FORGET ABOUT SMUT. PLEASE I AM TIRED OF IT. I NEED ANGST. I NEED GUT WRENCHING EMOTIONAL TURMOIL THAT MAKES ME SICK TO MY STOMACH. I NEED TO BAWL JUST FROM THINKING ABOUT IT.
when you read the most beautifully written fic of your favourite character and you check for a second part and realize they haven’t posted in 3 years.. (you are not getting that second part)
I have this Falcon and the Winter Soldier fic idea that I'll never finish where Spider-Man (post NWH) is called upon for help against the super soldiers because he's local and also they know he's stronger than any of the super soldiers. And so they ask the vigilante but don't remember who he is and are like "if you want to go with us, you'll be on the plane" And so Peter goes and-
Peter looked up from under his hood. He smiled weakly and gave a little finger wave.
“Hi.”
“Oh, hell no,” Sam said. He leaned forward. “How old are you? Are you even legally allowed to leave the country without an adult?”
Peter frowned. “I’m- I’m eighteen?”
Bucky raised his eyebrows. “That shouldn’t sound like a question.”
Peter frowned.
Sam was still shaking his head. “No. Nuh-uh. Get up. Get off the plane, kid. This is not happening.”
“You asked me to come!” Peter whispered loudly.
“Before I knew you were a child,” Sam loudly whispered right back.
Bucky rolled his eyes. He shoved past Sam and took the middle seat. “Will you calm down and take a seat?”
“You cannot be okay with this!” He gestured to Peter.
Bucky shrugged. “Steve wasn’t even eighteen the first time he applied to join the war. Stupid kids are stupid kids. At least he can fight. Steve got winded going up the stairs to our apartment.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god.” With a heavy sigh, Sam sat down in the aisle seat. He leaned around Bucky to Peter. “How old are you?” he asked again.
“Eighteen,” Peter said with far more confidence that time.
“So that made you, what? Fourteen in Berlin? Stark kidnapped you?”
“I mean, that’s a pretty strong word.”
“But the right one,” Bucky finished with a nod.
Peter tilted his head and shrugged. “Kind of? In his defense, we were supposed to be talking. You guys threw the first punch.”
Sam looked like he wanted to argue that point but Bucky nodded in agreement. “Steve can’t back down from a fight. It’s a problem.”
“Hey, is he really living on the moon?”
Sam sighed loudly.
Peter leaned forward so he could see both Sam and Bucky. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”
Sam nodded. “Nice to meet you, Peter,” he responded dully.
“Everything okay over here?” a flight attendant asked as she appeared by their row.
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter replied sweetly. “My dads are just nervous fliers.”
Sam and Bucky turned deadly glares on the teenager.
The attendant smiled indulgently at Peter. “I’ll bring some water in a bit. We’re about to take off, so just make sure you’re all buckled up.”
“Will do, thank you!” He turned his happy smile on the two glaring men beside him. “This’ll be fun.”
platonic yuki tsunoda x gasly!reader + yuki tsunoda x pierre gasly
REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no
WORD COUNT: 3.1k
SYNOPSIS: having recently gotten married to the love of your life, it wasn’t surprising that your parents were asking for grandchildren. and while pierre and yourself were open to the idea of having a baby, neither of you was expecting to have one so soon. much less in the form of a 5’2 japanese driver. OR the four times you and pierre baby the hell out of yuki and call him your son, and the one time yuki caves and calls you his parents.
WARNINGS: absolute fluff, soooo yuki centric and i am not sorry at all, yuki being the babiest baby that ever babied, pierre and reader being the best parents ever, i literally cried writing the end of this so uh be prepared for tears?
six months ago, if asked, you would have said that you and pierre were happy to roll with life’s punches and that if a baby was one of those punches, you would gladly accept it. now, you’d argue that you and pierre were already parents, and your baby was none other than pierre’s teammate, yuki tsunoda.
in the year working up to your wedding with the frenchman, you had heard pierre gush about his teammate and how cute he was every time they were in the same vicinity.
it was always, “mon amour, today, yuki was eating a fruit cup for a snack and he looked like a little baby. his cheeks were all puffed up with the fruits. it was adorable, i will send you the picture i took,” or, “y/n, you will not believe what yuki said today! we were filming for youtube, and one of the questions was how do dogs bark in both french and japanese, right? oh, it was so funny, you have to watch it when it comes out. you will see what i mean.”
and as much as your fiance had talked about the young japanese boy, it wasn’t until your wedding that you properly met him, having only said a quick hi, or waved, as you saw him around the paddock. you had been a busy woman, having been left to deal with most of the wedding preparations while pierre drove his little racecar around the track.
pierre had been absolutely ecstatic to properly acquaint the two of you together. just as yuki had been the subject of your conversations with pierre, you had been the subject of theirs. pierre would ramble for hours about some date night the two of you shared years ago, or how he knew he wanted to marry you when you wiped his face with your napkin after your second date.
yeah, you had always been a nurturing person. being the oldest in your family, you were used to looking after people. it was as if second nature to you. in friend groups, you were always the mom friend, and if anyone ever needed something, it was more than likely you were carrying it in your bag.
so when you finally got to properly meet yuki at your wedding and interact with him, it wasn’t a surprise that, much like your husband, you had immediately taken to the boy, finding his every action plain adorable.
the days of pierre calling you to talk about yuki were now replaced with you calling pierre to ask him to give the phone to yuki because he wasn’t replying to the texts you sent him. instead of cuddling up to pierre and refusing to let go on the mornings he would need to go to work, you were now asking to join pierre on his trips to alpha tauri’s headquarters, hoping to make a pitstop at yuki’s place to spend some time with the boy.
anyone and everyone on the grid could tell that the gasly couple had basically adopted yuki. your love for the boy had reached as far as yuki’s own family, who had reached out to the two of you, sending well wishes and gratitude for caring for their boy. to pierre, that meant that yuki’s parents had passed on the torch to himself and his wife, dubbing the two of you as yuki’s grid parents.
— one
the first time you joined pierre for a grand prix as his wife had been the first race of the season, your wedding having occurred during the off-season.
the moment you stepped foot onto the paddock, you tugged pierre towards the alpha tauri motorhome, on the hunt for a certain japanese boy. your husband had laughed at your excitement but didn’t say anything, happy to help you reunite with the younger driver.
“yuki!” the second you saw him, you were running as fast as you could. the driver’s eyes widened at the sight of your figure rushing at him at an alarming pace, pushing off from where he had been leaning against the motorhome.
you wrapped your arms around yuki’s neck, squeezing him as tight as you possibly could. you had not seen yuki since the pre-testing in spain, which hadn’t been too long ago, but you had missed the shy boy greatly.
from a few feet away, pierre couldn’t help but smile as he watched yuki’s expression of shock turn into one of embarrassment. their eyes met and pierre let out a loud laugh at the slight fear in yuki’s eyes. having just barely gotten used to pierre’s blatant and obvious affection towards himself, yuki had struggled to not shy away from the new addition of yours.
“touch is her main love language,” pierre had explained to him at his wedding, watching the dark-haired boy blush a bright red after you gave him a hug and a soft smile, “and hugs are her favourite way to express it.”
in a way, yuki was, of course, honoured to have been on the receiving end of your love. but with your love language being touch, and his being, well, he had no idea what his love language was, he couldn’t help but dread when your arms reached out for him.
or at least, that’s what he told himself when his heart fluttered, and warmth spread in his chest.
“my son, oh how i’ve missed you these past few weeks.” you pulled away from yuki with a small pout. your eyes wandered to his hair, your hand automatically moving to fix the hair that had moved during your one-sided hug.
yuki gave you a small smile, taking a step back when your hands dropped, “hello, y/n, it’s nice to see you again!”
pierre joined the two of you, hand slapping down lightly on his teammate’s shoulder before pulling him into a side hug, “salut, mon fils.” hello, my son.
a cheeky smile was plastered on your husband’s face when he noticed the cameras that were turned your way. he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you to the other side of his body, “it’s a family reunion!” he yelled out to the photographers, waving with the hand resting on top of yuki’s shoulder.
the colour of yuki’s face could rival that of charles’ ferrari. in fact, you and pierre would argue that maybe yuki’s cheeks were even redder than the monégasque’s car.
he brought his hands up to cover his red face, “i am not your son.”
— two
yuki simultaneously loved and hated when you came to race weekends. he loved your presence, don’t get him wrong, and pierre always performed a little better with his wife watching him from the garage, which was great for the team, but, he hated–despised, even–when the two gaslys would pair up to shower him with both attention and affection.
if it wasn’t you nagging at him to eat before he began his media duties on thursday morning, then it was pierre, constantly ruffling his hair and squishing his face, wedding band always ice cold against his cheek.
if your love language was touch, then pierre’s was touch but in the most annoying way possible. the media always ate it up, though.
currently, yuki had been sitting at a table in the alpha tauri motorhome, one hand scrolling through his instagram’s explorer page, the other stabbing blindly at the salad he was having for lunch.
it all happened so fast. one second, he was holding his phone. the next, his phone had been replaced with a water bottle. and there you are, making yourself comfy in the seat across from him, his phone sat snug in your hand.
“you need to stay hydrated, kiki,” you frowned at the boy across from you, “especially in this weather, i don’t want you dehydrated while you’re driving.”
kiki. you had started calling him that not long after the first grand prix of the season. you’d been testing out nicknames for him, and for some reason, of all the nicknames possible, kiki had been the one to stick.
“i won’t be dehydrated, y/n,” yuki put the bottle onto the table, only for it to be placed in his hand again, this time by pierre.
“i’ve already had this argument with her,” pierre sat down next to yuki, “and lost.”
in his own hands were two bottles of water, one of which he slid towards you across the table. you smiled, “you can’t win against me, mon coeur.”
yuki sighed, ultimately deciding not to argue on this. he twisted the bottle cap, faltering slightly when it wouldn’t open. his eyes flitted up to you, looking to see if you noticed. you hadn’t.
when he confirmed that your eyes were focused on pierre, his returning the favour, he turned back to the bottle in his hand. he gripped it a bit harder this time, twisting a bit more aggressively this time. still, the cap did not budge.
before he could try again, a hand reached out–pierre’s–and grabbed the bottle out of his hands. in one swift motion, the bottle was uncapped. yuki stared at the bottle for a second, then pierre, who looked like he hadn’t even batted an eye, still looking at you and listening to whatever you had been talking about.
realizing the bottle hadn’t been taken back, pierre looked at yuki, who was now staring back at the bottle in disbelief. pierre gestured the bottle forward, breaking yuki’s glare.
the younger boy reached for the bottle, “i loosened it for you.”
“sure, you did.” pierre patted yuki on the back, the smile wide on his face.
“i swear i did!” yuki straightened up in his seat.
“i don’t see a lot of drinking, kiki.” your eyes narrowed at yuki who instantly slouched in his seat, finally taking a sip of his water.
later, yuki found himself standing next to pierre at the back of the garage, balaclava in his hand, “...thanks,” he looked at pierre, “...for the water bottle earlier.”
pierre placed his helmet on his head, sliding the visor up. with a slap on the back, pierre was off, “anything for my son.”
— three
okay, so maybe pierre wasn’t the only one who drove better whenever you visited the paddock. so far, every race you had been to had lead to both alpha tauri drivers finishing in the points.
this weekend felt different, though. better than all of the other race weekends. you had been extra excited for this race, and extremely confident that both drivers would get good results, maybe even a win.
“you’ve got quite the pep in your step, mon coeur,” pierre wrapped his arm around your waist, lips pressing against your temple in a quick kiss, “what did our lovely yuki do now?”
yuki, who had been standing not too far from the two of you, looked up at the sound of his name, “did you call for me?”
you gave him a smile, “no, you’re good, ki.”
he nodded, going back to scrolling his phone.
pierre looked down at you, squeezing your waist lightly, “well, if it’s not yuki, what is it?”
you smiled at him, hands overlapping his, “call it a mother’s intuition.”
pierre felt like he was back in his ice bath. he turned to face you, “you’re serious?”
your eyes watered slightly, and you nodded, “i went to the doctor’s office before i flew out and they confirmed it there.”
pierre’s eyes shined with unshed tears, the expression on his face so vulnerable and sweet, “we’re going to have a baby?”
a tear slipped down your face, “yes, mon amour,” you moved his hand from your waist and to your belly, “they’re right here.”
pierre rested his forehead against yours, tears slipping from behind his closed eyes. when he opened them again, he smiled widely, “thank you, ange. i’ll win this race for you. both of you.”
after a sweet kiss, pierre was whisked away, helmet over his head, as he settled into his car. he was going to be a father.
the lights went out in paul richard, and the checkered flag was pulled out in what felt like a blink of an eye. the alpha tauri garage was cheering the loudest they had in the entire season.
he had done it. they had both done it.
pierre had won the france grand prix, just like he said he would. and yuki came in third, first podium of his formula one career.
you watched your two boys from the crowd below, throwing a small nod to pierre when he looked down at you with a questioning look.
and there, on that podium that the two shared, pierre looked at yuki and smiled, “you’re gonna be a big brother, yuki.”
— four
it’s safe to say that after pierre’s reveal, yuki was much more lenient and willing to take part in your little family act. although he would never reveal it to either of you. he didn’t need to, anyway. the two of you had noticed the second yuki smiled instead of refusing that he was their child.
it was now summer vacation, and your bump had only just started showing. something that pierre could not stop gushing about to both yuki and charles, who had joined the two of you on your trip to greece.
both men had shrugged it off, alas, no one knew your body as well as pierre, and if he said you were showing, then good for you. but yuki was a lot more attentive to you, like you had been to him ever since your wedding with his teammate.
thirsty? yuki was there with a water bottle, reminiscent of all those months ago when you had gotten one for him.
hungry? yuki was more than happy to go get you something from that french bakery across the street, knowing full well that he could not pronounce a single word on their menu.
you’d been eternally grateful for yuki, constantly telling him such when he would help you out. his cheeks would redden but the smile on his face would never slip. he was more than happy to return the kindness you had shown him.
currently, the five of you–charles, his girlfriend, yuki, pierre and yourself–were sitting in a dimly lit restaurant, waiting for your food to arrive.
you sat in between the two alpha tauri drivers, smiling and laughing at the banter between your husband and yuki.
when the whole grid parents situation had started, charles had found it absolutely hilarious that pierre was treating a man younger than him by only four years like his adopted son. but as the months went by, and as charles watched the three of you interact from across the table, he couldn’t help but notice the way yuki’s eyes shined with awe and admiration, and most of all, respect, as he stared at the two of you.
“they look like a real family, don’t they?” charles’ attention was drawn by his girlfriend.
he hummed, “yuki might not admit it, but i can see how much he looks up to pierre. to y/n, too.”
and it was true. over the last few years, yuki had seen pierre go from just another driver, to a man in love, to one who was married, and now, a man who was ready to be a father.
although not much younger than you or pierre, yuki had a lot to learn, and he couldn’t have been more grateful to have both pierre gasly and y/n gasly as his role models and safety net.
that night, as he watched pierre fuss over whether or not you were eating enough red meat for the baby, yuki was sure that you and pierre would be the best parents in the world.
— + one
the atmosphere was tense, the garage silent as they watched the alpha tauri car lead the race.
“he’s gonna do it,” your fingers messed with the pendant around your neck, “he’s really gonna do it.”
two arms found their way around you, hands flat against your visible bump, “he is.”
you dropped your necklace, opting to grip your husband’s hands as you listened to the radio.
“okay, yuki. this pace is really, really good. you’ve got three more laps. push, push.”
“okay.” his response was short. understandable, he couldn’t afford to lose focus. not now.
“two laps left.”
the pit board lit up in response, indicating that he heard them.
another lap. this was it, the final lap. you squeezed pierre’s hands tightly. all of this stress couldn’t be good for the baby but in this moment, you couldn’t keep yourself from watching.
it felt like hours, watching his car turn the final corner. the team running to congratulate yuki’s position. the cheers filled the garage once more, just as loud as the ones in france.
“that is p1, yuki. p1. congratulations, kid, you won the race.”
you didn’t realize you were crying until pierre wiped the tears streaming down your face. you looked at your husband with blurry eyes, “he did it, pierre.”
“we always knew he could.”
as you listened to yuki’s excited cheers, you couldn’t help but cry some more.
he had done it.
his first win in formula one.
after what had felt like the longest race of his life, the celebrations couldn’t have come faster. as he stood on the top step, japanese anthem playing in the background, his eyes found you and pierre standing a bit away from the crowd, staring up at him proudly.
he had done it.
he had made them proud.
the reporter moved on to the next question, “and do you think your relationship with your team and teammate has played a role in where you are today?”
“yeah, of course.” yuki smiled, “the alpha tauri has been supporting me for such a long time and it feels really good to win today. kind of like a sign to show that their effort has paid off. i only wish that i could have had pierre finish the race with me.”
“and how is your relationship with pierre?”
yuki chuckled, lightly shaking his head, “pierre has been the best teammate a driver could ask for. he and his wife call themselves my grid parents, and you know what? they really are. they’ve been supporting me the most this year, right up there with my actual parents.”
“i couldn’t have done this without them. my grid family.”
Summary: I’m really childish sometimes, just no excuse. I don’t like parody movies so I’ve never seen Not Another Teen Movie, but an interview with Chris popped up in my YT recs. and it inspired this. Childish. Also wrote this in 15 minutes, so please excuse any errors, I’m supposed to be studying right now so it will get fixed eventually\
Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work.
~~~~
Even though Chris hates watching his own movies, he had acted a tiny bit (a lot) offended when you mentioned that you had only seen him in the avengers and that one on Netflix. He couldn’t decide what was worse the fact that you couldn’t remember the name of the movie or that fact that you had only recently watched it. So, you told him that you would have a movie day to catch up on his entire filmography. You insisted that he watch them with you to give running commentary, tell you about the behind the scenes stuff. You went out to get snacks and drinks for the day long event while he got the movies ready.
“How am I supposed to tell her there was a banana in my butt?”
You were holding the bags of snacks, about to walk into the living room to greet him when you heard him talking on the phone. You stop at those words, slowly backing up until you were in the hallway, just out of sight and set the bags down.
So many thoughts were racing in your head, how far up did the banana go, how many times, was it one banana, why a banana, was it peeled, does that matter. Your thoughts interrupted when he speaks again.
“I mean I was young, I did what I had to” he groans, moving to lay across the green couch.
Actually, that’s dumb, of course it wasn’t peeled, it wouldn’t go up otherwise.
“It was a job and I needed the money”
Obviously. I wonder if Scott knows about this. No, he would have told me.
“I earned my stripes and look where I am now”
Well I would hope so if you’re out here sticking fruit up your butt.
“You know when It came out, I couldn’t even touch a banana for months without someone saying something”
You look over your shoulder, the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. You count two bananas, there were three this morning.
I hope he just ate the banana.
“It was going to come up eventually”
I hope he’s not planning on telling me this because he wants me to stick a banana up his butt. Or up my butt.
You snort at that last though, freezing when you hear, “Y/N”.
You peek around the corner, “Heeeey, Chris “giggling as you hold on to the wall.
“How much did you hear” he asks, tossing the phone on the table.
“Not much, I try to not eavesdrop, you know that’s not an appealing trait” winking at him before sliding to the floor as you laugh.
He groans as he stands up.
You manage to gasp out, “I’m just going to split, I need to peel out of here”.
“Ha Ha ” he mocks as he picks you off the floor, “Remember this was your idea”.
What did I do, did I talk about butt stuff in my sleep? Is that why he wants to tell me this?
He places you on the couch and turns on the tv before laying down
“Just remember I was young”. He puts his head in your lap as you continue to giggle and make puns.
~~~~
Ninety minutes later, you’re on the phone with Scott. “How did I not know about this”. Ignoring Chris whining on the couch. “Yes, we should make shirts for his birthday”
“I will kill both of you” his voice muffled as he holds a pillow on his face.
You move the pillow, placing a kiss on his lips. “Babe, you know I’m bananas about you”.
Ignoring his glare, you put the pillow back and continue talking with Scott, “Yes that would be perfect, add that with the shield”
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