#And he's started trying to ambush me in the kitchen

[teaboot]

Is Ollie doing alright?

Yes

[helaintoloki]

A Favor

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: lots of pining, eventual fluff, fake dating

notes: had to try my hand at the fake dating trope

summary: you pretend to be Bucky’s girlfriend in order to help his campaign despite your very real feelings for him

“You want me to what?”

Sam can’t hold back his laughter when you look at Bucky like he’s grown a second head after processing the question he has asked you. The man in question stands there with an unamused scowl and a growing sense of embarrassment while waiting for his friend to regain his composure.

“Are you finished?” He snarks sharply, grunting in annoyance when Sam heartily claps his back in his response.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he breathes after wiping away a tear, “go ahead and ask her again.”

“I need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” Bucky mutters while refusing to meet your gaze, wishing the floor of your home would simply open up and swallow him whole so that he’d be saved from the humiliation.

“You realize that’s a crazy thing to ask, right?” You retort from your place behind the kitchen island. When you invited the two men over for dinner you hadn’t anticipated being ambushed like this, and you were starting to regret ever getting yourself mixed up with the two heroes.

“I know it is, but Valentina says if I want votes I need to make myself more relatable. Some people still have a hard time separating me from the Winter Soldier, but if they can see me as a normal man with a loving partner they might change their minds.”

“And why can’t Sam be the loving partner?” You rebuff, prompting him to immediately raise his hands in protest.

“Nuh uh, baby. Are you forgetting I’m Captain America? I’m too busy to be playing house with Mr. Congeniality over here.”

“Y/n, you’re the only person that can do this,” Bucky insists, eyes pleading for you to understand, “it would be more believable if it was you since we’re already close.”

“Maybe too damn close,” Sam murmurs under his breath, but both you and Bucky choose to ignore his comment.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, still a bit hesitant to put yourself through a fake relationship, “it feels a bit scummy lying to voters like that.”

“Politicians lie all the time,” Bucky tries to justify, but it’s not very effective in convincing you. “Look, this is something that’s important for me to do, and I will owe you for the rest of my life if you help me. It will only be until the votes are in, and then we can go back to normal.”

Sighing, you let your hands fall onto the counter and gaze thoughtfully at the marble surface as you weigh your options. It really couldn’t be that bad, could it? You’re already fond of Bucky as a friend, so it wouldn’t be so hard to pretend to be in love with him for a few months. What was the harm?

You look up and meet his expectant gaze, and it’s hard not to say yes when the desperation is clear in his eyes. Bucky has always been good at getting you to fold, and this time is no different.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” you finally say, and the grin that spreads across his face almost feels rewarding. He immediately pulls you into his arms for a bone crushing hug and thanks you profusely, but his gratitude falls on deaf ears as you make eye contact with Sam over his shoulder.

The man says nothing, but he doesn’t have to when the mischievous smile on his face speaks for itself. You’ve gotten yourself into deep shit and he knows it.

You just hope you can keep up the facade without revealing how you truly feel.

~~~

Your arrangement with Bucky is simple.

While in public you are to act as in love with him as possible. You hold hands, share innocent pecks, look adoringly into each other’s eyes, and act as if your relationship isn’t a complete sham. When telling stories about each other you make sure to include some bits of truth to make it more believable and easier to remember when prompted. Your arrangement also includes public appearances to important social events, and that’s how you find yourself in your current predicament.

You wouldn’t consider yourself the most extroverted person out there, so you felt extremely out of your element as you donned the nicest dress you owned and accompanied Bucky to a cocktail party hosted by the local mayor. All eyes had been on you the moment you’d walked through the door on his metal arm, and you weren’t sure if you could handle getting this type of attention. This was only your first public appearance as his girlfriend and already were you starting to feel the pressure.

“You doing okay?” Bucky murmurs into your ear before flashing a smile to nearby onlookers.

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” you answer honestly, prompting a genuine chuckle to leave his lips.

“Trust me, it gets easier being in the spotlight after a while.”

You sincerely doubt that, but you don’t get a chance to argue as you’re immediately swarmed by a group of journalists eager to get their questions answered. The lights of their cameras are blinding, and you feel like you’ve been tossed into the lion’s den as they immediately bombard you both with questions.

“Mr. Barnes, is it true you’re running for a position in congress?”

“It is,” he affirms with an easy smile before reciting the practiced lines Valentina had vehemently rehearsed with him. “I have great hopes for this election.”

“Mr. Barnes, may I ask who you have with you tonight?”

“This beautiful woman is my wonderful girlfriend,” Bucky replies while simultaneously pulling you closer to his side. “Y/n has been nothing but supportive of my campaign, and it’s with her support that I’ve found the courage to run.”

“Do you have anything to say to those who doubt Mr. Barnes’s capability to serve in congress?” A woman asks before shoving a microphone in your face. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights as all the focus turns to you, and it takes you a moment to compose yourself before finally willing yourself to answer.

“I think…” you start off with a nervous smile, mind racing as you struggle to come up with the perfect response. Bucky shoots you a subtle look, reminding you of what he’d advised you in the car before you’d arrived. ‘Just be honest.’ “I know that my James is a good man, a strong man who cares deeply for those around him. The American people can put their faith in someone like Bucky because despite all that he has been through, he has never once given up on himself or the people that love him. I have no doubt in my mind that Bucky could help our government for the better.”

More questions are thrown your way that you are happy to answer, but this causes you to miss the clear adoration in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you carry yourself so eloquently in front of all these people. You meant every single word you said, and so had he.

Unbeknownst to either of you, the lines between reality and fiction were already starting to blur when it came to your make believe relationship.

~~~

“So how did you two meet?”

You’re taking part in yet another press junket arranged by Valentina to help the public see Bucky’s humility and make your relationship seem more genuine. This is your third interview of the day, and all you want is to go home so you can put on your coziest pajamas and enjoy a pizza from the comfort of your couch. Public appearances are draining, but Bucky promises you that after this week you won’t be expected to appear on camera as frequently. You’re holding him to that promise because otherwise you might lose your sanity, and Bucky knows how scary you can be when provoked.

“Well, after the Thanos situation had ended and the dust settled, I moved into a new apartment for a fresh start,” Bucky explains truthfully before turning to you with a tender smile. “What I didn’t expect after moving in was to have the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen standing at my door with a plate of cookies to welcome me into the building. I think I thought about her smile for an entire week before finally working up the courage to thank her and invite her over for dinner.”

Though the story Bucky relays to the cameras is mostly true, you’re honestly stunned by the way he chooses to describe you. He must be really desperate for viewers to believe he’s a man in love with the way he speaks as if Cupid’s arrow had struck him the day you two met. You find yourself shifting almost nervously in your seat listening to him talk about how wonderful you are, and you can almost feel your heart trying to escape your ribcage. You know he means none of this, so why does your stomach flip every time he mentions how beautiful you are or how enamored he is with you?

“Would you say your experience was similar?” The interviewer asks, and it takes you a moment to realize they’re talking to you now. You dotingly place a hand on Bucky’s knee then gaze into his eyes with nothing but love and are surprised to see him already looking at you that way.

“From the moment I first introduced myself to James I knew he was different from anyone I’d ever met before. I think I was taken by his eyes when I first saw him, and I still sometimes find myself admiring them when I think he’s not paying attention.”

Though he doesn’t know it, your words are completely true. You could spend hours staring into his eyes and admiring the way they light up when he laughs or smiles. You have it bad for Bucky, really bad, and yet you’ve kept it to yourself throughout the course of your friendship. Despite Sam’s insistence to tell him the truth, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. You love him too much to risk losing his friendship, so you’d made peace with the fact that you’d never be more than just a companion a long time ago. You thought you could survive being his fake girlfriend, but with each day that passes it gets harder and harder not to fall into the fantasy.

“You doing okay?” He asks you after the night is over and you’re free to be yourself in the safety of his car. You’d been quiet ever since leaving the press junket, and Bucky knew you well enough to detect when your mind was becoming overrun.

“I think I’m just tired,” you answer truthfully, “it’s hard to keep up the facade sometimes.”

“I get what you mean,” he chuckles, prompting you to frown. You don’t think he does get what you mean or understand how suffocating it is to act as if your adoration and affection are just for show. “We just have one more event to attend and then we can go back to being friends.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You swallow nervously, opening your mouth only to shut it as you hold back the words you desperately wish to say. You don’t want to complicate things and ruin all of his hard work, it would be selfish of you to muck it up now when he’s so close to the finish line. So instead, you look to him with a halfhearted smile and suggest, “You want to pick up a pizza on the way home?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~

You’re grateful for the fact that the last public event on your itinerary is a birthday party for your very own Captain America. All of the focus is on Sam, and the political journalists are much more interested in his relationship with Bucky than yours. You can breathe without having to worry about being perceived or disturbed, and you don’t mind being old news in the slightest.

Sam finds you outside the banquet hall in the garden gazebo staring contemplatively at the sky a few hours into the party, and he joins you with glasses of champagne in hand.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he notes with a kind smile before handing you your glass. “I’ve been dying to have a real human conversation all night, but these reporters are relentless.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you joke thoughtfully before taking a sip of the drink. You don’t particularly like champagne, but you appreciate the way the alcohol helps settle your nerves.

“You doing okay?” Sam prompts, genuine concern etched on his features. You know what he’s getting at, and you know he’s aware of just how hard this has all been on you. Sam had been able to shake you down into confessing your feelings for Bucky two years ago after noting your jealousy over the fact that he’d been on a date. He teased you relentlessly for having a crush on the Winter Soldier, but it was all in good faith. Sam had always rooted for you two, but neither of you seemed capable of ever making a move. It was exhausting to watch his two closest friends blindly pine after one another, but he knew better than to intervene and instead chose to be a supportive shoulder for you to lean on.

“After today I’m back to being just a friend,” you state with a wry smile, “and it’s back to square one.”

“You know it would be easier to just tell him how you feel instead of torturing yourself, right?”

“I know,” you sigh pathetically, swirling the remaining champagne around in your glass.

“So why don’t you? I know you never believe me when I say this, but I know for a fact he feels the same way about you. You’re both just too scared of rejection to admit it so you never even try to make a move.”

“I’m not a hero or a politician, and I don’t belong in your world. It’s by pure chance I ended up becoming part of your little team, so I don’t think I’m what Bucky needs.”

“Come on, y/n/n, give yourself a little credit,” Sam comforts while gently nudging your side with his elbow. “You’re an amazing woman with a big heart, and while Bucky may be stupid, he’s definitely not stupid enough to be blind to the fact.”

Laughing softly at Sam’s ability to seamlessly slide in an insult at Bucky’s expense, you nudge him back and say, “Thanks, Sam. You always know just what to say.”

“Trying to steal my girl, Wilson?” A third voice interjects, both of you turning to see Bucky approaching the gazebo with an amused smile.

“Not this time, Barnes,” Sam shoots back playfully before giving you a quick squeeze to his side. “I’ll leave you two alone, but be back inside within the next half hour for cake.”

“You got it, Cap,” you affirm with a salute while Bucky takes his place beside you.

“You ran off on me,” he points out in mock hurt.

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt the love fest you and Sam were putting on for the reporters,” you jest only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You’re hilarious.”

You smile and return your gaze back to the garden, enjoying the silence and the comfort Bucky’s presence brings you. Despite the aching longing that settles in the pit of your stomach every time you’re around him, you appreciate his company. You’d stay his platonic friend forever if it meant always getting to keep him close like this without the risk of losing him.

“You look beautiful,” he says suddenly to break the silence, prompting you to look at him surprise.

“Thanks, but… you know you don’t have to say stuff like that when the cameras aren’t around.”

“I know,” Bucky reiterates softly while taking your hand in his own, “and I don’t need them around to tell you that.”

Your stomach does a flip, but you ignore the racing of your heart and let out a quiet laugh before asking him if he’s had too much to drink. His smile drops for a moment as he falters, but you watch with piqued interest when he lets out a quiet sigh and shifts so that the space between you lessens.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he says with a repentant frown, looking down at your intertwined hands contemplatively. You swallow nervously and are unsure of where this conversation could be heading, but it seems like it’s serious.

“What is it, Bucky?”

“I didn’t ask you to be my fake girlfriend because it would be easier to pretend with you. I asked because… well, I knew that I wouldn’t have to convince everyone of something that was already true.”

The air feels like it’s buzzing around you while you process his words; you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing, and a part of you is convinced that maybe you’re just misunderstanding him, but the look of complete love and yearning on his face only solidifies the truth in his words.

“So you’re saying you mean it when you tell those reporters that you love me?” You utter in quiet surprise, eyes sparkling under the moonlight when you meet his gaze. “And that I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

“Every single word,” he murmurs softly, metal hand coming to rest on your cheek. “I have loved every minute of being your boyfriend, and I don’t want that to end after my campaign is up. I want us to be the real deal, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip to hold back a giddy smile and nearly melt into his touch when he brings your face closer to his own so that your noses brush together. He hesitates for only a moment before finally closing the space between you both and kissing you sweetly. Your arms find their way around his neck as he pulls you impossibly close against him and encapsulates you in his warmth. Underneath the moonlight in the garden gazebo, you and Bucky share your first real kiss.

You feel dazed when you finally break apart, your heart beating a mile a minute and only increasing when Bucky flashes you a grin.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he confesses earnestly before stealing another kiss. “I’m sorry it took me this long to finally tell you.”

“I would have waited forever,” you admit sheepishly, effectively outing yourself as a lovesick fool. You allow yourself to rest your head upon his chest while his arms move to wrap around your figure and encase you against him. The music from inside quietly drifts into the garden, and you hum in contentment as Bucky slowly sways you back and forth.

You know if you don’t move now you’ll miss the cake, but there isn’t a single ounce of your spirit that wishes to leave from this spot. Bucky is finally yours, and you can finally be honest about your feelings with the man you’ve been hopelessly in love with for years.

It seems your only worry now will be having to explain to Sam why you missed his cake cutting.

[gojonanami]

“ A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME ”

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

summary: you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom.

warnings: 18+ suggestive, fluff, comfort, some angst, implications of the shinjuku showdown arc, implied gojo is no longer a sorcerer, gojo is your househusband, taking a bath together, taking care of him, copium really, satoru being a silly man

w/c: 1,184

“I’m home!”

You call into your home, the clatter of your keys and shoes as you shedded the things that chained you to the outside to submerge yourself in your oasis and into his arms. But as you got no reply, you stepped into your living room, scanning over the kitchen, to find no one.

Now where was your home?

“Satoru?” you called, heart skipping a slight beat, he was always waiting for you when you got home, usually on the couch or maybe in the kitchen the clank of the knife as he chopped away. Or even the many times that he was waiting by the door to only ambush you with kisses. But this time, nothing.

You rounded the corner to the hallway and peeked into your bedroom to find him asleep. You crept closer, careful not to wake him, and yup, he was fast asleep. His pretty snow white lashes resting against his cheeks, his chest slowly rising and falling as the soft sounds of his breaths parted his lovely lips.

You could watch him sleep for hours. You knew he never did enough of it before, and you’d argue he still didn’t do enough of it now. He always said he was fine sleeping 6 hours since it was twice as much as he usually got — and now he was working at home, so he could be ease.

But even so, you know he needed more.

As if he senses your thought, he stirs, starry blue eyes finding yours as he flutters sleep from his gaze, “sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, voice still beautifully raspy from sleep, “when did you get home?” He’s shifting to get up, but you use gentle hands to ease him back, “I haven’t started on dinner yet, sweets—“

“I got it, Toru,” you’re running your fingers through his hair, “just rest, baby,” and a protest is already on his lips, “let me guess what you did today — cleaned the house from roof to floor, stocked us on groceries, cooked lunch for me for the week, and probably a million other things,” you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I think I can handle dinner for one night at least,”

He’s pouting now, “but you just got home from work, Princess, what kind of househusband would I be—“ and you can’t help but laugh, he loved his self appointed title of househusband, especially since it was one he had chosen for himself, and he took any opportunity — even now to call himself that.

“I think even the absolute best househusbands need a break, and should listen to their wives, since I’m the one you want to pamper so much,” and his lips party in protest, but you’re leaning down to kiss them and his pout away, “let me take care of you, Toru,”

He’s sighing, as he leans up to press his forehead to yours, “and does your offer include a bath, sweetheart?”

~~~

“Y’know sometimes I feel guilty,” and you pause in your massage of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, suds from the bath you’d drawn for him covering both of your bodies as he leans against you in your tub, back pressed flush to yours.

“Guilty about what?” you ask, holding your tongue on the million reasons why he shouldn’t.

“For so long, I was the strongest,” he gives a small chuckle, “and it was fun, sometimes. But it was mostly lonely,” he leans back to look up at you, a small grin on his lips, “except when I was with you,” your lips curl, “and now I get to be with you, and I get to stay home — and the worst thing I have to do are the dishes,” and you snort.

“I told you I’d do them if you hate them so much,”

But he’s shaking his head, “Sometimes I think trying to deal with our cast iron is worse than fighting Sukuna—“ and you roll your eyes, “but there’s always this urgency that I have to be doing more. Telling me to keep going, moving, fighting—“

“You’ve done enough, Toru, more than enough,” your fingers cup his cheek, “too much, honestly. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done your part—“

“But—“

“Didn’t you or someone say jujutsu is like a marathon, a baton pass?” Your fingers run through his white locks, before you shift yourself to sit in his lap instead, “the marathon is over, racers have packed up and gone home, and the finish line has been crossed,” your fingers rest on the back of his neck, tracing his undercut, “and that’s because of you and all you did to fight and raise up the next generation,” you say softly, and he’s pressing his head to your forehead.

“Is it okay for me to rest now?” and you’re pulling him into your arms, hoping your touch conveys what your words can’t.

“Yes, it is, Satoru,” you’re pressing soft kisses to his neck, “you don’t need to be the strongest. You’re Satoru Gojo, and that’s all I want,” and he leans back, “you’re all I want,”

“Is that a proposal?” And you snort.

“We’re already married, weirdo—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, his arms around your bare waist, as the water shifted and splashed, but you could barely feel anything except his lips against yours and the circle of his thumb against the small of your back.

He finally pulls away, a genuine smile on his lips, “And you married this weirdo,” and you chuckle, tracing his jaw with your finger, “you’re stuck with me for life,”

“Promise?” And he’s kissing you again in an instant, stealing your breath like he did the first time you met him all those years ago at jujutsu tech. And you knew you’d never love anyone else — not like him.

“Promise.”

Bonus:

Satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind as the two of you towel off after your bath, “what are we having for dinner?”

“Well someone insisted on me being in here with him, so I had to order out,” and he’s grinning, as he nuzzles your neck.

“Whoopsie, hehe,” and he’s humming, as he tugs your hips against his, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips, “can we have dessert first?”

“It is dessert. We’re having ice cream for dinner—“ and he’s kissing you again, but this time it’s languid and messy — all tongue and teeth, until he’s pulling away with a smirk at your breathless face.

“I want something sweeter, wife,” and you smile.

“Think you can finish before the delivery gets here?” And he’s already picking you up with ease in his arms, pinned under him in a moment, as his ocean blues flash with mischief from between your thighs.

“I can, but I don’t know if you’ll be done by then.” He says cheekily, as you only sigh.

If there was one thing that would always be true is that you would always be weak to Satoru Gojo — but not his abilities, but who he is.

Your husband.

“Let’s see, hm?”

a/n: I’m real upset about the leaks and this is my coping. I needed this.

taglist: @staryukis, @cloverlilies, @asgoodasdead666, @strawmariee, @chuuyasboots, @forest-fruits-jam, @catsgomurp, @rat-loves, @hanlay, @risuola, @spider-fan72, @sunamatic, @difficultdomains

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The art of having kids

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Requested by: @jelloangela

Request gist: “Overstimulation and breeding with the Weasley twins”

A/N: Thanks for the request! When it comes to the twins, magic must be real cause I'm under some sort of horny spell lol. I don't know why this one took me so long, writer's block has me in a choke hold.

T/W: Breeding, Overstimulation, Praise, sweet nicknames (I went for one's different than usual), a teeny bit of nipple play (thought I’d add a warning anyway), no aftercare

The day had been such a drag at the joke shop. Normal customers looking at the same old stock. The twins had been at the till all day just people watching. At around 4pm, a couple came in with a small boy. The boy looked so excited by all the colours and noises that the shop provided. He was giggling and touching everything in his reach. His parents trailed behind him, putting everything back in its designated place.

Normally, customers touching things and putting them down would be one of the worst things a retail worker could come across, but this kid was so adorable. After the small family had left, the twins turned to each other. The shared look only meant one thing, you were in for a rough night.

____________________________________________

You had been upstairs in the flat above the shop preparing dinner for when the twins locked up. At first when you hear them running up the stairs, you thought something bad was happening, like a fire or a howler from Mrs Weasley.

The twins practically burst through the door and pulled you out of the kitchen, directing you towards the bedroom before you could even ask questions. Fred was in front of you pulling you by yours hands while George was behind you pushing you with eager hands on your waist. They often got like this, where they’d just ambush you and start tugging at whatever you were wearing.

Fred sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs while George trapped you there with his slim body. Fred tugged your jeans down along with your underwear, George pulled your blouse up. Both twins worked towards the same thing, getting you as bare as possible, as quick as possible.

When they achieved their goal of getting you naked, they both watched you the same way a hungry owl would watch a lost baby bunny, just waiting to strike with sharp talons. Fred stood up, pushing you onto the bed in his place. The boys stripped off their suits until they both stood before you in their underwear.

“Isn’t our girl so pretty and perfect, Georgie? She’s gonna make an amazing mother”

Fred’s words caught you off guard a little, but didn't put you off. George sat next to you and tutted at his brother.

“Freddie, you’re gonna scare our pretty girl away. How does it sound, angel? Being a pretty mummy for our babies? We’ll keep you so full of our cum until it takes, until you become so round and swollen. Just think of how perfect you’d look with a swollen tummy all because of us”.

George always had a way of talking you into kinky situations. Fred has always been the one to jump at the chance to try a new kink, whereas George would sit you down and discuss it first. He’d give you those puppy dog eyes that only he could and you’d be nodding, eager to try it. And nothing changed this time around.

You nodded, giving the boys the green light to do whatever they pleased. George's lips connected with your neck while Fred snaked his hands to your thighs, pulling your legs around his hips. Fred moved his tip up and down your slit, bumping it against your clit in an effort to get you wetter. George left marks along the skin of your neck while his hand made its way to rub over your nipples, which were slowly hardening beneath his rough fingers.

When Fred felt you were wet enough, he pushed in. Even when he was balls deep, he didn't stop to let you adjust. Fred had always claimed that you never needed to adjust, because they fucked you on a daily basis.

His thrusts were slow but deep, wanting to keep as much on his cock buried inside of you as he could. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. George's lips moved along your neck and up to your ear.

“Does he feel good, baby? You like having him deep in that little pussy? I bet you do. We’re gonna take care of you. Can’t have the mother of our children lifting a finger, now can we?”

The thought of the twins getting you pregnant caused a moan to slip past your lips. Both boys knew that they had won you over. They'd keep you bed bound until there was a positive pregnancy test if they had to. Fred’s thrusts slowly got quicker, while his hand moved to rub at your clit. He always did that when he got the chance to fuck you, loving the way your walls squeezed around him.

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, his breath coming out in groans.

“You wanna cum, pretty baby? Get my cock all nice and wet and I’ll fuck a baby into you”

His fingers got quicker circling your clit, and then it hit you. Your walls squeezed Freds cock as you came. George kept his hand busy with your tits while whispering sweet words in your ear. But Fred didn’t slow down. His thrusts stayed the same rhythm, which eventually led to your moans turning to whines and your legs trying to close around his waist to stop the onslaught of pleasure. Fred held your thighs apart, while George directed your attention onto him with his voice.

“Sweet girl, if you want Freddie to fill you up, you need to stay still. Don't want him to pull out, do you?”

Although the pain was intertwined with the pleasure, you still shook your head at the very thought of him pulling out. Fred kept going, slowly bringing you to the brink again. All it took was another orgasm from you to make his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock pulse. With a low groan, he buried himself deep within your pussy, making sure every last drop of his cum would stay inside of you where it belonged. After catching his breath, he turned to George.

“Get up here, it’s gonna all leak out when I pull out”

George got up from his place next to you to stand beside his brother. As soon as Fred pulled out, George pushed in. Fred sat next to you, trying to gently shush the whimper that threatened to escape your lips. George slowly built up to a quick pace, his eyebrows furrowing at Fred who was rubbing your clit.

“Fred, she can't handle more. I bet in this state, she couldn't even tell us apart”.

George was always the caregiver. While Fred insisted that you could take more, always drawing another orgasm from you, George was the one who would be reluctant to push you. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing you in such a blissed out state or didn't think you could handle an orgasm or two, he didn’t like those little pouts and whimpers when the pleasure morphed with pain.

“Oh come on Georgie, our girl can handle it. She’s not made of glass, she can take it. Can’t you, sweets?”

Even after a couple of orgasms, you weren’t completely in subspace. You nodded at George, hoping to ease his worries.

“Please Georgie, I can take it. I want you to fill me up. Please Georgie?”

How could George ever say no to you?

His thrusts got rougher, desperate to give you what you asked. That building pleasure was quick to release, giving you your third orgasm of the night. George kept thrusting, although somewhat reluctantly. When he felt his own orgasm approaching, his thrusts got more manic. Soon, his cum spurted inside of you, mixing with both your own juices and Fred cum. George slowly pulled out, while Fred picked your underwear up and slipped in back up your legs. He was determined to keep it all inside you.

Even if it didn't take the first time, you could always try again the next night.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Housemates Steddie and their domestic (sex) life.

Once they became housemate, Eddie would bend Steve over any available surface in their apartment to fuck him or simply eat him out.

And Steve would let him. Every single time.

It all started when Eddie sidled up behind him one evening when he was cooking in the kitchen, grabbing his waist, and griding the hard cock into his ass through his flimsy shorts.

Steve had turned off the stove right there and then and the next thing he knew, he was being bent over the counter, mewling and trembling as Eddie filled him up to the brim.

No one ever had him this way before, and Steve wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop Eddie even if he tried. Because it was too good for him to do so now.

Steve’s eyes rolled back and hands fisted the sheets as Eddie mercilessly pounded into him from behind while chanting ‘mine, mine mine’ the whole time.

An hour ago, Steve had been ambushed right in his bedroom. One second he was changing his clothes, and one second later, Eddie was on him.

His jockstraps were the trigger this time.

And by the look of it, Eddie had been affected more than he expected. The best and the worst thing was that Eddie had played with him until Steve cried and begged for his cock like a bitch in heat.

“The condom–” He choked on his breath when Eddie hammered his prostate relentlessly. It took him a few seconds to remember what he was trying to say.

“Eddie,” he moaned and slapped the other’s forehead weakly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” A raspy voice sounded in his ear, so rough and full of gravel.

“Take off the condom,” Steve glanced back at his housemate, meeting the dark gaze that gave him chills.

Eddie didn’t even think to ask him to confirm it again. In the blink of an eye, Steve was on his back with Eddie between his legs, fully naked and intimating.

Then Eddie leaned down, hot lips capturing him in a bruising kiss, strong hands holding him tightly, not giving him any chance to escape until bottoming out inside him once more.

Steve curled his toes and arched his back, muscles flexing and clenching as he felt Eddie’s bare cock for the first time.

‘So hot’ was all he could think before Eddie started moving at a brutal pace and he knew no more.

When Eddie finally pulled out, the cum immediately leaked from his gaping hole.

“Think it’d catch this time, baby?” Eddie pressed a hand on his tummy, making his spent cock give a valiant twitch.

“Dunno,” Steve whimpered.

And tried to squirm away when Eddie proceeded to finger fucked all the cum back inside him, but was pinned down with ease.

“We gotta make sure,” Eddie muttered, eyes transfixed on Steve’s puffy pink hole that was sucking his fingers greedily.

“Then you should fuck me again,” Steve mumbled and knew he was in trouble when those wild eyes snapped up to meet his own.

As if fueled by his words, Eddie grabbed his waist in a vice-like grip and slammed inside him in one smooth motion, knocking all of his breath away.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered heatedly. “No more running, no more denying, you’re mine now.”

“And forever,” Steve wrapped his shaky limbs around Eddie’s neck and hips.

Yeah,” Eddie ground into his prostate, eliciting a breathless moan from him, “forever.” And licked into his parted lips.

Eddie didn't let him go until he blacked out from overstimulation.

From that night onward, Steve learned the hard way that he shouldn’t have provoked his boyfriend in the first place, especially when Eddie could go on and on without breaking a sweat.

Because the only broken thing here was Steve’s ass.

(And yet, he was also the one who would whine loudly if Eddie didn't breed him every day.)

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 7: Morning After

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Morning After (🌼✨)

Summary: You wake up after a One Night Stand with a guy whose name you can't remember, but perhaps the morning after isn't so bad when it's with Matt Murdock.

Warnings: Mentions of Smut (18+), fluff, One Night Stand

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: If I had a ONS with Matt Murdock, I would never leave tbh.

Read Me On AO3!

You weren’t exactly ecstatic when your friends decided it would be a good idea to ask you to dinner, and then ambush you with a night of bar-hopping. You are not a hateful person, but when it comes to a night of excessive drinking after you’ve already had a hard day at work, you loathe the company of other human beings just a little more than usual. Though you couldn’t say no to them. You tried, but the second you set foot out the door, you were caught in the spiderweb of their vision of fun. 

They dragged you from one bar to another, and you were this close to losing it when you landed in a place called Josie’s in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen—until the woman behind the counter placed a club soda in front of you and said, “Courtesy from that guy.” She nodded toward the other end of the bar where a dark-haired man sat, red glasses perched on his nose and his white dress shirt almost glistening in the neon light of the room. He was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. 

He carried a smirk on his face, tipping his imaginary hat at you, and it was then you decided that you would make the best out of that night. One thing led to another—one drink led to another—and you ended up going home with him.

Though now that you are slowly coming to your senses, tangled in silk sheets, your actions are starting to really hit you. You don’t even remember his name. 

He was this beautiful stranger at the bar, and you were pissed and tired and God, you were so horny. One sound from him in that gravelly voice and you were already clenching your thighs. Your brain didn’t even process his name because the things he could do to your body… names were the last thing on your mind.

He ate you out for hours, his head buried deep between your thighs as he lapped at your cunt. He spread your thighs on his big bed, and he feasted on you until his face was glistening with your essence. You came the hardest you ever had up until that point with any man. The way he listened to your body seemed almost superhuman to you.

And when he finally took off his pants, revealing that thick cock of his he had been hiding, you officially lost all of your senses. You remember how good it felt to have him inside of you, thrusting into you with abandon on your back, on your stomach, and your knees. He fucked you all over his bedroom and in the shower, and then in the bed some more until you were screaming loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

A pleasant ache of soreness spreads through your body as you stretch. You slept with a man whose name you can’t remember, but it was the best sex you’ve had in a very long time. 

He’s still asleep next to you, his lashes resting peacefully against his cheeks, his hair a mess, and his arms cradling the pillow in his arms after you moved away from him throughout the night—he looks so beautiful like this. 

“You’re staring,” he says.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You wonder how he knew; you were being so subtle. 

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He opens his eyes. “Don’t be.”

Those hazel eyes… warmth floods your chest, and you can’t help it anymore; you reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

He exhales shakily, as though your mere touch is hurting him. Because it’s gentle, loving, and not at all filled with pure and unbridled pleasure. 

“Were you trying to sneak out?” he asks softly. “Just now?”

Your fingers halt, blood rushing to your head. “I wasn’t…” you trail off. 

“It’s okay, you know, if you were.”

“I don’t know you,” you try again. “Last night was… it was amazing, but… I don’t know you.”

The corners of his mouth curl up into a smile. He lifts himself on his elbow first, then slowly sits up against the headboard. Your eyes roam over the scars on his chest again. You didn’t dare ask about them last night, and you’re not so sure you want to ask now. It’s none of your business, but oh, you can’t help that part of you wants it to be.

“I don't know you,” he says. 

You snicker. “Yeah, well… I guess that’s fair.”

“I do know your body.” His smile turns into a smirk. 

Why is it so hot all of a sudden? You hug the sheets tighter around your naked body, looking around the room and then back at him.

He slowly extends his hand—the very same hand that has been all over and inside you last night. “I’m Matthew.”

Matthew. That’s right. 

You hesitantly clasp your hand around his, uttering your name. You’re sure he is a lot better at remembering than you are, but it feels like the right thing to do. 

His thumb brushes back and forth over your skin. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. He’s so fucking soft with you. “Yeah,” you smile back at him, hoping he can at least sense it somehow, “nice to meet you.”

And you start to wonder what it would be like to have dinner with him. Walk the streets of New York City with his arm around yours as you guide him along the sidewalk, describing the beauty of nature to him. The moonlight reflecting off the little pond in Central Park, and how the leaves look when they rustle in the wind. He can hear them, but you wish you could paint the world as a picture to him. You just want to spend time with him. 

Your hand is still in his when he tugs you closer, your lips mere inches away from him. “Let me get to know you,” his voice is barely above a whisper. He’s pleading, pleading to get to know you. Begging, even. How can you say no to him? 

You rest your forehead against his. “Okay,” you answer. “But only if you let me get to know you, too.”

Matt draws a cross with his index finger over his heart. “Promise,” he says. 

“Such a good Catholic.”

With that, you bridge the gap between you, and you finally kiss him again. The butterflies in your belly break out of their cage. He tastes like heaven, even though the things he does to you might land you in hell. He’s your sweetest temptation.

Air becomes a luxury you don’t need, tongues and teeth clashing as he devours you, mind, body, and soul. “Can I persuade you to stay for breakfast?” he breathes into your mouth.

You no longer want to leave. You want to stay. Forever. That might be crazy, you know, but sometimes you just… know. 

You kiss him again, humming, “Mark me down as persuaded.” 

And this time, you really do just know. 

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[kitkat13001]

✧˖°. 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎

>> ryomen sukuna x reader

you don’t know where you got the idea. maybe it’s because nothing surprises sukuna. or maybe it’s just the urge to annoy him on the off-chance you catch him off guard. 

it starts with a small ‘boo!’ when you open the bathroom door, knowing he’s waiting outside. you didn’t expect him to startle, and he doesn’t. 

he just moves you out of the way with strong but gentle hands and a quiet mumble of “i gotta piss.”

it’s his reaction—or the lack thereof—that makes you determined to catch him off guard. 

he comes home from work and you’re hiding in the closet, waiting to scare him since you know the first thing he does is hang up his jacket in the hallway closet. 

“oi, brat, i’m home!” he calls, and you ready yourself to pounce. you feel bad a second, because it’s kind of mean to be so determined to scare him. but the guilt doesn’t last, because as soon as he opens the door you leap out with another, more serious ‘boo!’

sukuna sighs and rolls his eyes. “you’re so weird. and you breathe loud.”

he hangs up his jacket and walks away. you stand there, stunned.

it is so on. 

for three days you organize various ridiculous attempts to catch sukuna off his guard, just for once. 

showing him jumpscare videos, hiding under the bed, turning the lights on when he goes downstairs for a midnight snack. 

nothing. none of it works. it’s stupid, you’re aware of that much, but you just have to know if the king of curses even capable of being surprised. 

he’s cooking dinner, roasted vegetables and mongolian beef. you make sure he’s not near the skillet when you run to jump on his back with a cry. 

“rgah!”

he doesn’t move. not one inch. not a stumble or falter, his feet still planted firmly on the ground. he doesn’t even bend under your weight. 

“heard you in the hall,” he says nonchalantly. 

you hang on to him as he moves about the kitchen, still in utter shock. he’s psychic, he must be. he can sense your presence with echolocation. there’s no logical explanation for why nothing you do can get to him.

defeated, you trudge back to the bedroom to pout.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

this was all going sideways very quickly (quite literally).

this was supposed to be your perfect victory. you were supposed to catch him by surprise and take him down.

but he was ready for you.

sukuna says nothing, expression unimpressed. his weight presses down on you, forcing the air out of your lungs as he stares down at you with bored eyes. 

“you’re oh-for-forty-one.”

you huff up at him with a pout. 

he narrows his eyes at you. “you’re a strange little thing. do you honestly believe you could get the jump on me? that you could ambush me? surprise me-“

before he can even finish his sentence, you lean up with your remaining strength and plant a firm kiss on his lips. you drop back down on the mattress with a huff, core burning from the exertion. you beam up at him as he stares down at you in shock. 

if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was blushing. 

“you…”

“surprised yet?” you giggle airily. 

he keeps staring down at you, eyes wide but brows knitting into an expression of intense concentration. 

“kiss me again,” he demands, leaning down closer to your face. 

“you’re such an attention whore,” you giggle again, laughter bubbling up in your chest. 

“didn’t you just spend three whole days trying to get me flustered?” sukuna hums lowly. his eyes narrow in a devious manner and you shrink back into the mattress a little, your grip on his biceps caging you in tightening. 

“now, didn’t i just say for you to kiss me again? or did you not hear me over your pettiness?”

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

The sounds around him were different from what he was used to—no gunfire or heavy footsteps, no shoutings from Price about night ambushes, no Johnny’s loud snoring. Simon peered through heavy eyelids, finding out it’s just the bloody annoying birds chirping outside. Groaning, he turned his aching body and reached his arms out.

Only to find the other side of the bed empty of his wife’s presence. Simon furrowed his brows, frowning. God, he’s such a grumpy old bastard, isn’t he?

Simon jerked upright, alerted by the clattering sound coming from outside the bedroom—the old dog instincts in him kicked in, only to be quickly quelled by his more recently acquired instincts shaped by the realities of the last seven years. He got up from the bed, trying not to be too agitated, making his way to investigate.

Upon entering the kitchen, his shoulders sagged with relief as he laid his eyes on the sole culprit—crouching on the floor, attempting to tidy up a mess of spilled milk and cereal with a torn kitchen towel. No doubt the source of the noise.

Walking over slowly so as not to scare her, he then asked, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere then?”

Gianna whipped around in a flash like a criminal caught in the act, her big brown eyes gleaming with a touch of guilt but not a trace of fear. "I dropped my cereal," she confessed succinctly, mirroring a trait she had unquestionably inherited from her father.

He crouched down next to her. “’Ere, let me help you with that,” then reached out, taking the paper towel from her tiny hands and started cleaning up.

Gianna just watched him until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“’S alright, darlin’. Accidents ‘appen.” Simon stated, rising to his feet and tossing the used tissues into the trash can. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “But you could’ve woke me up. I’d ‘ave helped you clean it up straight away.”

“I know, but you were sleeping. An’ mum says you sleep like a… like a… clog?”

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I think you mean a log, love.” He corrected.

“Oh right!” The little girl exclaims, nodding her head. “Tha’s the word. You sleep like a log.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever yer mum says.” He glanced at the box of cereal still sitting on the kitchen counter, then decided to keep himself and his daughter away from it. “So cereal is no option then. What d’you want for breakfast instead?”

Without missing a beat, Gianna chirps, “Ice cream!”

Simon snorts, shaking his head. “Can’t ‘ave ice cream for breakfast, darlin’.”

Gianna tilts her head to the side, eyes looking up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asked. “Mummy 'as coffee for breakfast, alllll the time!” she spreads her arms out for dramatic effect—he chuckles at that. Definitely got it from mommy.

“Yeah, don’t be like yer mum, alright?”

The girl frowns slightly. “But why not? Mummy’s pretty, an’ she cooks good food.”

Something he couldn’t disagree with. He nodded, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. “That she does, darlin’. But we still don’t want you havin’ coffee or ice cream for breakfast, alright?”

"Okay, then can we go to Uncle John's house?" she asked.

“An’ why’s that?”

Gianna bounced on her toes, her arms swinging. “I miss Buddy an’ Daisy!”

Simon groaned inwardly. Should’ve known she’d bring that up. Ever since that one time he brought her to Price’s place and she met his dogs, Gianna has been begging to go back. Every time after school—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” Every weekend—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” And the thing is, the bloody mutts aren’t even there anymore, not since Price and his missus divorced.

“The dogs ain't there anymore, love.” He watched her face fall.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes wide in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “Cause,” he trailed off, not really wanting to explain the whole messy divorce situation to a five-year-old. “Nevermind that. What d’you want for breakfast?”

Instead of answering, Gianna crossed her arms while frowning. “I don’t want breakfast. I want Buddy an’ Daisy!

A sigh escaped Simon as the results of his parenting bit him in the ass. Bloody hell, he had to stop surrendering to her big eyes and pouting lips—just like her mum. She had learned from the best, hadn’t she? Got him wrapped around her tiny finger. There was only one trick up his sleeve to get her to cooperate.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, then then we won’t be able to go an’ watch yer mum later.”

And sure enough, Gianna’s whole expression lit up, renewed. She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. Seems like he got himself a drama queen.

“We’re gonna watch Mum?!” she asked, full of hope.

Simon nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression but always failing because of her antics. “As long as you behave an’ eat breakfast.”

The five-year-old was cheering, jumping, and doing her little dances in unbridled energy—just like her mum. He guessed it was true what Garrick said that day the lads visited the two of you at the hospital after Gianna was born—“She’s a perfect blend of the both of you.”

“Pancakes! I want pancakes!” Gianna squeals, scampering to the cabinet where the flour is stored. “Come on, Daddy! Let's eat breakfast so we can go an' watch Mummy!"

When the evening draws near, Gianna is already in the bathroom. Lately, she's been insisting on bathing herself, saying she's a “big girl” now. But he guessed it's more because she wants to play with her Barbie doll in the water, using up all the soap in the process.

“Don't take too long, alright? We've gotta be out the door by five.” He says.

"Okay!" Gianna chirps back, not really listening to him, too busy splashing around and chatting to her plastic friend.

Keeping the door open to ensure her safety, Simon stepped out to attend to his own tasks. Seems like it was yesterday when she was just a little baby, lying in the bath support, her tiny legs kicking every time you would rinse the soap off her soft skin. Time indeed flies so fast; one moment, she is just a baby who struggles to stand on her wobbly legs, and the next, she insists on doing everything independently.

Simon let out a heavy sigh, turning to your shared bedroom to pull on a fresh button up. As he’s closing the dresser drawer, the sound of his phone ringing caught his attention. He read the caller ID before accepting it and lifting it to his ear.

“’Ello?”

“Hey, are you on your way yet?” Your familiar voice comes through the line.

Glancing over to the half-open bathroom door, where he could hear the faint sounds of Gianna splashing and talking to herself, he then said, “The kid's in the bath.”

“Okay, okay,” You said, he could hear some shifting on the other side. “Make sure you bring her coat—the brown one. It's so cold today, I don't want her to get—”

“I got it, love.” He cuts you off gently, assuring you easily. “Just focus on yer ballet. I'll make sure she's all bundled up, alright?”

A chuckle from you—one that brought a smile to his own lips. Always the overthinker, his wife. He walked over to grab Gianna's towel and placed it atop a small chair near the bathtub, then held up five fingers, communicating the remaining time she had left before she had to get out.

“I’m on a break right now,” you tell him, voice soft, whispering. “I… I miss you, and Gianna too.”

He can’t help the smile spreading at that. “That so?”

“Yes,” you admit, he imagines you clutching the phone tightly against your ear like he’s seen you do so often. “Being here, rehearsing for the show, you two are all I can think about. I want to get this over with and go home.”

“Think she misses you too,” he murmurs.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she's been jumpin’ about when I mentioned we're gonna watch you.”

“That’s nice,” he could hear the smile in your voice. Then, a small pause between you before you asked again, “Um, do you… Do you miss me too?”

A low, amused chuckle escaped him at your shy question, and he compares it to a schoolgirl trying to gauge her chances with her crush. This is your husband you are talking to. He couldn't help but find the conversation amusing—and yet, he couldn't deny the warmth that rose to color his cheeks.

“What you actin’ all shy an’ coy for, eh?” he teased, “We’ve been married for seven bloody years now, ain’t we? Course I miss you, sweetheart.”

Simon could hear you take a deep breath. “Well, I just… Well, you just got home from deployment, and we haven't really had time together before I got to do rehearsals, so I feel kind of…”

“Ah, I see,” Simon murmurs, voice dropping to a low, rumbling tone. He glanced to the bathroom to make sure Gianna was still out of earshot before continuing, “Feelin' a bit starved for attention, are we, love? Maybe we should call up Johnny, see if 'e can come 'n babysit the mite for a night. Give us a chance to… reconnect, eh?”

You suck in a sharp breath at his words, heat rising to your cheeks and somewhere else from his implication. For a moment, you are silent; another minute passes, and Simon almost thinks the call has been cut off until your soft, discreet whisper finally cuts through.

“… Do you think the phone company records calls like this?”

At that, he laughed. “Why? You plannin' on sayin' somethin' naughty?”

“No! No, not at all!” You stammered; he can almost feel your embarrassment through the phone. “I-I was just… curious, that's all.”

It was amusing. How easily he could make you all worked up and flustered, even after nearly ten years of being together—dating, marriage, and even a kid thrown in the mix. He heard you take another deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

“Don't forget the special pass, okay? They won't let you in the theater without it.” You reminded him.

“I’ll find another way in if I ‘ave to.”

“Simon, I'm serious,” you say, voice firm. “You can't just sneak in. They'll never let you—"

You pause for a moment; Simon assumes you're focused on whatever's going on in the background. He catches the sound of a voice calling your name, saying something about returning to the stage. Then, you sigh into the phone.

“I gotta go. Stage check,” you explain, almost apologetically. “But don't forget the coat and the pass, okay? I need you there, Simon. Both of you.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Love ya. See you soon.”

“I love you too.”

With that, Simon ended the call. He pivoted back to the bathroom; the gentle sound of splashing water reached his ears. “Alright, darlin’, time's up," he called out. "Let's get you dried off an' ready to go.”

“Okay!”

A short while later, the two Rileys found themselves inside Gianna's pistachio-colored room—the little girl still wrapped up in her towel like a burrito—both standing in front of the dresser. The sound of her damp feet tapping the floor filled the air as Simon swept his eyes over the colorful options in the closet.

“Alright, then,” he said, looking down at her. “What do you want to wear today?”

Gianna scrunches up her face in deep concentration, brows furrowed, lips pouting in consideration before finally pointing to a rather… mismatched combo of clothes. A bright pink tutu, a neon green t-shirt, and a pair of polka-dot stockings.

“That one!” she declared, looking up at him with a proud grin.

Wrinkles formed on his forehead as Simon gave a look of disapproval. "That?" He questions, tone laced with doubt. “You sure about that? I don't think that's gonna look very good.”

Gianna’s smile faltered, and Simon immediately felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Bloody hell. Clearing his throat, he quickly backtracked. “I mean, it’s a bit… unique, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound more encouraging—as if he hadn't just said it would look ugly. “But if that’s what you wanna wear, then tha’s what we’ll do.”

“Yay!” she squeals, bouncing, clapping her hands as her lips stretch into a toothy grin.

Reaching into the dresser, he pulls out the bright pink tutu, the neon green t-shirt, and the polka-dot stockings and lays them on her bed.

“You can do it by yourself, right?”

Gianna nods eagerly. “Yep!” she chirps, already reaching for the shirt.

“Alright, then. Daddy’ll be waitin’ downstairs, a’ight?”

“Okay!”

With one last glance, he turns and heads out of her room, making his way downstairs to ensure he has all the important things. Wipes, tissues, a few snacks, and a spare set of clothes just in case. He shoved it all into the bag that you usually bring whenever you're out with Gianna.

Zipping the bag, he then reached into his jeans pocket to feel for his wallet. He takes it out, flicks it open, and verifies that the special pass is safely tucked inside. His gaze drifts to the brown coat you had specified, draped over the arms of the couch—another item checked off his mental list.

Glancing up at the grandfather clock, he lets out a soft curse under his breath. Shouldering the bag and grabbing the coat, he walks into the living room and calls out Gianna’s name.

The car ride is a bit of a quiet affair, save for the sound of raindrops pattering against the windscreen. Simon glances at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Gianna in her car seat. She’s kicking her legs back and forth, a slightly bored expression on her face as she stares out the window—at least she’s not uncomfortable. He turns his attention back to the road.

The red light turned green; the car engine hummed as Simon accelerated. Suddenly, a small voice came from the backseat.

“Daddy, I want my song,” Gianna said.

Not understanding what she meant, Simon furrows his brows, shooting a puzzled glance at her reflection in the mirror. “Your song?” he asks, confused. “What song’s that, then?"

A dramatic sigh escapes her. The girl rolls her eyes in a way that is almost comically exaggerated for a five-year-old. “My song!” she exclaims, as if it were common knowledge. “The wheels on the bus, Daddy! The wheels on the bus go round and round!”

“Right, right,” he said, one finger reaching out to fiddle with nearly every button on the radio. “The wheels on the bus. Should’ve known that, shouldn’t I?”

Soon enough, the radio sprung to life, starting the tune of her favorite song. Gianna’s face lit up, and she began happily singing along. The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round… Bloody hell, this is worse than the songs you'd had on repeat for a week. But he held his tongue from protesting, observing his little princess doing her small dance instead.

The torture was cut short when the car came to a stop at their destination. The grand neoclassical building of the Metropolitan Opera loomed before them, its mighty and majestic pillars illuminated by the lights. He closed the door, rounding the vehicle to get to Gianna’s side.

Reaching in, he unbuckled the car seat, the girl waiting patiently as he did so.

“Are we gonna see Mum?” she asked, brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Soon, princess.”

Gently, Simon pulled her out of the car seat, setting her down on the ground. Locking the car, he took her tiny hand in his before the two of them made their way to the entrance, where a steady stream of well-dressed onlookers was beginning to file into the building.

Panic began to kick in when Gianna’s tiny hand slipped from his. Before he could protest, however, she pointed in a direction. “Look! That’s Mum!”

Following where her little finger pointed, his brown eyes landed on the large billboard on the side of the opera house. There, illuminated by the warm glow of a spotlight, was you, posed elegantly in your ballet attire, with the bold letters of “The Nutcracker” plastered above you. He couldn’t help the proud smile from tugging at the corners of his lips.

The sound of Gianna's hurried footsteps pulled him back to the present, her small form already darting towards the huge display. Quickly, he pulled out his updated mobile (the only reason he bought it was so he could take pictures of you and Gianna) and snapped a quick picture of his daughter standing next to the billboard.

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he then strides over to Gianna. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late for Mum, do we?” he says, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. Simon tucks Gianna’s head under his chin.

Fishing out the special pass out of his wallet, he hands it to the person in charge of ticketing. They wave him through, and he steps into the foyer. Footsteps and chatter echo around him as he climbs the steps and through the towering doors of the grand opera hall.

After finding their seats, Simon leaned back comfortably in the velvet chair. But Gianna? The girl sat on the edge of her seat, her blonde head turning from side to side as she took in the sights of people filling their designated spots. She darted her eyes from one end of the room to the other, like she was searching for something—or rather, someone.

“Where’s Mum?” She asked, turning to him with a slight frown.

Simon was still leaning back in his chair. “She’ll be out soon, love,” he assured her.

“When?” she pressed, growing impatient.

Reaching over, he gently pinched her chubby cheek, eliciting a small giggle from Gianna. “Soon, princess,” he repeated, this time really hoping it will soothe her little heart. “Just sit back and relax, alright?”

“Okay, but are we gonna watch Mummy?”

“’Course, that’s why we’re here, right?”

Finally convinced, Gianna leans back, her tiny body relaxing as the lights begin to dim. The orchestra conductor ascends the podium, lifting his baton high. Gradually, the music comes to life. Simon glances over at Gianna to find her swaying her head to the melodies.

“Look, Daddy! Snow!” she exclaims, pointing at the delicate flakes of ‘snow’ falling as the opening scene of the Nutcracker unfolds.

It was easy enough to make Gianna enamored. She was mesmerized by the ‘snow’ coming down from above, letting out a soft gasp of awe when she saw the towering Christmas tree on stage. When the audience applauded, she joined in excitedly, trying to clap even louder.

But nothing, nothing compares to the moment she spots her mum.

The second you glide onto the stage, Gianna lets out a loud gasp, launching off the chair. She glues her gaze to your every step, jaw hanging open as her eyes radiate pure adoration. With her tiny index finger pointed, she jumps up and down.

“That’s Mummy, Daddy! That’s Mummy!”

His heart had never been this full. He chuckled, reaching out to gently tug her back down into her seat. “Aye, that's her, love.” He said, following where she pointed, to his wife.

“Tha’s Mummy, Daddy! Woah, woah! She’s so pretty!”

And she’s right—you’re absolutely enchanting, every movement imbued with elegance and poise. The fluid extension of your legs, the exquisite way the spotlight caresses your form. He watches you dance with your co-star in perfect synchronization, flawlessly executing those ballerina moves he can never recall the names of but loves all the same.

“She’s the best, Daddy! Look at ‘er go! Woaahh!”

“Aye, bloody brilliant, she is.”

Gianna nods in agreement. “Yeah, bloody brilliant!”

Simon snorts when she steals his lines, echoing like a loyal follower. As you continue your performance, Gianna’s oohs and awws fill the air around them. She makes little cheers, more praises, more clapping. “Didja see that jump?!” here, “She’s sooo pretty!” there.

Miraculously, Gianna still had a tank of energy even after the show was over. The second the girl saw you, she ran over and threw her arms around you. You quickly leaned down, sweeping Gianna into your arms. She giggled as you peppered her cheeks, nose, and forehead with kisses.

“Here’s my pretty girl!” you said, giving her chubby cheeks another peck.

Swelling with pride, Simon smiled at the sight of his two favorite people together. Walking over to his girls, he held out the bouquet of flowers he had just taken from the trunk of his car, offering them to you.

“Well done, love.”

You accept the flowers as Simon takes Gianna from you. “Oh, babe, they’re beautiful.” You breathe, lips curving into a radiant smile.

Without a second thought, you rise onto your tiptoes, bridging the height difference between you, before pressing your lips to his in a slow, prolonged kiss. Gianna makes a disgusted sound—Simon can feel the corners of your mouth curving into a smile. You can feel the warmth of his body as he pulls you close; the familiar scent of his cologne and something of him intoxicating you.

But the moment is interrupted when Gianna tugs on Simon's cheek.

“That’s gross, Daddy! Get off Mum!”

Simon pressed one last, gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away completely. “She’s my wife too, kid.” He reminded his daughter.

You giggle at Gianna's reaction. Reaching up, you cup Simon's stubbled jaw, your thumb gently caressing the short, prickly hair over his chin. Then, turning back to your pouting daughter, you lean closer to place a soft, affectionate kiss upon her cheek.

“I need to go change, and then we can all go home, okay?”

Soon enough, the three of you were in the car, with the soft hum of the engine and the faint sound of “The Wheels on the Bus” playing on the radio. In the back seat, Gianna was still full of energy, even more enthusiastic after the ballet show.

As Simon makes another turn, Gianna suddenly pipes up. “I want to be like Mummy when I grow up!” she declared.

You twist your body in the passenger seat to face her. “Really? You wanna be a ballerina like me?”

Watching Gianna in the rearview mirror, Simon joined in the conversation with his question. “Yeah? What happened to wanting to be a soldier?”

It's not like he would actually allow her if it ended up being more than a silly childhood dream. The mere idea of Gianna putting herself in danger, surrounded by self-entitled men in their star-encrusted uniforms, facing the same horrors he had seen, filled his stomach with unease. If any of her aspirations were to see fruition, he would much rather she shine in the spotlight, where she could display her poise and elegance, just like you.

But Gianna took her time in answering, as if she was considering it carefully. “‘Course I want that too! I'll just be a ballerina an’ a soldier!”

Both you and Simon laughed at that. Always gotta have it all, your little girl.

[wandanatsthings]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

Hey guys so this post might contradict my last but this is something I struggled with and thought others might be able to relate So I thought i'd share. Hope you enjoy it, feedback is always welcomed. New writer. 

(P.s Im dyslexic i'm trying my best) 

Word count: 2.7k 

Warnings: Mentions of body type/weight (not specific #), not eating, speaks of being ambushed but does not go into detail. Working out, angst and fluff. Missing S/O. Cursing.  Panic attack maybe?/ breaking down sobbing. Stress. I think that’s it. Please let me know if I  miss anything :) 

Summary: Reader stressed out and doesn’t have an appetite while Wanda and Natasha are away on a mission. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n Pov

You had just gotten home from a long day at work where nothing had gone your way. It started with the mission reports that you swore you had completed going missing. You had torn almost your whole office apart looking for them. You just could not find them. You had finally accepted the fact that your work day would be spent redoing mission reports. When you got word that you would be sent on a mission to receive some data from Hydra that SHIELD needed. You usually didn’t complain about going on missions but with the mission reports that needed to be redone on top of the report you were going to have to write for this mission to say you were dreading it would be the least, but you packed up, got on your suit and went outside to the landing pad where the quin-jet was right there waiting for you.

When you got there you were able to get the files you needed. The problem only came when you were trying to leave. The heater sensor on your suit detected hydra agents right where you needed to go to get to the jet and by your heat sensor flashing red like crazy you could tell that there were a lot of them. You took a deep breath and started to walk towards them. The closer you got you could count that it was a total of 10 of them. “I can do this,” you said to yourself. The agent closest to you was to the right with his back turned so he couldn’t see you. You decided that now would be a good time to try out your girlfriend's widow bites that she had given you weeks prior. You threw one out towards him and watched it take effect.

That went well you thought but as you went to do the same to the other agents that had their backs to you, You had been spotted. They all came running towards you, some with their weapons drawn, others ready to avenge you with their fist. Luckily after a long gruesome fight, you were able to get back to the jet with all the information Furry needed. You had some scrapes and bruises but honestly, you didn't care. All you wanted to do was get back to Nat and Wanda. After the long shitty day you had, you decided that the mission reports could wait until a later date. When you got back to the Avengers compound furry was already waiting for you at the landing pad with his hand out for the flash drive that contains all the information SHIELD required.

“Do you have the file and what the hell happened to you?” furry said with a curious look on his face. “Yes I have the files and to answer your question I was ambushed.” You said anxiously to get back to your living corridors to shower and finally be with your girlfriends. “Well are you okay?” he asked. Now furry wasn't the type to show his emotions but you had become his daughter much like Natasha so it didn’t surprise you when he voiced his concerns. “Yes I'm fine, just a couple of scrapes and bruises, nothing I can’t handle.” you reassured him. “Okay well, if it becomes anything more go see Dr. Banner and thank you.” With that, he walked away to go wherever furry goes and you headed to your floor where you hoped your lovers would be waiting for you.

When you got there though you were surprised to hear that the house was fully quiet. Are they home? You wondered. To answer your question, you walked farther into the kitchen and you saw a note on the counter. You grab the note, open it and what you read makes your heart sink. “Hi Detka, we're sorry we are not there to welcome you home. We got called on a short mission and should be back by the end of tonight to have dinner with you. Also, I (Wanda) made your favorite for lunch. It's in the fridge, heat it when you're ready. Xoxo Wands & Natty.” You put the note back down on the counter with a sigh. You understood how random missions could be. I mean you just went on an unexpected one yourself but you really wanted your girlfriends to hold you after the crappy day you had and they weren't here. Now you know that's not their fault but you couldn't help but feel just a little disappointed. You walked to the fridge to get the lunch your sweet witch had made for you and when you pulled it out you saw yet another note sitting on top of the cling wrap plate. You took the note off the plate and put it into the microwave so it could heat while you read the note. “Hi Detka, I hope you got our first note again we're sorry but I made your favorite. We love you!” You smiled at that. You love that they took the time to leave you notes. To you, it showed how much of a priority they thought you were.

By the time you finished reading the love-filled note, you heard the microwave beep. You got the food out, stopped by the drawer by the sink to grab yourself a spoon, and made your way to the dining room table to enjoy a meal that your wonderful girlfriend made. It made you chuckle when you thought back to how Wanda specified that it was her who made it. Both of you know that Natasha couldn’t cook to save her life. When You take the cling wrap off of the plate. Your stomach turned. It wasn’t the food. No, the food looked amazing. It was you. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. Now this wasn’t new to you. Anytime you had a bad day or things felt out of your control you just wouldn’t have an appetite. It had gotten better when you met your girlfriends. They would always listen to your venting and be there when you needed them. You hadn’t had this problem in a while when they were around. But you were a 24 y/o woman. You were sure you could handle a little stress without your girlfriends coming to your rescue. So you put up the food to come back to it later. While you were waiting for your appetite to come back around you decided to go take a shower and start on all the mission reports you had to get done.

A few hours had passed and it was almost dinner time. You had gotten so caught up in doing your mission reports that you hadn’t even realized that your loves were not back yet. With that, you got up to go ask Tony where they were to see if he had any updates. On your way to Tony’s lab, you stopped at the kitchen to get a water bottle, When you opened the fridge you saw your lunch still sitting there untouched “I'm gonna eat it later.” You said to yourself. When you got to Tony's lab you saw him hunched over looking at what looked like to be floor plans, for what you had no idea but you learned early on in your time here to never ask.

“Hey Tony,” you said approaching him. He looks up from what he’s doing and acknowledges you. “Hey kid, whatcha up too?” “Nothing much, um I was wondering if you had any update on Nat and Wanda? They were supposed to be back by now.” You replied. “No, why do you guys have a hot date planned or something?” He said winking at you. “No, Tony was just wondering where they were.” You say annoyed. He laughs and says “Okay okay um maybe ask Steve? He should know.” “Okay, thank you asshole.” You say with a slight smile on your face as you walk away. “Your welcome ass-hat.” You hear him yell. Although he was a pain in your ass 90% of the time you love the red tin man. You got on the elevator to go find Steve only to realize you had no idea where he was so you asked Friday. “Hey Friday, where’s Steve?” “Steve Rogers is in the gym agent y/l/n.” they reply. “Thanks, Friday.” You say back as you push the gym floor button on the elevator. When you arrive you walk in to see him punching a punching bag. He immediately notices you. “Hey, y/l/n what can I do for you?” He says “Hey cap I was wondering if you had any update on Wanda and Natasha. They said they were going to be back by dinner time. Any idea on where they are?” He looks at you with a sad look on his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry y/n their mission turned out to be not as easy as we thought and they're gonna have to go undercover for a week. Maybe more.” When you hear this your heart drops for a second time this day. “Okay, thanks, Steve.” You say sadly. “You welcome y/n.” He says with a frown on his face knowing how hard it is for you when the 2 red heads are away. When you get back to your floor you decide to call it a night exhausted from the day you've had. As soon as your head hits the pillow you're asleep dreaming that your girlfriends are in the bed with you. While the meal in the fridge sat there waiting to be eaten.

2 weeks. 2 weeks had passed since you saw your girlfriends and since you had a full proper meal. With the stress of work and missing your lovers, you had barely eaten anything more than an apple here and there with some water. Along with that, you had been working out to try and keep your mind off of the fact you hadn’t even talked to them in 2 weeks since it was an undercover no-contact mission. So it was no surprise that that's where you were when they came home.

Wanda’s Pov

When we finally got home after 2 weeks of being undercover all we both wanted was you, food, and a shower. You being the main goal though but when we came into the house it was quiet. We called out to you but no one answered. It was rare that when we returned from the mission you didn’t come running into our arms so excited that we were home so we then decided to ask Friday where you were. “Hey Friday, where's y/n?” “Welcome home Ms. Maximoff and Ms. Romanov. Agent y/l/n is in the gym currently.” They said, “Okay thanks Friday.” I said looking towards Natasha “Let's shower and stuff and then we can go get her and have dinner together.” I say. She nods towards me and says. “Sounds like a plan.” We then make our way to our bathroom to shower.

Nats Pov

After Wands and I shower I headed into the kitchen to get some water while she put on lotion. When I went into the fridge I was surprised to see that the meal Wanda made you still sat in the fridge untouched beside the note being gone. I then looked around more in the fridge to find that nothing else had been touched either. Everything was in the same place as how we left it 2 weeks ago. I then looked around the entire kitchen to come up with the same results. So I called Wanda out here to tell her what I had found and with one look we both raced to the gym to find you. When we got there we could see you through glass, running on the treadmill but when we walked fully inside the sight we saw broke our hearts. You were thin. Like unhealthily thin. Now you weren't even overweight to begin with so with all the working out and barely eating it was enough that within 2 weeks you looked sickly. At the sound of Wanda's gasp when she saw you. You finally noticed them standing there.

Y/n Pov

I was running on the treadmill with my headphones on when I looked up and saw the women I had been longing for for the past 2 weeks. I quickly shut off the treadmill and ran towards them. When I finally reached them I just hugged them, they immediately both hugged me back but something felt off. When I looked up at their faces both of them had tears in their eyes. I let go a little and asked them “What's wrong, Is everything okay? Are you guys hurt?” I say checking over them frantically. When I'm satisfied with my check I look up to them and what comes out of Wanda’s mouth makes my stomach turn."Have you been eating?” she says shakily “What do you mean? Of course, I've been eating.” I say getting a little defensive. “No you haven't’ the meal Wanda left for you before we left is still there and nothing has been moved in the kitchen or the refrigerator. Is everything okay? Are you sick?” Natasha asks. As soon as she asks that You break down in tears. All of the stress of the weeks prior catching up with you all at once. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” You say sobbing and falling to the floor. Wanda and Nat both catch you before you can reach the floor and bring you into their laps just holding you and whispering sweet nothings. When you've finally calmed down Natasha is the first one to speak. “Do you wanna tell us what's going on or would you like to talk about it later?” “No, we can talk about it now,” You say, your scratchy voice from crying.

While you're preparing yourself to tell them everything from the past weeks you feel both of them kiss your forehead and that's what gives you the strength to start talking. “Um before you guys left I had been having a rough day. My mission reports had gone missing and they were due soon and I had got sent on a mission that was supposed to be easy but then I got ambushed.” As you say that Wanda interrupts you and asks “Are you okay, did you need to go to medical?” while checking over you just like you had done minutes ago to the both of them.“I'm fine don’t worry,” You say kissing her hands you then continue. “As I was saying I was ambushed and all I wanted was you guys when I got home and you weren’t there. And don't apologize I can feel you both getting ready too. I understand unexpected missions happen and that is not your fault. When I realized you were not there I saw your first note on the counter which I love. When you leave me notes by the way but then I made my way to the fridge to get lunch. I had all intentions of eating it but when I sat down to eat it I just couldn’t.” You then go on to explain to them that when you're stressed out and when things get out of your control you lose your appetite.

After you're finished talking, Wanda begins to speak. “We are so sorry you had to go through that alone, but as long as we're your girlfriends you won’t ever again have to. Maybe we can talk to Bruce and find you some new coping skills to cope with the stress.” She says “Yeah, what do you think about that sweet girl?” Natasha asks you. You look up at them with so much love in your eyes. “I think that’s a great idea, thank you guys,” You said, giving each of them a kiss. “No problem zolotse,” Natasha says with a smile on her face. “How about we get some lunch?” says Wanda. You look up at them with a small bit of fear on your face having not eaten in 2 weeks you were scared of how your stomach would react. “Don't worry love, we’ll be right here with you.” You hear Wanda say. With that, you all start to make your way to your floor to enjoy lunch. With you thinking that no matter how stressed you got you will always have your girlfriends to make it better.

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Sunday

A/N: SCREAMS. Ok, sorry. It's been a hard time getting this out and for no reason. I literally had it like 80% done this whole time and the last 20% got lost in the damn mail I guess. But now it's done and out for the masses to enjoy! A thank you to @bun-lapin for allowing me to use their lovely OC for this fic! Word Count: 7.5K (God Damn...) Warnings: Period Talk (Like most of this is just various period facts and it lowkey gets pretty horrifying near the end), She/They Pronouns OC Pairings: AzulxOC (Poly), JamilxOC (Poly), Paternal Crewel &OC, Alluded to Riddle/Floyd Now with a tag-list! @twistedcece, @deltrea, @krenenbaker Start, Part 1 (Octavinelle), Part 2 (Here), Part 3 (Savanaclaw), Part 3.5 (Diasomnia pt.1), Part 4 (Diasomnia pt2), Part 5 (Pomefiore), Part 6 (Scarabia)

"Sorry again for bleeding on your pants."

Yuu stood in their dorm’s entrance hallway, Azul at the door with his ruined slacks in hand and wearing a pair of sweats borrowed from Yuu.

Azul had spent the night after Crewel’s brief lecture. The fur-wearing teacher had given Yuu another pain relief potion before leaving, stating he was going to get something longer-lasting for them by tomorrow. Azul had elected to stay, acting as emotional support and bringing Yuu whatever they needed from elsewhere in the house.

"No issue, my pearl. The twins have ruined more than one outfit for me, a little blood isn't the end of the world." He mutters under his breath, looking at the sweatpants with a pinched expression. But he turns to smile at them, “I’m only sorry that I can’t stay with you longer. But, I’ve already missed one productive day at the lounge, and I fear what will happen if I miss another. Let alone leave Jade and Floyd to their own devices any longer…”

"So what do I owe you for the emotional turmoil then?" Yuu smiles lazily, eyes lidded as they watch Azul place a hand over his chest.

"Why I could never ask for anything in return. You're in such a delicate position, it'd be cruel to give you a payment plan now for all the distress you've caused me this past week…"

So, she was going to be ambushed with a 'payment plan' once her period was over. 

Smirking, they tilt their head, a finger poking into their cheek, "So, can I start making those payments before the interest gets too high?"

Azul sighs, pouting and shaking his head with his eyes closed, "Honestly. I try to be benevolent and you throw it back in my face. Such cruelty…" he opens an eye, a smile almost leaning into a smirk, "But payment in kisses is always accepted with you."

"Suave" Yuu leans closer, peppering kisses against Azul’s reddening cheeks before going for the kill on his lips. The two sets molded together, Yuu holding him by his jaw as her tongue slid into his mouth, tasting his moans as his hands shakingly reached toward her hips. Pulling away, they giggle at seeing Azul catch his balance on the wall, "Have fun at the lounge. Call me when you can squeeze in a break."

Still dizzy from the kiss, Azul nodded, free hand fumbling for the doorknob behind him, "W-will do. Please don't overdo it when no one is here. Love you." He barely escaped, losing his composer and stumbling away just as he closed the door behind him. Yuu was always physically affectionate, but she was downright merciless if he ever blushed in front of her.

Yuu sighs, deciding to finally check their phone in bed…maybe they’ll just grab more towels from the hallway closet. Laying on the couch closer to the kitchen would be the smarter idea. They huff, pulling out more towels and piling them in their arms. They really needed to find something to act comfortably enough like a pad or tampon, free bleeding was too messy in the long run.

Once the couch was prepped with towels, they laid down to rest under their cozy throw blanket until Crewel appeared to check on them. They clicked their phone on and almost choked at the number of notifications.  At least 300 texts, 47 missed calls, and various social media @'s in an effort to reach them. They had to fight back the tears, emotions swelling at the idea of just how cared for they were in this world. Once their nerves were settled, they went to ground zero.

Their group chat with the 'Firstie Squad' was where most of the texts were. Ace first stated that someone had assaulted them. From there chaos descended. Jack demanded to know if Ace was joking, because if so it wasn't funny in the slightest. Epel chimed in that there was no way anyone overpowered them and got away alive. Ace snapped at both of them what he saw, pointing out how odd they'd been behaving the week prior. Sebek finally chimed in, only typing to ask whether Ace was sure.

Once Ace rementioned the bloody vagina mess the whole chat might as well as caught on fire. Jack seemed to disappear, Epel followed quickly after dropping several swears and threats into the chat about the would-be aggressor. Sebek stuck around the longest, talking with Ace to get information and make a game plan. Ortho sent a single link on helping a loved one who had been assaulted. But, knowing the living droid, he had probably combed every camera at his disposal to try and catch whoever did such a crime.

Nearly an hour later Deuce had finally entered the chat, full caps stating that they were okay and then yelling at Ace. He scolded him for blabbing when Crewel just told them to keep quiet. From there new, familiar chaos took over, a normal back and forth whenever Ace and Deuce started fighting over text.

The other stray texts were from the housewardens, mainly asking why their respective firsties were acting so odd. A few more texts asking if they were okay, noting how angry they've been the past few days. Surprisingly, only two texts were from Jamil. One was a photo of a teary-eyed Grim being held like a baby by Kalim in the background, crumbs on his over-stuffed cheeks and Kalim flashing a peace sign. Mildly blurry in the corner of the photo was the side of Jamil’s face, a half-in-frame peace sign hiding his mouth. The simple message attached, ‘Grim is fed and being held. Love you’

Yuu smiles, sending him a quick message before replying to the other texts, making sure to send Ace several middle finger and a single heart emoji. She groans, seeing a few texts from Vil. But looking closer, she sees most of the missed calls were from Vil, maybe she should call him…

Listening through a few of the voicemails, Yuu notes how calm Vil sounded in the first recording. The blonde only asked how their day was and if they were still on for their movie night. The next few voicemails slowly increased in panic, the last one being a chaotic audio of Epel wailing in the background. Rook trying to either comfort or hold the country boy back while Vil yelled into the phone, “You better be dead when I find you, or so help me you’re going to be for making me worry like this!”

Yuu personally made sure to save that voicemail. It was rare to hear such emotion from Vil Shoenheit without having paid him an insane amount of money and hours of makeup and hair styling. Should Crowley try to withhold their allowance, they had a nice little nest egg to sell.

Soon, Yuu heard the front door swing open, the wood slamming against the wall and no doubt deepening the dent that was already there. Crewel really needed to announce himself at all times when he was annoyed. Yuu doesn’t rise from the couch, instead letting out a high-pitched yip to let him know where in the house they were. Hearing the click of the adult's shoes, Yuu waves over the side of the couch, “Sup, papa dog.”

“Hello, puppy.” Crewel leans over the back of the couch, his gloved hand petting her head and pressing a kiss to her hair, “How are you feeling?”

“Like bloody dirt.”

“Hmm.” Crewel drops a bag onto their stomach, the warmth and smell of it giving away that it was a take-out box of food, “Breakfast from your eels. You’ll need to eat it before you take this pain potion.”

Yuu smiles, pulling the food out and digging in. Mid chew, they raise an eyebrow, “Why’s this potion different? I normally take them without food all the time.” They watch Crewel pull out a flask, but instead of the normal green-colored syrup, it was a bright cyan. The bottle itself had a warning tag on the glass, “What the fuck is that?”

“This, puppy, is a medical-grade pain potion. While I am able to brew anything, it’d be illegal for me to brew something of this strength without proper licensing. So, I tasked Ms.Oster with making a few for you.”

The distrust Yuu had instantly faded, reaching out for the flask with a smile, “Oh, I love Ms.Oster.”

Crewel pulls the bottle from their reach, playfully sneering down at them, “Yeah, I know.”

Ingrid Oster was one of the science professors under Crewel’s direction in the school. She mainly taught practical magic and magical first aid. Even though Yuu had no reason to even know the woman as a first year, they had managed to meet and we’re now teacher/student ‘besties’, something that deeply annoyed Crewel. The number of times the bi-colored man had walked into the staff room only to see the two of them having a luncheon and gossiping about other students. Not to mention Ingrid only upped her teasing, telling Crewel that he wears the ‘dad look’ very well.

Crewel demanded they finish their food before letting them even touch the bottle. The teacher explained how a medical-grade pain potion had a  much stronger effect than the standard potion. It lasted for nearly a whole day instead of 4-6 hours, not to mention how it worked. Instead of simply numbing the nerves to give pain relief, a medical-grade pain potion targeted the muscle system, physically relieving tension and letting the fibers relax. As such, they were very rarely used outside of hospitals, but Crewel didn’t feel comfortable having Yuu drink possibly more than two potions a day.

Once Yuu was done eating, Crewel held up a finger, making sure he had their attention, “Don’t drink all of this like a normal potion. This is much stronger than that so I want you to sip. Understand? Sip.”

Yuu sighed, making a grabby hand motion until Crewel handed the flask over, noting how it still felt a bit warm through the glass under their fingers. Uncorking the bottle they make sure to sip the liquid as loudly as possible. Pulling it away and smiling at Crewel’s annoyed look, “Sip.”

“Enough of the sass or I won’t be sending you lunch.” Crewel collected the trash, throwing it away for them in the kitchen before walking back into the lounge, “Ortho hasn’t answered me yet about any of his findings. But, then again I think you actually managed to traumatize the poor boy. Until then, you’re sadly on house arrest, puppy. Invite who you wish, but you shouldn't roam campus how you like.”

“Fine…” Yuu slumped back onto the couch, pouting but feeling better as the potion started to take a mild effect. They do send a smile as Crewel ruffles their hair.

Crewel reminds them once more to not drink the whole bottle, Sip, giving their head another kiss before he left. As much as he’d want to stick around to make sure his favorite pup was taken care of, he was a very busy teacher and he had lesson plans to prepare for tomorrow.

The second Crewel had slammed their front door closed, they uncorked the flask again and drank the whole potion. They’d rather just deal with the full effect of the potion in one sitting instead of having to sip for hours on end or wake up from a surprise nap in pain. Crewel would understand if he came back and Yuu was in some type of medically induced coma.

Lunch rolled around, and along with it came three steady, loud knocks on the front door. Yuu blearily blinked their eyes open, yep, they passed out on the couch. Luckily they didn’t roll onto their phone, checking the time and messages before another three knocks rang out. As before, Yuu lets out a loud —bird-adjacent— call, their universal sign of approval. She giggles lightly, hearing Ace and Deuce return the call when they open the door, the sound of Riddle scolding them for making 'nonsense noises' without permission.

The Heartslabyul crew all walked into the lounge, each in casual clothing and a different level of uneasiness but smiling all the same. Cater was in the back, phone held nervously with both hands as he gave a wary eye at their prone form. Trey was calm as normal, holding a picnic basket in hand. Ace and Deuce were already in front of them, leaning down and annoying her mildly. Mainly Ace, the redhead poking at her stomach asking if she was still bleeding. Deuce hissed at him to stop, ‘What if you poke them so hard they bleed more?’

Riddle stood with an extra type of rigidity in his stance, the only give that he was uncomfortable. Even with his medical knowledge, he always found blood to be a deeply uncomfortable topic. But, he was willing to face his apprehension if it was for his younger classmate's benefit. Walking closer, Riddle clears his throat before speaking, “Apologies, Yuu. We’ve visited without a prior invite or call, but due to recent events I believe we can have a pass on that rule for now…”

Cater nods his head, but still refusing to get closer, “We were totes worried about you, sweetie. Plus the ADeuce duo over here wasn’t making things better by vague ranting in the dorm…”

The two freshmen glare over their shoulder’s at Cater. They had returned to the dorm yelling at each other the day prior, a common occurrence. What peaked the upperclassmen’s worry was the dubious context of their argument and their silence when Riddle demanded to know what had happened. 

Yuu smiles, blinky slowly, still half asleep from their nap, “Sorry. In fairness I wasn’t expecting it to happen, so I was really unprepared.” Cater actually had a more familiar reaction, something Yuu wasn’t aware that she missed. The mild fear from boys the second periods were mentioned, skirting around but still ready to help out because they knew they were in danger.

Trey chuckles, looking at Cater’s nervous self from the corner of his eye. Holding up the basket he taps it lightly, “We brought you some croissants, freshly baked this morning. I can even make you a sandwich with fixings of your choice.” He wouldn’t mention the hastily compiled ‘survival guide’ Jade had sent him last night. The main point being that favored food seemed to be the only thing to keep Yuu in a relatively calm state.

“I just woke up, don’t give me choices…” Yuu whined lightly, curling into the couch but still muttered out, “You know I like croissants savory or sweet, surprise me. And thanks for bringing me lunch.”

“No problem, Yuu. I heard from Crewel you were on house arrest. So to ease his workload we’ll be watching you for the day.” He starts to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll get to making you something to eat.”

“And I’ll help him! Bye, sweetie!” Cater hurried after Trey, seeing an opportunity to run and taking it.

Ace sighed, standing up straight, “Jeeze, you’re such trouble…You can’t even be bothered to sit up while you talk to us?”

“Don’t bully them, Ace! They’re in pain!” Deuce sputters, turning to Yuu with a worried, “Wait are you still in pain, should we have brought you a potion?”

Yuu waves him off lightly, slowly patting him on the face until the worried pout loosens, “Don’t worry. Crewel brought me breakfast and a pain potion. I’m as…chill as a…cold thing…Yeah…”

“You’re still half asleep is what you are…” Ace mutters quietly, rubbing the back of his head before he looks up. He looks back down, a smirk on his face, “But, since I’m such a good friend, I’ll help around since you’re too useless to do it right now.” Waving he starts to walk toward the stairs, “I’ll go clean your room.”

Deuce jumps up, growling under his breath before he follows Ace, “You’re not slick! I know you’re just gonna nap up there! Just because Yuu isn’t using their bed, doesn’t mean you get to laze around in it!” He had run out of the room after the fleeing redhead, only to rush back in. Kneeling down he gathers Yuu into his arms in a quick hug, “Glad you’re ok, Yuu.”

“Aw…Thanks, buddy.”

Deuce releases them, running back to the stairs and his yelling fading the farther he gets.

In the silence, Yuu drifted between half asleep and simply staring into the air. They probably shouldn’t have taken the whole potion, but they’d never admit to Crewel being right. Not after they deliberately disobeyed him. While studying their hand in the open air, they notice Riddle had stayed in the room, looking more and more conflicted, “...You ok?”

“...” Riddle shifted nervously, looking to the side before he walked closer. Crouching down, he whispered, almost in fear of anyone else hearing him, “Are you really bleeding from your…vagina?”

“...” She wasn’t going to laugh, she refused to laugh. Not when Riddle was looking at them so concerned. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t know if her face stayed straight or betrayed just how hard she was trying to not laugh, but she reached out to pat Riddle on the head, “I am…but it’s fine. Other than cramps, this doesn’t actually hurt me. No need to be all worried…”

That seemed to be enough for Riddle, the 2nd year letting out a sigh of relief before he stood back to his full height, “In that case, would you allow me to interview you?”

“Interview?”

With a wave of his pen, a notebook appeared in his hands, “You are a biological alien to us, though we seem to forget that at times… Such functions don’t happen to the people of Twisted Wonderland, it’d be any researcher's dream to study it.” Coughing into his fist he calms himself, “But, I understand if you are uncomfortable with such a thing. I only thought it’d be good to get the facts documented should something similar happen again.”

Yuu chuckles, seeing how eager Riddle was. One thing Yuu knew about Riddle, was that he loved puzzles. Researching a new topic with little information was a blind puzzle to him and he dived into research like it was a water slide. Sure he was trying to curb his enthusiasm since they were affected by an ‘alien illness’, but he just couldn’t stop how excited he was.

“I don’t mind, Riddle.”

Riddle’s nervous energy instantly passes, smiling at them before he flips the notebook open. Sitting in front of their legs on the couch, he clicked his wand to uncap the pen, “Perfect! Now, what is happening in broad terms?”

“Pussy peeling.”

Riddle sighed so hard that Yuu was worried he’d fall over dead from lack of air, “Yuu...You know I dislike that word, I’m begging you.”

Yuu giggles, a leg moving to lightly push against Riddle’s back before calming down, “I’m sorry…My Vagina is peeling, liquifying the scraps and then forcing it out of my body.”

Riddle looked ill, but I kept writing, “That sounds horrific…”

“Oh, it is.”

“What function does this process serve?”

“Baby room reno.”

“...What?”

Yuu groaned, head falling back against the armrest, trying to figure out an easier way to explain. Snapping their fingers, they point toward Riddle, “My pussy is replacing the wallpaper.”

“In no way…does that help me.”

“Aaaaaokay. Imagine your hormones, like, spend the whole month decorating a nursery. But, turns out there’s no baby. So the hormones throw a fit and decided to redo the nursery for next month. Hence…” Yuu smiles, gesturing to their stomach, “Replacing the wallpaper.”

Riddle wrote down the long-winded analogy, making sure to circle ‘Wallpaper replacement’ with a question mark beside it, “And this is normal in your world?”

“Sadly. Girls get their first period sometimes at like… 8 years old or younger.”

“Why!? That just…What is the purpose of it? I assumed this was a feature from birth, not something you just…wake up to.”

“Oh, it’s a sign that your body can make babies. It’s a hormonal change that comes packaged with puberty.”

Riddle stops writing, “You said some girls get this at 8 years old?”

“Yeah…though it’s more common around like 12 or 13. My friend got her’s when she was like 9 and she said she freaked out so hard. Her mom hadn’t had the, like, talk with her yet. So she just bled everywhere and tried to hide it.” Yuu kept rambling, recounting the stories her old friend group had shared about their first period horror stories, missing Riddle’s own dawning horror.

Yuu normally talked fondly of their old world. Funny stories with friends, and pleasant memories with their grandparents (Yuu never claimed to be an orphan. Had stated that both her parents were alive as far as she knew. She never shared a happy memory about them though). But sometimes the things they said worried them. The violence, the discrimination, the constant fear some people had to live in. The fact the people in charge would rather let their workforces starve than simply give them the rightful money earned (That bit of knowledge had even made Azul uncomfortable for a time). And now he hears that girls were ready to carry and birth children biologically? Girls, children. He’s praying that it wasn’t okay for girls so young to be engaging in such…activities, but the fact their bodies went through such a change at that age horrified him.

And a selfish part whispered that he was glad Yuu had managed to escape such a place.

Riddle manages to shake himself free of his spiraling thoughts, catching the end of Yuu's rambles.

"-And then my friend Tracy got her's in the middle of a ballet recital and she, like, bled all over the stage. Apparently, one girl was staring the whole time and tripped because of it." Yuu laughs, the sound coming out mildly choked, “Lisa…Lisa has like 3 older sisters, okay? They all got their period on the same day, so their house was super tense. Then poor lil Lisa comes out of her room crying holding her bloody bedsheet and everyone starts crying.”

Riddle looks at Yuu in worry from the corner of his eye, writing down more questions to review with Jade, “All of them at once? Would that be considered rare?” Was a period something like an overblot? The symptoms seemed to match…

“Naw, it’s common pussy ping, happens to the best of us.”

“One, stop saying that word. Two, a common what?”

Yuu nodded their head in a sage manner, eyes already drifting around the room again, “Yeah, pussy ping. It’s when you, like, sync up with other vaginas.”

“...” Riddle turns to Yuu, eyes wide in horror, “Sync up? As in…if someone’s period has started…”

“Yep.” Yuu smiles, making vague hand gestures, “If you spend enough time with another vagina, they send wifi signals to each other and sync up the calendars so that their hosts start on the same day.”

“I-Their hosts?” So a period was like an overblot. An extremely dangerous one at that if they were able to induce overblots in others simply by being around them long enough. The very thought of his own overblot resulting in the others…

“Oh yeah. The pussy is a dangerous thing. It’s acidic and can influence other vaginas to rebel.” “Wait, it’s acidic!?”

“Oh, yeah.” Yuu stretched, back popping as they sat up to look at Riddle directly, “I guess some stuff doesn’t carry over then. Yeah, my pussy is mildly acidic.”

Riddle looks down to Yuu’s covered lap, eyes panicked, “Is that healthy?” “Yeah. If your pussy juice can bleach your underwear over time, your pussy bacteria is healthy.”

Acidic was healthy. Riddle cared about Yuu, he truly did. She was like a sibling his younger self would have desperately needed to be a reason to think of how his actions affect those around him and to physically slap him for going too far. But every time he spoke to them about their natural state, he just felt intense concern. Things Yuu would joke about only made him realize that depression wore many faces, and that fact only made his worry expand to others in his dorm. Clearing his throat, Riddle edged just slightly away from Yuu’s lower anatomy, “Do you need to clean it out with soap or-”

Yuu was leaned against the back of the couch in a daze, cheek pressed into the fabric before shooting up and cutting Riddle off, “No. Nothing but clean water can go into the pussy. If you put any kinda cleaner up there it will anger the blood goddess and she will curse you and your pussy with dryness and wheat…yeast infections.”

“I- The blood goddess? You said your world didn’t have magic, who is this blood goddess!?”

“The Moon.”

…

“The…The Moon?”

“The moon controls the blood tides and demands her daughters pay for the sins of old…”

Riddle wrote down the new information, eyes wide, “Ok, let’s change the subject.”

Yuu nods, head lulling back to rest against the couch, “Periods are like…insane. Girls only like talking about them because it makes everyone else terrified.”

“I can see why…But with this affecting possibly 50% of the population, you must have had a class about it? Do you remember anything you could tell me?”

“No.”

“...No?”

“I don’t remember.”

Riddle sighs, looking at Yuu with a stern frown, “Yuu this would be much easier if you would cooperate with me-”

“No, really I don’t remember. We had the ‘puberty talk’ when I was, like, in 5th grade. We don’t review that shit until we get to Sex-Ed and I didn’t have that class yet.”

“...That sounds incredibly negligent and poorly thought out.”

“You could also opt your kid out because you don’t want them learning about sex.”

“What-”

“Those were the kids who normally end up pregnant, funny enough.”

“Childhood pregnancy isn’t funny, Yuu.”

Yuu giggled, nudging at Riddle’s back with her knee, only stopping when the 2nd year forcibly shoved her knee away from him, “It’s kinda funny. At least to laugh at the parent's stupidity, you know?”

“You’re laughing at a child getting pregnant…” Please don’t let that be a common occurrence in Yuu's world, “But, You are sexually active, aren’t you? How is that so if you’ve never had Sex-Ed?”

“The fuck kind of question is that? You’re the ghost of a sickly Victorian child who never lived to take The Dangers of Spices 101, how are you fucking Floyd?”

“It’s mandatory of Twisted Wonderland home school curriculum to teach a basic Sex-Ed course at the middle school level and you don’t need to know the details of my personal life.”

“Oh god, you had Sex-Ed with your mom.”

“Yuu-”

She waves his tone off, not at all bothered by his reddening face, “I learned from my friends. Honestly, I didn’t even know how a tampon worked until we had to make a midnight run at a sleepover one night.”

“Tampons…” Riddle writes it down, ensuring the page had plenty of space, “That’s a new term. What is it?” Jade’s notes hadn’t mentioned a ‘tampon’.

“Cotton you shove up your pussy to soak up the blood. Most of my friends used those but me and another gal named Rue liked pads better.”

Riddle nods, writing down the second word. He had heard of pads from Jade’s shared notes, and also from being manhandled by Sam’s shadows in his search for information. “I'm guessing a pad is also like a tampon, but less…invasive?”

“Yeah.” Yuu yawns, seeming to realize just how full of cotton her head was even when awake, “Though that’s mainly because I heard about what the fuck Toxic Shock was and it scared me enough to not want to use them.”

“I’m sorry, Toxic Shock? You couldn’t lead with that!?”

“Oh, right. This is like common knowledge for me so I don’t really care about it. But, Toxic Shock Syndrome is like…something that could happen if you use tampons. But it’s like super rare, to the point if you got it from a tampon? You left that thing in there for days and you deserve it because that’s just gross.”

Ok, that…that was calming at least. He wrote the new information under the Tampon page. As far as he was concerned Yuu had made a good decision, ‘Tampons’ sounded nothing but dangerous. Though Yuu had stated most of their friends preferred to use them. Maybe there was a proper method to using them that Yuu didn’t care to learn (Which honestly fit them). He reviews his notes briefly, frowning at how most of the information was concerning, “Your reproductive health is surprisingly delicate.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I could have cancer honestly.”

“What!?”

“The female anatomy is a hellscape. I could be dying right now but the cramps basically overshadow everything.” Yuu laughs, picking at her nails absent-mindedly, “There’s plenty of people who’ve, like, died from actual internal damage but they just thought it was their periods- W-whoa, Riddle are you crying?”

“No, I’m panicking!”  Riddle scrambled off the couch, lifting the blanket to check Yuu directly. Or he would have if the sight of blood smeared across their inner thighs didn’t make his head swirl. The blanket drops from his hands, turning away and managing to catch himself onto his hands and knees as he dry heaved, “By the Seven, is there supposed to be that much blood!?”

“...” Yuu watches him in mild concern. But seeing how the 2nd year didn’t actually start vomiting they answered, “I think so? I might be flowing heavy since I haven’t had one in a while…”

Riddle wiped at his forehead, taking slow breaths as he stood back up, eyes roaming the floor for his dropped pen and notebook, “Heavy flow? As in the flow can change pressure? Consistency?”

“Yeah, those are words to describe it, I guess.” Yuu shrugs, head turning in the direction of the kitchen. Were Trey and Cater making the jam from scratch? What was taking the two of them so long? Looking back at Riddle, Yuu shrugs again, “To be honest I have… no idea what normal is. Honestly, no one in my world really did.” “How?”

“Dude, people were fucking terrified of periods. Before I got here? They were just now actually, like, testing pads and tampons with shit that wasn't water. Aka, not the right cunt-sistency of periods.”

Riddle gripped at his chest. The lack of common sense was baffling. These were the people in charge of that world, half the population was suffering from this illness and they couldn’t even test their sanitation products correctly, “Oh my Seven…”

“Some places were trying to ban talking about them in school, so fuck what shitty health class we had in the first place. Plus, periods can get weird, you know. Sometimes, you can like…bleed from other places.”

“What.”

“Yeah, like, from your butt or your eyes,” Yuu’s head rolls along the back of the couch, laughing as a memory resurfaces, “My friend, Chel, told us her cousin’s all came out in one piece once.”

Riddle dry heaved, stumbling back and coughing as the mental image started to form, “Trey…” He called out weakly. He was going to pass out, or vomit. Either one was wildly unwelcome at that moment.

“Apparently, it was like wet tissue just slid out of her.”

Another gag, Riddle fully turning away. The horror clear on his face unable to stop his mind.

“Yeah, her cousin sent a picture too. It looked like a bloody piece of chewed-up gum-”

“TREY!” Riddle doubled over, just barely getting his yell out, coughing as he fought against his urge to vomit. Hearing the sounds of footsteps thundering down the hall, he felt relief flood him. He couldn’t handle another minute of this, he was never good with blood. Blood was always the sign of something being deeply wrong, blood outside the body besides the need for a transfusion was never healthy. Now one of his friends was basically hemorrhaging and he had to deal with the fact it was “healthy”.

Cater and Trey rush into the room, Trey dressed in Yuu’s black ‘Shut Up and Eat’ apron with a plate of croissants gripped in his hands, “What!? Who’s dying!?”

Phone pointed in front of him, Cater films a video. If Yuu managed to kill all of them, someone would be able to find the video and know what happened to them, “Is Yuu still bleeding?”

At Riddle’s loud retch, Trey handed the plate of food to Cater. The 3rd year quickly walked over to Riddle, rubbing at his back and trying to guide him out of the lounge, “Okay, let’s get you outside. Some fresh air will help. Cater, keep Yuu company.”

Cater watches mildly stunned, Trey walking past him with his hands firmly on Riddle’s shoulders. With a plate of toasted croissant sandwiches in one hand and his still recording phone in the other Cater looked at Yuu on the couch. Their head was leaned back against the armrest, watching him with what he could only describe as a predator’s stare. Putting his phone in his pocket, Cater grabs one of the sandwiches and slowly approaches Yuu, arm outstretched as he wiggled it, “Pspspspspspspssps.”

“I can not begin to tell you what I will do to you if you don’t stop that shit right now.” The threat was empty and they both knew it. Yuu struggled to not laugh as Cater finally walked over to them normally, gently placing the plate in their waiting hands, “How fucking dare you…? I’m laying here in pain and ruining the nice towels Kalim gifted me and you’re treating me like a cat.”

“A feral cat.” Cater had eased, if only a little bit. He still wasn’t standing at an angle to let Yuu get a quick hit in, but his shoulders had finally relaxed. It helped that he knew Yuu had food now, Trey was just as confused as he was when Jade kept sending texts reflecting the importance of giving Yuu food lest they attack them in a mood swing. And now with said feral cat feeding on the still-warm sandwiches, Cater could feel a bit safer, “You’re totes a cute cat, but still feral. #Hot-Mess, #Hit-By-A-Bus, #Don’t-Bite-Me-Pwease.”

Yuu frowned, though a smile was clearly winning the fight over their expression, “Shut up…” Taking a big bite, the buttery sweet sandwich filled them with a sense of comfort. Trey’s cooking always had an odd effect Yuu found. No matter what he made it would make others feel content and full. They and the ADeuce duo would joke that Trey was using his Unique Magic to make his food replace negative emotions somehow. 

Trey hadn’t answered their joke, only smiling at them and offering another pie for their hangout.

Now with a plate of warm food, Yuu was more content, almost melting into the couch and snoozing into the armrest as she hummed. In their hazy mind, Yuu could hear Cater’s chuckle. The redhead sat carefully on the armrest above their head.

“Aw, my poor rag-a-muffin froshie is having such a hard time. It really makes me wanna be a good senpai and look after you.” He sighed dramatically, tapping at his cheek as he playfully pouted, “Is this how Trey feels looking at Ace and Deuce?”

“Only if you feel a deep sense of disappointment and contempt for everything I do.”

Ace and Deuce had just entered the room, Both of them with messy hair and disheveled clothing, clearly having gotten into a scuffle before coming back downstairs. The redhead first-year scowls, clicking his tongue, “Shut up. I’ve never done a single thing wrong in my life.”

Cater snorts, trying to hide just how hard he was fighting back his laughter.

Yuu raised an eyebrow, “Did you get fucking concussed up there? You’ve done nothing right since the day you were born, and you know it.”

“Shut up, you’re lucky you’re injured! Plus, where’s Riddle and Trey?”

Deuce looked around, walking closer to Yuu to once again give them a check, “We heard Rosehearts-Senpai yelling upstairs…”

“And you just now decided to show up?” Yuu tries to shove the whole of a croissant into her mouth, seeming to not realize the issue of it not being able to fit.

Ace scoffs from the doorway, “Like we’re coming down here if he was actually mad.” He watches Yuu with a raised brow. She was just…holding the sandwich now, as though she was trying to figure out how to properly eat it.

Deuce watches in silence too, only to gently grab the sandwich from Yuu, tearing it in half before giving it back, “Yuu did you…eat anything else before we got here?”

“Yeah, papa dog brought me food…” Yuu stared at the new, smaller sandwich in hand. Half shoving it into their mouth they continued, their voice muffled, “Why do you ask?”

“...Did you have one of those gummies Sam legally doesn’t sell you?”

“Are you high!?” Cater perked up, leaning over and tilting Yuu’s head back to look into their eyes. He lets out a laugh, noticing how heavily their pupils were dilated. Well, that would also explain why Yuu seemed so calm. Cater did the same when he had lingering body aches from tending the garden. If a pain potion wasn’t available, a nice ‘chill pill’ was plenty to ease the mind and body, “Let me have one.”

Yuu huffs, nearly choking on their massive bite, “I didn’t take a gummy. I took some medicine Crewel gave me.”

Deuce leaned closer, also checking their pupils before muttering under his breath, “Was it a tranquilizer dart?”

“Naw, it was a pain potion…Like a fancy one, with a tag on it.”

…

Ace looked around the floor near the couch, eyes catching the empty bottle half hidden under the skirt of the seating. Pulling it out, he read the tag and shouted in surprise, “Dude, this like a ‘The pain is so bad I’m dying’ pain potion! Is it really that bad!?”

Deuce grabs the bottle from Ace, reading it over before handing it to Cater, “Yuu! Do you want us to take you to the hospital!? Wait, no, you don’t want to-”

“How is this empty already?”

“Huh!?” Yuu clicks back into the conversation, looking up at Cater’s concerned glance, “What do you mean how? I drunk it.”

“Sweetie, these potions are like…You can take them orally, but they’re strong enough they normally are supposed to be given via drip for a safe, lasting effect…So why is it empty already?”

“...” Yuu started to cackle, the plate of sandwiches being saved from the floor as Deuce dived to catch it as they jostled off her lap, “I fucking chugged morphine!”

“You chugged this!?”

Ace slapped his forehead, “By the Seven, you’re fucking hopeless. This period thing makes you bleed out the brain, too? You’re gonna lose what little brain cells you had to begin with.”

Yuu still chuckled, hand reaching back to bat at Cater’s fingers combing through their hair, “Fuck you, Ace. Even if I got a brain bleed, I’d still have more brain cells than you.”

“Doubtful. You’re so useless right now, you couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag.”

Yuu’s laughter instantly stopped, smiling falling into a neutral line as their gaze snapped to Ace. The redhead’s eyes widen, fear suddenly gripping his chest at Yuu’s stare, “...Uh…”

Riddle's breathing had calmed, but now he was sitting on the steps of Ramshackle, head in his hands as he felt a headache crowning. Lifting his head he stared at his palms, as though they held the answers to his questions, “This is bad, Trey. I don’t have any other way to describe it, this is bad.”

“Riddle, calm down. We can trust Yuu to handle themselves-”

“Except, we can’t! Yuu doesn’t even have all the facts and what facts they do have may not even be right since it’s all second-hand knowledge from other uninformed minors! Not to mention they haven’t even had a proper class on the subject…By the Seven, would it even be informative? They would have dealt with this for years at that point, They probably just went on the internet and read some uncertified drivel, lord knows they won’t open a book-”

“Riddle. Breathe.” Trey grasps Riddle by one of his shoulders, shaking him lightly and thumping the 2nd year on the chest with his other hand. Something to make Riddle take more than a shallow breath in his rambles, “Like you said, Yuu’s been dealing with this for years. They know what they need and we can help by giving them access to whatever it may be.”

Now that he was taking deep gulps of air, Riddle’s anxious energy had finally died down, his stomach finally resting. He turned to Trey, worry clear in his expression, “But it’s concerning. It’s so simple, yet the difference is so obviously alien I can’t help but want to…fix it. But it’s not my place to fix it, because there’s nothing to fix and this is completely natural for them…”

“...That’s right…Riddle did something other than…the blood upset you?”

“...” He sighs, “Yuu says they have no idea about their overall reproductive health. Since they refuse to see a real medical professional and Idia isn’t going to give Ortho the permission to do intrusive body scans, we have no way of checking. They could have cancer and we’d have no way of knowing until they got sick or they died! They said this ‘period’ isn’t always a standard thing either! They could bleed out of their eyes one day and we won’t know if they were actually about to expire or if they were simply on their ‘period’!”

“...” Trey sighs, rubbing the back of his neck at the new information, “Ok, yeah, that…that is very worrying…But,” Trey turns to Riddle with a smile, trying to find the bright side, “Yuu knows their body. If something was really wrong, you know they’d at least tell Crewel about it. And…” He trails off, letting Riddle’s mind come to the conclusion itself.

“...” Yuu’s relationship with Crewel was, to most other students, blindingly trusting. The prefect would tell the teacher anything and everything if they truly felt concerned about the information. Yuu continued to trust Crewel so much since he responded to such faith with the same intensity and care. “And Crewel would physically drag them to a hospital if he truly felt their life was in danger…” He took one last deep breath, nodding at the ‘fact’.

Trey watches with a smile as Riddle gathers himself up. What was once a too-small teen curled in on himself in anxiety and physical illness stood his good friend Riddle Rosehearts, a calm and collected figure of authority.

“Ok, I feel much better now, thank you, Trey.” Riddle looks to the door, “I should finish interviewing Yuu. There was so much information Jade wasn’t able to collect regarding the physical aspect of this…”

Trey hums, opening the door for them as they walk back inside, “He did say Yuu was very hormonal during their visit. Eels noses are really sensitive so he might have been distracted in his own interview by that and the smell of blood.”

“Possibly-”

The sound of Ace yelling and a loud crash coming from the lounge sends them both sprinting. Riddle reached the archway first, nearly being rammed into the side by Trey sliding to a stop beside him, “What’s happening?” “Is anyone hurt!?” Cater chuckles from the back of the couch, phone poised in his hands to film the fight between Ace and Yuu on the ground, “Poor Ace is gonna be.”

Ace and Yuu were spread out on the ground, Yuu quickly making progress to reach at Ace’s face to slap and tug on his cheeks, “Say uncle!” He kept pushing at Yuu’s hands, face pulled into a scowl as a stray drop of blood eased down from his nose, “You bitch! You punched me!”

“You’re the one saying I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag! Are you weaker than a paper bag, Ace!?”

“Senpais!” Ace flips onto his stomach, reaching out to Riddle while his other arm braced against Yuu’s chest to keep them away from his face, “Help me! Cater and Yuu are bullying me and Deuce isn’t being useful!”

Deuce calls out from the other side of the fight, holding his thumb up, “I’m helping, Yuu! The hair, prefect! Pull him by the hair and slam his face into the carpet!”

“Senpai! Help!”

“...” Riddle turned away, holding his hand over his mouth, “Don’t bleed on Yuu’s rug…”

“ME!?”

Yuu cackles, finally managing to tangle their fingers into Ace’s wild hair, “Yeah, Ace! Don’t bleed on my rug!”

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you write about her morning in the life where it’s just happy and she’s full of life and bringing chaos to their morning and they are all joking around with each other.

A/N: Hope you like the way I wrote this! If you were thinking something different just send in another request!

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!reader

The first rays of sunlight barely made it through the cracks in the Bunker’s steel-bladed blinds, but it was more than enough to rouse you from your slumber. To most, the early morning hours would be a time for grogginess, the soft groan of the world slowly waking up. Not for you. You had been awake for hours, despite it only being 7 AM. Which, for most people, was barely even considered "morning," but for you, it was basically lunchtime. You’d already done a couple laps around the Bunker for no reason, rummage through random things in your boredom, and had a concert in the shower.

Your energy was a tornado of chaos, already whipping through the old walls of the Bunker, leaving a trail of disruption in your wake. You didn’t care. It was your version of "me time," and nobody could stop you. Especially not Dean, who, by all indications, was trying to make breakfast now, which you knew would only result in more chaos for him.

Dean, standing over the stove, could already feel the impending chaos. He heard you rummaging through the cabinets and talking to yourself, which was a sure sign that the madness was about to unfold.

"Don't start anything until I'm done with the bacon," Dean called over his shoulder, flipping eggs like a culinary pro, with a concentration that could only be matched by a bomb diffuser.

You leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, grinning way too brightly for someone who had just gotten up at 5 AM for no particular reason. “What’s the magic number for ‘this is too early for chaos,’ Dean?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. Dean glanced over at you, shaking his head. “You're way past it.” You grinned wider. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Then, without missing a beat, you skipped over to the counter, tapping your fingers along it rhythmically, setting the beat of your own personal symphony. You couldn't help yourself. Everything felt like a joke waiting to be cracked. You paused just long enough to stare him down with exaggerated seriousness. "I'm basically your live-in caffeine, Dean. Without me, you'd fall asleep standing up and trip over your own feet, and Sam would have to carry you like a baby."

Dean let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, and flipped the bacon onto a plate. "Yeah, yeah. Just... watch out for the stove, it’s hot, alright?" He turned back to his skillet like you weren't about to launch into yet another round of ridiculousness. You flashed him an exaggerated salute. “You got it, boss! I won’t burn myself, I promise!” You declared. And then, like clockwork, the next phase of the storm arrived.

Sam had finished his morning run and was coming back into the Bunker through the main door, wiping the sweat from his brow. Without even thinking, you launched yourself from the counter and darted straight toward him, your arms wide open in a playful attack.

"Sammy!" You shouted in a tone so overly sweet it bordered on mischievous. "Come here, I missed you!"

Sam, not fully expecting the surprise ambush at this hour, had just enough time to raise his arms defensively. You jumped, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms around his neck as you tried to steady yourself.

"Whoa, easy there," Sam grunted, staggering backward slightly under your sudden weight. "Jeez, you're like a—"

"Ugh! Ew! Ew, you stink!" You complained dramatically, wrinkling your nose and dramatically pulling away. "What is that? It’s like a mixture of old socks, sweaty gym clothes, and regret."

Sam grinned despite your exaggerated reactions. "It’s called 'morning run' scent. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"I don't need that kind of negativity in my life," you shot back, but before you could free yourself, your feet slipped out from under you. In the blink of an eye, you lost your grip on Sam’s back and tumbled to the ground, letting out a small yelp. But Sam was quick, steadying you before you could slam into the floor.

He caught you around the waist and effortlessly eased you down to the floor, ensuring you didn’t hurt yourself, and that you didn’t land on your face. "See? This is why you shouldn’t get out of bed until at least 7am," Sam said with a teasing smirk.

You took a deep breath and rolled your eyes. "Okay, first of all, I am very graceful. Second, I had it all under control—until I didn’t. But it was mostly your fault for being so stinky."

Dean turned around just in time to witness your spill, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tossed you a mocking thumbs up. "Nice save, Sammy. You really know how to handle your little sister."

You stuck your tongue out at him while Sam ruffled your hair.

"Hey, she’s your sister too and if we’re being honest, she’s more like you than she’s like me."

Dean’s eyes widened as he mock-scowled. “Oh, hell no.” He wagged a finger at Sam. “You can’t throw that on me. That’s not fair. You two are always conspiring together, teaming up on me.” He turned back toward you, his smirk widening. “See? You’ve already got him wrapped around your little finger.”

You tilted your head and flashed a wicked grin. “Well, I’m a lot of things, Dean. But mostly I’m a work of art.”

Sam laughed, nudging Dean. "Tell me again how she’s more like you? She’s practically a mini-you already. The sarcasm, the chaos, the unpredictability—it’s all Dean Winchester in a much smaller package." He looked at you and chuckled.

Dean threw a playful punch at Sam’s shoulder, but his eyes were narrowed, clearly trying to play the ‘big brother’ role. “Don’t tease her. I’m warning you.”

You leaned dramatically against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “Pfft. Tease me? I’m too smart for that. I’m basically un-teasable.”

Sam’s grin widened as he leaned against the counter. “Man, you two are impossible. Every time I think you can’t get worse, you prove me wrong.”

“I’m like a surprise gift that just keeps on giving,” you said, tapping your finger to your temple. “You two better buckle up, because I’m about to give you the facts.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I can already feel my sanity slipping.”

You took a dramatic step toward the kitchen, striking a pose like you were about to give a speech. “I’m basically your moral compass. Let’s be real, without me, you two would just be a couple of grumpy old men in a bunker, drinking whiskey and complaining about the world.”

Sam let out a deep laugh. “Okay, okay, maybe you’re not completely wrong. But just remember that this ‘moral compass’ of yours has a habit of getting us in more trouble than it’s worth.”

Dean, clearly trying to stay composed, muttered under his breath, “You’re both gonna drive me to drink... before breakfast.”

You threw your arms wide, laughing. “Hey, at least I know how to make things interesting!”

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance, the kind of look that said they’d survived this madness before and would do so again. But neither of them could suppress the smiles tugging at their lips. As much as you were pure, unfiltered chaos, you were also exactly what they needed to make life a little less predictable—and a lot more entertaining.

[beesspacedotorg]

thinking about tinky winky (purple lino) and begging cute boyfriend minho to dye his hair purple again and because bunny loves loves loves compliments it turns into a “so you think i’m pretty huh☺️” fest of him fishing for praise from his partner -🌸

cherry blossom anon, I may have accidentally forgot to put in compliments and instead it turned into a 750 word fic about dyeing his hair. I hope that's okay. Mayhap I'll revisit this featuring the compliments and ... other thing.

You aren’t above begging. You aren’t above a lot of things, actually, as proven by the way you’re currently on your knees in front of your boyfriend, hands clasped together like you’re praying.

“Minho, please. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. I’ll unclog the tub drain myself next time, I’ll give you earth-shattering head, pleasepleaseplease.” He looks at you, mildly confused from where you’ve ambushed him at your front door before the realization dawns and his eyes narrow.

“You’re kidding me right now.” He toes his shoes off.

“I’m not. Please, you looked so hot I don’t see why you won’t let me.” He’s walking towards the kitchen and you follow after him, still on your knees.

“Are you saying that I don’t look hot now?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. You just looked so good with the hair, please. Stay will literally thank me.”

“They’ll think it was skzigi.”

“I’ll roleplay as JYP Entertainment staff if that’s what it takes, Lee Minho.” He sighs, throwing his head back towards the ceiling while mumbling. Your boyfriend isn’t religious, he’s one of the few members of his group who has never had any particular faith, but you think he might be praying for something right now.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m mostly just doing all of this for the bit.” You’re standing now, hand on his shoulder as you peer at him, worried that you might have taken it a step too far.

“Shh. I’m trying to think of how I’ll explain this to our manager and Chan without getting my head lobbed off.” You smile, wide and beaming as you clap your hands excitedly, rushing off to the bathroom and reappearing next to him with a bag in your hands.

“Great! When you come up with a good excuse meet me in the bathroom.”

“How did you- Why- You didn’t even know I was going to say yes!”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I was going to save it for a rainy day, or use it on myself.” And with that, you’re gone, leaving Minho alone in the kitchen as he imagines how hot you would look with purple hair.

“Wait,” he calls after you, setting his half-opened ramen packet on the counter and turning, “did you buy enough for two people?”

-

“Are you sure you don’t want me to shower?” He asks, sitting backwards on the toilet lid as you mix the bleach.

“I didn’t go to hair school, so I’m not an expert, but I did dye my friends’ hair all throughout highschool and we had better results with less damage when their hair was gross so, yes. I’m sure.”

“That smells awful.”

“It’s almost like its chemicals.”

“I’ll leave.”

“There’s already bleach in your hair, if you leave now you’ll have awful streaks that even the most diehard LeeKnower wouldn’t be able to justify.” He huffs at that, mumbling something about how Stays aren’t that shallow and you reply with a comment about Hyunjin’s Maxident hair that shuts him up.

“He looked good,” he starts and you sigh, head dropping forward. “I don’t see what they were so upset about.”

“I know, dear.”

“He suits short hair!”

“He does.”

“It fit the concept!”

“It did.”

“Yah!” He turns, hitting your arm lightly and almost knocking the bleach bowl out of your hands. “You aren’t listening.”

“My apologies for not wanting to hear my boyfriend wax poetic about another man’s hair.”

-

“How long does this have to sit for?”

“Ask me that again and I’ll leave it in until you go bald.”

-

The bleach is washed out and his head’s half purple before he looks at his phone and his eyes go wide.

“What’s up?” You’re busy drawing shapes on his head with the dye.

“Hannie is calling.”

“So answer it.”

“It’s video.”

“Say that you’re naked.”

“Like that’s stopped me before.”

“Say that I’m naked.” The call promptly drops.

-

“How long does this have to sit for?”

“Do you give the hairstylists at the company this much trouble?”

“No.”

“I’m shaving you bald.”

-

His hair has been rinsed and blow dried and you’ve been making eyes at him for the past ten minutes while he shoves ramen noodles in his mouth.

“Can you stop staring so hard? My head’s about to catch fire.” His mouth is full.

“No. No I cannot.” His eyes roll and he sets his now empty bowl down.

“So… about that ‘earth-shattering head’ you mentioned?”

[gookywookie-blog]

Deadpool x Wolverine [short fic, hurt/comfort]

In the middle of a densely foggy field, stands a man, with a very lost look on his face despite his gruff appearance. Clad in a tattered yellow and blue superhero suit, splattered with blood and dirt all over.

He looked around, wondering where he had ended up this time. Was he pulled into another reality by some loud weirdo wearing black and red? He doesn't remember.

The field seemed to go on forever in every direction he looked because the fog was so thick. He decides to start walking forward, perhaps he could find something that'll get him out of this place. The tall grass moved against his body as he walked through them, but they made no sound. He realizes that it was dead silent, no whistling wind, no distant birds, nothing. Just a foreboding, ever present silence.

In the distance, a shadowy shape began to form. He extends his claws, readying himself if this happens to be an ambush of some sort, and walks cautiously. He slows down, eyebrows coming together in confusion as the shape reveals itself - a tall stone of sorts. He surveys the surroundings a bit more before approaching the pillar and putting away his claws.

There were etchings on it, and he soon realizes, this was a giant headstone. He looks around him as dozens of these things began to materialize out of nowhere. His breath hitches in his throat as it dawned on him what was going on, hairs on his skin standing on end. He whips his head around as whispers seemingly filled the air, but no one was around. Just him and these painful reminders of his past.

He runs. He doesn't know where he's going, but he wants to get out of here. However, the giant stones only seemed to be following him, and they somehow grew larger and larger than before, the gaps between them shrinking. He nicks himself as he tries to get through them, despite them having unsettlingly smooth surfaces. The whispers persisted still, some of them blowing right against his ears.

He looks up ahead - the gravestones no longer have gaps between them. He drops to his knees, heaving, trying to catch his breath. It was dead quiet again.

He gets up and turns around to run again, only to be greeted by the sight of gigantic gravestones surrounding him on all sides. He frantically whips his head around, looking for any possible exit… but there was none. He couldn't even see where the stones ended.

Fear and panic were beginning to build up inside him. Throat feeling dry, skin slick with cold sweat, nausea beginning to grip him. His eyes sting, tears forming, as he keeps looking for a way out. A sob escapes his mouth, and another, and he completely breaks down into a sobbing mess.

"I'm sorry… I-I'm so sorry…" he gasps in between sobs, his voice quivering with every word. The feeling of frustration was overwhelming, he starts yelling and draws out his claws, intending to use them on himself.

"Logan!"

He pauses. He snaps his head towards where the sound had come from.

"Logan! Logan!"

A familiar voice.

"Peanut! Wake up!"

… Peanut?

"LOGAN!"

Logan's eyes flew open. Looking over him was a familiar face, and without a thought he takes Wade into his arms tightly. His breathing was still shaky with panic, tears streaming down his face. Wade's hand settles on the small of Logan's back, the other stroking his hair. "You're okay, it's okay, everything's alright." Wade whispers gently.

Slowly, Logan is able to pace his breaths. Wade nudges Logan with his head, "You good now peanut?", trying to let go only to be squeezed tighter by him. Wade stifles a chuckle, instead pats Logan rhythmically.

"I… I didn't hurt you while I was asleep.. did I?" Logan quietly asks, voice shaky. Wade simply shakes his head. They stay that way for a few more minutes, until Logan had begun to feel drowsy again.

"Let me get you some water, wolvie, go and lie down."

Logan releases Wade from his grip, moving to lean onto the head board. Wade briskly heads to the kitchen, out of view from his other half's eyes, as he takes a look at his punctured leg. He knew if he had told Logan the truth, he's probably blame himself more than he already does. Good thing he was used to getting stabbed.

As he was about to get something to wipe off the blood, he hears heavy footsteps come from behind him. "I knew I smelled blood," Logan mutters in a hoarse voice.

"Guess I can't fool a kitty's keen smell huh", Wade quips. "Not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound, what with regenerative healing and all that y'know."

Logan watches silently as Wade fills up a glass with water. He turns and stretches out his hand holding the glass of water. Logan looks Wade in the eyes, down to his hand holding a rag, down to the leg that had been wounded. It was already healing up. "… I still hurt you though," he says under his breath, guilt taking over.

"Shhhh shhhhh everything is alright sweetiepie," Wade puts a finger to Logan's lips. "I've had worse, okay? Now drink this water so we can continue cuddling in bed."

Logan takes the water from Wade's hand and hesitates.

"Or do you want me to use my mouth to pass the water to you? I can do that if you want, baby cakes."

Logan chuckles and shakes his head, downing the water in one gulp. The water felt like heaven going down his dry throat. He goes past Wade and puts the glass into the sink. He opted to splash some water onto his face to take the stickiness away, and headed back into their room, where Wade was already posed obnoxiously on the bed.

"Jump in, it's all warmed up for ya", Wade winks and pats Logan's side of the bed. Logan sighs, and crawls in, facing Wade. "Something wrong, babe?"

Logan locks eyes with Wade, "I'm sorry," he chokes out. Wade smiles, and takes Logan into his arms. "If you're really sorry, peanut, you can make it up to me by watching the Barbie movie with me tomorrow."

"Again?" Logan grumbles, his head pressed up against Wade's chest listening intently to his heartbeat. "That, or you let me put stickers on your big ol' boobies." Logan found the way Wade's voice echoed inside his ear comforting, along with the steady thrumming of his heartbeat, he begins to feel drowsy. He puts his arms around Wade's waist. "Just go to sleep Wade."

As annoying as this loose-lipped menace was, Wade brought Logan a lot more comfort than he'd like to admit. The thought that when he wakes up, Wade would always be there - as daunting as that might sound for him - made him feel secure. Wade was his, as much as he was Wade's. In the back of his mind, he was grateful that this crazed oddball sought him out, because if he hadn't, he wouldn't have had the privilege of experiencing everything he was experiencing now, the good and the bad.

He's here, because Wade is here. That was enough reason for him to work towards his future, no matter how heartbreaking his past may be.

[penkura]

Inspired by this post from @xxchaosjojoxx, I had to run with it and do one for Shachi, it just came to me and I couldn't NOT do it. 💚

Orca man needs all the love, too. 💚

Oh shit oh no gotta hide!

Nearly throwing himself around the corner, Shachi does his absolute best to hide from you. He cannot see you right now, not when he’s being forced to tell the truth no matter what question he’s asked! All was fine and dandy when he went into town with Penguin and Bepo, until they were ambushed by some other pirates. Of course they were no match for this trio, but unfortunately Shachi was hit with a devil fruit that has left him unable to even tell a little white lie for the next 48 hours, and he’s terrified at the thought of having to speak to you right now.

What if you ask just the right question and he reveals the crush he’s had on you for years now?? He can’t risk it! Every time he’s seen you today he’s run and hid away, confusing you immensely. You think you’ve done something to upset the red head and hate the idea that you did so, but you can’t even pin him down long enough to ask. Penguin won’t even tell you! He just laughs and pats your shoulder, telling you to keep trying, you’ll trap the orca man eventually and get the reason why out of him.

It’s not like he wants to see Shachi suffer through an unplanned, likely fumbled confession, but it would be entertaining after he’d gotten the two in trouble last week for falling asleep on the job. Law wasn’t happy about it and neither was Penguin even though he swears Shachi fell asleep first. At the very least it stuck the two of them with you on kitchen duty the next day, Shachi spent most of the time joking around and trying to flirt with you, but you didn’t seem to catch on.

Penguin has half a mind to shove you into his and Shachi’s room, forcing the confession and subsequent response from you. He’s sick of hearing his friend moan and whine about how much he likes you but how he's so convinced you don’t have even the slightest but of romantic feelings for him, even though Penguin knows that’s not true. Ikkaku and Hakugan have told the older man how many times you’ve done the same thing as Shachi, yet somehow you can’t tell when he’s flirting with you. It’s so annoying.

Shachi just watches you and Penguin from around the corner, ducking back behind it when you nearly see him. He’s already been asked some embarrassing questions by Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione once they found out, but he’s begged everyone to keep this incident from you. He just can’t deal with this, he’s going to hide for the next 48 hours until he’s absolutely sure that the powers have worn off and he’s not going to spill his guts about his feelings to you if you ask a simple question like “what’s up” or “can you help me out” or “Hey why the hell have you been avoiding me”. He’s sure you’re wondering what’s going on, but he’s got to hide, he’s not ready to tell you anything yet!

“Not ready yet?! It’s been five years, dude!”

He knows Penguin’s right but Shachi just hasn’t figured out the words to tell you. He wants it to be perfect even if it takes a few years more.

He's not too keen on the idea of it just being blurted out because of an enemy’s powers. Instead of hanging around any longer, stressing about if his feelings for you are going to be revealed today, Shachi takes off down the hall, trying to be quiet so you don’t realize you really did see him. He doesn’t want you coming after him right now.

Penguin has other ideas though. Once he’s sure Shachi is gone to their room, he puts an arm around your shoulders and starts leading to that way himself.

“He’s just been ignoring me ever since you guys got back…every time I try to talk to him he runs off, did I do something?”

“No, no, don’t worry, you didn’t do anything, “ Penguin pats your shoulder while you hum like you don’t believe him, “I’m sure he’s back in our room, I’ll stay outside while you talk to him, okay?”

“So you can eavesdrop or keep him from running away?”

He laughs which makes you smile, once you get to their room and he grabs the doorknob.

“Just stay behind me and don’t say anything.”

You nod and hide behind Penguin, holding onto his boiler suit, while he enters his room and greets Shachi, who is laying face down in his bed.

“Come on, you can’t hide for the next two days, man. [Y/N] thinks she did something!”

“But she didn’t!!” Shachi whines into his pillow, Penguin rolls his eyes while you listen, “It’s not her fault, I just…uuugggghhhh this is the worst….”

“You should just tell her dude, whether or not you’re forced to.”

“That’s not how this should go, man!” Sitting up, Shachi lets out a trusted sigh before taking off his hat to run his hands through his hair, “I…she deserves a better confession than me being unable to control my mouth cause of a devil fruit, you know?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Confession??”

Penguin sighs while Shachi’s eyes widen when he hears your voice, you finally stick your head out from behind Penguin. Shachi sends a glare at his friend who shrugs and starts to leave, saying he’ll give you two some time, before a pillow hits the door.

“Not cool, Penguin!!”

“Oh well! Have fun talking!”

Neither of you say anything but Shachi’s bright red face tells you enough, even as he picks his hat back up and tries to pull it fully over his face to hide from you. When you still don’t say anything to him, he starts mumbling to just forget about it, this isn’t right, you obviously don’t feel the same for him. He still wishes he could’ve told you in a different way, even though he hasn’t even said anything more, he doesn’t fully notice you coming over and seating yourself on his bed until you take one of his wrists in your hand to make him look at you.

“Shachi, do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“…five years…”

That’s a surprise to you, just like the fact he actually does like you too. You never guessed it, you always thought the flirty comments he made were just him joking around and trying to get a rise out of you, despite Ikkaku trying her best to convince you that he really did have a crush on you. But the fact it’s been five years, you can’t believe it! You’ve been with the Heart Pirates for six years, and only had your own crush on Shachi for the last two years! It makes your heart flutter and your chest feel warm, especially when you hug Shachi tightly, even though he’s a bit slower to return it.

“I’m so glad because I like you too~”

He’s just as surprised as you were, even with the smile you give him that he returns before laughing.

“I…sorry, I should’ve just told you…”

“Mm…yeah, probably, but I should’ve told you two years ago when I realized my own feelings.”

“Wait, wha—”

Shachi doesn’t get to say anything else because of you shutting him up with a kiss, but he’s completely fine with it. It’s definitely not how he would’ve liked to tell you, though he really can’t complain when it worked out positively for the both of you.

It's unfortunate you ended up asking him a lot of different questions that he had to answer because of that devil fruit. At least you were sweet enough to give him a kiss for every answer.

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Four

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, Johnny and Ghost bicker like an old married couple

An argument and a conversation

After the game ends, Gaz and John don't immediately leave.

Instead, we start watching a comedy action series about an American SWAT team. Listening to them laugh and point out all of the inaccuracies brings a smile to my face and it stays there until my cheeks ache.

By the end of the third episode, darkness is settling outside the windows. Gaz hits the stop button before the fourth one can start, slowly rising up from his seat on the floor with a loud yawn.

"I should probably get going," he says, stooping down to collect his empty cans. "Need to stock up on my beauty sleep before the big day next week." There's a pause as he stretches, purposefully knocking into the side of John's head with his elbow. "Still coming with us, Ghost?"

I look up, brow furrowing as Ghost shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Johnny looks up too, equally confused.

"I dunno," he growls, eyes finding Johnny's. There's no small amount of guilt there. "Depends if you're happy with me going. Don't want to leave you here on your own when you're injured."

Wow okay. I cringe internally. He's gone from not being too keen on me to completely ignoring my existence in the space of a single day. And just when I though that - maybe - we were starting to make some headway. That has to be some sort of record.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think that we could be friends.

Johnny tilts his head. "What big day?"

"We're flying back to Russia to try and find some intel on the group that ambushed us," John supplies, shooting me a look. It's more than clear that this isn't information I should be privy to. It makes me wonder just how many rules and laws he's breaking by letting me be in the room for this conversation. "We won't be gone long. It should only take a few days."

"And, like I said," Ghost continues dryly, "I don't even know if I'm going yet."

"Well it's not like I'd be on my own. Tali is here." An edge creeps into Johnny's tone as he adds, "But it'd be nice to be told about things. I mean, it's not like I'm yer boyfriend or anything."

Now it's Ghost's turn to cringe. "It wasn't like that. I just forgot to mention it."

"Oh, ye forgot-" Johnny's voice is drenched in bitter sarcasm.

The previously light-hearted atmosphere in the room dies. All of the comfortable banter and humour that filled the apartment earlier is gone, giving way to awkward glances and stony silence. John rubs his hands along the lengths of his thighs, gaze flickering from me to Gaz - the aforementioned soldier not looking the least bit phased by the unfolding domestic. Instead, he takes a slow walk into the kitchen, depositing his empties into the recycling bin.

"I think you should go." Johnny's tone is full of certainty, and one look at his face shows me as much. His jaw is set; his usually happy eyes steely and full of something colder than I've seen from him before.

Ghost's mouth quivers before settling into a deep frown. "Johnny-"

"I think we should get going," John says softly, cutting off whatever else Ghost was about to say. He hooks a thumb in Gaz's direction. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

As Gaz walks back to the front door, putting his trainers on at a leisurely pace, Johnny excuses himself to the bathroom. Ghost remains on the sofa, his head in his hands as his back rises and falls with his quicker-than-usual breaths.

John surveys the unfolding scene with watchful eyes before turning to me, pulling me into another bearhug, and leaning into my ear to say, "Are you sure you're going to be okay with them? I don't want them causing you any hassle with their bickering."

I lean up onto my tiptoes to reciprocate the gesture. "I'll be fine, John. Send Marcella my love and stay safe, okay? When you come back, we're having that dinner you keep banging on about."

John chuckles as he pulls away, a broad smile on his face. "I will, and I will. You take care of yourself too, Tali. I'll message you whenever I can."

I exchange a brief goodbye with Gaz - him promising that I'll see him again very soon, and me giving him my phone number to arrange another movie night - before I'm alone in the apartment with the bickering lovers once again. Though, it doesn't stay that way for long. After about ten minutes, Ghost stands up. He whips around the apartment, grabbing his coat, his balaclava, and his shoes, then mumbling something about going for a walk. I'm still clearing up the bowls when I hear the front door open then slam shut.

"Has he gone out?" Johnny's voice rings out from the hallway just seconds later.

"Yeah."

"Okay." He walks out from the hallway leading to the bedrooms and the bathroom, coming to stand with me in the kitchen. "I'm sorry ye had to see that. Ghost and me... sometimes we argue. A lot."

I shrug. "Don't worry about it. As long as you don't start screaming at each other, it's all good."

Johnny nods, leaning back against the counters. "Do ye need a hand tidying up?"

Before I can tell him to leave it, Johnny's standing right next to me, drying the dishes that I'm just starting to wash. We're elbow-to-elbow in front of the sink. Every once and a while, his arm brushes against mine, sending tingles down my spine.

Even though I know I shouldn't, I catch myself sneaking glances at him while we do the dishes. I can see more details up close; a small pearlescent scar across the top of the bridge of his nose, a tiny fleck of scar tissue under one bright blue eye, a cluster of freckles along one side of his jaw. There's no denying that he's a beautiful man, even with the tiny imperfections scattered across his skin - which has regained it's colour since we first met.

And I know that I shouldn't keep looking, but I can't help it.

We work in comfortable silence until the dishes are done. It's been about half an hour since Ghost left but neither of us mention that as we take up our usual positions in the living room.

"Want to watch a movie?" Johnny asks, his voice soft and hopeful in that heart-melting way of his.

"Only if you pick something."

"Rom-com?"

I nod in confirmation. "Rom-com."

We're about twenty minutes into the movie when Johnny catches my attention. Silently, he motions to the stretch of sofa beside him, tilting his head to one side. The question is implied: come sit with me. I hop up from the armchair and sink down next to him, leaving a gap between us in case he isn't comfortable with physical contact.

"Mind if I lie down?" Johnny's words are a gentle hum over the montage happening on the screen.

There's a tightness in my chest at the way he looks at me, and I try my best to ignore it. "Sure. Go for it."

He lays down, placing his head in my lap. It instantly reminds me of the way he lies down with Ghost when they watch TV.

After a minute, I let my hand tangle in the longer hair of his mohawk, toying with the strands. He lets out a sound that's as close to a purr that I've ever heard a human make; a low rumbling sound that emanates from deep within his chest. I can feel the warmth of his skin as he nuzzles his cheek against my thigh, the prickle of his stubble biting at my skin through the fabric of my linen pants.

"This okay?" he asks in the same low, soft tone.

My breath catches in my throat. Even though I know he's in a relationship with Ghost - I know - a traitorous part of me still asks one damned question. What if?

"Tali?"

"Yeah." Even over that one, simple word, my voice quivers.

Johnny doesn't seem to notice. "If I fall asleep, wake me up. Okay?"

I don't reply. Not verbally. Instead, I just card my fingers through his hair, running my nails along his scalp as he melts even deeper into my lap.

I wake up when the front door opens. The TV is still playing; filling the apartment with a soft, constant ebb of noise. The remote is next to my free hand, the other still tangled in Johnny's hair. Consciousness returns to me in bits and pieces, but I don't fully remember the hour directly before I fell asleep until Ghost is standing right in front of me.

His face is covered by his hood and the black balaclava as he towers over me, eyes trained on Johnny, who is still sleeping peacefully with his head in my lap.

I half expect Ghost to shout at me; to accuse me of something or tell me to get away from his boyfriend. Instead, he drops down onto the couch cushion beside me - the side of the sofa not occupied by Johnny's legs - and drapes his arm along the back behind me.

When he finally speaks, it's to say, "Is he still mad at me?"

I shake my head. "I don't think so." My fingers continue to draw patterns on the shaved section of Johnny's head, twirling swirls and simple patterns in it. "We didn't really talk about what happened. We watched a movie then fell asleep."

Ghost grunts. "Johnny isn't like me. He's a good man; he trusts people with his whole heart. He's quick to let people in."

A moment passes and, just when I think he's done talking, he adds, "If I leave for Russia with John and Gaz, will you take care of him for me? Please." He taps me on the shoulder and my gaze lifts from Johnny's face to his. His expression is serious, readable even with the mask; his hazel eyes dark and full of emotion. "I won't be able to focus unless I know he's safe and being taken care of. And I... I think I can trust you, Tali."

I don't know Ghost; I don't know him at all. But he seems like a man who very rarely says those words.

"You're a friend of Price's and - quite frankly - Johnny could kill you if you tried shit," he elaborates, negating some of the sentiment from that previous statement.

I choke out a laugh so abruptly that I immediately check to see if I've woken Johnny up. He's still sound asleep. "I don't doubt it." My gaze returns to Ghost's face, and I make an effort to hold his gaze as I say, "But I would never try anything with Johnny. He's like the human equivalent of a Golden Retriever, and I actually like having him around. I like having both of you around."

Ghost's eyes soften at the edges. All of a sudden, there's a bashfulness to him that I haven't seen before. Hell, I don't think anyone other than Johnny has. "Really? Even though I'm a right prick to you sometimes?"

I let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, I guess. You know, I see some of myself in you. Being scared to trust others; distancing yourself from people so you can't get left behind." Ghost's eyes darken even more and he shifts almost imperceptibly, moving closer to me until his side is pressed against mine. "I understand it more than you think. But I also do agree that you could be a little friendlier with me sometimes. Maybe even tell me your actual name instead of keeping me at arm's length with your callsign."

He nods slowly. "Not my name; not yet, anyway. I'll be nicer though." There's a beat of silence as Johnny stirs. Again, he doesn't wake up. "So, who hurt you? And am I allowed to hunt them down?"

He says it so deadpan that I whole-heartedly believe he would given the chance.

"No names necessary. My parents are dead. They were killed in a car accident when I was young. And then my brother died last year." It physically pains me to voice that last part aloud. It runs over a raised, sore part of me, rubbing against raw nerves.

"I... fuck, I'm so sorry, Tali. I had no idea." Ghost's voice is rough, the usual gravel tinged with regret.

I frown. "It's not like you could've. John knows, but we don't talk about it. I... I don't really like talking about it."

He hums. "Understandable." There's a long pause, filled by the low hum of the TV. "I'm the last one left from my family too."

I don't ask him to elaborate, and he doesn't. We just sit in the moment and let it pass.

With Johnny's head in my lap as he sleeps soundly, and the warmth of Ghost's body against my side, for once, I don't feel so alone.

a/n: hey guys! from here on out, I'm going to try and post once a week at the least unless something in my personal life means I can't university is starting up again next week so I'm going to try my best :) - hope to see you all next week for part five, lapetitelapin :)

[somepsychopomp]

Part 2 of my thoughts on femboy Telemachus

You can see my first post here

throwing this post out there quick and dirty because this idea is actually really funny and a lot of fun for me teehee

poor Telemachus/Theophila 😔 After hitting puberty, his mom made him wear a veil to hide his more masculine features. Plus, it would be proper dress for a young woman. Telemachus beared it for a while just because his mom asked him to.

When he turned 16, everyone assumed Queen Penelope would make plans to arrange his marriage. When no such plans arrived, everyone thought it quite bizarre.

Rumors swirled that Princess Theophila was so sick as a child that it left her disfigured, even though the senior palace staff can attest that she's not. Maybe she became disfigured later in life, then. And that's why she has to wear a veil even the company of the female servants (supposedly, that is. The Princess of Ithaca is quite secretive, doesn't seem to have many friends, or any at all, and rarely ventures outside).

Then the unthinkable happens. Princess Theophila turns 18 years old and doesn't even have a single suitor! Her best years are already behind her, who would ever want to marry an old hag that's reached the age of 18???

The suitors snicker and say the most horrendous, sexist shit you've ever imagined, making up the most disgusting stories about what the princess must look like under that veil. They say that if you were to try to bed her, sand would fall out of her pussy. Just like her hag mom.

Telemachus is perhaps aware of these stories since they're told quite openly in the palace. He tries to find humor in it, thinking that none of these men would ever be able to bed him like a woman in the first place. But mostly he just feels lonely and sad. He wonders if he'll ever be able to find love given his circumstances and prays nightly for his father's return, as that would be the only cure to his isolation.

The suitors also make a game of trying to rip Theophila's veil off, but when she's out and about, the princess keeps it securely in place with lots of brooches and clips... which only gets the rumor mill grinding even more. Some people go as far as to say she's cursed, that anyone who sees her will drop dead from how ugly she is.

One day, after the Princess has turned 20 and everyone assumes she'll be a virgin maiden forever, Antinous gets bold. And even worse, curious.

He takes up the smallest knife he can find, a tiny thing stolen from the palace kitchens that must be used for removing the pits from fruit or something of the ilk. He can easily conceal it and awaits for the princess to make her next appearance.

Theophila rarely ever leaves the women's quarters, only venturing out in the early morning when most of the suitors are still sleeping off their wine from the night before.

Well, Antinous wakes a handful of them up and gets the trap ready. As Princess Theophila goes for her morning walk through the gardens, Antinous' friends ambush her. They start showering the princess with praise and offer her flowers (plucked from the gardens mind you). They say she must have the most lovely face in all of Greece, even surpassing Helen! And her veil is only to protect her from the lecherous gazes of all the men and gods that would surely desire her if only they laid eyes on her.

Their words are sweet but full of venom, their voices mocking and the glint in their eyes full of wicked mirth. Antinous told them to really pile on the praise so that the reveal would be even sweeter.

Flustered, trembling, and cut off from her entourage of female servants, Princess Theophila has no where to escape or hide. Antinous slips into the group from the shadows, bearing the knife before grabbing the princess.

He wraps one arm around her waist from behind, slashing open the front of the veil and ripping it open with his hands for all his friends to see. Antinous expects erupting laughter and jeers. He assumes his cohorts will start sneering at the ugly princess and spit at her feet. He even expected them to flinch away as if exposed to Medusa.

What he doesn't expect...

is the silence that ensues. Antinous can feel Theophila tremble in terror, trapped in his arms. In fact, he can feel her whole body shake. Over her shoulder, he sees his friends gape at the princess with wide eyes and astonished faces.

"What?" he asks. Why weren't they saying anything? What was wrong?

"Is the bitch truly that ugly?" Antinous asks, turning Theophila around. His eyes go as wide as everyone else's.

The face staring back at him holds the soft, milky glow of youth, accompanied by high cheekbones, big green eyes as verdant as emeralds, long soft lashes, plump pink lips, curls of baby-soft brown hair, and a long, slender throat decorated by a wide band of gold.

She's beautiful, Antinous thinks. Perhaps the prettiest maiden he's ever seen.

But tears well up in Theophila's eyes as she begins to cry. Her face turns dark red with humiliation, exactly the way Antinous wanted to make her feel.

"Princess–" he tries to say.

Without warning, Antinous feels a stabbing pain in his side and he's forced to let the princess go. She runs off with her head in her hands, fleeing for the safety of her quarters, no doubt.

Antinous looks down to see one of the princess' golden pins lodged in his flesh. He pulls it out without thinking. The wound is small and not very deep, and though it'll hurt for a few days or even weeks, he'll live.

The others try to gather around his prize, but Antinous shoves them all away as he wipes the bloodied pin on his chiton. It's a slender, delicate thing. Just like the princess herself. It's also adorned with a small emerald reminiscent of Theophila's eyes. Antinous feels the most unusual urge to press the pin to his lips.

A token from a princess.

"Why hasn't a girl that pretty been married off already?" someone wonders aloud. "She's skinny, but I bet she'd be able to pop out at least one child."

Antinous has no idea, only that he's glad Theophila has stayed in her mother's house for this long. Once he breaks the old queen's will and is crowned king, he'll trade in the mother for her daughter as soon as possible.

He spins the pin in his hand, watching the way the sunlight flashes against the gold.

"A shame she's not worth courting right now," he says, still thinking about Penelope and that damned throne.

But maybe Theophila was worth having a little more fun with...

(meanwhile, Telemachus is sobbing hysterically as he tells his mom about how his secret got exposed. The suitors know! And worst of all, Antinous knows. They'll be telling everyone that he's been a boy this whole time and soon, the whole island will know. There'll be no protecting him now that they know he's an effeminate boy, and he's so angry and ashamed of himself for letting all his mother's efforts to protect him go to waste.)

fun fact, Theophila means "friend of god" AKA foreshadowing his future friendship with Athena