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neonganymede · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday #26

DOA Anastasia AU - Painted Wings Excerpt 2: like a memory from a dream

Excerpt 1: I never should have let them dance

Sigma paused, his feet refusing to carry him past the old, rundown church. His thin body shivered, his breath misting in front of him in crystal clouds of smoke, and hugged his arms tight to his chest. He stood in silence for a moment, listening. Waiting. Maybe I misheard. His brow knitting is disappointment, Sigma huffed another chilly sigh before he began to walk again. The ticket in his pocket was no good, and he’d never make it back to the orphanage by nightfall. If he wanted to survive the cold, then he would need to find a place to— There!

Gasping, Sigma turned toward the church again. He could hear it now, quiet over the din of the city but still loud enough for him to make out a distinct sound coming from within. Sigma stepped closer, turning his head to press his ear to the cold door.

... Music? String music, if Sigma had to guess, coming from inside the church. He took a few steps back, his chest heaving in quiet alarm at the discovery.

Was this the place that Bram had meant he should come? Somebody was inside, somebody who should be able to help him, but now that he was here, Sigma found that his feet stalled. His heart raced, a rapid thud-thud-thud that grew louder the longer he stared at that door.

Sigma couldn’t shake the feeling like he’d… been here before? He’d seen this church. He’d heard this song. But it didn’t strike him as something that he’d actually experienced. More like….

“Like a memory from a dream,” he murmured to himself, startled by the sound of his own voice. He swallowed, but the tight feeling constricting his throat didn’t abate. His mouth felt dry, his lips chapping no matter how many times he wet them in his quest to settle his nerves.

Sigma wanted to find out who he was. He had to know if he had a family, somebody out there as desperate to find him as he was to find them.

A home. A place in this world where he belonged, where he fit in, where he wasn’t just Sigma.

... Would he find that inside? If he went in, would he be taking the first step to finding out who he was?

Fear crawled up Sigma’s spine, his ever-present hopelessness already nipping at his heels again. What if he didn’t find help inside? What if Bram had been wrong? What if Sigma walked in there, drawn forward by nothing but a song his heart thought it knew, and discovered that he didn’t have a home?

No home, no family, no way to ever feel truly complete? Just an ordinary man with a name he gave himself and a train ticket to nowhere?

Sigma thought of the ticket again. Of the word Yokohama written on it. Of the reluctant frown on Bram’s face when he delivered the news that the ticket was expired.

And yet, Sigma kept it. He let it weigh in his pocket like a reminder that there must be somebody out there looking for him, too. There had to be… right? He must belong somewhere, and maybe, just maybe, he’d find a clue to that home if he walked into the church.

Standing outside would get him nowhere but frozen. Sigma gulped, the bob of his throat painful and suffocating, before he reached a trembling hand toward the door handle. A tiny amount of pressure, and the door swung open, inviting him in with nary a creak.

Even if the door had made a sound, Sigma wouldn’t have heard it. The music was louder now, welcoming him in with a familiarity that hurt. His feet moved, unbidden, toward the delicate song that sang through his veins.

The feeling was much stronger now. He knew this song. He knew this place, but the memories danced out of his reach no matter how far he strained his fingers. All things he could almost remember, but he couldn’t get a grasp on any of it. Each vision faded in and out like the flickering of a candle whose teasing light dimmed on this dream from long ago.

Sigma followed the music forward, stepping carefully across broken floorboards that left splinters in his shoes. At some point, a piece of the ceiling had caved in, and the jagged opening allowed the last rays of golden sunlight to shine down over rows of shattered pews, the dusty stained glass windows, and the man sitting on a crate where a podium must have once stood.

The man looked like an angel. He wore a long black coat with a fur collar that looked warm, his outfit underneath white and pristine. A white ushanka covered his head, but Sigma could still see the stark lengths of dark hair spilling out from beneath it. He cradled the cello like a lover, his deft fingers moving over the strings to create the wonderful sound that had so thoroughly captivated Sigma’s attention.

The stranger played without pause, the song building in a way that made Sigma’s lonely heart yearn for things that it used to know. Things he wanted so badly to remember, but his mind remained blank no matter how hard he listened to the dwindling melody. The last note echoed through the mournful chasm of his empty memory, leaving him only with a nagging thought on the tip of his tongue, a new mountain of questions, and a longing for a melody he wished he could remember.

Finally, the man looked at him. His violet eyes ignited in the day’s dying light, and his easy smile made goosebumps rise on Sigma’s arms. He smiled as though he’d been waiting for Sigma, but that couldn’t be right. Even Sigma didn’t know that he would find his way here, that his train ticket would be no good, that his only lead would be a dilapidated church and a song.

Atsushi’s warning rang briefly thorugh Sigma’s mind. You’ll have to be careful in the city. The streets are full of rats.

Then the man spoke, his voice chasing away the cryptic advice and replacing it with the sweetest phrase Sigma had ever heard uttered.

“Would you like a home?”

#wip wednesday #bsd #painted wings au #bsd sigma #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #fyosig #fyosiglai #doa anastasia au #bungou stray dogs #eventual poly doa #decay of angels #the song sigma hears is once upon a december from anastasia #this is still pretty rough so keep that in mind~#less polished than the first excerpt but i needed to get it out of my system #no nikolai in this one but he's never very far~

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ratislatis · 11 months

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guess who 😏

“all the things” by dual core came on while I was sketching and let me tell you. what a weird fucking juxtaposition of THAT song and THIS drawing

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #wip #fanart #‘guess who’ the file name is literally their names lmao #spoilers but this one is inspired by ‘once upon a december’ from anastasia #in a sort of hades and persephone but its winter and spring au #and that ice guy from svsss pulled up on my pinterest feed for some reason? I cant. remember his name #I haven’t read that book in so long #anyway he has a big coat and I was like ‘oop stealin this shit’#(btw? concept was interesting. but I hated that book. I wanted to be in ANYBODY ELSE’S SHOES in that pov LMAO)#my art

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chuuyaslay · 2 years

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late but chapter 4 of skk anastasia au published !! here’s some sneak peeks and u can read here:

#bsd skk #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #skk fanfic #soukoku au #soukoku fanfiction #dazai osamu #con man dazai #royal chuuya #anastasia au #skk anastasia au #once upon a december

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tosteur-gluteal · 1 year

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Anastasia quick cover - Once Upon a December

aight folks, let's do this

Imagine how awkward i was singing this alone in my room imagine basil singing this 🙃 also question which omori character do i sound like the most

#toaster talks #toaster sings #anastasia #anastasia disney #once upon a december #anastasia cover #cover #singing #me singing #probably au content

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mihrsuri · 2 years

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Honestly @maevedarlings and I are absolutely A+ for the Mara/Lando/Luke have a bunch of daughters (Rey is one - she’s Anastasia) AU.

#m: star wars #au: once upon a december

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aslitheryprinx · 2 years

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That one Spiderman meme but it's just es!ranboo and ouad!ranboo

#mcyt g/t #earthbound spirits au #once upon a december au #tiny!ranboo #prinx mcyt art

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taegularities · 10 months

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heaven to you (teaser) | myg & jjk (m)

Summary: A casual hook up morphs into a fierce fever dream when roommates slash best friends Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook bring heaven and hell to you – all at once, in one single night.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader x Jungkook ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: kind of fwb, threesome, college au; fluff, hella smut ➳ warnings: lmfao buckle up, there'll be quite a few warnings for this one :') yoongi and oc are fwb, teasing, flirting, kissing booth stuff, jk wears glasses and has long hair (manbun beloved), yoongi and jk are both so cocky :'), but so is oc, sexual tension, mid-sex convos, threesome ofc, dom yoongi n jk, explicit sexual content, such as double penetration, degradation, spit stuff, manhandling,.. (will expand on this once the full thing drops – but it's a whole lot 😄), they do some weird ass stuff during sex lol but it's such a fun piece, aftercare, valentino yoongi and ck jk!! THE ENDINGGGGG LMFAO ➳ est. wc: 12-15k 😁 1.5k for the teaser!! ➳ a/n: so :’) this had been in planning since? december? i knew i wanted to do a lil something for the milestone, but that lil something turned into… whatever demonic hell this is LOL. back to the ruin you days, i guess. am super excited for this to finally drop. gonna give y'all the best version of it possible, love you <3

MASTERLIST | WIPS | TAGLIST

No matter how fatigued you feel, you’re determined to see this thing through.

Today’s event might have tired you out, but Yoongi’s tongue was quick to bring you back into the land of the living. You’d never admit it to him, but no college responsibility could force you away from the sins he always offers to you.

And two rooms from here, he’s waiting to send you down that spiral again.

You shudder in excitement.

You lift your body off the toilet seat and wash your hands; one last glance into the mirror as you crack your joints. You’d put a gym session into tomorrow’s schedule, but tonight might just serve as exercise enough.

Deep breath in, you step out with strengthened enthusiasm. You brace yourself for whatever’s to come, but what you don’t expect is the presence awaiting you outside the bathroom.

Your fingers halt over the door handle; a light smile creeps upon your face when you see him leaning against the wall.

Eyes shift from bottom to top slowly.

He’s gorgeous. Sculpted and tall. One of his legs is angled, heel against the wall; so you see how thick and strong his thighs are even through his baggy joggers.

And you don’t think he had his hair in this damn bun before; it presses against the wall. Combined with the glasses on his nose, he emanates some type of… innocence.

But you know Jeon Jungkook. And he’s far from the purity you’re so foolishly perceiving right now.

His head moves when he registers your light steps, meeting your eyes so nonchalantly that you trash all prior thoughts of innocence once and for all. You don’t ask what he’s thinking or what he wants. You assume he was merely waiting for his turn to enter the loo.

Jungkook’s plans for tonight, different from yours, probably consist of taking a good shit, seeking a filling meal and drowning in a good night’s sleep. That’s what you think, at least.

But as you move across the hall and towards him, he doesn’t walk past you, doesn’t target the bathroom.

Instead, he keeps looking at you.

And something in his gaze suggests that he’s not quite done talking to you; something of the awkward conversation in the living room still remains.

Yet, he doesn’t speak.

So, you do, “What?”

“Hm?” he voices, a head tilt suggesting surprise, but you know he’s fucking with you. “Nothing. Was gonna pee.”

“Right.” You don’t move from your spot yet. Fold your arms under your chest. His pupils flit down for a second and then up to your face again; weirdly proud, you press your tits up some more. “Then go.”

“Alright, boss,” he rolls his eyes at you, pushing past you with a light brush of your shoulders, “I’ll go.”

And he does. Doesn’t mean you trust him. So you remain and wait.

Wait a minute longer. When he comes out, you’re still standing there.

He doesn’t look surprised. Just trudges towards you with half damp hands in the pockets of his sweats, sly smile on a pretty face until you speak and it drops.

“Was that off putting to you? You really don’t want it?”

There’s a rapid upward movement of one of his eyebrows, and he feigns the confusion perfectly as he asks, “Want what?”

“To join us.”

He puffs out a mocking laugh. Looks to the side, enough for you to admire his chiselled features. A jaw as sharp as a razorblade. Mole on his neck. Wanna kiss.

Then, he asks, “You were actually serious? Like, you still are?”

“Do I look unserious to you?”

Your blinking is supposed to be cute, but he doesn’t fall for it. You clench your jaw; you know he doesn’t want to reject you. You see it in his movements.

So you try, “Or are you just not made for it?”

Which seems to trigger just the right amount of ego in him. Because he laughs again, forming a circle with his lips, and lets out a little, “Ohhh,” as though you’re challenging him. Which, in some ways…

Before you know it, his scent wafts towards you. Soapy, pleasant. He’s close enough to trap you — which, to your surprise, he suddenly does.

One arm on each side of your head, he closes in. Your head moves immediately, your gaze set on his colourful tattoos. When you look at him again, the infuriating, lopsided signature smirk makes your eyes roll — a coping mechanism in a situation like this.

You won't reveal that the sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, or that you held your breath for a moment possibly long enough for him to notice.

So eye rolling it is, disguising the wavering self-control as annoyance when he explains, “This wouldn’t be my first time, babe. Yoongi and I don’t mind sharing.”

His breath is warm, minty. Did he chew gum before?

You gulp.

“But,” he continues, tilting his head; you nearly expect him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. “You’re not exactly the type of girl I usually fuck with.”

Not his type of girl, huh?

Rude.

“Why not?” you ask. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

You see your reflection in his glasses — so far, you seem composed. Though less when he says, “You like leaving people and things broken. You get bored fast.”

Ouch. You wish he was lying.

It’s not like you do it on purpose. People catch feelings fast — you don’t. You make your intentions clear; the times things broke weren’t because you intended them to.

But…

You’re surprised he knows about this at all. You know Jungkook isn’t one to do feelings either; Yoongi told you. Perhaps he’s divulged your philosophies, too.

“So do you,” you answer.

“You got bored of Yoongi really fucking fast, too.”

“Not true. I’m still here.”

“You are now. You haven’t been for quite a while, right?”

You silence. What the hell does he mean?

Bewildered, you stare at him; if he wasn’t surrounded by this odd mystery, you’d push him away again. But he wants to rile you up, and you know you can take a lot more than that.

When you don’t answer, he pulls away, tugging back one or two escaped hair strands. Your eyes follow as he secures them behind his left ear, adorned by two earrings.

But when he raises an eyebrow in question, you awaken again, assuring him that, “You don’t have to. Yoongi and I can just do our thing and you… I don’t know. Have a good night, I suppose.”

You nod once and then push your body off the wall, glad you’re not sandwiched between it and Jungkook anymore. But before you can escape into your friend’s bedroom, a strong hand pulls you back.

You gasp, not anticipating the bold grip, flashing a glare to the veins on the back of his hand as you ask, “What? Didn’t mock me enough or—”

“You won’t ask again?” he has the audacity to inquire.

“You can’t be serious,” you scold, eyes wide. You can’t get out of his hold, so you don’t try just yet. “I’m gonna go. He’s already lighting candles or whatever.”

Jungkook chuckles. “As if. He doesn’t do that shit.”

“True,” you admit, “well, but he is waiting for me. Was waiting for you, too.”

“For me, huh?”

His grin is dorky. The following pout even more so. Horny moods make him cocky, but you remember from every other time you saw him at their dorm how freaking annoying he was.

A likeable annoying, you must admit. Capable of sweet smiles and funny jokes and absolute dumbass behaviour.

Like now.

“Awwh. Man, I saw him just this morning,” he says, loosening his grip around your wrist, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I understand if you missed me, but he really didn’t have to.”

You grimace. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. Just so you know, when you call someone an idiot, you—”

“Alright. I’m leaving.”

Which you do. With absolute confidence.

Throwing your hair back and moving your hips. But what you also do is look back once you’ve taken a couple steps, nodding into the general direction of the bedroom.

Granting him a boost of confidence as you give into his wishes and ask again.

“Are you coming or?”

“Uhm—”

“Isn’t that why you wouldn’t let me go?” If he rejects you now, you’ll walk away. End of story. “Or why you’re looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t answer. Caught red-handed.

He seems to contemplate it. Is eyeing you carefully, amused beyond imagination. What a delightful expression.

One last time, he thinks aloud and says, “You’re acting badass now, but that will backfire. And you will burn yourself.”

“So what? Fire’s fun.”

“I’m just saying.” One more. “Tonight might be a little too much for you with the two of us, you know? I’m not as easy to handle as you think. ”

“I don’t think you are,” you confess. “But I don’t want to handle you. I want the opposite.”

No matter how tired you are, you will see this thing through. With or without him, you will take what Yoongi gives. Accept if Jungkook offers anything. And you think… you think he will.

There’s a glimmer in his eyes. A hint of desire, hunger growing in the predator’s big gaze. If he wants to reject you now, you’ll walk away.

But you don’t think he will.

And once more, courageous, you say, “Handle me, Jeon Jungkook.”

okayyy. this is one glimpse of the whole sin lol. yoongi is gonna have a way bigger role, this is just a jk centric scene!! they're both prominent a lot in every other scene and they're both menaces :')

please look forward to it!! it's gonna be a fun lil piece before we go back to our lil angst/fluff corner. and support by leaving a like, reblog and comment! anddd send me your thoughts, your enthusiasm is extremely encouraging!!

if you want to be on the taglist, here you go!! love you all <3

#yoongi smut #jungkook smut #yoongi fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x you #jungkook fic #yoongi fic #jungkook #yoongi #thebtswritersclub

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sokkas-first-fangirl · 2 years

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Can you do an Anastasia AU prompt which has The Warner parents chewing out the Matron? Plus maybe protective Sibs?

I can indeed 💕

Seeing the orphanage brought home just how awful these five years had been for Yakko.

Angelina was no fool. She knew her son wasn't telling them everything, but he'd told them enough: a crumbling roof, not enough food or beds. Harsh teachers and matrons. Unfair punishments, cold and damp rooms.

The orphanage was in a worse state than she'd imagined. And now, standing before her, was the woman responsible for so much of her son's mistreatment.

The head matron was not a tall woman, barely of an eye with Angelina. She'd looked frightened as soon as the Warners arrived. She surely expected what was to come. Or perhaps worse.

"Let's be blunt," Angelina said with a sharp smile. "You're fired, my dear. Effective immediately. And you will give a public apology to Yakko for your treatment of him."

"I-" The woman gaped, paling dramatically. "Your Majesty, I assure you, I did my best-"

"Somehow I doubt that," Angelina snapped. She gestured around the matron's office, the only warm and well decorated room in the whole orphanage. "Funny how you can't feed or clothe the children in your care, or even light a fire in the living room for them, but you can keep yourself comfortable."

"Hilarious really," William said flatly. His sword was attached to his belt. Angelina knew he wouldn't use it, but the head matron eyed it warily.

"So it will be a public apology," Angelina continued. "After that I don't care where you go or what you do, but you will leave Acme Falls."

"Your replacement will be here later today," William added. "Along with new teachers. Don't look so downtrodden, most of your so-called staff is fired."

"We didn't have enough funds!" the head matron protested. "Salazar never paid up!"

"So you used what little you had to help yourself!?" Angelina finally screamed. "And not the children? It's your duty to care for them! To protect them! And you never did! You have the nerve to stand there and try to lie to us!? You hurt my child!"

"I'd suggest you learn to hold your tongue," William said coldly, fur bristling. "We are not Salazar. We will not hurt you. But we are Warners and we will gladly...Ah, what was it Yakko said, darling?"

"I believe his exact words were, melt their brains," Angelina said with a vicious smile, so much like Yakko and Dot’s.

The head matron looked like she was about to faint.

"And that's not even getting into just how filthy this place is," Angelina said, nose wrinkling in disgust. "I wouldn't even let a dust bunny live here!"

"Count yourself lucky that you're not going to be imprisoned or banished entirely from Warnerstock," William said. "And Scratchy convinced Wakko and Dot to keep the pranking to a minimum. But one more word out of you and you will be arrested. Is that clear?"

The head matron gulped and nodded. Shakily, she curtsied and said, "Yes, Your Majesties."

"Good," Angelina said. With that, she summoned a cream pie and smashed it into the woman's face.

Hey, she promised to let her go freely. She never said anything about not pranking her too.

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mavrintarou · 6 months

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[Daddies in December] Akaashi Keiji

Couldn't miss this cutie's birthday! Where are my Akaashi lovers? Akaashi is just so dreamy. This is my second story of this au - check out Sakusa!

Warning: fluffy, sweet Akaashi and pregnancy smut . You watch your husband drown in his work at home. You can bet that he probably forgot that today was his birthday.

“Baby,” you called from the doorway.

Keiji shifted his gaze away from the computer screen upon hearing you utter the affectionate nickname that had initially caused him to blush intensely when you first used it.

His eyes widen, clearly taken aback to find you at the doorway, holding a birthday cake adorned with lit candles, all the while dressed in babydoll lingerie. The once flowy babydoll outfit now hung over your eight-month pregnant belly.

His jaw dropped before he swallowed.

You walked towards him, holding the cake, “happy birthday Keiji.”

Keiji blew out the candles and took the cake from you, setting it on his desk. He reached over to turn his computer off before standing up.

You blink at him confused, “Kei?”

His hands rest on your hips and guide you backward to his desk before he gently lifts you onto it. He reached for his chair and sat back down, positioning himself in between your legs. “Lean back for me, please?”

You do as he asks and your legs are spread wide for him. Your bulging belly blocks your view as Keiji disappears in between your legs.

“No panties, naughty girl.”

Your breath already quickened as his fingers ran against your folds.

You tensed up when you feel something cold against your pussy. Looking over you see his fingers swiping the whipped cream off the cake, you can only guess what he was doing between your legs.

He looks over your bulging belly, “is it too cold?”

You shook your head, lost for words.

He shifts your legs over his shoulders as he continues to spread the cream in between your legs.

Your heels dig into his shoulders the moment his lips and tongue begin to lick away the topping in between your legs. You groan, feeling long strokes of his tongue. “Kei…” you moan when his finger enters your folds.

With your pregnancy, you’re sensitivity and libido have turned up a few notches. You were so horny every touch of his was having you rocking at the edge of ecstasy.

“Kei… no I want… I need you to cum on your cock… please – please your cock…”

He chuckled and stood up. You giggle seeing traces of the whipped cream on his face. Reaching behind, he swiftly pulls off his t-shirt, dropping it on the ground before undoing the buttons to his pants. “You’re so needy.”

“Only for you,” you whisper with a smile. You wince only in pleasure when his cock slides home. “Kei…”

You knew he would not take you harder, he refuses to now that you’re closer to the end of your pregnancy.

“Please,” you whimper, “harder, Kei… harder.”

He flung off his glasses and spread your legs, holding them as he fastened his hips making his desk rattle.

Your moans echo with the lewd sound of skin slapping skin. “Yes!”

He tugs the straps of your outfit, making your tits spill out. His fingers immediately attack your nipple, pinching and flickering the nub.

Your gaze wanders across your husband’s sculpted torso. Keiji, often overlooked among his high school friends and colleagues due to his smaller physique, concealed his innate masculinity beneath his clothing. Keiji maintained a healthy habit of going to the gym and keeping his body in shape.

You reached to touch his chest, “tell me you’re mine?”

A smile spreads across his lips as he leans over you, locking you in between his arms, and presses his lips against yours in a haste kiss, “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

You nod, “yes, yours, only yours…” you whimper, “Keiji, baby… I’m going to cum…”

“Cum on my cock then,” he groaned, he too was close as his thrusts fastened.

You grip his arm and cry out in bliss as your body shudders. Your legs tighten against his side as you curl up at the same time as he cums hotly inside of you.

“Ahhh…” he chokes, breath fans your cheek. “You are the best birthday gift ever.” He leaned back and rubbed your belly, “and this is a bonus.”

. . .

E/n: short but the start of my love for Akaashi.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi smut #akaashi fluff #akaashi scenarios #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji smut

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ichorai · 6 months

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airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there.

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too.

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old.

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight.

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay.

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.”

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words.

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car.

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead.

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again.

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward.

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills.

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs.

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next.

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often.

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you.

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut.

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead.

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come.

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question.

Or was it?

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests.

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again.

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music.

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy.

“Sandy?”

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?”

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.”

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip.

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve.

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric.

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything.

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut.

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on.

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears.

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother.

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief.

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone.

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head.

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it.

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe.

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers drabbles #steve rogers ff #steve rogers x you

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eds6ngel · 6 months

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✮⋆｡°✩⋆˙ a christmas miracle

a 'when i kissed the teacher' spinoff.

summary: you and steve were in a weird situation. you weren't actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren't exactly being safe either. so, how will steve react when he opens his final christmas present?

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader. 90s!au. mentions and allusions to sex. mentions of pregnancy. pet names. kissing. tons of crying. alena being too young to understand pregnancy (kinda cute tho). alena being a cutie pie as always. some worries over steve's reaction. but mostly fluff and comfort!! [1.9k].

author's note: hi everyone!! i am back!! my first semester of uni is finally over, so i can get back to fic writing a little more! i couldn't neglect my happy family like this, so i've tackled a pregnancy fic! i've never been pregnant, but i do wish to be in my life, so all of my research has been for my own benefit and utilised in this fic. if i'm inaccurate in any parts, please let me know for the benefit of the readers and myself!! ♡

It was hard not announcing the news to Steve. Having to attend your first scan without him was heartbreaking, but the look upon the nurse’s face after you told her you were going to wrap up the ultrasound photo, along with a card saying “Merry Christmas Daddy” and a pair of small, cream, woolen socks, just confirmed your decision was the right one.

You and Steve were in a sort of weird situation. You had stopped using protection, but weren’t in a position were you were actively trying to get pregnant. You agreed that any time from now was an okay time for the two of you to have a child, but also weren’t bothered if the pregnancy tests came back negative.

But, a little Christmas miracle decided to form inside of you, the test showing two lines on December 11th, 1999.

Steve and Alena had gone grocery shopping for an hour, the perfect opportunity for you to wrap Steve’s gift.

Rolling out the wrapping paper, you placed a grey, fluffy blanket in the centre, before laying on top the Christmas card which read:

Hi Daddy.

I’m six weeks old today!

I can’t wait to meet you soon! I’m planning to enter the world on August 20th, 2000.

My mom is keeping me very safe right now as I grow, but I’ll still be listening out for you from inside my home.

See you in nine months.

Love, your future child <3

And as you were about to place the ultrasound photo next to the cream baby socks you previous put underneath the card, your eyes started welling with tears once more.

Was it the hormones? Maybe. But, something in you felt this was all natural. You were growing a human life inside of you, one that has half of your DNA and the other half the love of your life’s. That was something to bask in the intense emotion of.

With everything laid out neatly, you reached over for the sellotape, folding over the edges and carefully sticking them in place.

Wrapping the gift in a pretty cream bow, matching the socks inside, and adding a label reading “To my darling Stevie,” you added it to the pile of increasing gifts in the corner of yours and Steve’s bedroom.

Now, just a week to go until he gets his surprise.

You cradle your stomach, despite the size not increasing at all yet, and whisper to your unborn child “A week and he’ll know, my love. Your beautiful existence will be known.”

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! Wake up!”

You are awoken by the sound of your bouncing ten-year-old, aggressively rocking your fiancé as he groans loudly, his eyes adjusting to the light peaking through the window.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” he murmurs, you opening up one eye as Alena’s full set of brand-new adult teeth smile right at you.

“And what are you doing up so early, missy?” you ask, the clock on the bedside table next to Steve shining a bright 6:00 in the morning, illuminating the room in a red glow.

“Mom” she drags out, rolling her eyes playfully, “You know what day it is!”

You tap your chin lightly, playing along with the joke, “Hmm… I feel as if I may need a reminder.”

“It’s Christmas Mom! And I may or may not have seen all the presents you left underneath the tree…” her vocal pitch increases, looking away in a guilty look as Steve reaches up and pulls her down into his body, the girl screaming as he ruffles her hair.

“Did someone be naughty and peak underneath the tree?” he grits through his teeth, Alena shouting in a reply, “I didn’t mean to, I promise! I saw it on the way to your room!”

You begin to tickle her sides as Steve holds her in place against his chest, making the girl scream in delight loudly, “Is someone now on Santa’s naughty list?”

“Mom…” she pouts her lips, a grumpy expression adorning her face as you sigh sadly, “I know sweet cheeks, you don’t believe in him anymore.”

“I’m sorry…”

You hold out your arms as you wrap her in a warm hug, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I knew you would realise eventually. You’re getting too old!”

She gasps and looks into your eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “I am not old! You and Dad are old.”

You start giggling in shock as Steve just opens his mouth wide, “You better watch yourself, pumpkin.”

“Yeah,” you hold up a finger in warning, before pointing it over to Steve, “Dad doesn’t like being reminded he’s in his mid-thirties.”

And now it is Steve’s turn to attack you, but instead with aggressive kisses, littering them up your neck and across your face lightly, Alena now old enough to understand the playful love between the two of you. “You’re almost thirty as well, you know.”

“Two more years to go, babe. I’m still in my prime development decade,” you smirk at him.

And it wasn’t just you who was developing.

A loud gasp can be heard along with the shredding of paper as Alena holds up her latest gift, “You actually got me it?”

For such a small gadget, the Barbie Digital Camera cost you $70, the most expensive gift yet, but maybe not the one which will cause the biggest reaction.

“Of course I did! It’s the one thing you kept pointing at in the magazine!”

She giggles with a bright smile, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She launches herself at you, the motherly instinct in you clutching onto your stomach to protect your unborn child, hoping Steve didn’t notice the movement. The surprise would be known in the next half an hour.

“And after you’ve taken your photos, we can connect it to Dad’s computer and see it come to life! How cool is that?”

“Can I take it to school?” she asks, clutching the box in her hands.

“I assume you can! But, just ask Mrs. Critchley before you take it in, okay?”

“Okay!” she smiles, plopping herself back down on the carpet to open the rest of her gifts.

Your hands began to sweat. Alena was all done opening her presents, patiently waiting for you and Steve to unwrap yours.

Steve let you attend to your gifts first. Everything from a brand-new necklace designed with a rose quartz, matching your engagement ring, to the latest Nokia phone, you were thankful for everything he had bought you, praising him with many gentle kisses and warm hugs.

Now, it was Steve’s turn. You specifically told him to leave one present until last, leading him to give you an eyebrow raise and a shrug before simply agreeing, used to your weirdness by now. You got him everything from a new cologne to a new pair of Nike shoes, the soles of his old pair wearing thin from how much he was working over the Christmas holidays.

But, after one final kiss, it was finally time.

“Can I open this now?” Steve jokes, the nerves deeply settling in your stomach. You don’t even know why you were worried, you had stopped using protection in mutual agreement, knowing kids could be a possibility from that result. There was just a voice in your head trying to convince you an awful reaction would occur.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, you can.”

“Hey,” he puts an arm on your shoulder, “Why are you so nervous?”

You lightly chuckle, “You’ll find out once you open the gift.”

Even after all of these years, Steve still wasn’t the smartest. Verbal cues were not his strong suit, but my God could he read body language like a champ.

He gives you a confused look before unwrapping the cream-coloured bow, delicately tearing apart the paper as his eyes immediately notice the ultrasound scan.

He may be oblivious, but he isn’t that oblivious. He has one very similar in his bedside table drawer of his sweet ten-year-old daughter sat next to him.

The tears form at his eyes before he can even recognise them. Small sniffles enter the atmosphere as his hazel eyes make contact with you, “Are you serious?”

And the tears follow suit for you, nodding frantically as he leans across the floor to collect you in his arms, crying into your shoulder.

“How far along?” he mumbles into your shoulder, tears dripping onto the red fabric of your dress.

“Read the card and you’ll find out.”

Steve was too drawn into the ultrasound scan to even notice the card you had gotten him. Releasing from the hug, he keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, picking up the card and carefully opening it, reading the words you had written, the tears increasing as he noticed it was from the perspective of his baby.

“Wha— How? When did you get this done?” he stutters out, still in complete shock of the entire moment.

“Pregnancy test has been in the bathroom trash can for two weeks. I was scared you were going to notice it for a while, but then I remembered it’s you, and you don’t notice anything,” you giggle, Steve not even bothered by the joking insult, too caught up in his own emotions, “And two Thursday’s ago, I didn’t go to work. Went to the hospital and got the scan, and just hung around Starcourt until the time I would normally come home.”

“Well, you fooled me,” he chuckles, leaning in for a kiss which you gladly accept, cupping his cheeks as you smile into it.

“I love you so much, beautiful girl. And I love the baby who is growing inside of you. You’re so strong. Your body is so strong. I just— I can’t wait. I can’t wait to meet them.”

His hand had migrated down to your stomach, gently cradling the unborn child inside of you.

Alena had finally looked up from her Etch-a-Sketch, noticing the tears falling down both yours and Steve’s cheeks, your hands holding tightly onto each side of his head as your foreheads were leant against each other, kneeling on the soft carpet of the living room.

“Mom? Dad? Why are you crying?”

Steve turns around to face his daughter, you looking softly into her eyes, “Because Mom is having a baby, sweetie.”

Steve passes her the ultrasound scan, her face scrunching up in confusion as she points at it, “Why is it just a black blob?”

Steve begins laughing as his head falls onto your shoulder, sweetly rubbing up and down the sides of your waist.

“Because when a baby is first made, it starts out as a black blob and then grows into the full size baby we all know and love,” you explain gently to her.

“Hmm…” she takes in, before asking her next question, “But how did it get there?”

Your eyes widen as Steve’s hands stop on your waist, refusing to lift his head and look at his daughter.

You smile through the awkwardness, remembering that her sex education lessons would start in a matter of months, “You’ll find out soon, baby.”

thank you ever so much for reading!! do you guys want any more pregnancy related fics? i really want to do some research into post-partum for myself, so do you want me to skip straight to that, or tackle other things like morning sickness, gender reveal, baby shower, stuff like that? feel free to let me know!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray @superlegend216

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 months

Text

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (Teaser)

Posting Date: Tuesday, December 19th, 7:00 PM CT

Creative Collaborator: @kithtaehyung FOR THIS AMAZING BANNER!

Genre: Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Length: One Shot

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration!

Estimated WC: 45K (... whoops; this will probably be multiple parts)

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,141

Y/N POV

You should have known better than to trust Namjoon with your dating life.

Yoongi never would have put you in this situation. The more level-headed of your two best friends, Yoongi approaches matters of the heart with the same rationality he does everything else. Namjoon, on the other hand, is a great guy – who is notoriously bad at reading other people.

The number of times you’ve been forced to step in and save him from phone scams is astounding. It’s not his fault, really – Namjoon trusts too easily, which doesn’t serve him well in this world. He’s always willing to give others the benefits of the doubt, which gets him into trouble.

And now you, by extension, having accepted the blind date he proposed.

Mike Davis moved into Namjoon’s building two months ago, and Namjoon has been adamant since the start that you two would hit it off.

“He goes to all the same conventions you do,” he assured you last week on the phone.

“Which conventions?” you asked, squinting hard at the wall. “I know you’re not big into nerd culture, Namjoon, so as an FYI – not all cons are considered equal.”

Namjoon rattled off a few you’d attended, impressing you enough to agree despite the initial disinterest. This agreement may have been spurred by tonight being the three-month anniversary of the worst break-up of your life.

Almost as soon as you sat, you realized your mistake. While you may have reached a point where you don’t cry every time your ex’s name is mentioned, the prospect of dating someone else is an entirely different matter. Getting dressed up felt strange, as did traveling to the restaurant and waiting for Mike at the bar.

The fact that Mike called this place a ‘restaurant’ should have been your first clue, as Hat Trick is most definitely a sports bar – specifically, a hockey bar. Had you known (really, you should have known), you wouldn’t have gone, but you were nervous and trying to make a good impression. Upon arriving, you arranged yourself awkwardly on a sticky bar stool and waited seven minutes for Mike to walk in.

Nearly an hour later, you find yourself regretting coming at all. Mike excused himself two minutes ago for the bathroom and as soon as he left, you sagged with relief.

He’s a nice guy, you suppose. Good looking, with light brown curls and dark eyes. You can see why Namjoon thought he might be good for you – Mike is the exact opposite of your ex in many ways. Constantly frazzled, he arrived late to the bar, only to immediately duck outside because he forgot to pay the parking meter. Jimin was the type to unpack his suitcase immediately after reaching the hotel and brought several chargers in case one of them died.

Once the meter was paid, Mike sat down and immediately launched into his entire life story. You suppose you should have been happy about this, since lack of communication ended your last relationship but instead, found yourself overwhelmed.

Mike finally paused for breath once your drinks arrived, allowing you a moment to answer his questions. The moment you said you ran a pretty popular cosplay TikTok, Mike instantly shifted from arrogant to insecure.

“I can’t believe you came,” he exhaled with a shake of his head. “When Namjoon showed me your picture, I said no way would you go out with me. You’re way too beautiful.”

Somewhat awkward, you laughed. “Don’t try and get me to leave, now, Mike.”

His eyes widened, not catching your sarcasm and it took several moments to get back on track. Everything since has been downhill, so when he excused himself for the bathroom, all you felt was relief.

Digging through your purse, you pull out your phone and swipe to the group chat.

Y/N: Namjoon, WHAT possessed you to set me up with this man [7:46 PM]

Yoongi’s reply comes immediately.

Yoongi: told you it was too soon [7:46 PM]

Namjoon’s ellipses join in.

Namjoon: what! Why? What happened?? Mike didn’t try something on you, did he? [7:47 PM]

Y/N: no, no – nothing like that [7:47 PM]

Y/N: he just keeps saying how *amazing* I am and how he doesn’t know why I’m on this date at all [7:47 PM]

Yoongi: dude [7:48 PM]

Y/N: EXACTLY [7:48 PM]

Before Namjoon can respond, the bartender changes the channel and an all-too-familiar name blares over the speakers. Slowly, you look up, and all thoughts of Mike fade, faced with NHL coverage.

Nope, no – absolutely not.

Leaning over the counter, you lightly tap the bartender. “Hi.” Brightly, you smile. “First off, could I have another glass of white wine? And then, maybe… could you change the channel?”

Glancing around, the guy shakes his head. “Yes, to the wine, but no, the channel,” he says with a shrug. “Half the people in here came to watch the game. Pre-show coverage is part of that.”

With an apologetic nod, he grabs a rag and disappears. Sinking back in your seat, you stare at your hands, clasped tightly together. Your spot at the bar puts you in the unfortunate position of hearing each word the announcers say crystal-clear.

“Well, Josh, what chance do you think the Blackhawks have tonight?”

The silver-haired man beside him bobs his head. “Steve, I’d say their chances are pretty darn good. You’ve seen this team’s early games. Their first line is strong, especially now that Park’s back.”

“Oh, absolutely – Jimin Park has been crucial in the last couple of games. He was sorely missed last season.”

“Ha! You can say that again.”

Trying to hide your wince, you clasp your hands tighter as a fresh glass of wine is set down. “Thanks,” you mutter, downing half in one gulp.

Immediately, your plans for later tonight shift to accommodate another bottle of wine. Movement catches the corner of your eye, and, despite yourself, you watch the montage of star right winger, Jimin Park, tearing his way down the ice. Shamefully, you recognize every shot since, although you broke up in September, you continued to watch every game.

“One of the most talked about moments last year in hockey was the late check on Park by Blues player, Brent Howard,” continues the announcer, Josh. “His helmet came loose when he hit the boards, and he went down hard on the ice. Park suffered a sprained knee and herniated a disc in his neck. A complicated surgery took him for most of the season, only starting to skate with the team again over the summer.”

Hearing the trauma recounted with such callousness, you find yourself gripping your wine glass tighter than before.

“I don’t think anyone ever expected Park to play again,” agrees the other announcer, Steve. “It’s a damned miracle he’s back on the ice – but to return and be this good? Park has always been one of the best right wingers in the league, but I’d say he’s the best offensive player on the ice right now.”

“A bold claim!” laughs Josh. “But I might just agree. Even Jungkook Jeon on the Rangers hasn’t been matching Park in assists.”

“Exactly! I mean, look at the numbers. Last year, the Blackhawks barely made the playoffs and now, they’re first in the Western Conference.”

“Truly amazing, given the nature of his injury last November. I don’t know how familiar you are with herniated discs, Steve, but –”

Mike slides back onto his stool. Grateful for the distraction, you turn fully to face him. Having already lived through the injury once, you have no need to reminisce. Replacing your phone in your purse, you smile gamely at Mike.

“So,” you say, attempting to save the conversation. “Namjoon mentioned you like conventions? What fandoms are you a part of?”

“Oh.” Mike loosely shrugs. “I doubt you’ve heard of any of them.”

At his dismissive tone, you stiffen. Your experience with the male side of fandom is always a toss-up. “Well, there are a lot of them. Any that are more mainstream?”

He considers. “Marvel?”

Stunned, you blink once or twice. Marvel has to be one of the biggest fandoms on the planet, let alone in the country. Even if you weren’t deep in the convention circuit, you’d have heard of Marvel.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think I’ve heard of that.”

“Cool, cool.” Mike nods. “Namjoon said you do cosplay – and showed me your TikTok! You know, you’d make a great Wonder Woman.”

You can practically feel your jaw tighten. “That’s DC, not Marvel. But thanks.”

Silent, you add for nothing. While you love Wonder Woman and have, in fact, cosplayed her many times, men usually only request her for one reason and that’s the skimpy outfit. Whenever you cosplay as circa 2010 Wonder Woman in pants, they’re decidedly less interested. By now, you’ve learned only to pick your characters based on personal interest.

“Have you ever cosplayed?” you ask.

Unbidden, your gaze slides to the TV. Commercial break. Stifling your twinge of disappointment, you refocus on Mike.

“Nah.” His nose wrinkles, and your stomach sinks further. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Hearing your tone, his eyes widen. “I mean, it’s cool for you. I saw your TikToks and you look amazing. I’d just look dumb,” Mike says, attempting a laugh.

Sweetly, you smile. “I don’t know. My ex used to cosplay with me, and no one ever laughed at him.”

Admittedly, this is something of a low blow since your ex-boyfriend is Jimin Park, but either Namjoon didn’t tell him, or Mike doesn’t care. Which – if that’s so, maybe Mike deserves more credit than you gave him.

“Ah.” He nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Have you ever thought about cosplaying as Wonder Woman, though?”

Your smile vanishes. Then again, maybe you’ve given him exactly the right amount of credit.

“I have,” you say. “But more recently, I’ve been cosplaying Dimension 20 characters. It’s kind of niche, but my last character was Sundry Sidney from A Starstruck Odyssey. You know – giant machine gun arm, roller skates and a mechanical eye. Oh, and a ‘fuck erotica ann’ button, of course.”

Mike’s smile freezes. “Why… would you dress like that?”

“Because it’s fun.” Finishing your glass of wine, you toss a few bills on the counter and stand. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Mike, but I think we’d be better off as friends. Don’t you agree?”

Even with the answer right there in the question, still he looks flummoxed.

“I…”

“Or acquaintances,” you add, pulling on your pea coat. “Or nothing at all. Whatever you prefer.”

Slinging your purse on your shoulder, you wave at the bartender and start to leave. You only make it several steps before Mike mutters something beneath his breath – loud enough that you hear.

“Stupid,” he mutters. “This is why you don’t date women like her, Mike.”

You come to a stop. Really, you should keep going. Common sense – and Namjoon’s HOA – depend on you being the bigger person and walking out. But your therapist has said you need to work on communicating, even when the message is something the other person won’t like.

Turning around, you tap Mike on the shoulder.

He glances upward, surprised – and then reddens, realizing you heard.

“Yep, I heard,” you say shortly, retracting your hand. “Was your muttering supposed to be secret?”

Mike opens, then closes his mouth, like a fish.

“What did you mean, ‘women like me?’” you demand, folding your arms. “Ones with self-respect? Or hobbies? Women who know more about a subject than you do?”

Behind the counter, the bartender snort-laughs, rising in your esteem despite the whole TV channel thing.

Mike stares at you, stunned. He seems to grow a pair in that moment though, straightening to face you on his stool. “Women with sticks up their asses,” he blurt.

Stifling an eye roll, you lean closer. “Listen, Mike,” you say, placing one hand on the counter. “If you think you can hurt my feelings – think again. Someone broke my heart three months ago, so nothing you say now will remotely compare. Do you really want to know why women like me won’t date you?”

The furrow between his brows deepens, and you take this as a sign to continue. Leaning even closer, you lower your voice.

“It’s because you’re insecure,” you say softly. “Giving someone a compliment and putting yourself down in the same sentence isn’t nice, it’s awkward. Not to mention, you’re sexist,” you add, watching him stiffen. “Telling me – a two-time Comic Con trivia champion – that I wouldn’t know Marvel is wild. Oh, and you’re a snob. Tabletop games are awesome, and cosplay is fun. Have a good night – I paid for your drink.”

With that, you turn around and march out the door to a smattering of applause from your new favorite bartender.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin au #bts au

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