were standing by an army truck, your bags already in the trunk. As the two looked back at you, you gave a curt nod, “I’m ready.”

Steve helped you into the backseat as Peggy headed up front, starting the truck up once you were all piled in. As you rode off, away from Brooklyn, you looked back to your home, and gave a sad wave to Grover who was already back to selling newspapers – but you saw him wiping his cheeks. Tears flooded your eyes as you imagined you and Bucky finding a nice white picket house in Brooklyn once he came back like he promised. Turning back around, you wiped your eyes, looking forward to the road, a hand wrapped around Bucky’s dog tags.

Only a little while into the car ride, you leaned forward, asking the two soldiers a question, “where exactly are we headed?”

Steve turned around towards you, “first, Camp Lehigh where we’ll get you some ID so they know you’re with Peggy and me. Then, London, where Colonel Phillips got a lead on Schmidt’s new hideout.”

You looked down at your nails, picking at the skin surrounding them, “can I be of help in any way? And, uh… who is Schmidt?”

Peggy glanced back at you for a quick moment, “how are your fighting skills, y/n?”

Steve gave her a glare, “no, absolutely not.”

The driver looked back once more, expecting an answer. You glanced at Steve, “I’ve got experience with guns and hand-on-hand combat.”

Steve shook his head, “that’s nice but I’m not letting you do what I think Peggy is insinuating.”

Peggy elbowed him before she answered you, “there’s a chance your skills may come in handy, Miss y/n, but it won’t be an easy feat.”

You nodded to her, “I’d like to be of any service I can, Agent Carter.”

Steve grumbled, “am I just invisible to you two?” That finally got a giggle out of you and Steve glanced back, squeezing your hand, before turning towards the front.

You waited a few moments before you tapped Steve’s shoulder, getting his attention, “hmm?”

With a head tilt, you asked again, “who is this Schmidt guy? Never got an answer earlier.”

Steve seemed a bit tense when you asked before answering you, “he’s a confidant to Hitler and closely affiliated with Hydra. Once we take down Schmidt, we get closer to taking down Hitler.”

Your eyes had widened during his short summary, “so you really been killin’ Nazis, Stevie?”

He huffed, “been trying too – mostly taking over Hydra bases. Buck was more the killing Nazi type.”

With a slight smile, you squeezed Steve’s hand, “sounds like our James.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for some mindless chatter over Peggy’s radio.

By the time you three got to Camp Lehigh, getting your identification was nothing out of the ordinary; however, being looked at with either such sorrow or surprise was a shock. You had assumed people knew about Bucky, but you never thought Bucky had told everyone about the girl from home, nor that they knew what she looked like. Tears flooded your eyes very quickly at the image of Bucky boasting about his Brooklyn girl and everything about her, and apparently, his words got all the way back to New Jersey.

Even when you got to the London Bunker, more dejected looks were given your way. Some sick part of you wished he hadn’t made you such a big deal, but if he were still alive, you’d be flustered. With subtle hands, you quietly put Bucky’s dog talks within your new army greens officer uniform. While you definitely were not an officer, Peggy had no problem lending you one of hers, telling you that if someone had a problem with it, take it up with her.

You clearly remembered her conversation as she dragged you into her tent, quickly shoveling through a trunk of hers, “are you alright wearing one of these? I have a few different sizes – whatever fits you.”

You accepted a green skirt of hers with a nod, along with a tan-colored blouse and a green jacket. Thankfully, it had no medals on it so you didn’t exactly feel as if you were impersonating a soldier.

You looked towards Peggy as she made her leave, “thank you, Agent Carter…You truly did not have to do this but – but I appreciate it.”

Peggy gave a soft smile as she opened the tent, “anything for Barnes’ girl.”

Right when she left, you sobbed for a good 20 minutes. You remember mumbling to yourself, “I hope I still am your best girl, Jamie.”

Over the next few days, you had quickly grown accustomed to the troops' fast pace and overall serious atmosphere, along with their Colonel. You would never admit it to the man, but Colonel Phillips scared you when you two had first met; you wondered if he had ever laughed in his entire life. And you definitely wouldn’t tell him this either, but you knew he was a big softie underneath that whole ‘I’m Colonel Phillips and you have to be intimidated by me’ attitude. Once you had arrived in London, you made it your mission to make the Colonel laugh, whether it be at your expense or someone else’s – but it took your mind off James; well, as much as it could.

One man who admired your mission and seemed to play along with it was Mr. Howard Stark; when the two of you weren’t messing around, history was being made, and changing the world for the better was your first priority.

Besides his cocky attitude, Howard had truly become one of your favorite people – besides Captain America himself, of course. When Steve had introduced you to the team focused on finding Schmidt and the rest of Hydra, Howard had taken to you liking a father hen, showing you his new tech and his favorite, the new vibranium shield he made for Cap. He was so ecstatic about showing a new face his greatest creation and how indestructible it was; as he told you, everyone else did not seem as impressed and he needed someone with a brain like yours to comprehend what he made.

While nobody else knew, he had also shown you the last remaining vial of the super-soldier serum Dr. Erskine had made and thus, what Howard had been trying to recreate. He had almost been successful but told you he did not want to use Erskine’s last vial on someone, in case it ever came to that. Instead, he wanted to try his own, one that would not affect one’s looks physically but included all the enhancements. Now that got you intrigued; you loved Steve, truly, but if you ever got the chance to take Stark’s serum and wanted a husband in the future, you did not want to look so…bulky.

The two of you worked closely together, using Stark brainpower and L/N design skills and expert eye to create the new symbol for Captain America.

With a pretty decent paint job on your part, both you and Howard took a step back from the upheld shield, looking over the new red, white and blue design, fit with a silver star. Tears filled your eyes but you refused to let them fall as Howard rested a hand on your back – your Stevie would be carrying that shield proudly very shortly.

Howard pulled you into a quick side hug, “Sergeant Barnes would be proud of you, kid. Look at you, designing Captain America’s new shield!”

With a soft laugh, you wiped your eyes, “I hope he would be.”

Before Howard stepped away to give you some space, you grabbed onto his arm, eyes darting towards the suitcase underneath his desk, “can I ask you something, Howard?”

Howard crossed his arms, “what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours, kiddo?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “listen, I know you’re gonna say no, but I just… I need to get this out.”

Howard noticed your serious tone and pulled you against a corner of the huge bunker that had been your home for the past couple of days, surrounded by books that you had read in record time, “go on, kid.”

You fumbled over your words, nails scratching against your skin, “do you think – do you think I could take the serum? Your recreation, of course – I saw your successful attempts and I want to take it. I’ve thought it over, truly, and it’s what I want. Ever since James – ever since James died, I’ve felt so lost and useless; I want to do something, something that James would be proud of. And I know you’re gonna say no, but Howard, I really need to do this, so please-“

Howard interrupted you, hand held up calmly, “let’s talk to Colonel Phillips, okay?”

Your eyes grew wide, “real-really? No immediate reprimanding?”

He looked at you with soft eyes, “I know what you’re feeling, y/n, and it’s not a good feeling. While I wish there was another solution other than you taking the serum, I – I’m not opposed to it. Maybe we need a sidekick.”

You gave a slight smile as he grinned back, “thank you, Howie.” He pinched your arm in response to his nickname, narrowing his eyes playfully.

The moment you asked Colonel Phillips for a private meeting with you, him, Howard, and Peggy, he already seemed on edge. Woke up on the wrong side of the cot, sour coffee, you weren’t sure – but you were sure that he was not going to be happy with your idea.

As expected, the meeting with Colonel Phillips was not exactly great; he may have thrown a fit and yelled at you for even suggesting such a thing. Okay, ouch, that stung – you genuinely thought it was a good idea.

You had interrupted during such fit, “sir, may I remind you that Steve Rogers had no prior fighting experience yet he got the super-soldier serum? I have the skills – well, some skills - the will to fight, and the…”

You stopped.

“I have a purpose, just like Steve,” you began once more, “Hydra took away the most important person in my life and I’ll be damned to hell if I’m not gonna do anything to stop them. So please, sir, let me do this.”

Peggy Carter stood beside Colonel Phillips, her lips twitching up in a slight smile, “you remind me of him. Of Barnes.” The Colonel grumbled.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, “I guess he rubbed off on me.”

Peggy looked to Colonel Phillips as he was deep in thought, until he spoke, “you talk to Rogers about this?”

You shook your head, “no, sir.”

Colonel Phillips crossed his arms, “I suggest you bring it to his attention before we make a final decision, l/n. Then, if we decide yes, we’re going to need to change the plan just a tad bit.”

With a nod, you stood up and walked out of the meeting room, hoping to find Steve around the corner somewhere; on your way out, you already heard Colonel Phillips grumbling about how it would be nice to have another super-soldier.

One of the Howling Commandos spoke up during your search for Steve, “he’s over at Crocker’s Folly. Bar right across the street from here, kid.” You thanked him and walked out of the site, spotting a very beat-down bar just across the street, surprisingly still standing.

Heading over, you had honestly no idea how to bring up the idea of you taking the serum to Steve; it definitely was no normal conversation. You knew he would say no, but you wanted to take it and be of use during the war and avenge Bucky in any way you could. Once inside, you heard a radio in the distance of the bar, unsure of what song was playing. Following the sound, broken glass and among other things crunched under your footsteps, letting Steve know someone was there.

Sitting at a table with a bottle of liquor and a glass by himself, your best friend turned around and glanced at you, pulling up a chair. You gave a small smile, finding the seat right across from him, “are you okay?”

Steve shrugged, “that Dr. Erskine said the serum wouldn’t just affect my muscles, it would affect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing… which means uh.. –“

“You can’t get drunk.”

Steve shot you a look, “when you’d get so smart?”

You kicked his foot with a chuckle, “when I started hangin’ out with Howard.”

He gave a sad smile as tears flooded his eyes, “I am so sorry, y/n.”

You choked back a sob, eyes filling with tears, “it wasn’t your fault, Stevie. I know that you did everything you could.”

Steve’s eyes were brimmed red, “how are you – how are you staying so strong?”

Clearing your throat of the sob making its way up, you licked your lips, “I feel like I’ve cried too many tears, Steve. I want to cry more, my god I do, but I know he wouldn’t want that.”

Steve nodded, “’m sorry to bring him up, I just…” he mumbled, “I’m going to kill Schmidt and all of Hydra if it’s the last thing ‘m gonna do, y/n.” His hand had curled into a fist and you felt the anger radiating off of him.

You grasped his hand, softly uncurling it, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something, pertaining Schmidt.”

Steve let out a grumble, taking one last sip of his drink, “everything okay?”

You nodded, “I – I’m okay. But Howard…he has a remaining vial of the serum from Dr. Erskine and has even recreated it himself. I talked to Peggy and Colonel Phillips and I’m going to take it, the recreation.”

Steve’s eyes shot up to yours, “Y/N, I can’t – I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous and I promised –“

“Steve,” you stopped him, “I know you promised Bucky that you would look out for me. I promised him that about you, too. But I want to do this. It’s my decision and I’m hoping you’ll let me do this for myself and Buck.”

The man across from you looked down at his glass for a long while before he looked you in the eyes with a grin, “’gonna pretend I can get drunk and forget why I even agreed.”

A small smile formed on your lips as you reached over, squeezing his hand, “thank you, Stevie. Now c’mon, we got a serum to inject and plans to tweak.”

When the two of you reached the bunker once again, you nodded to Howard and he let out a breath. He was not exactly looking forward to this, injecting you with the serum, but it’s what you wanted. Word quickly got to Colonel Phillips who seemed a bit relieved himself, glad there were no tantrums thrown – much like his.

Down the many halls of the bunker, Howard, Peggy, and a few nurses prepared an operation room, a bed centered in the middle of the room as lights displayed it. Once you were injected, you would need a few moments to recollect yourself – both of them knew this.

You, Colonel Phillips, and Steve stood outside the operation room, looking in as Howard laid out the serum and sedation if needed. The Colonel spoke up first, looking down at you, “you certain about this? There’s no guarantee you’ll live.”

You nodded, “I’m aware, Colonel. But I’ve thought it through and it’s what I want.”

Steve looked to you as the Colonel looked on, “you yell for me if you need me, okay? I’m right outside.” You gave him a small smile before you headed inside per Howard’s direction.

Steve stopped you once more, “and y/n?”

You turned around to look at him as he continued, “you’re a good person. Maybe not a perfect soldier yet, but a good person.”

You smiled at Steve, “looks like I’ll need you as my teacher once I become your sidekick, Stevie.” You both let out a chuckle.

Nurses stood behind the two tables surrounding the cot you were instructed to lay on, taking off your shirt and tossing it into Peggy’s arms, letting out a whistle, immediately calming your nerves. You flashed her a smile which she returned.

Bright lights shining onto your body – now only clad in a bra and some army green cargo pants – your gaze shifted to Howard. He looked albeit nervous but once he caught your eye, all nerves disappeared, “how ya feelin’ kid?”

You chuckled, “like I’m about to be turned into a super-soldier.”

Howard’s shoulders shook with a slight laugh, “that’s nuts – it’s almost as if I’m administering said serum. I’m gonna inject you with some penicillin, okay?”

You nodded your head, looking towards the window where you saw Steve looking way too tense. With a smile, you gave him a thumbs up in which he chuckled at, shaking his head. Beside him stood the Colonel who looked nervous himself, but with a blow-kiss, you saw him roll his eyes and turn back into your stern Colonel Phillips.

Howard spoke up, grabbing your attention, “now, y/n, your transformation will be a bit different from Steve’s, but the outcome should be the same – just no outer physical changes, as I mentioned. No need for nerves. You ready?”

You nodded, and with a deep breath, you felt the sharp needle penetrate your skin, injecting you with the serum. As the serum coursed through your veins, your skin felt as if it were on fire, your breaths growing quicker and sweat already forming on your skin. Howard noticed your breaths, “deep breaths, kid, don’t rush the process. You got this. How ya feelin’?”

You grunted, “burning – hot but cold. Freezer burn.”

Howard grew pale, somehow making sense of your words, “okay, y/n, you gotta fight this. Don’t let the serum override your body – you gotta let it combine with your cells. C’mon, kid!” Peggy’s grip tightened on your shirt as she looked on, whispering words of encouragement.

Outside, Steve and Colonel Phillips began pacing, the Colonel glaring through the window, telling himself that he could telepathically communicate with you and force you to live through this. Steve bit his thumb, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Your body had now started to sweat profusely, the shine adding itself to your figure as you breathed heavier, a gasp and a sharp scream leaving your lips. Steve immediately ran in, holding your hand, “y/n, come on, please! Fight this – don’t give up, please. I – I need you, we all do.”

In a split second, your eyes opened, meeting Steve’s for a split second before you let out another yell, eyes squeezing shut once more, “Steve! It hurts – it hurts!”

Your whole body felt as if it were on fire yet hypothermic, your chest feeling so heavy that it was difficult to breathe. Every cell in your body felt as if it were being torn apart and being put back together again; you talked to yourself in your head, “how the hell did Steve do this?”

Steve ran a hand over your now-damp hair, “I know, I know, but you got this, y/n. Once you beat this, we’ll go and kill those sonsabitches at Hydra, you hear me? You gotta beat this.”

Over time, which honestly felt like hours, your body slowly started to welcome the serum and new changes within your body, your breathing returning to normal and sweat disappearing onto the cot below you, body returning to normal temperature. With only a slightly bloody nose, you felt…good. Resting against the cot, you let out a sigh, eyes fluttering.

Howard hooked an IV up to your arm, returning the liquids you had sweat out, pushing your shoulder lightly, “’gotta talk to me, kid.”

You grumbled, “’m tired…but feel like I could run a marathon.”

Steve’s hand squeezed yours as he let out a laugh, looking up to the ceiling, “that’s your girl, Barnes. You did great, y/n – you did great.”

Eyes still shut, you hummed, “mmm…do I have abs of steel now?”

Steve chuckled, “would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

You nodded your head, a dopey smile on your face. Steve continued, “I wouldn’t want to fight you in the ring, bug.”

Slowly but surely, you opened your eyes, adjusting to the way your body felt and sensed everything around you. With a grunt, you rubbed your eyes, glancing at your hands – hmm, they looked the same?

Howard noticed your confusion, “Remember what I said, kid? No outer physical changes, but you got all the upgrades Rogers has. Better looking, obviously,” you let out a soft laugh, “just not as bulky.”

With a hum, you sat up, fighting off Steve and Howard’s mother hen tendencies, “’mentioned that earlier…bulky. ‘m fine, by the way – stop worryin’.”

Slowly getting off the cot, you walked around the room, stretching your legs and your whole body. Everything felt different but good; it’s like your senses and every cell within your body were heightened. “It felt cold,” you mentioned to Howard, “the serum.”

He nodded, “as opposed to the vita-rays, we had to keep it in cold storage. Easier that way.”

You hummed, and while turning around in the small room, your eyes met Steve’s once more, “well Captain, what now?”

-

Honeybee Taglist:

@clownerlyluv @ginger-swag-rapunzel

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/you #platonic #platonic friendship #platonic x reader #steve rogers/reader #captain america the first avenger #captain america #capsicle #james bucky barnes #peggy carter #colonel phillips #margaret carter #johann schmidt #arnim zola #hydra #mcu #avengers x reader #avengers/you #avengers/reader #mcu x reader #bucky barnes series

[choiceskatie]

Your Honour (Thomas Mendez x MC)

Book: Mother of the Year

Warnings: filth NSFW 🍋

Author’s Note: @ao719 and I have both come to the conclusion that even if Thomas may publicly gives off sub vibes, he is an absolute freak behind closed doors. We are prepared to throw hands if anyone tries to argue us on the matter. This fic is a result of our thirsting lol. Thanks to my girl for pre-reading this for me!

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Thomas lifted his head from his sky high stack of contracts as he heard a knock on his office door, calling for them to come in. He smiled brightly as he saw his wife of two years walking in, grinning at him and shutting the door behind her as she carried a white container.

"Hello, gorgeous." Thomas got up from his desk immediately, walking round to greet Tara with a sweet kiss on the lips, but his wife had other ideas, sweeping her tongue into his welcoming mouth and wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled back with a chuckle as he quirked his brow at her. "That was a warm welcome."

"You know there’s always plenty more where that came from," she winked with a smirk as Thomas laughed warmly. "I brought you lunch".

He took the container box from her as he pulled out the seat opposite his at the desk for her. He opened it immediately, looking back up at her curiously. "Honey..."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"These are doughnuts."

"Mmhm?"

"Is this meant to be dessert?"

"No, Thomas, it's not. It's lunch. I know I'm a greedy slob but it's not my fault! Blame your son!"

Thomas broke into a loud laugh and smiled fondly, choosing to ignore her tone with him, as his gaze fell her to stomach, still relatively flat to a stranger's eye in her floaty dress but finally showing a round bump when bare. Tara was now 22 weeks along in her pregnancy, and they had recently found out they were having a boy. They'd both said they were happy with either as long as the baby was healthy, but deep down they were elated, more so Thomas at finally having someone on his team at home. They'd chosen to wait until her 20 week scan to tell Luz and Zoey, since Tara was constantly worried about something going wrong. Thomas scalded her every time she referred to herself as a 'geriatric mother', telling her she was only 34 and that they didn't even use that phrase anymore. Not that she ever listened.

Luz and Zoey were both ecstatic, until things set in as they were now of the age to truly understand what their parents had been doing to conceive their baby brother and their faces crumpled in disgust. Thankfully, at 13 they both still loved kids and were beyond excited for the arrival of their new family member in a matter of months.

"Since when does the little man want doughnuts?" He chuckled, adding "that's a new craving."

"Monday," she groaned. "I've been getting them everyday whilst you're at work and eating a whole box to myself and it's still not enough! When you fall asleep at night I lie fucking salivating, thinking about damn doughnuts! I'm going to end up 500 pounds after this pregnancy!"

"Christ, Tara. A box a day? If you don't end up that, you'll end up with diabetes!"

"It's not my fault! It's yours! I never had any bad cravings with Zoey. It's your bad sperm making me fat!"

Biting down on his bottom lip to supress a laugh and resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics, Thomas tried to press the real issue. "Honey, you really need to try and ignore your cravings every once in a while. I know it must be hard but we need to think about-"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you have a vagina? I must have missed that at the conception."

He narrowed his eyes looking at her, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. "No, I don't."

"Ohhh, that's right! Well guess what, Mr Mendez, no uterus, no opinion!"

He crouched down in front of her, smoothing his hands up and down Tara's thighs to soothe her. "I'm sorry, I just worry. The most important thing in the world to me is for you and our baby to be healthy."

Tara let out a sigh, looping her arms across his shoulders. "I know you do, I'm sorry. You're only trying to help and I bit your head off." Her lower lip trembled as her eyes began to shine with unshed tears.

"Hey, hey, hey." He gathered her in his arms, pressing a kiss into her hair as his hands ran up and down her back. "Sweetheart, it's fine. I just don't want you having any health problems down the line. If it’ll help, I'm going to eat healthier too. I want to experience as much of this as possible."

She pulled back to look at him, smiling at him. "I'm sorry, this second trimester is kicking my ass. My mood swings come out of nowhere."

"No, I'm sorry. You're carrying our baby around and I'm moaning at you." He grazed his knuckle over her cheek and tucked a stray hand of hair behind her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She shut her eyes and pushed her lips out in a pout, eliciting a chuckle from Thomas as she silently asked for a kiss.

He leaned in, pressing his mouth softly to her plump lips, but the kiss quickly grew more passionate from two eager sides as his tongue slowly curled with hers, and his hands travelled leisurely down her back to pull her against him, cupping her ass. She pulled back with a tug on his lower lip, his returning groan already turning her on more.

He rested his forehead against hers as he whispered to her with closed eyes. "In actuality, I'm rather enjoying these pregnancy hormones."

“You know... there is a way you can make it up to me."

"Hmm? How's that?"

"By taking me on your desk." His eyes flew open as he felt his face begin to burn. Tara's eyes fluttered open as she giggled noticing his flushed complexion. They'd been together for four years and every time she flirted with him it came out. In all honesty, it was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

She felt a rumble of laughter originate in his chest before it came barrelling out. "Are you crazy?"

"What?" She shrugged. "We've done it before."

"I'm sorry, when have we ever had sex in my office before? I hate to break it to you, honey, but I think you may be remembering a past encounter with a different man!"

"Oh, shush with the dramatics, Thomas, we're not in the courtroom." She rolled her eyes at him as he chuckled. "Remember your company Christmas party the year we got married? You had some files to pick up on our way home to take home over the-"

"Oh my god. I completely forgot about that. I'm surprised the doorman even let us in, I don't think I've ever been so drunk in my life."

"Well, he did, and you fucked me-" Tara tapped on the desk with a small pause "-right here! She grinned widely, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she reminisced. "Aw man, those were the good old days, before you put a sugar crazed demon in my belly."

"I'm sorry, does creating life with one another not fall into your category of 'good days'?"

"Point taken. The other good days!"

"Tara, I can hear my assistant biting her nails when I'm in here alone. There's no soundproofing in this office at all." He smirked as he leaned in to kiss her neck. “Unless...”

“Unless what?” She shivered as she got lost in the feeling of his lips moving up her neck.

He sucked on her pulse point before whispering in her ear. “You promise to keep quiet for me, like a good girl.”

She bit her lip to supress the whine at his name calling. He knew how much she liked it but she wasn't letting him win that easily. “I think I’ll manage, your honour.”

He smirked at her eager response. She was trying to even the playing field. And it was working. “Oh, really? Because as I recall, there’s only one screamer in this marriage, and we both know it’s not me.”

And with that, he pounced. His lips latched onto every bare patch of skin available as he desperately hiked her dress up around her hips, pulling her out of it a moment later and throwing it over his shoulder, not giving a damn where it landed. He undid her bra clasp with one hand as the other explored her body, Tara sighing in relief when her swollen breasts broke free, leaving her in only her thong.

He tore himself away, looking at the beautiful specimen sitting in his office chair, feeling himself strain uncomfortably against his slacks at the sight of her perfect curves, plus the new addition. He bent down to press a soft, but lingering kiss on the bump now on full display. Tara smiled and cradled his head as he did so. At times, she was overwhelmed by Thomas' love and involvement in the pregnancy. He went with her to every appointment, held her hair back every morning when the first trimester morning sickness hit, cooked dinner for her and the girls every single night, not letting her do any jobs in the house. He did everything in his power to make her happy, and the stark contrast to her first pregnancy made her emotional.

Alas, her sentimental thoughts were cut short by Thomas' thumbs grazing over her nipples, instantly bringing them to hardened peaks. "Mmm... so reactive to me."

She bit her lip as she moaned slightly, pressing her legs together to relieve her pulsing centre. "I think you'll find it's the pregnancy, my love. Although, that tongue of yours-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, his lips had latched onto one of her nipples, flicking his tongue and sucking. His thumb and forefinger pinched and caressed the other, showing both equal attention.

Tara began writhing in the seat, clutching at Thomas' shoulders for anchor. He kissed across her chest as he switched nipples, bringing his free hand down to caress her sides when he felt her hips bucking. Now that he'd noticed, he heard her voice coming out in shaky breaths as her back began to arch of the chair. “Fuck, Thomas, don’t stop.” He kept his eyes locked on her face, dewy and flushed, her heard thrown back on the chair. She let out a moan from deep within as Thomas scrambled to cover her mouth with his large hard, feeling her bite his skin as her body arched in ecstasy. He softly swirled his tongue around the sensitive flesh as her trembles began to subside. He pulled his mouth away with great difficulty as he looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Did you just...?”

“Oh my god.” Tara covered her face with her hands, cringing as Thomas pulled them away. For the first time in their marriage, it was her turn to blush profusely as Thomas looked at her in awe.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tara bit her lip through a giggle as Thomas leaned in to kiss her deeply, before pulling back to whisper to him, "I told you. That mouth is your prized possession."

And it was his turn to be the blushing fool again.

"My turn to take care of you," she grinned as she leaned in to kiss his neck, starting to undo his shirt buttons with quick and nimble fingers.

He groaned as she took his ear lobe in her mouth, biting softly as she got to the last button and rid him of his clothing.

"As much as I like the sound of that...” He grabbed her by the waist and stood, lifting her easily as her legs instinctively wrapped around his firm body. "Not today, sweetheart..." He walked to the side of his desk, sweeping off the mountain of documents in one go. "Today is about testing you...” He lay back onto the hard wooden desk, Tara's hips straddling him as he moved them backwards to the centre of the table. "Today is about bringing you to the brink of pleasure and you keeping that dirty little mouth of yours shut whilst I do so...” He rolled his hips into hers as his large hands gripped her waist and she let out a gasp. "Today is about seeing how far I can push you without you screaming my name. Can you do that for me, baby?"

Tara stared at him, dumbfounded. Thomas liked to take control in the bedroom and she welcomed it. She loved being the only one to witness this side to him, an extreme version of the man he could be standing up in court. But this was so much more. No matter how much control he took, he was normally still putty in her hands. But today was role reversal. She had never been so desperate and needy for him, the evidence of such soaking through her flimsy lace underwear onto the crotch of his suit trousers. She shook herself out of it, plastering on her usual smirk to regain some composure.

“My, my, Mr Mendez. No foreplay? That’s not like you. Getting right to it, are we?” He smirked as she reached for his belt buckle to free him of his remaining clothing.

He gently caught her hand as he quirked a brow at her. “Who said anything about that?" He reached his legs under her thighs, gripping her hips as he comfortably held her entire weight in the air, pulling her closer and placing her hips right where he wanted them. On his face. He breathed her scent in deeply, groaning as his cock jumped in his pants.

She was a goner.

He frowned as he realised she still had her underwear on, dipping his thumbs into the material.

“Now, fuck.” Grab. “My.” Pull. “Face.” Rip. He flashed her a smirk as he pushed her hips down onto his eagerly awaiting tongue, sliding through her wet folds before his lips latched onto her clit, her mouth instantaneously falling open in a loud moan.

He pulled his face back with great difficulty, replacing his tongue with his thumb, subbing in to rub her in slow circles to keep her going as he spoke. “What did I tell you about keeping the noise down, hmm?”

Tara gasped as he pinched her nub, her hands instantly grabbing hold of Thomas’ shoulders as her head fell backward. “Ohhhh god, I - fuck,” she struggled to get her words out as his lips latched back onto her, sucking incessantly on her bundle of nerves. “I, fuck. I object.”

He smirked as he pulled back, again replacing his mouth with his thumb. “Overruled.”

She let out a loud moan and Thomas broke contact completely, leaving her whimpering.

“If you’re going to be naughty rather than acting like my good girl, then you’ll be treated as such.” He reached behind him, pulling open his top desk drawer and pulling out the first thing he felt. “Bend down.”

She did as he said, confused yet unbelievably aroused by his attitude and words, nearly face to face with him as she rested her weight on her palms. A moment later, he revealed a light blue silk tie, running it through his hands before pulling it taut at each end.

“If you can’t be quiet, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Tara’s eyes widened as her face broke into a grin, far too eager for her husband to punish her. “Yes, your honour,” she breathed out sexily, trying to get him as riled up as she was.

He chuckled noticing her reaction, a momentary break in his dominant façade. “I love you, so much.”

He bunched the tie into a ball, shoving it into her waiting mouth as her plump lips latched onto it. “Is that alright?” She nodded and shot him a wink and he smirked. “Knock on the desk if it's too much." She nodded and he let out a sultry smile. "Good girl."

His mouth yet again found her centre as her hands fell to his thick hair, pulling him even closer. His tongue moved against her at an overwhelming rate, occasionally dropping down to her opening and drawing more wetness out from it. He could feel her getting closer, her hips gyrating against his face as her legs began to tighten around his neck. He pulled back long enough to command her, "Ride my face, Tara. Fucking ride it. I want to watch as you come all over my tongue." She moaned against the tie gagging her as she followed his orders. She grinded and rolled her hips against his welcoming tongue, standing rigid as he watched her eyebrows come together and her jaw clenching as she bit into the silk. Her hands gripped onto his hair, pulling tightly and his responding groan was enough to push her over the edge, the vibrations going straight to her core. He watched as her eyes shut tightly and heard a muffled scream against the offending material blocking the noise.

He continued to lap at her slowly, bringing her down from her high until she collapsed against him. He pulled the tie from her mouth as her saliva dripped out, the erotic sight only making him harder.

He curled one arm around her waist as he slowly flipped them over, the other going to cradle her head as he lowered her onto her back. He moved up her neck in slow, open mouth kisses and whispered, “are you okay?”

He looked back to see a satisfied smile on her face. “Fantastic. Remind me to bring you doughnuts again tomorrow.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “All you need to do is ask, and you shall, receive sweetheart.” She pulled his face to her mouth, kissing him deeply as she tasted herself on him, licking around his lips before pulling back.

“Mmmm, and receive I did.”

“Are you ready?”

She mumbled in a daze. “For?”

Suddenly his weight was off her, standing by the desk as he waited for her to open her eyes. They fluttered open softly and she watched as he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her towards him. She pushed herself up on shaky arms and sat upright, a surprised yelp leaving her mouth as Thomas grabbed her by the waist and flipped her onto her hands and knees. He pulled her back ever so slightly, lowering her feet onto the ground as her chest met his desk, back arching as he held her by her hips.

She felt him behind her, teasing her opening with his swollen tip, the position exciting her. “Spank me, Thomas.” She heard him take a shark inhale of breath, and then... Slap. She gasped as Thomas’ palm connected with her ass cheek, softly, experimentally, but with enough force to have her clit pulsing with need again. “Fuck. Do it again.” Slap. This time had her body jerking forwards, the sharp pain of the skelp instantly melting to pleasure as he rubbed it soothingly. Slap. The final blow nearly made her body give out from under her, a loud moan falling from her lips as she recovered from the excitement.

Thomas felt mad with power, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to hear every beautiful moan coming out his wife’s mouth as he ravaged her.

Her clit began to tingle with want as she heard the unmistakable sound of his belt buckle coming apart, Thomas pulling his pants and boxers down enough to allow his throbbing length to spring free. “I’d grab hold of that desk if I were you. You’re going to need something to hold onto as I fuck you senseless.” And with that, he entered her in a single deep plunge, both of them moaning as he buried himself inside her, his hands found her hips and his head fell back. “Fuck, Tara, you feel so fucking good. I love the feeling of your tight little pussy clenching to take me.” He gave them both a minute to get used to the feeling. Tara adjusting to his size as he bit back a cry of pleasure at her walls enveloping him.

He felt her pushing her hips backwards, the tell tale sign she was ready. That was all he needed. He started off with slow and controlled, yet deep, movements, trying to prolong the moment as he bent over her, massaging her breasts with both hands as his hips moved expertly against her. He'd only fucked her last night, and it had already been too long since he'd been inside her, marvelling at how he'd even lasted this long without her, and how good it was, every. single. time. A thin sheen began to spread on his chest and forehead as he did his best to hold back his primal urges, until he got that magic word.

"Harder,” she whined. “Go harder, Thomas." He pulled back almost completely, slamming back into her as he instantly hit her spot and she cried out. “Oh fuck, right there.”

“There? Is that the spot, Tara?” He grabbed onto her long brown hair, curling it round his wrist as he yanked her back, her back hitting against his bare chest.

“Y-yes.”

"Touch yourself." Her shaky hand fell down to her clit as she began to circle it, the overstimulation throwing her head back onto Thomas' shoulder and he thrusted into her, continuing to hit her spot with each drive of his hips. She bit her lip through a loud moan and he reached up with his spare hand, taking hold of her jaw and prying her mouth open.

“Let me hear you." He slipped an arm around her body, landing on her hand as he increased her own pressure, both of them rubbing her together. He continued pounding into her, the sound of her whining and their bodies slamming together nearly pushing him over the edge. Their mouths met in a sloppy and desperate kiss, both dangerously close to falling over the cliff.

"You feel incredible,” he groaned as he felt a familiar tingling at the base of his spine, accompanied by the fluttering off her walls around him. “You’re close, aren’t you?"

"So fucking close."

Tara nearly burst into tears at the aching emptiness she felt as he slipped out of her with no prior warning. She snapped her head back to glare at him as she saw his smirking face. I'm going to kill you. “Thomas, what the hell! Don't stop now!”

He suddenly flipped her over before growling, “I need to see the look on your face when I make you come.” He lifted her legs up over his shoulders and entered her again, this thrusts coming fast and frantic as the position allowed him to go even deeper. She held onto the edge of the table as he felt her beginning to flutter around his cock again, thanking the heavens she was close before he ended up erupting inside her.

"Oh God, that's it, Thomas. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"It's time, Tara. I want you to come. Now, baby." And boy, did she follow orders well. She screamed his name as her back arched from the desk and her hands scrambled to grab hold of his muscular arms.

He thrusted through her climax as her release coated him. She mustered enough energy to open her eyes, facing him in an intense stare down as she whispered, “come for me, Thomas. Give me it all.” He pulled her hips into him one final time as he finally let go and emptied himself inside her, following her into a sea of ecstasy with a loud yell. They remained that way for a few minutes, him still pulsating inside of her as their breathing returned to normal.

He slowly pulled out, bending down to gather her into his arms and carrying her over to the sofa in the corner of his office, pulling her against his chest with a contented sigh. "You're incredible."

"You're not so bad yourself, counsellor." They shared a chuckle as she curled into his side peacefully. After a few blissful minutes of cuddling, sweet kisses and exchanging satiated smiles, an alarm went off on Tara's phone.

She groaned as she stood from Thomas' embrace, missing the warmth of his body instantly. "I need to go pick up Alma, she's coming with me to the bake sale since you've got that meeting." She walked over to grab her dress, which was hanging from a bookcase at the other side of the room. As she picked it up, her eyes widened and she quickly spun around to face her husband.

“Thomas! I don’t have underwear to put on, I’m wearing a dress and it’s windy outside!”

He let out a loud laugh as he stood from the couch, zipping his pants and redoing his belt buckle. He found his shirt by his desk, slipping his arms in and turning to Tara. “I’ve got,” he pulled up the cuff of his shirt sleeve as he checked his watch, “45 minutes until I need to be at court. Let’s go buy you some sexy lingerie to wear for me getting home tonight.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she giggled. "Mr Mendez, you are utterly insatiable. What am I going to do with you?"

"Only the dirtiest of things I hope, my dear wife." He slapped her ass as she let out a yelp, giggling as they helped each other dress.

The pair walked out of his office, Thomas locking it behind them before turning around to see several wide eyed colleagues staring at the two of them, before snapping their heads back to their computers. He'd never seen any of them so intently interested in their work in his life.

“Ahem, I em-” he cleared his throat as he placed his hand on the small of Tara's back, guiding her to the elevator as quickly as he could without drawing more suspicion. He pressed incessantly at the button, avoiding eye contact with everyone including his wife before the doors finally opened to a miraculously empty space. Once they were finally alone, he let out a sigh and lifted his head, Tara bursting into a fit of laughter at his complexion. It could only be described as burgundy. "I may need to work from home for a few weeks." He raked his fingers through his hair and down his face as he wondered how he was going to ever return to his office.

"Suits me. That way we can make it a daily occurrence for me riding your face.”

He eyed her with a quirked brow and crooked smile. "Don't make me take you in this elevator."

"I dare you."

#mother of the year #moty #choices moty #choices mother of the year #thomas mendez #thomas mendez x mc #thomas x mc #moty thomas #ns*w #lemons #Thomas x Tara #n*fw #my writing #kt tries to write

[reinerispretty]

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt6

THANK U FOR BEING SO PATIENT i am so excited to get back to this story!!

pt1

pt5

pt7

“That’s not how you do it.”

Asami furrowed her brows at her. “Oh yeah? Then show me how you knead dough.” (Y/N) rolled up her sleeves and began pressing into the dough with the heel of her palm, at first gently, but then with some effort.

“It’s like raising a baby,” (Y/N) said. “You have to be soft, but firm.”

It took (Y/N) quite a few days to recover. She shivered in bed the first night, retching violently into the trash bin Jinora had kindly placed at her bedside. She had given her a worried smile, which (Y/N) weakly returned. Falling asleep was difficult because of how cold she felt. When sleep finally did grace her, it was littered with dreams of empty blackness and monsters licking at her heels. She woke up every few hours, sweat beading down her neck and a scream threatening to rip at her throat. She felt like her heart was beating too fast to be contained by her chest. Her first night of illness was undoubtedly the worst. 

Knowing this, Korra had moved a cot into her room the next night. She knew what it was like to be ill and how isolating it felt, so she thought (Y/N) could use the company. Especially when her fever had risen to a temperature near scalding. Korra bundled her in her warmest blankets from the Northern Water Tribe, tucking (Y/N) into the fabric. She looked so small and weak, nothing like the bright, curious girl that Korra had come to know over the past few days. Naga slept protectively at the girls’ feet. (Y/N) slept most of the night and well into the next day. 

But when she awoke, the rest of the household was surprised to find her walking into the dining room, one of Korra’s blankets still wrapped around her shoulders and the color returning to her skin. “Could I have something to eat?” Her voice was hoarse from lack of use. Pema insisted that she go back to bed and rest, that dinner would be brought to her, and although she hadn’t known her very long, (Y/N) knew better than to argue. 

Quickly, she made her way back to her room and crawled back into bed, her stomach eagerly awaiting the arrival of food. 

Korra entered a few minutes later, shocked to find (Y/N) looking so chipper. “Someone’s feeling better. Pema made your favorite.” (Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “Bolin told me. Soup dumplings.” (Y/N) held in her squeal of excitement as Korra handed her the hot bowl and chopsticks. 

“So,” Korra began as she scarfed down her dumplings. “I have a plan. We,” (Y/N) liked how Korra included her in the ‘we.’ “Will take a ship to the South Pole and enter the Spirit World through the portal. Then we’ll ask the spirits if they know anything about you.” 

(Y/N) finished her last dumpling, her mouth burning comfortably from the hot food. “Is that it?” Korra let out a surprised laughed at her boldness. 

“Did you want more action?” (Y/N’s) face flushed. 

“No, I just mean that it seems really easy.” 

“If all goes well, it will be.”

--

(Y/N) was bundled up so tightly for their trip that she could hardly move. Pema hadn’t like the idea of them leaving before she was feeling her best, but (Y/N) insisted that they left as soon as possible. The thought of getting her memories back made her heart race. 

She stood in the courtyard of the Air Temple, Tenzin and his family standing before her. “I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality,” She said. “I hope one day I can repay you for taking care of me.” 

“You have to come back and play with us!” Ikki begged, jumping up and down as she clapped her hands together. “Please, please, please!” 

“Yeah!” Meelo interjected. “You were too busy throwing up to play with us!” (Y/N) laughed as Tenzin blanched at his children. 

“I’m sorry, Meelo. I promise I’ll come back and play with you guys soon!” She glanced at Tenzin and Pema. “As long as I’m welcome, of course.” 

“You are always welcome here,” Tenzin reassured her, and (Y/N) smiled. Korra walked out of the house then, both her and (Y/N’s) bags slung across her shoulders. 

“Ready to go?” Korra questioned, and (Y/N) nodded. She waved goodbye to the family and walked down the stone steps to the dock, where their ship was pulling up. (Y/N’s) eyes widened at the sight of it. “Ship” was an understatement. It was huge, twice the size of any boat she had seen in her almost three weeks of memory. It was white, with thick blue stripes painted around the edges. 

“Is that yours?” She asked Korra. 

“It’s Varrick’s,” She called back to her. “He’s a super rich guy. Kinda sorta a friend of ours, a guess. I called in a favor.” 

“You’re sure he doesn’t mind?” 

Korra turned around and flashed her a smile. “Varrick tosses money around like it’s leaves. If anything happens to this boat, he’s got ten more.” (Y/N) smiled back at Korra and tried to ignore the statement, “If anything happens.” 

When they reached the dock, one of the most beautiful girls (Y/N) had ever seen stood at it’s edge. She waved at the two of them, her dark hair fluttering behind her in the breeze. Korra dropped their bags on the dock and enveloped the girl in a hug. “Asami!” She cheered. 

Asami squeezed Korra tightly and gave her a kind smile. “It’s good to see you again!” Her green eyes fluttered to (Y/N). “You must be (Y/N). Korra’s told me so much about you.” She extended her hand and (Y/N) shook it firmly. 

“I guess that’s not very much,” (Y/N) joked, eliciting a laugh from Asami. 

“Where are the guys?” Asami asked, and Korra shrugged. 

“Probably running late, as usual.” 

“I want to say thank you to you both,” (Y/N) said suddenly, wringing her fingers together nervously. “I’m sure you both have heard some pretty bad things about me, but I’m so thankful you’re willing to help.” 

“Mako has a bit of a flair for the dramatics,” Asami said as she waved a hand into the air. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re a completely different person.” Korra nodded in agreement, flashing her white teeth at (Y/N). 

Mako and Bolin joined them only a few moments later and the five of them boarded the massive ship. Varrick had sent along an entire crew to accompany them, which everyone was very thankful for. As much as Team Avatar trusted their abilities, none of them were very keen on the idea of steering a ship for a whole week. 

They departed from the bay outside of Republic City and (Y/N) watched from one of the enclosed decks as the skyscraper buildings faded into nothingness. A nervous pit fit itself in the bottom of her stomach. This was really happening. She would get her memories back. 

The majority of her was absolutely ecstatic. She hated not knowing anything about herself and couldn’t wait for her life to get back to normal--whatever that meant before she lost her memory. But a small, miniscule part of her enjoyed what was happening right now. If it hadn’t been for losing her memory, she would not have become friends with Korra. (Y/N) feared that once she got her memories back, there would be some things she didn’t want to remember. 

Asami appeared at her side, offering (Y/N) yet another kind smile. “How do you like the ship?” 

“It’s huge,” (Y/N) said. “I can barely feel the water underneath us. I was worried that since I was sick, I wouldn’t feel well, but I feel fine.” 

“Korra mentioned that you hadn’t been feeling well. I’m glad you’re okay now.” 

(Y/N’s) eyes trailed to the middle of the room, where Korra, Mako, and Bolin talked to each other. “Have you known them long?” 

“Only a few months,” Asami said. “But they’ve become my best friends.” (Y/N) felt a tug at her heart. She wondered if before everything, if she had had a group like this. “Are you feeling hungry?” 

“A little,” (Y/N) admitted. 

“How about we make something in the kitchens? Just you and me.” (Y/N) nodded excitedly and followed Asami down two flights of stairs, where the kitchen took up the entire floor. The staff was scarce, considering that dinner would not be happening for a long while, so they both rifled through the pantries trying to find ingredients. “We could make a pizza!” 

(Y/N) poked her head around the pantry door and stared quizzically at Asami. “Do you know how to make a pizza?” The dark haired girl shrugged, gathering ingredients into her arms. 

“It can’t be that hard.” 

It turned out it was that hard, but they had found a cookbook with their desired recipe and managed to at least get the dough started. Asami slapped it against the counter as (Y/N) giggled. “That’s not how you do it.” 

Asami furrowed her brows at her. “Oh yeah? Then show me how you knead dough.” (Y/N) rolled up her sleeves and began pressing into the dough with the heel of her palm, at first gently, but then with some effort. 

“It’s like raising a baby,” (Y/N) said. “You have to be soft, but firm.” Asami laughed at her comparison. 

“How do you know so much about making dough?” (Y/N) paused for a moment before turning back to her work, kneading into the dough harder. 

“I’m not sure,” She admitted. “I guess there are some things left in there.” 

Bolin stood in the entryway to the kitchens, not yet noticed by the two girls. He watched as (Y/N) taught Asami how to make pizza dough. It brought him back to a memory he reflected on often during the years of her absence. 

Years ago, after (Y/N) and Bolin had taken each other out on many dates, there was the night that he decided to ask her to be his girlfriend. He was incredibly nervous, his palms were a sweaty, clammy mess, but (Y/N) had stared at him kindly. 

“I want to show you something,” She said as they walked down the streets of Republic City, their hands intertwined. If she noticed how slippery his hands were, she didn’t acknowledge it. Like he did in all things, Bolin followed (Y/N) with no questions asked. 

She led him to Kwong’s Cuisine, which had closed for the night hours ago. She pulled a silver key from her pocket and led him to the backdoor. She unlocked the heavy metal door and pushed it open with her shoulder, her fingers still interlocked with Bolin’s. 

“Are you sure we should be in here?” He asked the darkness. (Y/N) flipped a switch and bright, white lights illuminated the silver fixtures of the kitchens. 

“I’m the owner’s daughter,” (Y/N) said with a teasing scoff. “What are they going to do, fire me?” She pulled open the fridges and began gathering her ingredients. Bolin had never seen her move like this before. (Y/N) always seemed so confident, but here, she seemed liked she owned the place. He guessed in a way, she did. “I’d like to make you brownies,” She said to him, pulling out a metal stool with her foot and gesturing toward it. “Sit.” 

Bolin obeyed and watched with fascinated eyes as she mixed the batter together from scratch. “Are you doing this all off the top of your head?” He asked. She nodded. 

“Mom always made me cook when I still lived with her,” She said, offering him the spoon so he could get a taste of the batter. He took his finger and swiped it into the chocolatey mixture before licking it. 

“These are going to be the best brownies I’ve ever had! You should be a chef!” (Y/N) laughed. 

“Maybe one day,” She said. She put the brownies in the oven and set the timer. As they waited, they talked about their days and the events of Bolin’s latest pro-bending match. When the timer buzzed, (Y/N) hopped up from her seat and pulled the brownies out. 

“I’m too excited to wait,” Bolin said, grabbing a knife and slicing into the gooey brownies. 

“Bo, be careful you’re gonna-” 

“Ow, ow, ow,” Bolin complained as he held the scorching hot brownie, but he tossed it into his mouth. He tried his best to chew. “It burns but it’s so yummy,” He mumbled as he tried to breathe hot air out of his mouth. 

“Your girlfriend makes pretty good brownies, huh?” She asked, and Bolin nearly choked on his hot piece of brownie. He doubled over as he coughed and tried to swallow it down. “Oh my goodness, are you okay?” 

“Girlfriend?” Bolin asked once he had righted himself. (Y/N’s) face flushed. Had she calculated everything wrong?

“Yeah, girlfriend. I thought that girlfriend is okay.” Bolin nodded, his hands wrapping around the small of her back to pull her close. 

“Girlfriend’s okay!” He said. “As long as boyfriend’s okay, too.” (Y/N) smiled brightly up at him. 

“Boyfriend’s okay,” She said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Bolin leaned down to kiss her and she could taste the hot brownies on his tongue. 

“Bolin!” Asami called to him, breaking his flashback. “You want a piece of pizza? I think (Y/N) should be a chef, because it’s amazing!” 

Bolin stepped into the room, giving (Y/N) a tight smile. She smiled back at him as she chewed on her piece of pizza. “What kind is it?” 

“Pineapple and pepperoni,” She said, and Bolin twisted his face in disgust. “No, no! You have to give it a chance first, please?” He conceded and took a bite of pizza. It did taste amazing. 

“Not bad,” He said with a teasing smile, and both Asami and (Y/N) rolled their eyes. 

Once the three had finished devouring the pizza, (Y/N) moved to leave the room with Asami, but Bolin called out her name. She turned to him, her eyes staring up at his quizzically. “I just wanted to say,” He cleared his throat. “That, even though I know that you know that things didn’t necessarily end well for us, I don’t, uh, have hard feelings.” He could feel his face redden. “It was a long time ago, and I know I can’t tell you anything yet, but I’m sure you had a reason for doing certain things, so I don’t blame you.” 

(Y/N’s) eyes shined so brightly in the kitchen light that Bolin was sure tears would spill over any moment. “Thank you,” She said quietly, an uncertain smile making its way across her features. “I, um, want to apologize for whatever it was I did. You seem very kind and great and whatever happened between us, I’m certain you didn’t deserve it.” Bolin nodded, his own eyes prickling at the backs. “Could we start over? Just be friends?” 

Bolin nodded perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

(Y/N) smiled up at Bolin and felt that maybe she had been wrong. Maybe things would be okay. 

When she left the kitchens, she wondered if everyone had been planning to gather down there, because she ran into Mako as she was walking away. “Sorry,” She said, refusing to meet his eyes. She would never admit it, but Mako intimidated her. His dislike for her was always apparent and (Y/N) hated it. 

“Bolin told me what he said to you,” Mako said as she began to walk past. She turned back to look at him. 

“So?” 

“He’s forgiving, but I’m not. What you did, it was cruel. You were cruel.” 

“As if you don’t spend every waking moment reminding me,” (Y/N) said with a sigh. Mako narrowed his eyes at her. 

“If you do anything--” 

“You’ll do what, Mako?” She snapped. She had enough of him thinking that he could talk to her whatever way he pleased. “Hurt me?” 

He blinked in surprise, as if the suggestion was ridiculous. “Just stay away from him, alright?” 

“How about you stay away from me? The ship’s big enough.” With that, she stormed up the stairs and joined the rest of her friends. (Y/N) hated Mako. Absolutely hated him. The flush of her cheeks and her racing heart proved that.

---

Tag List!

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#atla #lok #mako #mako x reader #bolin #bolin x reader #asami #asami x reader #korra #korra x reader #writing #fanfiction #legend of korra #avatar

[simplive]

you will become a memory.

manhunt au! dream team, badboyhalo. general hunter mini headcanons

caution. death, insane sapnap per usual, maybe hints of yandere

DREAM.

─ “to hunt or be hunted.”

to be the hunter when he is usually the hunted is uncommon, but it is welcomed all the same ─ dream will revel in your fear from start, to finish as long as he possibly can. confident enough in his abilities to let you roam about in the world for a lengthy period of time because the direction of this compass will always point to where you resided. he’s not even worried when you reach the nether. whatever pace you decide to go about, will he respectively follow a suit, choosing to be calm and calculating. you don’t hear him ever speak from the ear piece, only the sounds of his shoes crushing the leaves below him as he gains closer, and closer towards your way. letting the impending dread crawl in.

he’ll let you have that sense of security, before tearing it all away.

to strike fear in others... it is what he does best.

sometimes you can get him to have conversation, just not for long. no larger than five minutes because he always returns to the same withdrawn, quiet self everyone knows him by. maybe smart, funny comments here and there to fill in the initial silence, but they are all disregarded by the fact that dream is coming to kill you regardless. there’s nothing he wants to change about that, you both signed yourself for this situation... he’s simply going to honor what it takes to be a professional, merciless hunter. an unofficial title he silently wears like an emblem. so you were doomed from the very start the moment it’s been heard who’d be tracking you down exactly.

out of everyone, they send out him, making you wonder as if the whole world wanted you to perish.

death is to be expected. you can still be good friends and still die at his hands. you’ll let him, won’t you? it’s destiny, your destiny, and everyone knows nobody can escape it once their future has been set, written in stone. what is there to have hope for? a painless death, maybe, depends on how dream feels that exact moment ─ their pain is what makes up a part of the amusement in the chase. although, it’s not like he’s going to drag it out unlike a close friend of his. do not fret, you’ll go down in history as the first prey he’s bothered to open up to... isn’t that good enough?

so why does his heart still pang at the thought?

no no, these are just mindless feelings, barely skin-deep. they’ll go away within seconds if he pays them no attention, just getting his objectives over with and moving onto the next victim. he’s doing this all for survival, and who knows... you’d do the exact same if you too wanted to live. this is a dog-eat-dog world, you either kill someone, or get killed. in fact, because you’re inflicting these unknown emotions on him gives dream more motivation to follow through with these objectives.

he’ll have you until your last breath.

GEORGE.

─ “love me until you die.”

george wants you to be comfortable and scared at the same time, he doesn’t want you to think of him as only a monster like the others. see? there’s still a bit of mercy in him to let you slide at times, shaking it off as a ‘silly little mistake’ of his, but it’s all planned. always has been. he doesn’t like to say this much, but, he pities your situation. the game cannot end until one completes the objectives... and by the looks of it, you’re nowhere as close to the finish line. be free to ask for tips or pointers whenever, he’s generous to share what he thinks will benefit you. it’s up to you whether you trust him or not, there is no offense to be taken, he’d have a hard time believing in your situation.

you can try to talk him out of this for a chance, but a job is a job, someone has to get this done.

and who knows what’ll happen to him if he doesn’t follow through.

your moments together were only meant to be full on bittersweet. you hate that he still tries to be nice against all, as if your life wasn’t placed in his hands to begin with. it would’ve been so much easier to despise george if he’d been vile, heartless, cruel even... but he isn’t. he’s kind, too kind, and you’re starting to think that maybe this was just your unescapable fate. something that transpired during your blurred life was apparently unacceptable for you to live on, it’s starting to finally make sense. no one can elude destiny as much as they pray. of course, when given a chance to slip from death, you’d take it without hesitation... but if all doesn’t go well, then that’s alright too.

everything should be okay if george is here, with you.

will you tell him these sentimental views, especially when you’re lying carelessly on the verge of death? absolutely not. he’d start to feel bad, and that’s the last thing you’d want from him. he’s only doing his job like anyone else, this is somewhat normal despite a few circumstances. you’ll keep reminding yourself anytime despair tries to reach out to you, pulling away from its tantalizing vicinity. don’t go back on this choice, don’t let the sadness take you.

don’t let him regret.

with your head perched comfortably onto his lap, blood spilling at your lips as you try to confess multiple things all at once, then failing miserably. they come out as a garbled mess of sounds unsurprisingly, rather faint to the ears, but there’s enough affection to get through him. you’ll squeeze his hand weakly in hopes of delivering a message, certainly woozy and content nonetheless. he smiles, smiles sadly at the result of his success, but this is what george had desired the whole time.

a chance to spill out his true feelings for you.

SAPNAP.

─ “look at me in the eyes.”

perhaps the most happiest one of the bunch to end someone’s life for the fun of it, quickly that is. he doesn’t want to waste time chasing after you endlessly all over the world, takes too much energy and patience... sapnap prefers to have you right in front of him so he can get right into action. there’s no point in running, everyone knows this. you do too, but such fact could never stop you from trying anyways ─ why not take advantage of that ten percent chance survival rate than do nothing at all? even he somewhat agrees with this new knowledge. there’s no fun in having a compliant little mouse. despite the obvious frustration of tracking you down, he knows it’ll be worth it in the finale when seeing you beg.

always, always looking forward to new targets. everyone is unique: their reactions, their struggles, every part of them. it’s good to have a taste of something refreshing and new. for being the type of person he was, having the same type of people to play with is completely boring, hunting would’ve became a tedious chore at that point. sapnap is ecstatic to hear about you. not much information was disclosed about you, there must be something intriguing then for the lack of story.

he hopes you won’t disappoint him.

sometimes he’ll let his ‘guard down’, sometimes. it’s only to get you motivated again because hopelessness will begin to bore him exceedingly. “don’t give up completely, little [name],” sapnap coos sickeningly, “maybe you’ll have a chance if you actually try for once. should i be nice like george, and give you another head start?” his encouragement, if you could even call it that are down right patronizing, doesn’t try to hide any malicious undertones because he’s confident his words will affect you just the way he wanted.

the fun can’t go on forever. he wants you to suffer for everything you’d put him through. sapnap did not waste three full days trying to corner you, shedding sweat, effort, and time in doing so for you to try and come up with some other excuse for him not to kill you. no, you’re misunderstanding, that’s not what he’s here for. money? no. fame? absolutely not. if it wasn’t any obvious,

he’s here to feed on your fear.

BAD.

─ “forgive me.”

like george, does manhunts because he has to, and it is quite absurd. bad has a huge problem with others having a foul mouth, but happens to not have any qualms raising a blade at someone’s throat. what kind of morals were those? he too questions these actions like any sane person would, however, does not do anything to change his ways because... it’s not in his power. what good would it do to suddenly just switch mindsets all of a sudden, superiors will start to question him and everyone he’d grown to love would suspect. to quit then would be breaking the code, and that’ll be like breaking someone’s trust. bad shouldn’t do it, he’s always reminding himself.

he shouldn’t...

and still, he’s probably the only one who has the hearts to let you go.

for first impressions, bad certainly doesn’t strike you as a hunter. he takes the time to introduce him properly, salutations and a heartfelt apology. you ask, why apologize so suddenly, we just met. he can’t do anything other than sigh, letting the silence answer your question. well, you’re currently the first one on his list, the first to die at that. he’s just here for warnings, letting you gain a huge head start...

calls you muffin as another form of affection. strikes to be strange at first, but you slowly get used to the nickname as you do him, able to enjoy the situation because it’s starting to feel like a nice game of a fusion of hide and seek, and good ol’ tag. he hasn’t been able to physically hurt you once, or at least is trying to make it seem like a mistake ─ missing opportunities, or forgetting to. whatever the case may be, you’re not complaining one bit. in fact, you too haven’t tried to raise a blade at him either.

why would you even?

your kindness is limitless, and it proves when bad cannot fathom hurting you under any circumstances. most of his victims were very aggressive, always cussing at him no matter the context, maybe that’s why guilt hasn’t officially hit him until now. the you who still manages to laugh despite everything, thank you for letting him see the horrors of his actions. “will... i’ll be able to see you again?” you murmur, unsure if you should turn your back on him and leave.

“... maybe some day! for now, you should go. be careful though, some might recognize your face as well.”

he never tells you that his life would be of no more, and he lets you go, the oblivious one, with a bittersweet smile.

#dream team #dream team x reader #dteam #dteam x reader #dream #dream x reader #georgenotfound #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #sapnap #sapnap x reader #badboyhalo #badboyhalo x reader #manhunt au #[ everyone is chillin n #then theres bad ]

[stay-mon-army]

The Soccer Incident

Warnings: A couple swears

Word Count: 2,534 words

Pairing: Junhoe x female!reader

Koo Junhoe was a contradiction. He was an anomaly in the usual order of things, and everyone seemed to love him for it. He was one of the most popular people in his university because he didn’t quite fit into any one category. He was a physical education major, he was the star player on the lacrosse team, the most sought after male player in the intramural soccer club on campus, he was arguably the most attractive jock in the whole school, and he was the reason there was a Jiu Jitsu club on campus. You would think hearing all of these accomplishments that he was a total meat head jock- there’s no way any man this invested in physical activity could ever be interested in more stationary, softer intellects.

However, Junhoe was also a creative writing minor. He was a part of a small writers group that he had compiled of poetry writers (like him) and fiction writers (a passion he deeply admires but didn’t have the same calling for). He had a few poems published in the school’s English journal, and was never caught without his leather bound notebook for his poetry.

Junhoe was one of the most versatile students in his university- but this never seemed to cross Junhoe’s mind. He didn’t see any reason why people would expect anything else from him. Why were people always surprised when they learned that the star lacrosse player was also a poet? Why were his friends in Jiu Jitsu club always laughing when they saw him scribbling away in his journal before meeting started instead of stretching like the rest of them?

Not everyone judged Junhoe so harshly, and there’s no way he could miss the way girls watched him when he walked around campus. Like he could ever be oblivious when the girls in his writing group created love interests that could almost be his doppelganger. Junhoe’s gay-dar was also almost flawless- it wasn’t just the girls that gave him heart eyes in passing.

However, there was one girl that totally ignored Junhoe— (Y/N) was the conundrum that Junhoe couldn’t figure out. He knew she liked boys- he’d seen her at parties with boyfriends, but she didn’t seem to notice him at all. He’d only tried to talk to her once, and she’d been kind, but she’d been late to class and had to rush off. Of course, it was just Junhoe’s luck that the only girl that Junhoe had eyes for was also the one who looked right through him.

He didn’t know much about her— it wasn’t like he was some stalker. He did know, however, that she was also a creative writing minor and was a junior- just like Junhoe. They had previously been in two classes together, which was how she had managed to catch his eye. She would come to class either dressed to the nines- perfectly designed outfits that matched all the way to the jewelry- or looking like she’d just rolled out of bed- her hair in a messy bun, a pair of sweats baggy and hanging from her waist haphazardly. To him, she always looked beautiful.

The thing that really won his heart, though, wasn’t her look or their similarities; it was the way that she always gave him blunt, brutally honest feedback on his pieces. Most of their others in his creative writing classes either don’t know enough to give good feedback, or were so infatuated with him that they gave nothing but blind praise for everything he wrote. (Y/N) was the only person except the Professor who could give advice that Junhoe could use— ideas that sparked Junhoe’s mind to make even better, deeper poems that expressed exactly what he meant.

Her straightforward nature had won him over, but was also the thing that stopped him from shooting his shot. Nothing scared him quite like the idea of being rejected by her— he could imagine it now and it gave him chills. His mind paints the picture without his consent; asking her out the next time they pass, her blank face staring before it morphs into one of pity, her soft voice explaining she’s not interested, her turning away— scurrying off before he can make it more awkward.

No, he’s perfectly fine admiring from afar. It hurt less; he’d rather her not know he exists than to be another weird boy hitting on a classmate he barely knows.

Fate seemed to have other plans for Junhoe, however. Or, more accurately, his best friend, who happens to run the intramural club. He had shown up slightly early for the club meeting that day and was surprised to see Donghyuk with (Y/N) and her best friend, (Y/BF/N), who was the best female player on the intramural team. He really was contemplating running in the opposite direction as quickly as he could, but he was a second too slow.

“Yo, Jun, come here!” Donghyuk waves him over, a wide grin on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing to the poor man.

With a deep breath and a lot of internal cursing of Donghyuk’s existence, he slowly jogged towards the trio.

“Dong, what’s up, man?” Junhoe had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, or why he suddenly sounded like some of the more asshole boys in his sports classes, but he was too focused on remembering to breathe and not trip to care much. Donghyuk’s eyebrows bounce at the greeting, obviously making the same judgement that Junhoe did, before nodding at him, playing it off.

“You know (Y/B/F/N),” Donghyuk gestures to the two women beside him. “This is her best friend, (Y/N). She’s going to take up Miyoung’s spot while her wrist heals.”

Junhoe nods at (Y/B/F/N), who smiles at him. He doesn’t know where he gains the confidence, but he looks directly at you and says, “Don’t we have a creative writing class together?” The automatic look of confusion makes Junhoe’s heart freeze, then instantly knock impossibly fast against his rib cage.

But then your eyes burst with realization, a huge grin splitting your face. “You mean Dr. Scott’s class? God, I’m barely alive for that class; how are you awake enough that early to know the other kids in that class?” You were laughing with him— though it took him a second to laugh along because wow you were having a conversation.

“I just really like the class— I zone out in most other classes.” It wasn’t a lie, he just didn’t point out you were his favorite part of the class. All his other writing classes over the semesters without you had been almost torture with all the fawning, ass-kissing girls.

“Yeah, Jun is actually a pretty shit student because he’d rather write poems and join every sports club on campus than do his damn homework.” Donghyuk nudges Junhoe, laughing as Junhoe balks at his words.

“Well his poems are good so it must pay off a little! I’ll be the judge today if the same can be said about his sport skills.” You chuckle, and try to ignore the look that (Y/B/F/N) is shooting you that Junhoe thankfully doesn’t catch.

Junhoe is too busy having to physically restrain himself from fawning over your praise. Luckily your friend jumped in just before he could combust with the effort.

“We should go get ready. Let’s go stretch under the shade over there, (Y/N)!” She loops her arm around your bicep, lightly tugging you away from the boys. You wave at them, looking simultaneously absolutely adorable and like you were afraid your friend would kill you when you reached the aforementioned shade.

When you finally turned to look at (Y/B/F/N), Donghyuk whacks Junhoe’s bicep hard, making him wince and rub the abused spot. “Make a move already, idiot. Are you blind, or just stupid? Did someone put you in a particularly tight chokehold recently?”

“Wh-what?” Well that told Donghyuk all he needed to know and he sighed as he rubbed his face.

“She likes you too, dipshit. Just ask her out already.” Junhoe stared at his best friend for a solid minute before he burst out laughing.

His eyes welled with tears as he gasped around peals of laughter, holding his ribs as his sides spasmed from the force of his laughter. He couldn’t believe Donghyuk had said that when he’d just done so much to try not to seem like a crazy person.

“You’re hopeless, I swear.” Donghyuk shakes his head, leaving Junhoe’s still cackling figure to go greet a couple other students in the club who had arrived.

Although Junhoe is able to physically calm himself down and begin to stretch for the game, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Donghyuk’s words, and he repeatedly had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder at you to see if you were looking at him too. Finally Donghyuk called everyone to the side of the field to split into teams.

Just Junhoe’s luck that he was on the opposite team as you. He had wanted to work with you to win— the idea of you two playing soccer together and beating the other team made his heart race in a way that confused him. It was just a little passing crush on you, why was he so invested in doing things with you?

Get yourself together, Junhoe, and get your ass out there.

He took a deep breath and huddled up with his team, splitting up positions and delegating who would play when, since there were so many members on both teams that they would change out players. Junhoe was to be the first member in the goal, which he wasn’t ecstatic about, but he accepted it with a grin. He could play any position just as well as the next person, so he knew he could keep the goal safe from the other team. He really would’ve preferred to be out on the field to show off his skills though—especially with you out there. You had pulled your hair from your face and you had shed the light jacket you had on previously to show off a band t-shirt, a group he absolutely adored to listen to while writing that he never would have expected you to like as well.

As he took his place in the goal at their end of the field, he watched you stand next to your friend, laughing at something she said, pushing her lightly. He couldn’t help but smile wide at how happy you looked—totally at ease despite the fact you were about to play soccer with a group that you barely knew.

Donghyuk shouted out a “start game” from his position on the sidelines (he was sitting out this first half, but he would later take Junhoe’s position, as he preferred to stay on the side, watching the action instead of running around). Junhoe’s team was a surprisingly good mixture of members; while not the best players, they seemed to work together beautifully today, and Junhoe’s job was mind-numbingly easy.

The ball almost never came to their side of the field, except for a handful of close calls that Junhoe quickly dispatched with calculated ease. His team was winning 3-0 with only about 10 minutes left for this half before they switched out the members. Hearing this minute warning seemed to light a newfound fire under your ass, however, and you suddenly seemed to learn exactly how to play soccer like a pro. Your goalkeeper had kicked the ball at you after saving it from another goal. Seemingly in a matter of seconds you were one with the soccer ball as you effortlessly handled it all the way across the field to his goal until you were only a few feet from him. You made eye contact and he could see the fire and drive in your eyes for a goal, and he made a conscious decision in that second to let you make the goal. He would let the ball through—what was one small goal anyway, and it was only an intramural game.

However, his plans changed quickly when you punted the ball—hard. Instead of going into the goal cleanly, like he was expecting, it went straight for his forehead, knocking his head back with a sharp thwack sound. He fell to the ground with a harsh groan, his hands coming up to rest on his face as the world spun and warped, pain spreading across his whole head. He lay on his back, cradling his head in his hands, as he grunted out swears that would make his mother smack him harder than the soccer ball had.

“Oh my god, are you alright? Jesus, I’m so so sorry.” Your voice was high and anxious, and racing closer to him. He moved his hands and opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight to see your face looking down at him. You were sweaty from all the running, and your hair was starting to fall back into your face, but he still couldn’t help smiling.

“God, you’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He didn’t know what that ball did to his head, but he didn’t really mind the sudden courage it gave him.

Your face dropped into shock before you burst out into glorious laughter, your face lighting up into the widest and most adorable smile Junhoe had ever seen.

“You’re crazy, Junhoe.” You brush a strand on his hair from his face before pressing a hand softly to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch softly. “No, no, don’t close your eyes. We don’t know if you have a concussion yet.”

His eyes flutter open and look at you with soft eyes. He gathers the last bit of pain-drunk courage to blurt out, “Go on a date with me?”

You nod, looking down at his splayed figure. “It is the least I can do after almost taking your head off with a soccer ball.”

“Good kick, by the way.”

You both laugh at that as you stand, slowly taking his hands and helping him to his feet as well. He winces and places the heel of his hand between his eyebrows, where the most pain is currently radiating.

“Let’s get you an icepack.” You chuckle, putting his arm around your shoulder and walking him towards the nurse’s office. Donghyuk didn’t seem to even ask if Junhoe was alright, he was well aware that he would be fine with some rest and ice. Instead, he just jumped into his place with an accomplished grin on his face, starting the game right back up.

You didn’t need to help Junhoe all the way to the nurse, or stay with him for the 20 minutes he sat there with an icepack to his forehead, but the conversation you had was funny and sweet. And truth be told, you had noticed Junhoe many times in the past and had been drawn to him. You were more than happy for any excuse to interact with him outside of class. And thanks to this upcoming date, you would finally get the chance to get to know him that much better.

#koo junhoe imagine #ikon imagine #ikon #koo junhoe #ikon imagines #koo junhoe imagines #ikon ju ne #ikon june #ikon june imagine #ikon june imagines #ikon fluff

[nomazee]

Slow

ushijima wakatoshi x reader

word count: 3400+

content: soulmate au (matching soulmarks), developing relationship, mild angst, ushijima is just Very Clueless sometimes, weird pacing (i can never get the pacing of my writing right :/ )

(hi hi hi!! here’s the ushijima oneshot i mentioned a few days ago. this was something i started working on a while ago but dropped it momentarily to focus on some other stuff. i ended up rewriting it completely and renewing the concept a bit.

this is sort of a different writing style? but that’s mainly because i wanted to adjust the way i wrote to the way the reader’s thoughts came through. i hope that makes sense? and i hope this is still readable!!

i really hope you guys like this one. while soulmate aus aren’t my most favorite trope, i definitely like the way you can twist it to fit your story and make up new concepts branching from the main idea of soulmates.

i think this is the longest work i’ve made?? i’m definitely pretty proud of it!! i hope my hard work paid off and you all enjoy it :)

ALSO: a very quick note. i use the word “furoshiki” a few times in one part of the story to refer to the cloth that people use to wrap bento boxes. if i misused that term please let me know!! i looked it up to make sure i was using the right word but there’s definitely still a chance that i could be wrong. feel free to correct me on that!!

by the way: i’m posting this from my phone right now so the formatting might not all be there. i’m very sorry about that!! once i get the chance to go back on my laptop i’ll make sure to fix everything :)

happy reading !!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

It was common knowledge among those in the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club that their captain, Ushijima Wakatoshi, prioritized volleyball over nearly everything else.

Even relationships. Even soulmates.

His friend Tendou had laughed mirthlessly when Ushijima first met you, his soulmate. He was there to witness the whole thing, your eyes flitting between the ace’s soulmark trailed beautifully against his wrist and the same mark mirrored on your forearm. You looked enthused to meet him--not overly, hopping-off-the-walls ecstatic, but certainly hopeful enough to elicit a wide smile from you.

“I’m [Last] [First],” you introduced yourself politely, with light hesitance and an extended hand.

Ushijima blinked, looked down at your hand (soft, a red and scabbed cut on your first knuckle, a birthmark on the bony part of your wrist) and then back up at your eyes. He returned the gesture, shaking your hand, giving a polite bow--

--and walking right away.

You blinked in shock. Tendou’s mouth parted in disbelief. His head swung back and he called after Ushijima to no avail. Turning back to you, he gave a short apology and ran after his friend to scold (and tease) him.

Your mind went a bit hazy and in a natural defense mechanism, you tried to convince yourself that you were just dreaming.

You went home. Fell into your bed. Realized you were not dreaming. Cried into your pillow and fell asleep, begrudgingly waking up the next morning and getting ready for school.

---

During lunch, you stayed in your classroom to eat lunch alone when someone at the door told you a boy was looking for you. (You felt a bit pathetic for hoping that it was your soulmate and being disappointed when you realized it was not him.)

You recognized the boy as the redhead that accompanied your soulmate yesterday. Flinching at the memory, you asked him why he was here.

“I just wanted to say sorry, for the way my friend acted yesterday.” His expression was lighthearted and playful, if anything, but you recognized the sincerity of his words. “He tends to be a little… aloof, sometimes. But I promise you it’s not that he hates you or anything, just isn’t used to this. But he’s willing to talk to you again.”

You tried not to get your hopes up too much, and instead look at the reasonable outcomes of this whole soulmate thing. It’s not like you were really expecting love at first sight--lots of soulmates didn’t end up in a romantic relationship. Hell, your parents weren’t even soulmates but they were still very in love with each other. But at the very least, you thought your soulmate wouldn’t just walk away after meeting you.

You took the redhead’s offer, packed up your half-eaten bento, and followed him to his own classroom a few doors down.

Your soulmate was there--you still didn’t know his name--and his head perked up at the sound of the sliding door opening. His expression was stagnant, which dampered your spirits the slightest bit and made you consider spinning on your heel and locking yourself in the bathroom for the rest of the school day.

You sat with the two of them, knees clenched together and gaze focused solely on the bento box resting on your lap. None of you spoke. Tendou’s eyes flitted between the both of you in expectance.

“So,” he spoke up, thankfully breaking the bout of stifling silence. “[Name], you wanna tell us a little about yourself? We don't really know much about you outside of… the very little we learned yesterday, so…?”

Your mouth gaped and closed rapidly, trying to find a good way to describe yourself without either seeming like an interviewee or a self-absorbed rando.

“I’m… [Name]. I’m seventeen… in class one. I’m in the photography club.” There wasn’t much else to say, you thought. You were a very normal person. Maybe too normal to really be worthy of having a close bond with your soulmate, but a small part of you still sort of hoped.

“Wakatoshi, your turn.”

The taller boy blinked into his bento (hayashi rice, you noted. Something you were able to cook, if you tried hard enough) before speaking. His voice was deep and embarrassingly, you flushed at the way it rumbled within his throat.

“I’m the captain of the volleyball team.”

Okay. So. No age. No name (except for ‘Wakatoshi,’ which you only pulled from what Tendou said). Just his club.

With a lump in your throat and a prickly feeling behind your eyes, you excused yourself politely, bowing, and clutching tightly to your star-wrapped bento before leaving the classroom.

You went home. Punched your pillow before realizing you were definitely not one for using aggression as a coping mechanism and instead crying while making a cup of tea. Went to bed and woke up the next morning trying to forget all of the events of the past two days.

---

A week passed. Somewhere within that time, Tendou had exchanged numbers with you as a polite formality, a deeper meaning ingrained in his offer (one that you read as, “hey, I know it must be really disappointing to realize that your soulmate has absolutely no clue what romance is and no ambition for anything but hitting a volleyball, but if you ever wanna talk about it then hit me up!” You couldn’t deny that you still appreciated it).

You took the week to avoid interacting with Wa-ka-to-shi, never texting Tendou and asking to eat lunch with them or even showing up at his practice like some of their fans did (you were a bit surprised to learn that the volleyball team had fans). But you had a breaking point, as you often did whenever it came to your faux-shunning.

You texted Tendou, hoping that you weren’t that unlucky that he was still at volleyball practice and had his phone out for the captain to view.

does he like hayashi rice?

“Read” appeared under your text. You waited for the three dots to appear, which took an unnervingly long time to happen.

yup! how’d u know??

he was eating it when i had lunch with you guys.

ur observant!!

i guess. do you guys have morning practice tomorrow?

yup! starts at 7. fourth gym :) see you there!!

You paused. Tendou was nice. Also very observant. Scarily observant, enough to catch onto what you were trying to do. It made you a bit wary, but to be fair, you weren’t really being discreet in the first place.

Your mother asked you multiple times why you were cooking beef stew at nine PM, far past dinnertime. You were scared to admit that it was for a soulmate, so you instead settled for “friend” and she (very suspiciously) let you be in the kitchen.

You packed the food into four bento boxes. One for your mom, your dad, Wa-ka-to-shi, and you. (You couldn’t help the annunciation of each syllable of his name. It was just so fun to say, so fun to click against the back of your tongue repeatedly. You blamed the affinity for his name on your soulmate bond.)

You went to bed. Woke up extra early. Disregarded the concerned look your parents gave you when you left the house half an hour early with two bentos in hand.

Just as Tendou said, there was the squeaking of the volleyball team from within Gym Number Four. You hovered outside, a text sent to Tendou asking if you were allowed to come in as you awkwardly shifted the weight on your feet.

yup!! we’re taking a break right now. just come right in, i’ll be waiting for u at the door

He was waiting for you at the door, but so was Wakatoshi (you figured you should drop the somewhat-annoying pronunciation of each letter), which threw you into a stammering loop as you blinked between the both of them.

“Good morning.” Wakatoshi greeted you politely, nodding his head at you. You repeated the gesture before extending a bento box to him, with your favorite star cloth wrapping it in the neatest way you could manage.

“It’s for you. For lunch. Or dinner. Or whenever. It’s hay-- um, hayashi rice.”

Wakatoshi didn’t take it. You cringed at the lack of action and a familiar lump manifested in your throat. The stoic boy blinked down at the childish wrap and you found yourself wishing you took a solid colored furoshiki instead of this one.

In a moment of boldness, you shoved the box into his chest where he instinctively reached for it and held it.

“I hope you like it!” You said it louder than intended and flinched at the sudden gazes on you from the other members of the team further into the gym. “Have a good day.”

A polite bow, and you were on your way, cursing yourself for taking the effort to make a decent-quality meal for a soulmate, a boy who barely even glanced at you without his friend giving him the hint to do so.

During lunch, you didn’t feel hungry, and the bento sat untouched on your desk for the whole break. You ended up letting your parents have the leftovers when you got home. Your appetite was gone for the rest of the day.

(Tendou ended up bringing you back your box and cloth the next day, wordlessly apologizing for having to be the messenger of your belongings rather than the person you actually gifted it to in the first place. You took it back with a resigned sigh and a thankful smile.)

---

The morning you stopped by, Tendou rolled his eyes after your departure and he gave his friend a firm, but friendly pat on the back.

“Why are you so awkward, Wakatoshi? That’s your soulmate, you know. You could at least be a little courteous towards her?”

Said man stayed silent, still leering at the patterned furoshiki covering the lunch you made for him--specifically him; the concept sent an unfamiliar fluttering through his chest that he didn’t dare to look into.

“Why would she make this for me?”

Tendou rolled his eyes again, letting out an audible groan.

“I just explained it to you, ‘Toshi! She likes you. You’re her soulmate. You could at least tell her thank you.”

“I will, next time.”

Tendou’s eyes narrowed at that. You seemed like a spontaneous person, from the few interactions you’d had with each other. (That, and the fact that after a week of ghosting your own soulmate you suddenly decided to make an entirely specialized lunch for him.) He wanted to half-joke and say ‘I don’t really know when the next time will be, exactly,’ but figured that may lead into another Q & A With Ushijima Wakatoshi, and instead let the captain simmer in his own contemplation for now.

---

You didn’t know Semi Eita very well. He was in your class, and you chatted a fairly reasonable amount with him, even going as far as to sit and eat with him in the classroom whenever he claimed he was “too tired to deal with his friends in the cafeteria.” As much of a “friend” of his you could be considered, you didn’t know much of him past what he was on the surface.

Nevertheless, you still knew him better than your soulmate. And that petty realization may have contributed to why you accepted his offer for a cafe date.

Semi approached you during lunch one day, not embarrassed in the slightest when he asked you if you wanted to go to a new cafe with him on Friday. “It can be a date, if you want,” he’d told you, eyes flitting to the side momentarily before meeting yours again. “But it doesn't have to be. We can just hang out.”

A bit flustered, you still accepted his offer, figuring a day out wouldn’t do much harm. He smiled at your response, asking you to meet him at his gym after his volleyball practice ended.

You didn’t think much of it. He certainly didn’t pressure you into assuming it was a date, and if you didn’t like it then you could just turn him down for a second date and move on with your single life.

On Friday afternoon, at five PM like he specified over text, you walked into the doorway of the gym, hovering and watching some of the boys clean up any spare equipment left in the gym. You couldn’t spot Semi anywhere, and moved to back away from the door when a familiar voice stopped you.

“[Name].” The sound of your first name coming from the rumble of your voice unwillingly sent shivers through your spine and you chastised yourself for the reaction.

You looked at him, and there he was--sweaty, all dark-hair and olive-eyes and you hated how flustered you got.

You gave him a polite nod and forced your lips into a smile. Despite you not responding verbally, he (uncharacteristically) led the conversation.

“It’s nice to see you here.” The words felt forced, almost rehearsed on his lips, and you couldn’t help the cock of your head in curiosity at that. “The food you made me last time was very good.” A pause, and his eyes turned to the polish wood floor. “Are you here to bring another gift?”

Wakatoshi was straightforward with his question, and at the unfamiliar aloofness you found your ears turning warm and fingers grasping at each other in habit.

“No, um-- I’m actually here to see… someone.”

“...someone?”

“Yeah. Someone.” You didn’t feel like elaborating, and by some sheer luck that you mentally praised the gods for, Semi jogged to your side, changed into his school uniform and a kind smile crossing his face.

“Hey.” He greeted you, turning up to his captain in confusion before focusing on you again. “Ready to go?”

Your eyes were forced off of Wakatoshi’s, and you returned Semi’s expression with a nod. You refused to look the captain in his eyes again, and instead focused on making sure you didn’t trip on the sidewalk while walking with Semi.

---

The date-- hang out-- outing-- whatever you wanted to call it went nicely. You both had pleasant, lighthearted, not-forced conversation over very good coffee and you found it enjoyable.

By the end of the night, while Semi walked you back home, you figured you had to address what you were a bit nervous to address in the first place. After explaining your hesitancy towards calling your hang-outs “dates,” Semi ultimately brushed it off, a smile on his face as he told you he really didn’t care too much and would enjoy just being a friend to you.

You were relieved. A quiet voice deep inside your head told you to not let this poor boy get hopeful when you were still trying to settle things with (read: get over) your soulmate. Regardless of secondhand reasoning, you were thankful he was understanding and also thankful he was willing to be a friend.

---

You found yourself eating lunch with Semi a bit more often than before. It was nice to have someone else’s presence near you while you ate rather than having to sit alone and people-watch through the window of the classroom.

You were startled when Wakatoshi appeared in the doorway of your classroom while in the midst of a conversation with Semi. Noticing your mildly dumbfounded expression, Semi turned around to see where you were looking and looked confusedly at the form of his fellow teammate.

Wakatoshi nodded at him, turned to you, and gave a wave and a very, very subtle upturn of his lips. (Despite the subtlety of the gesture, you had to suppress a gasp that threatened to break past the back of your throat.)

He didn’t make a move to approach you, so you took the opportunity to walk up to him and meet him at the door, unintentionally avoiding the questions Semi shot at you in confusion.

“Hi,” you greeted stiffly. “Do you need something?”

“No. Yes.” Wakatoshi paused, collecting his thoughts. “I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with me.”

It was an unexpected offer, one you deemed uncharacteristic coming from the aloof boy. You let your mind overprocess it before cutting off your overthinking and giving him a proper response.

“I’m eating lunch with Semi today. But maybe tomorrow, if you still want to.”

A foreign look of confusion appeared on his face, his brows furrowed together and head tilting slightly to the side. “Are you dating Semi?”

Wow. Okay. Very straightforward. Very sudden. You certainly were not dating Semi, and you didn’t know how he managed to draw that conclusion after seeing you and Semi interact a total of two times in his presence.

“I’m not…? Why are you so worried about that?”

“Because we’re soulmates.”

Your stomach churned in a mix of emotions. You didn’t know how to describe your feelings--it was an ugly mesh of annoyed, angry, confused, and on-the-verge-of-tears. You found it a bit funny that only now he was acknowledging your soulmate bond. It made the prickling sensation behind your eyes only increase in intensity.

“Right. Um, you… you didn’t really do much about that before.” You tried not to call out word-for-word what he did, but figured a jab at it wouldn’t send you into guiltily reflecting on your past actions while in the shower at midnight.

He was silent, avoiding your gaze and finding interest in the cracked wood of the door. Before your subconscious forced you to apologize, you gave a polite farewell and slid the door halfway shut before returning to your seat.

Semi stared at you incredulously. “Are you…?”

“I don’t know, man.” Despite the sudden lack of appetite (yet again! You really were not good at any form of confrontation), you forced yourself to nibble on your food and pushed down the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

---

Wakatoshi made a point to run into at any time he saw fit, which was very often. He’d find ways to catch you in the morning and say hi, and always invited you to eat lunch with him in his classroom. Out of courtesy, you often accepted his offer, feeling a bit surprised (and wary) when Tendou didn’t appear to accompany the both of you. Those lunch periods were spent in jarring silence, Wakatoshi slowly eating his food (cutely, you noted before burning that thought into the fiery recesses of hell in your mind) and you eating yours while sweating and hoping that you didn’t look weird when you chewed.

This routine kept going on for a solid week. You didn’t know what to expect anymore. Other than the lunch invitations and morning small talk, he didn’t make any outstanding gestures towards you to try to get closer. You didn’t know if that was good or bad.

One day, during lunch when you’d hesitantly accepted yet another offer to eat with him (ignoring Semi’s teasing look when you left the classroom), he made another strange offer, diverting from the usual discussions of weather, clubs, and schoolwork.

“I have a game soon.” He started off. “I’d like you to come watch.”

You paused, staring into your rice in an empty hope that it’d give you a clue on how to respond.

“It’s on Saturday. At twelve. The gymnasium isn’t too far from here. I’d like to take you to dinner afterwards.”

Oh. Oh. That was unexpected. And you were expecting the unexpected. Then again, maybe you should’ve figured that eventually he may have made some sort of move after waiting a week with bated breath.

Your lips parted, but no noise escaped. You wanted to accept, definitely, but you also wanted to be a little aware of his intentions.

“Um…” You floundered a little bit, “I’ll see if I can make it. But… um, dinner?”

“Yes.” Though his voice was steady and deep as always, you sensed hesitance in the way his eyes shifted away from yours and into his lunch. “A date.”

It was a relief to hear him just say it rather than beating around the bush. You cleared your throat in habit and scratched the skin of your thumb.

“Oh. Okay. That would… be nice.”

He smiled. It wasn’t the occasional tilt of his lips, it was a smile. Stretched lips, crinkled eyes and all. You lost your breath at the sight and a soundless laugh escaped your lips.

“Yes. I think so too.”

It was a slow start. It would take some getting used to. But you were both willing to guide each other, slow and steady.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima #wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

[flowerpot112]

Marauders First kisses

SIRIUS BLACK

"But what was it like?" Asked Peter, his eyes wide. James and Remus were either side of him looking on in admiration.

Sirius for his part was lounging in the armchair by the fire basking in the attention from his best mates, a Cheshire cat grin on his face. He had just sauntered through the portrait hole a hero, announcing to the boys and common room at large that he had just 'snogged' Laura Hayes, a fellow third year in Hufflepuff. He was inordinately proud of this fact, being the first amongst the four of them to kiss a girl.

"Brilliant of course you muppet" Sirius said shoving Peter with his foot "She couldn't get enough of me, then again who could blame her?" He gestured to what he knew was a classically handsome face.

"Awesome…" Peter breathed flopping back into the sofa.

"Poor girl, must have inhaled too many fumes in potions, probably brain damaged…." Remus grinned sitting next to Peter, reopening his book without looking at it.

"Well, if she wasn't before she is now." James sniggered as Sirius now aimed his foot in Remus direction. "So you were good at it then?" He now looked on in apprehension, he knew James would never admit it outloud but it was this fear that held James back from his own first kiss, it wasn't as if he wasn't more popular amongst the girls. James, like Sirius, always made sure he was laughed with, never at.

"What do you mean? 'Course I was good at it!" Sirius expression turned from that of absolute pride to outrage before slowly morphing into one of uncertainty "I mean, I think so… I mean it's not difficult, is it? People do it all the time…. Right?" He was proud of his achievement, but now the ever-present doubt crept in. What if he had one it wrong and now she was laughing with her friends as he was with his.

Sirius prided himself on his carefully crafted image, to the world he was the handsome, charismatic rebel of the Black family and he preferred it that way. His mother had taught him long ago to show emotion was to show weakness, he was still working on forgetting these sentiments. He looked to Remus as he often did when he was uncertain.

"Why are you looking at me you bloody idiot? You're the only one who's done it!"

"Yeah, but you always have the answers Remus, answer me damn it!"

"Well, like Pete said what was is it like?"

Sirius thought for a moment then answered quietly "Weird at first… and a bit awkward, I mean it's a bit strange to have someone else's tongue in your mouth! But, overall, yeah…. Brilliant, she was all pressed against me and smelled good and stuff…" He trailed off a small smile coming to his face. Yeah, he consoled himself, he'd done it right. After all Laura had asked him to Hogsmede afterwards. He liked Laura, she was half blood and her father was a mechanic, whatever that was, it it meant she grew up around motorbikes. Sirius was obsessed.

"Awesome" Peter reiterated.

James, his nerves now soothed (after all like Sirius said people do it all the time, could be too hard), grinned at Remus and moved to ruffle Sirius hair "Our boy's growing up so fast."

Remus mimed wiping a tear from his eye as Sirius foot now swung in the direction of James.

PETER PETTIGREW

"Peter! You absolute legend!" Remus gave Peter a congratulatory smack on the back, accidentally sending the poor boy toppling into a bench in the great hall.

"Snogging Marlene McKinnon, who'd have thought it eh?" Sirius said passing Peter a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, way to go to old boy" James added his eyes twinkling.

Peter was busy blushing, it was unusual for him to be centre of attention even amongst his closest friends, he often felt he was on the outside looking in. He had been on his way to lunch the previous day, in his own world, grateful it was Friday. His mother had been ill the past week and Peter had been fretting his way through classes, making his usual struggle with spell work an absolute train wreck. This had landed him with three detentions and a stern telling off from McGonagall, followed swiftly by a shortbread biscuit. Marlene McKinnon of all people had stopped him in the halls and, peter noticed in full view of everyone, asked him to Hogsmeade the following day.

"It'll be a laugh…" she had exclaimed bumping him the shoulder. Peter had stammered out his acceptance of her offer through his confusion, feeling as though he was blushing from head to toe.

It wasn't that he didn't like Marlene, he knew her well enough and she was certainly a very pretty witch, it was just that Marlene usually spoke more to James and Sirius than Peter. James had known her well since childhood and the pair had a sibling like bond and Sirius, well Sirius enjoyed flirting.

Still Peter had bade farewell to his grinning friends and joined Marlene to walk down to Hogsmeade making small talk. Once in the Three Broomsticks they had talked about their upcoming plans for Christmas and laughed about the latest pranks he and his friends has played on the Slytherins. This latest escapade had earned the four troublemakers the name 'The Marauders'. They had complained about the ungodly amount of homework the professors had lumped upon them for the holidays whilst shopping in Honeydukes and set back for Hogwarts in silence. Once reaching the door of Hogwarts he had made to tell Marlene goodbye until she has leaned across and pecked Peter on the lips.

Now Peter, thoroughly cheered, had make his way to the great hall where his jokester friends were waiting. As he laughed with them, telling them of his first date and kiss he failed to notice James mouthing his thanks to Marlene, who just nodded and winked back.

JAMES POTTER

James knew objectively girls liked him. He was handsome, funny, athletic, and intelligent. His family's money didn't hurt one bit nor his pure blood status, although any girls interested in that James wouldn't entertain. Now that he was an official member of the Quidditch team it seemed every girl liked him. Well, most girls, he corrected himself thinking of a certain red-haired witch.

He quickly shook himself from that train of thought. He had asked her out, hadn't he? And she'd laughed derisively in his face before shooting a hex his way. Granted Snape was still coughing up soap bubbles from his own hex when he'd asked but he'd been genuine, much to his surprise. No she didn't want anything to do with James. But Clarice Wentworth did.

He brought himself back to the present and threw his most charming grin over his shoulder at her as he made his way across the Gryffindor common room to his fellow trouble makers. The quidditch celebration bash was in full swing, the Prewett brothers having provided all manor of treats and tricks to get the party going.

"Jamie, my boy, having a pleasant time?" Sirius asked, his ecstatic expression betraying his casual tone. After all the whole of Gryffindor house had just witnessed the enthusiastic kiss he'd just shared with Clarice.

"She just planted one on me!" James exclaimed his lips tingling a little at the memory. Which was the truth although he had been a more than willing participant. "Just walked right up and did it."

"Sounds horrific" Peter commented sarcastically.

"Shall we rush you to the hospital wing?" Remus added rolling his eyes. An action James echoed. Remus took a swig of his contraband fire whiskey.

"I'm not complaining," James explained grinning and looking over to where Clarice was giggling with her friends. "Just surprised, I'd not really noticed her properly before." He sure as hell did now.

"Not noticed her! She's bloody fit!" Sirius eyebrows looked to be attempting to join his hairline, Peter nodded vigorously.

"Too busy mooning over, then being hexed by a certain talented witch" James, deciding Remus had had quite enough for one night, snatched the bottle from Remus hands.

"I've no idea what you could possibly mean Remus, my dear friend." Still, he couldn't stop his eyes from flicking to the table where Lily Evans and her friends were sitting. They appeared to be deep in conversation but Lily, sensing James gaze no doubt turned to look at them, he looked away quickly.

Remus and Peter wore identical knowing smiles whilst Sirius just rolled his eyes and leant over to throw an arm around his favourite friends' shoulders. "Never mind Evans, she's a right stick in the mud mate, some birds just don't appreciate perfection when they see it." He shook James a little in his grasp. James appreciated Sirius' flattery, although he wasn't 100% sure his mate wasn't talking about himself.

"It would certainly make my life easier; I'm hoping to make prefect next year and Lily is a shoe in. Don't fancy spending patrols with her ignoring me because you've ticked her off." He threw James a fond but exasperated look "Maybe its best to leave her and Snape alone for a little a while?" He looked quietly hopeful.

James conceded to himself Remus had a point. Whilst it was fun to cause a bit of mayhem with the boys and funnier still seeing Snivellus get what was coming to him, he had recently found himself wanting to impress Evans, wanting to make her smile as Snivellus did, wanting to make her laugh the way Meadows did… wanting it to be her surprising him with a kiss in the common room. He could lay off… for a while at least. Clarice seemed charming and obviously more than welcomed his affections. Maybe spending some time having fun with her wouldn't hurt.

"Agreed."

Sirius scoffed "You're actually gonna let Snivellus get away with that stunt he pulled on Peter last Wednesday? Peters head was 5 times its normal size for hours!"

James tutted "Of course not! What do you take me for?" He threw arm over Sirius in return grinning, whilst Remus groaned "We just cant get caught, that's all"

Now it was Sirius turn to groan, James heard him mutter something about unfairness and credit. James chose to ignore his mates' dramatics. He looked back over to Clarice and said, "If you don't mind lads, we'll pick this up tomorrow, see you in the dorm." He made his way over to her.

REMUS LUPIN

What can only be described as a squeal echoed through Gryffindor tower. The blonde girl rushed past the three laughing Marauders clutching her shirt over her bare chest.

"Manly, Pads, really I'm impressed mate." Said James sarcastically.

"Shut it, Prongs!"

"Yeah Prongs, Sirius is too much of a free soul to be confined by stereotypical gender confines… or at least his vocal cords are" Remus teased as Sirius casually corrected his uniform without a hint of self-consciousness as the boys trooped into their dorm.

They flopped down on their own beds, dumping their bags, and shuffling out of their shoes and jackets, still wet from the storm raging outside.

"Now, Moony my romantically challenged friend, don't be jealous"

"Romantically challenged?" Remus countered, his eyebrows raising "Says the mutt who can't keep a girl past a week!" If Remus was honest with himself, he supposed he was somewhat 'romantically challenged' but he thought of it as more of a side effect of what he became each month. He tried not to mourn the things he couldn't have.

"How dare you!" Sirius clutched his chest in mock indignation as James and Peter guffawed "I'm still finding the right one."

James sniggered even more "And that entail's you snogging you're way through the population of Hogwarts…. How?"

"We can't all pine after Evans now, can we? Simply not enough of her to go around Prongs m'boy"

"She seems to be coming around to you lately James" Peter supplied helpfully defending his friend as he threw a pillow at his grinning friend.

"Thanks Pete, see Black that's good friend!" James said catching the pillow Sirius launched back at his face just in time.

"Yes James your methods of seduction are truly astonishing to behold, I look on in awe." Remus couldn't help but agree with Sirius, the day Lily Evans looked at James Potter with anything other than thinly veiled contempt would be the day Dumbledore showed up to the great hall clean shaven.

He told his dear friend so, to which James replied "Well atleast she knows how I feel! How long have you been mooning over Maeve Mathers now?"

Sirius sniggered at the pun before adding "Ask her out Moony! Join in on the fun!" Remus glared at them, they knew damn well what his worry was. As nice as it was that James was dead certain his condition shouldn't matter Sirius at least should understand Remus' trepidation, growing up in the Black household as he did.

"What we need is a tie!" Peter suddenly announced to his comrades interrupting his thoughts. Three heads swung in his direction, each boy looking at him quizzically.

"Say what?"

Grinning at the realisation he knew something his brilliant friends didn't Peter sat up properly to explain. "I've heard of muggles doing it, if one of them is with a girl in a shared room they put a tie on the door to let the other lads know, you know so they don't have to walk in on one of them half naked twice a week" He gave Sirius a pointed look.

Sirius remained unfazed "See Remus, we'll get a tie…"

"We have ties Padfoot"

"…and you'll have peace and quiet when shacking up with Mathers" Remus sincerely doubted he'd ever have peace again, not with a stag, dog and rat to contend with. But if he was being brutally honest, his 'furry little problem' wasn't the only thing holding him back.

"You have done it haven't you Moony?" Asked James, as usual hitting the nail on the head.

"Done what?" He attempted to evade, knowing he was never that lucky.

"Kissed a girl you loon, snogged, frenched, necked… canoodled?" Sirius supplied helpfully wagging his eyebrows. Peter cackled and fell to his side, meanwhile James looked at Remus his brows furrowing.

He stammered for a second before answering "I'm not interested." He willed them and himself to believe it.

"Yeah right!" Both Sirius and Peter exclaimed.

Peter continued "How do you know? Its like turnips, I used to always say I didn't like them but mum always said how did I know if I didn't try them and she was right, I tried them and now I add them to every roast, they pair excellently with gravy…" He trailed of seeming to realise the other three were looking at him like he'd slobbered on their shoe.

"Don't think girls are like turnips Wormtail."

Siruis looked back to Remus "Although that is the reasoning I had before making out with Stephen Spellings, maybe you could try a bloke Moony." He grinned daringly.

"And on that note, think its time to drop it lads." James said laughing before shooting both boys a look before turning around to get changed. Remus gratefully turned to do the same.

The boys could be incorrigible, but they usually did what James said, Peter certainly did anyway.

It was later that night when Padfoot and Wormtail were in the bathroom brushing their teeth that James plopped himself down beside Remus on his bed.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about you know. Not having been with a girl before."

"I'm not embarrassed! I just have other worries!" He insisted motioning toward the half moon through the window.

"How many times do I have to tell you Remus? That doesn't change who you are, anyone disagrees, you send them my way" James gripped his shoulder. Remus felt the usual twinge of affection, he knew he was lucky to call these three idiot's friends.

Underneath James guileless gaze he could stop it from slipping out "Well, it is a bit weird, isn't it? I'm 15 Prongs and I've never kissed anyone. What kind of girl wouldn't laugh?"

"It's not weird Moony, you're not pushing 30 or anything." He rolled his eyes and paused before a maniacal grin appeared on his face, Remus groaned, that look never led to anything good. "But Moony, you wonderful man you, if that's what you're worried about…" And before Remus could react James lips were pressed against his.

James lips were soft and warm although his nose bumped into Remus' slightly. It was over rather quickly, and James lent back seemingly unfazed.

Remus sat there in shock whilst James patted him on the shoulder, "There you've done it now. If Mathers asked you've been well and truly kissed before. Nothing stopping you from asking her to Hogsmeade now!"

His shock fading Remus broke into a strained laughter "Yeah thanks a lot" He shook his head at his best friend and shoved the laughing teen off his bed. At least he had done it now, he supposed, and it has been sort of nice, though he may have preferred Maeve to James for his first kiss.

Hope you guys enjoyed.... Also on https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13966800/1/First-Kisses

#james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #marauders #harry potter #james & sirius #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius and james #sirius & remus #marauders headcanon #marauders fanfiction #james x lily #jily love

[engie-ivy]

Almost World Animal Day, so here's a short Wolfstar dog-related fic!

Nothing but fluff and humour.

Summary:

Remus is sitting outside alone, and Lily comes to talk to him, thinking he might be upset because of his secret feelings for Sirius Black, that only Lily knows about. However, Remus is acting very weird. He really, really seems to not want to talk about it, and even seems embarrassed, while he and Lily have talked about it plenty of times. And what’s going on with that strange-acting, huge black dog, that allegedly just wandered up to Remus?

Not in front of the dog!

Remus clenches his fist around his drink, his knuckles turning white. He takes a sip from his Pumpkin Juice, but the sweet taste does nothing to counter the bitter taste in his mouth.

Gryffindor just defeated Slytherin in a trilling Quidditch match. Team captain James Potter had created a strong team, and was in great shape himself, flying perfectly in sync with his fellow Chaser Sirius Black. Really, there was something captivating about watching those two work together. The ecstatic Gryffindors had gone back to their tower singing and cheering, and were now having drinks, playing music, chatting and laughing in the common room. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, and it probably was, for everyone but Remus.

Remus glares at the other side of the room, where Sirius is standing with Benjy Fenwick, who had wanted to ‘congratulate Black on his great game’. And sure, Sirius had played a great game, and he deserves all the praise he can get, but surely, you don’t need over half an hour to say ‘Oi, Black, great game’. And also, the noise level in the room really isn’t so high that it requires Fenwick to lean in so close, with his lips almost touching Sirius’s ear, for Godric’s sake. And the hand Fenwick has placed on Sirius’s shoulder just seems unnecessary, and his other hand, resting on Sirius’s lower back, is definitely unnecessary, and has absolutely no business slowly sliding down like that!

But what’s even worse than Fenwick’s complete disregard for Sirius’s personal space, is that Sirius seems not to mind at all. And why would he? Sirius is a young, single, incredibly handsome guy, who just played the Quidditch match of his life. Why shouldn’t he be talking and laughing at a party, while boys, who are maybe kind of cute if you like the type, flirt with him?

Remus quickly adverts his eyes when Sirius’s gaze wanders over to him. What Sirius doesn’t deserve is to have this moment, his moment, spoilt by Remus acting all sulky because he was dumb enough to fall in love with a guy miles out of his league, whom he’s lucky to be even friends with. As Sirius’s trademark barking laugh echoes through the common room, because apparently Fenwick is suddenly oh so very funny, Remus has had enough. He smashes his glass down, causing Peter to look up, startled.

“I need some air,” Remus says, and before Peter can even respond, he turns around and heads towards the portrait hole. He vaguely notices Lily giving him a concerned look, before he climbs outside and is free from the crowd.

Remus ends up sitting outside on the grass underneath a tree, which is still illuminated by the last rays of sunlight, so it’s not awfully chilly yet. He tries to put all thought from his mind, but he barely has time to do that before he hears a voice.

“Oi, Moony!”

Remus looks up, although he doesn’t actually have to look to know who that voice belongs to. He sees Sirius making his way over across the field, giving Remus plenty of opportunity to stare while he approaches. Even ploughing through the grass in his dishevelled robes with his hair blowing everywhere, he still looks like a bloody model during a photoshoot.

When Sirius arrives to where Remus is sitting, he immediately flops down next to him on the grass and brushes his long, dark hair back.

“Alright, Moony? You were suddenly gone without saying anything.”

It didn’t seem like Sirius would even notice his absence, but right as Remus thinks it, he realises that it’s not true. Apparently, Sirius did immediately notice his absence, as he immediately came after him. Remus feels a surge of satisfaction as he thinks of Benjy Fenwick, who now has to find somewhere else to put his hands.

Remus manages a small smile. “You know me. I sometimes just have to get away from the crowd.”

Sirius bumps his shoulder against Remus’s. “You could’ve said something! I would’ve gone with you.”

“It’s basically your party! With you being the reason we won that match in the first place. Well, you and Prongs. You should be there enjoying the celebration, not sit out here in the damp grass with me.”

“Our party or not, Prongs and I want our best mate to enjoy himself as well!”

“I’m fine, Padfoot,” Remus reassures him. “Really, just go. You... You looked like you were really having fun.”

Sirius’s grey eyes suddenly become soft as he looks at Remus, and Remus feels like there’s a whole hoard of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

“But you have that look on your face,” Sirius says. “I hate seeing that look on your face and I hate leaving you alone with that look on your face.”

Remus feels conflicted. He still feels guilty making Sirius sit here outside, while he could be doing so much more fun things. On the other hand, he can’t deny he feels secretly pleased Sirius is here with him, where Fenwick can’t place his hands where they don’t belong.

Sirius must see the conflict play out on his face, as he suddenly envelops Remus in a tight hug. In Sirius’s arms, caring and protective around him, Remus’s last hope of ever getting over his feelings flies out the door. He just has to accept that he’ll forever be hopelessly pining after Sirius, because he just has to go and be so bloody great.

When Sirius lets him go he has a grin on his face. “Maybe I should cheer you up.”

“I don’t need-” But before Remus can finish his sentence, Sirius shifts smoothly into his dog form, which still leaves Remus in awe, no matter how many times he sees it.

The dog dashes away and starts jumping, running and rolling through piles of leaves, chasing the ones that scatter through the air.

“You’re being ridiculous!” Remus shouts, but he can’t help the corners of his mouth curling upwards, and when the dog starts spinning around chasing his own tail, he lets out an actual laugh.

“Is that a dog?”

The dog freezes mid-spin and Remus whirls his head around to see Lily Evans standing a few feet away.

“Eh... I... Yeah. Yeah, it is,” Remus stammers. “He just... wandered over here, probably from someone in Hogsmeade.”

“What a big boy!” Lily walks over to the dog and starts scratching him behind his ears. “And he’s so handsome! Yes you are, aren’t you? Yes you are! You’re a handsome big boy!”

The dog, however, seems to have forgotten how to dog. He just stares at Lily with a stunned expression. Remus unceremoniously shoves the dog with his foot. The dog blinks at him, and then shakes himself out of his surprised state. He starts wagging his tail, panting and jumping up and down.

Lily chuckles and sits down next to Remus. “I came to see how you’re doing.”

Remus suddenly gets a dreadful feeling in his stomach. While James is still in the hopeless pining-phase (but really, who’s Remus to judge on that?), Remus is actually good friends with Lily. Which means Lily knows things about Remus. Many things. Too many things. Things his other friends don’t know, and aren’t suppose to ever know. Remus honestly trusts Lily with his life, but right now, he really wishes he never told her anything at all.

“I’m fine,” Remus says. “Absolutely fine. Just getting some fresh air. Lovely day today, is it not?”

“Come on, Remus,” Lily says. “You know you can be honest with me. I saw Black with Fenwick.”

The dog stops panting, and tilts his head to the side.

“Yes, they looked like they were having fun.” Remus’s voice sounds almost manic. “Good for them, right? I mean, why shouldn’t they have fun? I want them to have fun. I want them to have so much fun. Not that I care, of course. Why should I care if they’re having fun? It has absolutely nothing to do with me, and it’s absolutely completely unrelated to me sitting outside.”

In his panicked state, Remus picks up a stick and throws it away. “Fetch!” He shouts desperately at the dog.

If the dog had been physically capable of raising one eyebrow, that’s what he would’ve been doing right now. He gives Remus a look that clearly says ‘if you think I’m going to miss the rest of this conversation to retrieve a dirty piece of wood, you’re sorely mistaken’.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Rem,” Lily says. “It’s completely understandable to be upset when you see the guy you’re mad about flirt with someone else.”

Remus groans. “Lily, can we please not talk about this now?”

“Alright, alright.” Lily throws up her hands in defeat. “Just so you know, I heard there’s nothing going on between them. And Fenwick was flirting with him more than he was flirting with Fenwick, if that makes you feel any better.”

Normally it would, but staring at his knees while feeling the dog’s eyes burning on him, Remus just wants the earth to swallow him up whole.

“Even if Sirius was flirting with him, he has every right to do so!” Remus exclaims. “It’s none of my business. He doesn’t owe me anything.” Remus looks up at the dog. “I’d never want to jeopardize our friendship.”

The dog looks back at him with an unreadable expression. Or maybe that’s just Remus’s lack of experience in reading complex emotions on dogs’ faces.

Lily lets out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s a whole different outlook than last time we talked, when you were practically doodling Mr. Remus Black on your parchment! You wouldn’t stop talking about how clever and caring he is, honestly making me wonder if we were talking about the same person. And you were telling me you almost fainted when he came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, and how you couldn’t focus on anything during Herbology, because you were standing behind Black and couldn’t stop staring at his-”

“Lily!” Remus shouts, hiding his face in his hands.

Lily sighs. “Look Remus, if he’s really so caring, he’s not going to let this ruin your friendship. I admit that I have no idea how he’ll react, but maybe you should just tell him. Then at least the cat is out of the bag!”

Remus huffs a laugh, as that really won’t be necessary anymore. This just proves that, when in the presence of a dog, all cats should be kept securely in their respective bags at all times.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Lily says as Remus stays quiet. “You’re obviously not in the mood to talk. I didn’t mean to push you.”

“It’s okay,” Remus manages to say, as it really isn’t her fault.

Lily presses a kiss against his cheek. “And let me tell you, you’re smart, witty and kind, and a much better catch than Benjy Fenwick, no offense to him.”

“Thanks, Lils.” Remus gives her a weak smile.

Lily gets up on her feet, and makes her way back to the castle.

Remus peaks through his finger, to see the dog still sitting there. He’s relieved, really. He’d rather look at the dog with some indescribable expression than see the clear emotion of... what? Pity? Fear? Shock? Amusement? On Sirius’s actual face. Right now, Remus wishes he were the Animagus, so he could turn into an animal and never turn human again. Just start a life as an animal. Preferably a bird. Yes, Remus muses. He could live a happy life as a bird.

He’s rudely interrupted in making future plans about building nests and eating worms when the dog suddenly leaps up against him.

“Oef!” Remus falls back on the grass, his hands automatically grabbing the fur. The dog has his paws on Remus’s shoulders and while lying on top of Remus with his huge body.

Before Remus has a chance to process anything, there’s a shift, and suddenly a very human Sirius is lying on top of him with his very, very human body. Sirius is practically beaming at him. He may not be a dog anymore, but Remus can practically see him wagging his tail.

Remus can’t comprehend why, after hearing about his utterly embarrassing infatuation, Sirius would respond by lying on top of him. But Remus’s fingers, that were just moments ago pressing in soft, black fur, are suddenly resting low on Sirius’s hips, and Sirius’s hands have slid into his neck and his face is really, really close, so Remus’s brain capacity is rendered to zero and he’s in no state comprehend anything. He just lies there and blinks up at Sirius.

“So,” Sirius says. “I heard a rumour.”

“Did you now?” Remus mumbles weakly.

Sirius hums. “I did. I heard that this smart, witty and kind boy is really into me. Do you reckon that could be true?”

Remus swallow, his throat suddenly dry. “What if it was?”

“Well,” Sirius says. “Then I think I’d just have to kiss him.”

“Wha-” Remus eyes grow wide and he stares at Sirius in shock. “Why... why would you do that?”

“Because I suppose I have this kind of crush on him.”

“Are you serious?” Remus regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth, and waits for the inevitable pun.

“I’m always-” Sirius stops himself and frowns. “No, actually I’m not,” he says and Remus’s stomach drops. “If I’m really being serious, I can’t call it a kind of crush. Truth is, I’m head over heels in love with him.” He leans in even closer. Remus can see a slight flush on his cheeks, and can feel his breath against his lips. “So, these rumours,” Sirius whispers. “Any truth to them?”

“Yes,” Remus says. “Yes, it’s all-”

He’s cut off by Sirius firmly pressing his lips against his. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist and pulls him even closer. Sirius’s hands are now cupping his face, and it’s everything.

When they stop for air, Sirius is smiling against his lips. “One more thing. You don’t get to stand behind me during Herbology anymore. I can’t risk you failing class because of me.”

Remus flushes bright red. “Shut up!”

Sirius grins. “Don’t worry, Moony mine. I’ll make sure you’ll have plenty of other opportunities to stare at my-”

Remus cuts him off with a kiss. “I hate you,” he mumbles against Sirius’s lips.

“Oh?” Sirius quirks one eyebrow. “I’ve heard rumours that say otherwise.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #padfoot #lily evans #padfoony

[honestsportsopinion]

New York Rangers and the situations they are in

Disclaimer: This essay or article, call it as you wish, is my own information analysis. I am in no way sports journalist or try to be one. All the sources will be linked bellow.  

           Idea to write this thing came from my close friend and I thought: “Why the hell not?” Once I started the research, I realised it will not be easy to put this together because so much information has come up in last few weeks and more has happened in last few days. So, this may seem messy. I will talk about points about New York Rangers that I took closer look to.

           Possibly, New York Ranger fans can better pinpoint the moment when things started to go south in their team. When rookie development was thrown out of window and the youngsters got left to fend for themselves without help. When did racist players got given one chance after another? It must have been painful to see such good team and organisation to dissolve in what it is now. Yes, it is kind of hard to call them team right now.

           First, want to start with this interview quote from ex-New York Rangers player Kevin Hayes, conducted in 2019, that prompted me to look a bit further in this whole situation:

"They chose to get rid of me and Vese, but that's their decision," Hayes said. "I'm sure it'll come back to them; we'll find out."

Not only New York Rangers got rid of Kevin Hayes and Jimmy Vessey, but next season Brady Skjei followed his friends off to a different team. Few seasons ago this trio was in grace of the organisation but now they are out of it. No one still understands how that happened. If we highlight this quote from Mr. Hayes, we can see that there was some bitterness over whole situation, that even the best media training could not mask. Also, we could say that words in it is quite prophetic. It will come back to them he said and oh, how it did come back to this team. Starting one whirlwind after another.

           Secondly, I want to talk about development and treatment of younger players that come to New York Rangers organisation. We all well know how K’Andre Miller got welcomed in this team with livestream chat absolutely being flooded with racist comments. It is all still fresh in our minds and we will come back to K’Andre Miller a bit later.

           Lias Andersson was young player with bright future, being drafted as 7th overall in 2017 entry draft. His story also is not best: for three seasons being thrown between AHL and NHL, allowed to play few games for New York Rangers. In no way the team tried to build up his confidence. Of course, it is not easy to be treated as moving piece. When you are as young as 18, you need to feel backed up by the team you got drafted. After these years of up and down in USA, Mr. Andersson choose to go back home to Sweden.

           Now we have Finish player Kaapo Kakko in similar situation.  Absolutely not feeling backing of team or coach who in recent press conference said this:

 “He’s got seven points in his last seven NHL games and what can happen in this game is we get so caught up in where they were drafted and the hype about people.  I don’t give two craps about that.  We want to win hockey games and he was the best option.  How’d it work out?”

While in the same interview he praised the No. 1 draft pick Alexis Lafrenière. I am in no way pitting those two against one another, but coach should be one person that stays unbiased no matter what and helps players find their rooting in team. From this interview it feels like he already has view on Mr. Kakko and does not want to change his opinion on him.

           Right here in me could start talking hurt European but I am not going to step as low as David Quinn because I have general understanding about different nationalities that react to things differently. All I can say is I wish Kaapo to find team that will give him the rooting he needs, but also knowing Finns he will try to fight for his place.

           Lastly, we must mention the name of player that has worst possible reputation in NHL, so bad that none of 30 teams want to take him of the waivers. You guessed it folks: Tony DeAngelo. Yes, finally New York Rangers are getting rid of this player, but should he have been called up at all. By the words of New York Rangers general manager Jeff Gorton:

“We did a lot of research, talked to a lot of people about Tony prior to acquiring him,” Gorton said. “We did our homework, we were comfortable[..].”

Looking from outside of it all, it seems they did none of the research and DeAngelo could do whatever he wanted to do. Team even promoted his podcast, that does not put out best message to anyone. We can also talk about his twitter and Instagram tantrums that have hurt more people than not. Organisation says they talked with DeAngelo, but nothing seemed to work, even the tiny suspensions that he was getting. DeAngelo felt like he had his teams backing, that no players we talked before in this essay have felt. Craziest thing is that he just recently resigned with the team, they still believed in him.

           So DeAngelo took it as a sign to stretch their trust even thinner. There is alleged news that he stole K’Andre Millers first goal puck. New York Rangers are trying to cover it up, but fans are more attentive. There was not picture of K’Andre holding his puck while the New York Rangers posted Lafrenière with his puck. The team can come out with statements about this whole thing, but they cannot stop the windmill of news sharing.

          Whole thing culminated in altercation between DeAngelo and Georgiev. This finally got organisation into gear, booting DeAngelo off the team fully. Scariest thought is that New York Rangers would have kept this under wraps, too, not to spoil their team’s name. It got out and this time easiest choice was to fire DeAngelo. As easily they trusted him, as easily they let him go. Maybe it is fresh breath of air that this team needs, maybe this situation will raise up more dirty laundry but what is done is done. There is no way back and only way forward.

Conclusion.

           New York Rangers as organisation do not seem to understand how to develop young players and make them in star players anymore while their history shows that they can do that. As organisation they have let down many of their players and fans who believed in them, allowing racists and bigots play in the team freely without huge consequences. Yes, people will go and say they fired DeAngelo. I will answer them: “Good but where were they before when they could have chosen not to call him up. Signs were there already.”

           We can see that they choose easiest way, forgetting that team is supposed to be family where each player is ready to stand and fall for one another. Generally, I wish New York Rangers to find the light in the end of a tunnel. Find their way back to developing young players to proper stars and not to make any dumb mistakes.

Sources:

Abate, B. (14.01.2021.). Rangers Must Learn from Mistakes Made with Andersson. Retrieved from https://thehockeywriters.com/rangers-lias-andersson-development-mistakes-learning-opportunity/

Cuthbert, J. (31.01.2021.). Rangers waive controversial Tony DeAngelo after reported altercation with teammate. Retrieved from https://tinyurl.com/i4jox6v9

NBC. (21.09.2019.). Interview with Kevin Hayes. Retrieved from https://www.nbcsports.com/philadelphia/flyers/kevin-hayes-honest-about-his-time-rangers-ecstatic-be-flyers

New York Rangers. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_Rangers#Jeff_Gorton_era_(2015%E2%80%93present)

Paulus, S. (31.01.2021.). David Quinn must dislike Kaapo Kakko a lot. Retrieved from https://bluelinestation.com/2021/01/29/new-york-rangers-coach-david-quinn-must-dislike-kaapo-kakko-a-lot/

Valji, S., N. (31.01.2021). Future of Tony DeAngelo (Twitter thread). Retrieved from https://twitter.com/salimvalji/status/1355968550393901056

Walker, M. (16.01.2021.). Rangers bench star Tony DeAngelo for game against Islanders. Retrieved from https://nypost.com/2021/01/16/tony-deangelo-not-in-rangers-lineup-for-game-vs-islanders/

Walker, M. (01.02.2021.). Rangers refute ‘sad’ K’Andre Miller rumor after banishing Tony DeAngelo. Retrieved from https://nypost.com/2021/02/01/rangers-refute-kandre-miller-rumor-amid-tony-deangelo-saga/

#essay #nhl #new york rangers #tony deangelo #kaapo kakko #k'andre miller #lias andersson #nyr #as I said in disclaimer it is only my own information analysis #rookies

[theexecutionerssong]

I want to ask you as spn expert hdbfbdj i heard that destiel made creators/actors uncomfortable and they banned mention of it at the cons? And made anlotbof writing decision to keep dean and cas characters from each other in the show? So how do you think what changed and why the decided to make deancas canon (bad as it is but canon) in almost last episode when they could just not do it jrbfkf

Hi! Oh damn I hope you’re ready for a long ass answer because I have 13 years worth of memories to answer this question dfghjklm

So, your first question, when you say creators, you have to keep in mind that the original showrunner stepped down years ago and since then, there’s been several showrunners who each had a different view on where they wanted to take the story, which explains the disparities in writing quality from one season to another, in my opinion. Of course the orginal showrunner is still around and would chime in from time to time but he went on on working on other shows (which flopped, besides The Boys, tbh), and we definitely didn’t see it that way in 2005.

Then comes the writers team, that has also seen many changes over the years. I truly believe some left because they wouldn’t make Destiel happen, among other things like the treatment/lack of representation of female and POC characters. Robbie Thompson definitely left because they killed Charlie in the most horrifying way, and Charlie was his baby, and he got better opportunities elsewhere. I remember over 7 years ago when Bo Berens (the writer of last night episode) joined the team, my whole dash was full of people screaming because holy shit the new SPN writer is gay!!! and wouldn’t that change things??? Well it did. He wrote, along with Robbie Thompson, some of the most explicit Destiel episodes that they could get away with. I don’t believe this was ever queerbaiting, not from them, and I think they took advatange of the other writers just not seeing it, or not wanting to see it.

For a very long time, the showrunners and writers were kind of oblivious to the shipping, they didn’t take it seriously because it wasn’t how they had thought it could be interpreted. As time went on and the shipping only grew and as the cast and crew actually started to see what we were seeing in their own damn writing and acting, they started to be more aware and careful around it. Some were downward enjoying putting down fans, like fucking Guy Norman Bee gloating on Twitter and engaging with fans over it. A mess. He left 5 years ago that one, good riddance. It was also the time when actual canon queer ships would appear on TV - keep in mind that in 2010-12, Destiel was as explicit as it could get. We had nothing else, so of course we would latch onto that. But we started getting more and more actual explicit representation with Shameless, Shadowhunters, Eyewitness, Skam, HTGAWM, Orphan Black, etc around 2013, and shipping Destiel got very frustrating. 

The actors have always been another story, and I saw a lot of comments being made today towards Jensen so I’m gonna copy paste my answer to an ask I got last year : “I think he was just extremely “protective” of Dean and would get actually mad and shut down every conversation about Destiel because that’s not how he sees his character. Like, proper pissed off. He would get uncomfortable about pride flags during photo ops. It came to the point where people would walk on eggshells at cons. 2012-13 was hard on the fandom on this point. He would never speak up about lgbtq related topics in politics either. Liking a tweet like Chris’s 10 or even 5 years ago? Never. He used to say that people in highschool would bully him for “looking too gay” because of his pouty lips and big eyes. I think he didn’t want to care about it but bullying leaves scars. Getting married to Danneel, meeting Misha, who are both very outspoken about lgbtq matters, opened him up, and he’s said himself that having his first daughter changed him deeply. He had a whole new perspective on unconditional love. Now, he’s enthusiastic about posing with pride flags, to sign fanart, he’s always so supportive of lgbtq fans at cons, hugs them, gives them words of encouragement, etc. Years ago he said “my father told me that there’s no manly way to drink out of a straw” and now he’s out there being crowned King at the Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans, posting rainbows on his social media, having makeup sessions wit his daughter, etc. He was very outspoken about his support for Beto in Texas last year, he goes to rallies, posts about it on social media, etc. And yeah maybe that’s the bare minimum but he wouldn’t have done it years ago but now he does and that’s worth something. He’s not a Destiel supporter but now the topic isn’t banned at cons anymore. He jokes about it, he understands better where people who see Dean as bi are coming from, even if it’s not his take on the character. He’s much more comfortable with himself and has come a long way. I’m happy for him.” That was my reply last year to somebody asking if Jensen was homophobic and while I obviously don’t know him, it’s what I gathered over the past 17 years or so. I was already a fan of him beofre Supernatural soooo, I’ve been around a while. Yes there was this moment, over 7 years ago at a con, where he let fans boo other fans for asking a question about Destiel, and he shut down the question, then the questions about Destiel were banned. That’s not the case anymore and it hasn’t been that way for years. Misha on the other hand as always been supportive of the ship, his “You’re not crazy” tweet from 2013 fueled us for years, and the fact that he went back to like it and bring attention to it today is the biggest I Told You So he could have given us.

About your question, making decision to keep them away from each other, yes, that has been a pattern for years, something would go in the script, and then they would change their minds - “the only thing we have left, Dean and I, is each other” in 5x04, the “A part of me always believed you would come back” in 7x17, the “I love you” in 8x17, Castiel’s heaven being just pictures of Dean everywhere, etc. The decision would come from either the actors or the writers and they gave tons of reasons but I won’t get into that. And every time we would have a Destiel heavy episode, it would be no Cas for weeks. Their reason for that is that if Cas was always around, what with how powerful he is, then there would be no plot for monster-of-the-week episodes, because he’d be able to fix the situation with a snap of his fingers. So they gave him storylines that would weaken him and/or keep him away from the Winchesters. But I also think they would give us crumbs to keep us hooked and then backtrack because it wasn’t the end yet.

Destiel is the only ship I’ve really invested in that wasn’t canon. Yet. Because, to me, it’s been canon for years. And I am absolutely convinced that had Supernatural ended with season 10 as planned, it would have been canon then. There were tropes and parallels that nobody could ignore. The whole of season 10, with the Cain/Dean and Colette/Castiel thing was so obvious even my Dad picked up on it. But the series got renewed again and again and they pushed it back, because The Powers That Be at the CW didn’t want to lose their homophobic fanbase, I guess. Isn’t that great :)))) Now that it’s ending for real, who cares? They don’t have anything to lose anymore. It must be quite an unpopular opinion but I think making Deancas canon at the end of the series has been the plan for a while, but it got pushed back with every renewal. 

To me they have been canon since season 8 thanks to a few selected writers, and as infuriating and sometimes hurtful as it was to keep watching for all these years when it could have been so much better, I’m still ecstatic they finally did it. Maybe for the wrong reasons, definitely not in the right way, but 1. the show isn’t over, and 2. this was my first real big ship when I had nothing else, and to be able, after over a decade, to hear that I love you, with no room for doubt that it was meant romantically, is making me happy., 

#gaelle parle #spn #you asked for it sdfghjkl #honesly the way i could talk SPN for hours and hours and hours... #sigh #Anonymous

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

seasons with you

summary: the first year of your relationship with Brett is breathtakingly easy; the seasons pass in a blink of an eye.

warnings: none

word count: 4.6k

note from the writer: I’m in love with this idea and this sweetheart

FALL

“Are you excited for tonight?”

The question was probably a dumb one. Of course, a professional hockey player was excited for the opening night of the season. But you had to ask, because you were absolutely ecstatic about it and wanted an in to express it. Brett probably knew already, you had been at his apartment for fifteen minutes to spend some time with him before he had to leave for the rink and the entire time you had been bouncing from room to room.

“I’m excited that you finally get to come see me play.” Brett teased as he exited his bedroom in his game day suit. Your relationship was new, a little more than a month, but you were certain that you’d never get used to just how handsome he was. There had been preseason games, but between work and school you hadn’t had the chance to make it to one yet. Though, you had opening night circled on your calendar with a promise that you’d be there.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You grinned, pulling Brett in the moment he started to lean down for a kiss. You were certain you would never be able to deny him anything, and you didn’t want to when his lips felt as sweet as they did against yours. Kissing him was easy, just like everything else when it came to Brett.

“Did you see where the tickets I got you are?” He questioned, pulling away just enough to mumble the words against your lips before stealing another peck.

“I did, and I don’t even want to know how much they cost you.” You shook your head, retreating back to the kitchen where you had been snacking on the limited amount of food in his cupboards. “Ice level seats at the Garden on opening night? Probably more than my rent.”

Your comment earned a laugh and a shake of the head from Brett, and the sound alone was enough to bring a smile to your face. Though you weren’t exactly the most comfortable with him spending money on you, you knew how much it meant to him that you were there. He leaned down for another kiss, and suddenly all your problems melted away.

Hours later and you found yourself sitting in the very seats Brett had gotten you. It didn’t take much brain power for you to figure out why he had chosen that spot. It was in the Rangers warm up area, with a hole on the plexiglass where a cameraman usually stood right in front of you.

The stadium came alive as the home team skated onto the ice, and though it was mesmerizing how they managed to skate in circles so seamlessly without running into each other, your gaze was trained on your boyfriend. He spotted you immediately, his smile widening as soon as you locked eyes, but he took a few laps and some shots on goal before skating over to you.

“Hi.” He spoke through the camera hole loud enough so you were able to hear him. A few more people crowded around you, but otherwise it was just the two of you. “I like that jersey.”

“Thanks, my boyfriend made me wear it.” You teased, tugging at the bottom of the white jersey you had gotten a week prior. The number twenty-one and Howden were emblazoned on the back, no doubt Brett was having a field day seeing you in his number.

You wouldn’t have minded chatting with him for the rest of warm ups, but Kreider decided to mess with Brett and checked him into the glass in front of you. The older player smiled and gave you a wave, before skating off with little more than a playful shove from your boyfriend.

Brett gave you a smile before returning back to the warm ups, and you watched as he skated around with a lightness and ease you had only seen through your television screen before. He was grinning the whole time, stopping by your seat no less than six times before they had to get off the ice to prepare for the game.

And as much as you loved admiring Brett, when he wasn’t on the ice your focus was on the action. And there was a lot of action. The Rangers scored first, Zibanejad with a one timer, and you cheered along with an entire stadium. But then the Penguins managed to tie the game just before the end of the first period. Five minutes into the second, the Penguins scored again, but the score was evened quickly after with a slapshot from Trouba.

You slumped on your seat when the Penguins scored again, and held your breath when the play was reviewed. The crowd let out a simultaneous groan the moment they heard that the call on the ice stands, that it was a good goal, and you joined in. The second period ended with the visiting team up one, but then the third started off with a bang. Buchnevich with a tip-in and an assist from Kreider.

Time was running out and with the game tied, everytime anyone got a shot anywhere near the goal you were gripping the seat in anticipation. A minute and thirty seconds left on the clock, you had practically resigned yourself to the fact that this game would be going into overtime.

But then, the Rangers and the Penguins were making a line change and there must have been a mistake on the guest bench because suddenly the Rangers were on a breakaway. Your heart stopped in your chest as you spotted who had the puck—Brett. He was making a breakaway attempt on goal with time dwindling away and the closest defender was seven paces behind him. The crowd grew louder as he got closer, and you were pretty sure you weren’t breathing but that didn’t matter at the moment because—

Top shelf, blocker side.

You don’t really remember when you jumped to your feet, or when you started screaming, but it didn’t matter because your voice was lost in the rioting stadium. Brett was skating, away from the goal and away from his teammates you were rushing to celebrate with him and it took you a moment to realize he was skating towards you.

He slammed into the glass in front of you, smiling and pointing at you for a second before his linemates were on him and crushing him into a hug. You slammed on the glass, excitement and adrenaline rushing through you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he led his linemates to the bench for high fives. He looked so happy and you couldn’t believe it had taken you so long to go to one of his games.

The final buzzer sounded and the crowd was still cheering from Brett’s goal, and you knew you could take your time heading down to the locker room area to meet him. No doubt he was going to have interviews, he played amazingly, got the game winning goal, and was even named second star of the game.

When he finally came out he was grinning from ear to ear and wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug.

“Congratulations!” You cheered while still pressed into his chest. You could feel him chuckle and press a kiss to the top of your head, and you pulled back just enough so he could land his next one on your lips.

When he finally pulled back and let you go, you didn’t move far. Your arms were still loosely around his torso, and he had one around your shoulders. He was smiling down at you, and though he usually was, the win and the goal on opening night clearly had put him in a great mood. And when he spoke next, you could hear his joy in his words, coupled with an honesty that had you leaning into him more.

“You’re my good luck charm.”

WINTER

“This is why I moved to the city.”

Your comment earned a confused look from your boyfriend, but you didn’t mind. He was still grinning at you though, but you barely noticed as you took in the city around you.

“Because of the lights?” He questioned, looking between the string lights set up in the trees in the park and your beaming smile. You nodded, tucking yourself closer into his side as a breeze blew past you. When you told him that you wanted to go for a walk, he was a little skeptical. It was nearing the end of January and freezing cold at night, but you seemed so excited that he couldn’t find it in himself to say no. And he was really glad that he didn’t.

“I grew up stargazing, the lights are like having a clear sky every night.” You confessed, gaze flicking between the boy next to you and the sights around you.

Brett had never really thought about it before, but now that you had brought it up he couldn’t help but agree with you. Maybe he did actually like the lights, but he had a feeling that it had more to do with the fact that you were absolutely entranced with the view.

“C’mon, I need to warm up.” You dragged Brett out of his thoughts, pulling him over to a hot chocolate vendor. He watched as you interacted with the older man that ran the stand, unable to help the smile that grew on his face as you ordered. You chatted with the vendor as he served you, the infectious cheer that you brought with you everywhere brightening up the man as you paid and left.

Brett was certain in that moment that he had struck gold in finding you. You were everything that he could ever want in a partner: kind, funny, and willing to put up with his crazy NHL schedule. He had already called his mom about you at least ten times—a month—since you started dating. He endured the chirps from his brother about how much he cared for you, and Brett even threw in a few about how his brother acted the same way with his now sister-in-law.

It was that thought that had completely leveled him the first time he had it, that he cared for you the same way his brother cared for his wife. He had known for a week, at the very least, that he loved you and that you were it for him. The problem arose when he tried to tell you so. He was almost certain that you felt the same way, but there was a nagging thought that maybe you didn’t, that you weren’t as invested in your relationship as he was. And it was that fear that had his mouth going dry and palms getting sweaty if he even thought about telling you.

But with the lights shining on you in the perfect way that they were, he knew he was going to combust if he tried to wait a moment longer.

He had once again been lost in his thoughts, and you squeezing his hand brought him back to reality only for him to realize that you had stopped walking. You were watching him intently, a brow quirked up and he knew you were silently asking him what was up.

“Can I tell you something?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, because they sounded bad. And he could tell you felt the same as he watched a mix of confusion and nervousness flash across your face. His eyes widened as he quickly tried to backtrack and reassure you that everything was fine all at the same time. “No! Not like—nothing bad, I promise.”

“Okay…” You trailed off, wondering what could have gotten him so flustered so quickly. He was fine moments before, if not a bit spacey, and you briefly wondered if that was part of the problem, too. Something was on his mind, you just weren’t sure what it was.

Brett steeled his nerves, sucking in a breath as he contemplated just exactly how he wanted to word his confession. You were looking up at him with a confused look, the adorable way your brows furrowed together, and your lips pouted just slightly distracting him for a second, long enough to have him forgetting anything he might have had planned to say.

“I love you.” He blurted, closing his eyes in a kind of wince that told you he was kicking himself for his clunky delivery. You, on the other hand, were completely ecstatic with the way things had panned out. It wasn’t perfect, no, but it was exactly what you wanted. It was real and honest, and you could tell for a fact that he meant it.

Your response was an easy one. You had been feeling the same way for some time, you could pinpoint the exact time when you knew you were done for. He had just gotten in late from a road trip, a week and a half on the west coast, and instead of heading back to his own apartment after getting back he showed up at your doorstep at nearly one in the morning. It was all tired mumbles about how he sleeps better with you and it took exactly zero convincing for you to let him spend the night.

Brett was still waiting for you to respond, other than the beaming smile you were giving him. You could see the panic in his eyes, how he thought that maybe he had screwed things up with you if you didn’t feel the same, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at how he ever could think that you didn’t love him back.

“Okay, well don’t laugh at me.” He teased in an attempt to bring some of the normalcy back to the conversation, though you could just hear how tense his words were. You playfully rolled your eyes, using your conjoined hands to tug him closer and down towards you.

You kissed him, smiling at the way he tasted like the hot chocolate you both had been sipping on. You could feel him relax under your touch, the hand that had been holding yours let go of you and moved to the back of your neck to keep you in place against him an extra moment longer. And when you finally pulled back enough, you could see the grin you no doubt were sporting mirrored on his face.

Your next words were easy to say. You felt them deep inside your bones, and knew without a doubt that you meant them. That nothing you had ever said could match the certainty with which you delivered the sentiment with.

“I love you, too.”

SPRING

“What’s all this?”

It was your first season dating a hockey player, but you had been a fan of the sport for longer. You knew it sucked being knocked out of the playoffs after clinching a wildcard spot, but you never had to experience it up close.

So when the Rangers were eliminated in the third round after seven hard-fought games, you weren’t sure how Brett would react. He was quiet after the game, barely saying anything as you spent the night at his apartment. There were lots of cuddles, and when you woke up before him, you took it upon yourself to make breakfast.

And that’s where Brett found you, waking up half an hour after you to see you in little more than one of his old oversized shirts standing in front of the stove as you made pancakes. You smiled at him over your shoulder, happy to see that he looked a little better than the night before.

“Making breakfast, thought I’d surprise you.” You confessed, sighing in content as he wrapped his arms around your middle from behind you. You leaned back into him, giggling at the way his playoff beard scratched your neck as he nuzzled into you. “At least now you can finally shave.”

You felt a sense of pride as he chuckled, no matter how half-hearted it was. His laugh was easily one of your favorite sounds, and it was disheartening to see him so down. One of your arms rested atop his forearms wrapped around you, the other holding the spatula you were using to flip the pancakes.

“Are those chocolate chip?” He questioned, and now it was your turn to chuckle. You nodded, twisting your head to the side to press a quick kiss to his cheek as his head was still resting on your shoulder.

“I figured we could have a cheat day, you earned it.” Your comment earned a hum of satisfaction as he slowly rocked you side to side. Part of you felt a little guilty in savoring just how clingy he was being as a result of being eliminated from the playoffs, but you also knew this was exactly the kind of comfort he needed. And if it meant that you also were smothered in attention and affection from the man you loved, then you weren’t going to complain.

You stayed wrapped up in Brett for the remainder of the time it took you to cook, and even when you were eating he didn’t let you get very far. When you stood to start cleaning up, as an extra treat, since usually when you cooked he cleaned, Brett disappeared down the hall for a moment only to return with a bluetooth speaker.

It was a common occurance whenever you hung out, when Brett said he was always listening to music he meant it. He turned on one of his playlists, one you recognized as having softer, slower songs and he joined you at the sink in cleaning up. The two of you working together meant everything got done much quicker and soon enough you were shutting off the sink and drying your hands.

You went to ask him what he wanted to do next, expecting maybe a movie or something similar, but he clearly had different plans as he swept you into his arms and started slow dancing. You chuckled, letting him lead and stealing kisses whenever you could.

After the first slow song ended, you slipped out of his arms, much to his protest. Picking up his phone, you changed the song to one a bit more quicker and upbeat. If you were going to dance in the kitchen in your pajamas like fools in love, you were going to do it right.

Moving back to him, you spotted the tired grin he was wearing. Pushing yourself onto your tip-toes, you stole one more kiss for good measure. You started twirling and dancing and giggling around the kitchen without a care in the world, and though Brett was still feeling a little disappointed at not being able to make it further in the playoffs, he couldn’t truly be upset when the person he loved the most was laughing and wearing his clothes.

“Thank you.” He mumbled before leaning in for another kiss as you spun into his chest, his arms locking you in place against him. You didn’t respond at first, too caught up in him and how handsome he was, even though he had yet to brush his hair and his pajamas weren’t the most stylish things in the world.

“I’d do it again, but I won’t have to.” Your words confused him, but he was still grinning slightly at the light and certain tone you spoke with. “Rangers are getting the cup next season, I’m speaking it into existence.”

“Don’t let some of the guys hear you saying that, they’ll accuse you of jinxing it.” Brett chuckled, looking down at you with the utmost admiration. You were practically melting under his gaze, wondering how he managed to get you every time with just how often he looked at you with that much love in his eyes.

“They’ll thank me when they win.” You teased, waving a hand nonchalantly. He let out a quiet, breathy, laugh and shook his head in mirth instead of replying. A lull fell in the conversation, and though it wasn’t awkward, it did give you an opportunity to think about the one thing you had been putting off considering. “So… what now? When are you leaving?”

It was a fair question, considering that this was your first time experiencing the end of the season. Brett’s work was done in New York and soon enough he’d be heading back to spend the offseason with family. There was no obligation for you to follow, or even for him to invite you, but it felt weird thinking that you’d spend the next couple of months apart, especially since you had been nearly inseparable since you had gotten together.

“I was thinking that maybe you could come with me, at least for a couple weeks. My parents love you, I’m pretty sure they would kill me if I didn’t at least invite you.” You chuckled at his comment, knowing he was just teasing but your heart swelled at the thought that his parents liked you. And really, there was no way you could ever turn down the opportunity to see his hometown with him.

“Well, I can’t disappoint your parents, you know.”

SUMMER

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not a good idea, I promise.”

You were having a great time. Brett’s parents had rented a lake house and invited both their sons along with their significant others. The boys were swimming in the water while you tanned on the dock alongside Brett’s sister in law.

It was great, Brett’s niece was swimming with her father and uncle, her gleeful cheers the only thing breaking up the chatter and the soft music playing. His dad was on the grill up by the house and his mom had slipped inside to get a refill on her drink.

But then you spotted Brett grinning at you mischievously, and you just knew he was planning to splash you. Hence, your warning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He defended himself, acting as if he was completely innocent. You knew it was an act, you were still drying off from earlier when he had thrown you over his shoulder and jumped into the water, but you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed. Not when you had started everything by pushing him in the first chance you got.

“Leave her alone, Brett.” His mom teasingly warned, having just returned from the house and setted back down in her deck chair she had brought out. As she spoke, you bent over the side of the dock, reaching a hand in the water just enough before splashing him. His niece let out a shriek that resembled a laugh, and Brett alternated between wiping the water off of his face and chuckling at you.

“You two were made for each other, I swear.” His sister in law commented and you simply grinned wider, eyeing Brett carefully to make sure he wasn’t planning anything in retaliation.

Later that evening there was a bonfire, and everyone had called it a night long before you and Brett were ready to. You had started the night sitting in different chairs, but at some point you had gotten up to make a s’more and didn’t make it back to your own seat as Brett pulled you into his lap.

“This is nice.” You murmured, watching the flames of the fire dance. Brett’s brother had thrown a couple logs on before he left fifteen minutes ago, so it was set for a while before you had to force yourself to get up. You were dreading, somehow extremely comfortable curled in up in his lap with a blanket haphazardly tossed across your legs.

Brett hummed in agreement, his chest vibrating underneath where you were pressed against him. His lips pressed against the top of your head and his hand that had been resting on your leg started to rub back and forth soothingly.

“I love you.” Brett copied your quiet tone. He told you that several times a day, everyday, but you were certain that you’d never tire of hearing him say those three words. It made your chest warm and heart race, and never failed to put a smile on your face.

“I love you, too.” His hold on you tightened a bit more at your words, the simple action letting you know the sentiment affected him the same way it did too. Silence fell over you, only filled with the crackling of the fire and the distant chirps of crickets and any other insects and critters that were in the trees surrounding the house. You were completely content, and you would’ve been fine with never having to get up ever again.

“Do we have to go back to the city?” He mused, earning a groan from you. There was still time before training camp and preseason and everything else that came with being adults and having careers, but that didn’t mean it stressed you out any less.

“Don’t remind me.” Your reaction earned a chuckle from Brett, the sound, like always, was music to your ears. “My landlord keeps messaging me about whether or not I’m renewing my lease in September.”

There was a hidden question in your statement. You were asking without really asking if Brett wanted to move in with you, that being the natural next step in your relationship. You had known for a while that he was it for you, and though it hadn’t been quite a year since you had started dating you were more than ready to take the leap.

Brett had mentioned offhandedly a few times about sharing his space with you, mostly comments about how he wanted to wake up to you as often as he could. You were at his apartment more than you were at your own, and had even developed a routine of being at his place already when he came home from roadies late at night. The first time he had come home and found you already asleep in his bed, waiting for him, the domesticity of it all nearly knocked the wind out of him.

But he had never seriously brought up moving in with you, and you were starting to get nervous that maybe he was having reservations about your relationship. Those fears were completely unfounded, you knew, but you couldn’t help but have your irrational moments.

“Don’t renew your lease.” Brett said casually, and even though you were practically drained from the sun and the lake and the few beers you had earlier in the day, the statement seemed to give you your second wind. “Move in with me.”

“Yeah?” You hated how breathy the one word was, your tone giving away just how excited you were by the offer. You tilted your head up to look at him, only to be met with his stunning smile. “You want me to?”

“I’d be crazy to not want you to.” He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead that had you grinning even wider. Like everything with Brett, it was easy to agree, easy to give him another kiss, easy to spend the rest of the night whispering ‘I love you’s and other sweet nothings while planning which of his teammates you’d bribe with a home cooked meal to help you move your stuff to Brett’s.

“Let’s do it.”

#Brett Howden #Brett Howden x reader #Brett Howden imagine #Brett Howden imagines #New York rangers #New York rangers imagines #New York rangers imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #NHL imagine #NHL imagines #hockey x reader

[yourdeepestfathoms]

chasing pegasus (part two)

part one

[horse racing au]

tw: there’s some discussions of unhealthy dieting in this one, so watch out!

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

a lap around the yard

The Trainer

Four days later, the sound of hoofsteps came crunching up the driveway of the Netherworld. It was a wet, early morning, the sun not even up yet. Animals were still asleep, as were Barbara and Adam- not even Lydia had showed up for work.

And yet, there were hoofsteps coming from the street.

It had taken little persuasion to convince Presley Lind’s parents into allowing Beetlejuice to be her new trainer once they found out he was associated with the Maitland’s. Their bored expressions lit up instantly, and Beetlejuice easily saw the greed shining inside of their eyes. He had managed to bite back a laugh in the moment, not wanting to ruin this opportunity.

As a child, horses were Beetlejuice’s entire world. Despite his mother working in politics, he lived on a farm, where the plains rolled out to him every morning like green carpets and the air was fresh and clean. There was so much space, and absolutely nothing to fill it.

Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth longed for a pony of his own more than anything. Almost every day, he would watch the neighbors ride around on their horses, practically radiating smugness like, “Hahaha! Look at us! We got horses and you don’t! Hahaha!”

He tried to get a horse. Every single Christmas, every single birthday, he would ask his mother for a pony of his own. And every single time he was shot down. She would say that his wonder towards the animals was just a “phase,” that he would lose interest in the beast and leave her to take care of it, but Beetlejuice knew the real reason she said no was because she didn’t like when he got anything he wanted.

It wasn’t until he was seventeen that he finally got the horse he had been dreaming about.

She was a little black-and-white thoroughbred filly that Beetlejuice nursed himself after her mother was killed by a pack of hungry coyotes. His mother had been furious when he carried the foal into the house that dark evening, but he managed to convince her into letting him keep the animal, as long as he paid for everything and didn’t come running to her when he needed help. He was ecstatic.

That little black-and-white thoroughbred filly was the same large black-and-white thoroughbred mare standing beside him at five-thirty in the morning before the sun had even risen, waiting for their pupils.

Sandy, aka It’s Showtime, was the highlight of Beetlejuice’s life. She was fast, full of energy, and had more of a personality than most people Beetlejuice had met. She was everything he dreamed about and more. He didn’t know what he would do without her.  

 “Good morning, student!” Beetlejuice greeted Presley animatedly when she finally finished her walk down the driveway. Strangely enough, she wasn’t riding her horse, instead guiding him by a halter. She didn’t seem to have been on his back at all that morning, deciding to make the whole trip on foot.

 “Good morning, Mr. Shoggoth,” Presley greeted back. In the faint glow from the light attached to the wall of the nearby barn, he saw that she was dressed in a soft-looking flannel, a tank top underneath that, leggings, and boots. Her helmet and goggles were hanging from the side of her saddle. She had her crop with her and she kept fidgeting with it as some sort of nervous tic.

Beetlejuice couldn’t help but laugh at her insistence in formality. She truly was the epitome of a Southern Belle, even up in Connecticut.

 “You can call me Beetlejuice, kiddo, it’s okay.”

Presley wrinkled her nose, but nodded anyway. Beetlejuice was sure that was going to last for maybe an hour, and then she would be back to referring to him like he was the president of the United States or something.

 “So, are you ready for our first day of training?” Beetlejuice asked, hoping he didn’t sound too much like an excited child on Christmas. He had been waiting for the perfect protégé for what felt like forever and he finally found someone who showed real promise. He couldn’t wait to teach her about everything he knew.

 “Yes, sir!” Presley answered. She matched his energy, so Beetlejuice decided to ignore the fact that she replied to him like he was a drill sergeant and she was a wannabe soldier preparing for war.

 “That’s what I like to hear!” Beetlejuice clapped her on the back. “Let’s get out to the track.”

--- --- ---

The first hour and a half, they didn’t even touch the horses.

Sandy and Presley’s stallion, a scraggly grey thoroughbred stallion named Peril, were put into the carousel to get their muscles warmed up for later riding--

--except Peril attempted to physically fight the equipment the moment it turned on and tried to guide him around the circle, which he did not like at all. Beetlejuice and Presley both had to rush to calm him down before he could break something or hurt himself or worse: wake up Barbara. After a few moments of resistance, he finally gave into the tug of the machine and relented to following its pull.

By the time the sun had finally come up, Presley was soaked in a fine layer of sweat. They spent those first few hours exercising; or, rather, Presley was exercising. Beetlejuice watched over her with a hose at the ready if he caught her slacking off.

Being a jockey was a lot harder than anyone initially thought. Despite being small in stature, easily half the size of any NFL player most of the time, they were required to guide twelve hundred pounds of pure flesh and muscle at speeds of up to forty miles per hour. Strength was needed to stay on the backs of the sprinting beasts, hence why the training regimen for jockeys were so intense.

After the initial stretches, Beetlejuice had Presley do a myriad of exercises- squats, lunges, jumping lunges, flutter kicks, bear crawls, burpees, and one-leg deadlifts, and even after finishing all of that she still wasn’t done. He told her to run a mile around the track, and she went without complaining.

 “Lawrence, you better not be killing our jockey. We just got her.”

A voice like a songbird’s sweet chirping broke through the silence of the morning. Beetlejuice turned to see Barbara and Adam walking over, both of them smiling. He perked up.

By then, the sun had come up, bathing the Netherworld in soft golden rays. Horses emerged from the stables, moseying out into the pasture to graze, though some of them stopped to peer curiously at Peril. He and Sandy were mulling in a nearby holding pen after they finished their own exercise on the carousel. When Peril caught the stares he was getting from the other horses, he lifted his head, grass hanging from his mouth, and flicked his ears at them in some kind of silent, equine gesture, then went back to eating.

 “I’m not!” Beetlejuice said, laughing. “She’s fine. Doing great, actually!”

With impeccable comedic timing, Presley skidded to a halt at the fencing in front of them, kicking up a plume of dirt, which only furthered to dirty her even more than she already was: head-to-toe, she was completely covered in silt from the track, turning her pale skin a faint orangey color. It effectively stuck to the sweat already coating her body, making her look like she had tried to test the dust baths the horses sometimes took.

She raised her head, face red from exertion and orange-brown from dirt, and squinted through the morning sun at Barbara and Adam.

 “Good morning, Mrs. Maitland. Good morning, Mr. Maitland,” She greeted the couple with her trademarked politeness, even as she was doubled over and heaving her breaths.

 “Morning, Presley,” Adam said.

 “Good morning, dear. How are you?” Barbara asked.

 “Good,” Presley answered. “You?”

 “I’m doing very well.”

Presley nodded. She shook herself out, though it did little to remove the dirt clinging to her frame, then stood up straight, hands pressed against her lower back like she was trying to pop her spine.

 “BJ isn’t working you too hard, is he?” Adam asked, looking at her, then squinting at Beetlejuice in playful suspiciousness.

 “No, sir,” Presley answered. “I’m okay.” She dragged her feet through the dirt, brewing up another storm around her, as she walked over to the fence and braced herself against the wood.

 “Rude,” Beetlejuice poked Adam in the ribs. “You’re acting like I’m gonna torture her or something! I’m a great teacher! Right, kid?”

 “I got sand in my boots,” Presley said distractedly, kicking the heel of one of her musty boots against a small rock.

 “See!” Beetlejuice said, and Adam and Barbara laughed.

 “Before you continue your teachings, I want you both to eat breakfast,” Barbara said, for all the world sounding like a mother to a soccer team. She looked at Presley. “Do you like danishes?”

 “Oh, uhh,” Presley shuffled her feet awkwardly, then scrunched her face up like a disturbed bunny when the sand must have scratched around in her boots. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

Barbara and Adam stared at her. She blinked back at them, then glanced up at Beetlejuice with a worried expression that said, “Did I do something wrong?”

 “Ever?” Adam asked.

 “No,” Presley shook her head. “Sometimes I’ll have a shake. Maybe an apple. That’s usually it, though.”

 “Honey, you have to eat,” Barbara said, sounding concerned.

 “I’m on a diet,” Presley said back, as if that justified her skipping meals all the time. “It’s kinda strict, so…” She kicked at a pebble, avoiding their gazes.

 “Diet for what?” Adam probed. “You’re already so thin!”

 “We have to be thin,” Presley reprimanded. “Jockeys, I mean. There’s a weight restriction for a reason. And if I slack off one day, then I’ll snowball, and you know how easy it is to regain weight?”

 “How much do you weigh right now?” Beetlejuice joined in on the questioning. He hoped nobody could hear the curl of concerned sickness edging his voice.

 “Uhhh,” Presley had the audacity to count on her fingers, which made Adam’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull, as if he were expecting her to say some absurd number like seven or ten. Though, in his defense, what she actually ended up saying was equally as concerning.

 “If I remember correctly from the last time I checked… I think ninety-nine pounds?”

 “Ninety--” Adam sputtered, cutting himself off. “NINETY-NINE?!”

Presley scrunched her face up at him again. “Yeah…” She said slowly. “Usually I’m ninety-four, though.”

 “NINETY-FOUR?!”

Presley blinked at him. She seemed innocently oblivious to how worrying what she said was…or maybe she did know how worrying it was and was just acting like she didn’t in a way to convince herself that what she was doing was okay and perfectly healthy.

She didn’t look emaciated. To be honest, Beetlejuice used to think that anyone under a hundred pounds were like those people in the sad pictures of Africa, the ones that stated that everyone on the continent were starving to death and tried to convince you to do some twenty-four hour fasting thing to “see how they lived” or something like that instead of doing something useful like asking for donations to help those people. You know- drum-tight skin, ribs showing, stomachs sunken into empty caverns, every detail of the hip bone being perfectly highlighted, limbs like matchsticks, more skeleton than human.

But Presley looked like the exact opposite of that. Her skin wasn’t pulled tight over her bones, her bones weren’t showing at all, even, and she definitely was not a skeleton.

But Beetlejuice also knew firsthand that the effects of “jockey dieting” weren’t always physical. Sometimes it all on the inside- throat eroded from constant purging, muscles weak with no energy, stomach cannibalizing itself in a desperate attempt to get nutrients.

He knew because he, too, had slaved himself over the jockey diet before eventually accepting that he would never meet the weight restriction and get to race in a real derby.

Seeing his new pupil torture herself with such a hellish thing did not make him happy.

 “Presley, you have to eat,” Barbara said gently before Beetlejuice could blow his top and scold his new student.

 “I do,” Presley tried to assure her. “I eat dinner. One meal per day; that’s what the regimen says. I have to follow it if I want to be a jockey. Those are, like, the rules.”

 “Well, I don’t see any rule book around here,” Adam said.

 “It’s an unspoken one.”

 “Presley, Barbara is right,” Beetlejuice spoke up. “You have to eat. I get the whole ‘staying in shape to stay in the weight requirement’ thing, I do, but you’ll be no use in a race if you’re too weak to ride.”

Presley seemed to be getting flustered. She opened her mouth, then closed it and ducked her head. Her boot scuffed at the grass.

 “Danishes sound nice. Thank you, Mrs. Maitland.”

--- --- ---

After a breakfast of danishes, scrambled eggs, grilled ham, and orange juice, Beetlejuice and his student were back outside. Now that it was light out, he decided to let her muscles rest a little longer and give her a tour. Lydia, who had been dropped off by her father, joined them.

Most of the horses were out in the pasture, as were the other farm animals the Maitland’s kept, but most of the broodmares spent their time inside the stables, a breezy building that smelled like hay and dirt. The pregnant horses rumbled and huffed to each other, and Beetlejuice recognized the low-level threat in those sounds. Foaling mares were often aggressive. They were kept separately from each other, in large stalls with heavy wooden walls and thick layers of rushes on the floor.

Six mothers filled the stables. Barbara and Adam were encouraging more breeding to replace the three mares they had recently lost, and to fill the orders they had gotten from richer racers that were seeking out a good horse. Lydia pointed out all the foaling horses as they went by, and Presley listened with great interest.

The first was Bullseye aka Target’s Grand Splash, a solid black Arabian with a single white spot around her left eye and pure white socks. She was fierce and standoffish.

The next was Sky aka Up, Up, and Away, a pure white standardbred with hints of pink around her dark eyes. She was the restless type, constantly resetting her bedding because it wasn’t good enough for her liking.

Then there was Flicker aka Light The Night, a buckskin paint horse with white splotches all across her body and a constant need for playing. As they passed by, she was throwing her hay up into the air with her teeth.

After her was Pisces aka The Zodiac Killer, a dark chestnut thoroughbred with even darker socks around her hooves. Her ears were pinned back and she glared as they walked by her pen.

Fifth was Magi aka Blaze of Enchantment, a blonde quarter horse with a silky brown mane and tail. Her gentle nature made her easy to care for.

Finally, there was Sneeze-Breeze aka It’s A Long Story, a second thoroughbred, this one with a coat of red roan. Upon hearing her name, Presley gave Lydia a confused look, to which Lydia replied with, “It’s a long story.”

Presley laughed.

 “And then that’s my horse!” Lydia said, pointing to a black abyss that was a Tennessee walker gelding. Its dark coat really fit Lydia’s aesthetic. “Well, he’s my favorite horse, but I still like to call him my horse. His name is Gloom!”

Gloom lifted his head from his stall and blinked big blue eyes at Lydia. She patted his large cheek.

 “His show name is The Moon Man,” Lydia further informed.

 “He’s so handsome,” Presley said in awe, staring up at the void.

Beetlejuice allowed the two teenagers to chat a little longer before pulling Presley back out to begin training. It was good that Lydia talked to girls her age. She usually just made conversation with the horses ever since the recent passing of her mother. Maybe a human friend would be good for her.

 “Alright, kiddo,” Beetlejuice said once they were all back outside. Presley had Peril by his halter for an inspection. “Let’s see what you got.”

Beetlejuice, for one, knew a pretty horse when he saw one, and Peril was the epitome of thoroughbred beauty. His coat was a glossy steel grey, rippling rays of light when the sun hit the fur, and his mane and tail were the color of storm clouds. He had four black stockings up each of his legs as if he had crawled out from the shadows. There was a freckling of grey on his snout and his eyes were a bright flame blue. Beetlejuice could see why Presley liked him so much.

Unfortunately, outward looks were just about the only thing Peril had going for him.

Although he was huge, easily twice, maybe three times the size of his tiny jockey, he was gangly and awkward. His legs were stalky, knees knobby, and his tail was bushy. His ears were moving constantly, like spirits were whispering in them, telling him secrets, and his eyes were always looking around.

Peril twitched when Beetlejuice laid hands on him. He lifted one of his back legs, scraping the dirt with the edge of his hoof, but seemed to decide against kicking for the moment, though he still leered at Beetlejuice out from the corner of his eyes, silently warning him.

Beetlejuice went on.

Peril quickly proved to be the exact opposite of the phrase “gentle giant.” He was a stubborn thing, bearing enough tenaciousness to fill all of Connecticut. Even Adam’s mule wasn’t as hard headed as this beast.

The stallion refused to lift his hooves for Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice had to wrestle with his leg just to be able to check his feet, though he decided to let the attitude slide because it made Lydia and Presley giggle.

Peril had thoroughbred-typical shitty feet. Thin soles. Too flat. Underrun heels. Typical racer. Best to get the farrier down to the farm to start drawing the toe back into something that would at least be considered a little healthy.

He dropped the foot. The joints flexed cleanly. Peril had muscle, Beetlejuice could see, but it was hidden beneath his bulk and awkward girth. At least his ribs weren’t showing.

Beetlejuice stole a glance at Presley, who was holding Peril steady by his halter and chatting avidly with Lydia. Her horse ate better than she did.

Dropping the subject from his mind for now, Beetlejuice began to check Peril’s withers and back. Peril humored his touch, keeping his hindquarters cocked for the moment, not ready to kick just yet. Beetlejuice eyed them wryly. As lanky as his legs were, he could knock someone’s brains out with those hooves.

Beetlejuice ran his hands over Peril’s soft hide. Peril shifted beneath his palms, letting out an impatient huff. He looked at Presley, who looked back with a nervous expression.

 “How often do you train with him?” Beetlejuice asked.

 “Six days a week,” Presley answered, and Beetlejuice caught the anxious tremors in her voice. “Sundays are our off days.”

Beetlejuice nodded. “It’s good that you both have time to relax.” He stroked Peril’s broad neck, and the muscles bunched and released beneath his fingers. “What is his diet like?”

 “I give him two to three meals a day of grain and hay,” Presley told him. She was whiteknuckling the halter leash nervously, as if she fed Peril baby heads or something and didn’t want to reveal her bloody secret. “He gets carrot and apple slices in the evenings. Sometimes other fruits and vegetables I have at home. And if he’s good I give him peppermints.”

At the sound of the treat, Peril’s ears flicked to alertness and he began to lip at Presley’s hand. Presley laughed and fished out a mint she had in her pocket. Peril devoured it instantly.

Beetlejuice began to rattle off several questions, and Presley answered them with little hesitation, though her anxiety remained.

 “Does he receive yearly vaccinations?”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “When was he last seen by a vet?”

 “Two months ago, I believe.”

 “Who grooms him?”

 “I do.”

 “Has he ever had colic?”

 “No, sir.”

 “What kind of bit do you use?”

 “Usually a D-ring snaffle, but sometimes I use an eggbutt snaffle. They’re both easiest on his mouth and he gets cranky if it isn’t comfortable.”

 “Where did you get him?”

 “My neighbor gave him to me.”

 “For how much?”

 “For free.”

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow at Presley. “Really?”

 “Yes, sir,” Presley said, and Beetlejuice was sure he had been called ‘sir’ more times in one day than he had in his entire life. “He really didn’t want him anymore and just gave him to me.”

 “Huh,” Beetlejuice looked up at Peril. “Well, let’s see how he rides, shall we?”

The four of them walked to the hooded paddock. Presley looked supremely uneasy. She wouldn’t stop fidgeting for some reason.

 “Be safe,” Presley whispered.

Beetlejuice couldn’t help but give her a weird look as he climbed onto Peril’s back.

Oh, Beetlejuice thought as he was being bucked off mere moments after sitting down. THAT’S why he was given away for free.

--- --- ---

 “He’s certainly an…opinionated horse.”

Several hours later, Beetlejuice and Presley were sitting on white picket fence together: Beetlejuice nursing a half-empty bottle of bitter apple cider, Presley sipping lukewarm water. In the enclosed field they were balanced before, Peril trotted the length of his pasture, tail flagged, head snaking in front of him.

 “He’s not bad.”

 “Never said he was, kid.”

Presley ducked her head. She looked guilty. Beetlejuice hadn’t realized someone could say sorry so much in one breath, and yet Presley had. Even though he only had a minor bruise on his side from being bucked off, she still wasn’t over what happened.

 “Doesn’t like doors very much,” Beetlejuice observed.

Presley winced. He was referring to when Peril had viciously fought the door to a small pen she had tried to put him into earlier that afternoon.

 “He’s not-- I mean, he doesn’t usually--” Presley was fumbling. She was pale, hands clenched in her flannel. She looked like she was about to spiral into a full blown anxiety attack.

Beetlejuice put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” He said. “Horses have their quirks. Sandy used to snort sand all the time.”

Presley blinked big doe eyes at him. “Really?”

 “You didn’t think she was named because of her colors, did you?” Beetlejuice tipped his head at her, looking amused.

 “There’s black sand! That exists!” Presley tried to argue in an attempt to save face.

Beetlejuice laughed. “When she was a filly, she used to stick her nose in EVERYTHING. Always these big mounds of dirt, and then she would sneeze, knock herself backwards, and look at me indignantly, to which I would say, ‘Then stop sticking sand up your nose!’ She never listened.”

Presley giggled.

They both watched Peril for a minute. His head was still in the air, neck arched, ears pointed at some unknown distant object he deemed worthy of his attention. Then, he caught them staring and took off in a dead sprint around the corner of the yard, ripping up chunks of turf with his hooves. He stopped abruptly, glanced to make sure they were still looking at him, and then trotted away regally.

 “I like this horse,” Beetlejuice said, breaking the silence. “I want him to win.”

 “Everyone wants their horse to win, Mr. Shoggoth,” Presley mumbled, shoulders slumped like they were being weighed down by some unruly sin.

Guilt, Beetlejuice rationalized.

He gave Presley a look.

 “Beetlejuice,” She corrected herself. “Mr. Beetlejuice.”

 “That’s Mr. Juice to you,” Beetlejuice said, poking her in the side, and she nearly squirmed right off of the fencepost. She giggled again. It didn’t last long.

 “I want him to win, too,” Presley whispered.

As awkward and ill-tempered as Peril was, he could.

Beetlejuice had met a lot of horses. He had run his eyes and his hands over champions. Hundreds from afar, and dozens up close. A.P. Indy, The Strawman, Stay Thirsty. Even Ocean Liner, though he’d been long retired by that time. There had been Sweet Devil, getting roses draped around his mud-spattered neck; Slipstream, bounding around the winners circle; Permafrost, head held up in haughty pride as he passed by other horses.

Beside The Dying Fire could outrun them all.

 “I just don’t know if I’m enough for him.”

The comment caught Beetlejuice off guard. He looked down at Presley, and he could see it now: the self-doubt, the worry, the fear, the painful anxiety raking up and down her insides like jagged horse hooves.

Presley “Jeopardy” Lind wasn’t just timid, she was fragile, too. Much too fragile for the awful things spiraling in her head.

Beetlejuice set a hand on her shoulder. “We chose you for a reason. You rode that beast and got third. You have skill, Presley. You’re exactly what he needs.”

Presley’s eyes were sparkling up at him. Beetlejuice smiled.

 “You’re our jockey.”

Presley looked out at Peril. He looked back at her. A thousand plus pounds of muscle, and even heavier than that, the weight of all the dreams each one of these beasts carried. A dark, sharp look in his eye that was either intelligence or haughty pride, or maybe just the hope of his human creators reflecting back at them.

She looked up at Beetlejuice again and, buried beneath the fear and anxiety and doubt, there was confidence.

 “I’m your jockey.”

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